Nonnus of Panopolis in Context IV: Poetry at the Crossroads (Bibliothèque De Byzantion, 29) 9042945168, 9789042945166

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O R I E N TA L I A L OVA N I E N S I A A N A L E C TA Nonnus of Panopolis in Context IV Poetry at the Crossroads

edited by BERENICE VERHELST

P E E T ERS

NONNUS OF PANOPOLIS IN CONTEXT IV

ORIENTALIA LOVANIENSIA ANALECTA ————— 314 —————

BIBLIOTHÈQUE DE BYZANTION

29

NONNUS OF PANOPOLIS IN CONTEXT IV Poetry at the Crossroads

edited by

BERENICE VERHELST

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT 2022

A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. © 2022, Peeters Publishers, Bondgenotenlaan 153, B-3000 Leuven/Louvain (Belgium) All rights reserved, including the rights to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. ISBN 978-90-429-4516-6 eISBN 978-90-429-4517-3 D/2022/0602/131

TABLE OF CONTENTS PREAMBULE .

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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS .

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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I. Gennaro D’IPPOLITO Nonnus’ Poetic Activity as an Expression of a Unitary Ideological and Artistic Programme . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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II. Simon ZUENELLI Nonnus, a Classic in the Making: The Book Epigram on the Dionysiaca (A.P. 9.198) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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III. Michael PASCHALIS The Lure of Paganism: Nonnus’ Paraphrasis of the Gospel of John and Hesiod’s Theogony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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IV. Emma GREENSMITH The Miracle Baby. Zagreus and the Poetics of Mutation .

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V. Nicole KRÖLL Shape-Shifting Athena: On the Transformation of Homeric Characters in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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PART ONE:

ROADMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. NONNIAN AUTHORSHIP AND POETICS

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PART TWO:

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. THE CREATIVE USE OF MODELS

VI. Hélène FRANGOULIS Nonnos et Callimaque: Une scène de bain dans les Dionysiaques . 103

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VII. Arianna MAGNOLO How Nonnus Employs Aratus’ Astronomy in the Dionysiaca: A Case Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

PART THREE:

ROADS UNDER CONSTRUCTION. NONNIAN INNOVATIONS AND THEIR PRECEDENTS VIII. Katerina CARVOUNIS and Sophia PAPAIOANNOU Nonnus’ Dionysiaca and the Written Word . .

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IX. Alexandra MADEŁA The Formulaic Diction of the Orphic Argonautica in Context: A Comparison with Nonnus’ Dionysiaca . . . . . . . . . . 151 X. Tim WHITMARSH Big Data and Dionysiac Poetics .

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PART FOUR:

ROAD JUNCTIONS (1). A DIONYSIAC ROAD TO INDIA XI. Luise Marion FRENKEL Spicing Nonnus up: Commercial and Religious Crossroads and Nonnus’ Representation of the East . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 XII. Richard STONEMAN Nymphs and Elephants. Nonnus’ Depiction of India

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XIII. Fotini HADJITTOFI Nonnus’ Indians between Conversion and Acculturation .

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PART FIVE:

ROAD JUNCTIONS (2). EPIC AND CHRISTIAN IMAGERY IN THE PARAPHRASE XIV. Emilie VAN OPSTALL At a Long Leafy Table. Metaphors in Nonnus’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245

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XV. Laura FRANCO The Sound of Silence. Metaphors of Silent Eloquence in Nonnus’ Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 XVI. Halima BENCHIKH-LEHOCINE et Christophe CUSSET “Je suis la vie, la vérité et le droit chemin” (Par. 14.20) : Routes et chemins dans la Paraphrase de Saint Jean de Nonnos de Panopolis . 281 XVII. Anna LEFTERATOU The Woman at the Well: Epic Variations of the Samaritan Woman in Eudocia’s Homeric Centos and in Nonnus’ Paraphrasis of St. John’s Gospel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295

PART SIX:

MULTIPLE CROSSINGS. NONNIAN POETRY AND THE WORLD OF LATE ANTIQUITY XVIII. Cristiano MINUTO Nonnus of Panopolis between Poetry and Rhetoric: The Encomium of Berytus (Dion. 41.14-154) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 XIX. David HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE A Dionysian φαντασία? Echoes of Neoplatonic Gnoseology in Nonnus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335 XX. Flor HERRERO VALDÉS Nonnus and Graeco-Egyptian Magic: Crossroads, Poetic Confluences and Fringe States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355 XXI. Nestan EGETASHVILI The City of Thebes in the Dionysiaca by Nonnus .

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PART SEVEN:

PARTING WAYS. POETIC AFTERLIFE AND SCHOLARLY RECEPTION XXII. Arianna GULLO Nonnian Poets (?): The Case of Julian the Egyptian .

XXIII. Berenice VERHELST Nonnus in the Low Countries. Book Epigrams and Occasional Poetry of and for Franciscus Nansius . . . . . . . . . . 421

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XXIV. Thomas GÄRTNER Nonnos von Panopolis im protestantischen Philhellenismus des 16./ 17. Jahrhunderts. Zur Nonnos-Rezeption bei Lorenz Rhodoman und Matthaeus Gothus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 431 XXV. Domenico ACCORINTI Paul Friedländer and Nonnus’ Poetry .

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BIBLIOGRAPHY .

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GENERAL INDEX.

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INDEX LOCORUM

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ABSTRACTS .

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On the walls of the former prison attached to the historical belfry of the city of Ghent, passers-by can admire a fine relief depicting a remarkable scene, but appropriate to the prison context: in a prison cell, a young woman bares her breasts and feeds an emaciated older man. In Ghent, the man – and by extension the entire prison building – is commonly referred to as the mammelokker, an old-fashioned word for ‘nursling’ from the local dialect. The relief represents an ancient legend of filial piety in which a daughter keeps her father, who is being starved in prison, alive by visiting him empty-handed – as prescribed – but with breasts full of milk. The earliest sources for the legend on which the image is based are all in Latin. Valerius Maximus’ Memorable doings and sayings (5.4, ext. 1) and Hyginus’ Fables (254.3) are the most important ones. The names of the two protagonists vary throughout the tradition. The group of ‘Nonnian scholars’ who in April 2018 admired the 18th century relief together in the city centre of Ghent, of course referred to the two characters by their Nonnian names: Tectaphus and Eerie, minor characters of Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, whose background story is told in Dion. 26.110-138 as an Indian version of the familiar story of Roman filial piety (see also Hadjittofi in this volume, p. 164). Once understudied, the fascinating poetry of Nonnus of Panopolis (mid5th century AD) has in the past decade aroused the interest of many. It is “big news in contemporary scholarship” (Whitmarsh in this volume, p. 117). Nonnus’ monumental Dionysiaca is the last grand epic poem of Antiquity and indeed one that challenges all established epic conventions; his hexametric Paraphrase of the Gospel of John, in the same ‘baroque’ style, is a unique example of the at the time still novel subgenre of biblical epic, combining a relatively faithful paraphrastic technique with an exuberant language and a wealth of metaphorical and symbolical layers of meaning. One of the prime results of the recently renewed interest in the poetry of the ‘Egyptian Homer’ is the Brill’s Companion to Nonnus (2016) – a reference work as voluminous as Nonnus’ poetry itself. In the preface, the editor, Domenico Accorinti, adequately describes the ongoing process of Nonnus’ “becoming a classic” and how the current vitality of the scholarly dialogue on Nonnus contributes to that.1 The success of the Nonnus in Context conference series is a clear sign of this vitality. The Nonnus of Panopolis in Context conference in Ghent (19-21/04/2018) was the fourth gathering in this by now established series of 1

ACCORINTI 2016, Brill’s Companion to Nonnus, p. 5-7.

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conferences. The series was initiated by Konstantinus Spanoudakis (Rethymnon 2011), and after him continued by Herbert Bannert and Nicole Kröll (Vienna 2013) and Filip Doroszewski (Warsaw 2015). The proceedings of the first three gatherings have been well received and plans for a fifth conference in Madrid are being made (David Hernández de la Fuente and Laura MiguélezCavero 2023).2 The subtitle for this fourth volume refers to the multifaceted metaphor of the crossroads. From a crossroads you can look forwards, backwards but also sideways. Likewise, when standing at a crossroads, you are visible from all sides. Crossroads, therefore, open many perspectives. This metaphor was chosen in the first place as an invitation to the contributors to (further) explore the horizontal and vertical axes of the literary tradition and late antique society. It aimed to direct the focus not exclusively on Nonnus, but indeed to highlight the context (not restricted to a specific time-frame, language, genre or art form) in which to interpret his poetry and while doing so, also to explore new roads and research opportunities. Not every contribution necessarily puts Nonnus at the centre of the crossroads, several approach him sidewise from the perspective of other important road junctions, as for example that of intercultural (trade) contacts (Frenkel and Stoneman’s contributions) or the connections between humanist philhellenism and the Reformation (Gärtner’s contribution). Finally, the metaphor of the road can also be read as an invitation to reflect on the ways we as modern scholars give shape to the field we are studying. Today, Nonnus is considered a pivotal author, between tradition and innovation, between classical paideia and Christian poetics. The booming field of Nonnus Studies has not changed Nonnus’ poetry, but has thoroughly influenced the way it is perceived. The closing piece of this volume (Accorinti’s contribution) centres on one of the scholars who timbered the roads towards the current reappraisal of Nonnus. Like the Ghent conference itself, this volume brings together the work of both promising early career scholars as well as the most established authors in this field. The Nestor at the Ghent conference, Gennaro D’Ippolito, whose Studi Nonniani (1964) are a true benchmark for the study of the Dionysiaca, now opens this volume with an impressive survey of a number of key “Nonnus questions”. Quite a few contributors had crossed roads before as participants of the Nonnus in Context conferences, while others had only more recently crossed paths with Nonnus. As a conference organizer and editor of this volume I am especially grateful for the enthusiastic response to the open call for papers from all corners of the world.

2 SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus of Panopolis in Context; BANNERT – KRÖLL 2018, Nonnus in Context II and DOROSZEWSKI – JAŻDŻEWSKA 2021, Nonnus in Context III.

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The metaphor of the crossroads, and of the road in general, remains a connecting thread throughout the volume, as is particularly visible in the headings for the individual parts. Part one, Roadmarks and Directions, focusses on the figure of the author, on poetical statements in para-texts (D’Ippolito and Zuenelli) and passages in which we can discern a meta-poetical layer of meaning like the opening passage of the Paraphrase or the Zagreus episode in the Dionysiaca (Paschalis and Greensmith). Part two, Off the Beaten Track, zooms in on Nonnus’ creative, self-conscious use of the literary tradition with contributions discussing Homeric characterization (Kröll), Callimachean bathing scenes (Frangoulis) and Aratean astronomy (Magnolo). In the same vein, part three Roads under Construction compares Nonnus to his predecessors and potential models – Greek as well as Latin – but with a clear focus on Nonnian innovations: his emphasis on the written word (Carvounis – Papaioannou), and the distinctively late antique aspects of his formulaic diction (Madela), and of the compound adjectives with auto- and poly- which he repeatedly uses (Whitmarsh). Parts four and five, Road Junctions (1) and (2) approach Nonnus at the intersection of two distinct traditions: at the intersection of the GrecoRoman world and India in the Dionysiaca’s representation of India and the Indians (Frenkel, Stoneman and Hadjittofi) and at the intersection of epic and Christian imagery in the Paraphrase (Van Opstall, Franco, Benchikh-Lehocine – Cusset and Lefteratou). The Multiple Crossings of part six refer to the late antique context of Nonnus’ work and the society in which it is embedded. As relevant aspects of this context the contributions in this section discuss Nonnus’ poetry from the perspective of the rhetorical school tradition (Minuto), Neoplatonist philosophy (Hernández de la Fuente), magical hymns (Herrero Valdés) and cosmogonic traditions related to the foundation of cities (Egetashvili). Finally in part seven, Parting ways, the focus is on Nonnus’ reception by later Nonnian poets – from the early example of Julian of Egypt (Gullo) to the humanist poetry of Nansius (Verhelst), Rhodoman and Gothus (Gärtner) – and scholars – Nansius again, and Friedländer (Accorinti). I want to express my gratitude to the Research Foundation Flanders, Ghent University and the Universidad Complutense de Madrid (via David Hernández de la Fuente) for the generous financial support for the conference and to all colleagues who have assisted with the organization of the event. Finally, Jozefien Leirens and Vic Vandendriessche also deserve special mention for all their invaluable help with the more technical aspects of the editing process. Berenice VERHELST

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS Abbreviations for classical authors and works follow the conventions of S. HORNBLOWER – A. SPAWFORTH (eds), Oxford Classical Dictionary, Oxford – New York, 20124. Abbreviations for journals follow the conventions of L’Année Philologique. ANRW Anth. App CEB CIG CSCO FGrHist CUF DNP FGE GG GGM GPh GVI HE IGUR LfgrE Lightfoot LIMC LSJ NIV NPNF NRSV PG PGM PLRE

H. TEMPORINI – W. HAASE (eds), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, Berlin, 1972-. E. COUGNY (ed.), Appendix nova epigrammatum, Paris, 1890. Common English Bible. A. BÖCKH (ed.), Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum, Berlin, 1825-1877. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Leuven. Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (referenceworks.brillonline. com/browse/die-fragmente-der-griechischen-historiker-i-iii). Collection des universités de France – Les Belles Lettres (Budé). H. CANCIK – H. SCHNEIDER (eds), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 19 vols., Stuttgart, 1996-2007. D.L. PAGE (ed.), Further Greek Epigrams, Cambridge, 1981. W. PEEK (ed.), Griechische Grabgedichte, Berlin, 1960. K. MÜLLER (ed.), Geographi Graeci Minores, 2 vols., Paris, 1855-1861. A.S.F GOW – D.L. PAGE (eds), The Greek Anthology, The Garland of Philip and some contemporary Epigrams, 2 vols., Cambridge, 1968. W. PEEK (ed.), Griechische Versinschriften, Berlin, 1955. A.S.F GOW – D.L. PAGE (eds), The Greek Anthology: Hellenistic epigrams, Cambridge, 2 vols., Cambridge, 1965. L. MORETTI (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae urbis Romae, 4 vols., Roma, 1968-1979. B. SNELL (ed.), Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos, 4 vols., Göttingen, 1979. J.L. LIGHTFOOT (ed.), Hellenistic Collection, Cambridge, MA, 2010. Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, Zürich, 1981-1999. H.G. LIDDELL – R. SCOTT – H. STUART JONES – R. MCKENZIE – P.G.W. GLARE – A.A. THOMPSON (eds), A Greek-English Lexicon, Ninth Edition with Revised Supplement, Oxford – New York, 1996. New International Version, 2011. P. SCHAFF (ed.), A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, series 1, 14 vols. – series 2, 14 vols., Edinburgh – New York, 1886-1900. New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, 1989. J.P. MIGNE (ed.), Patrologia Graeca, 166 vols., 1857-1866. K. PREISENDANZ – A. HENRICHS (eds), Papyri Graecae Magicae. Die griechische Zauberpapyri, vols. I-II, Stuttgart, 1974. A.H.M. JONES – J.R. MARTINDALE – J. MORRIS (eds), Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, 3 vols., Cambridge, 1971-1992.

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D.L. PAGE (ed.), Poetae melici Graeci, Oxford, 1962. T. KLAUSER – E. DASSMANN – G. SCHÖLLGEN (eds), Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, Stuttgart, 1950-. A.F. VON PAULY – G. WISSOWA (eds), Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft: neue Bearbeitung, Stuttgart, 1894. M.W. HOLMES (ed.), The Greek New Testament, SBL edition (sblgnt. com). R. MERKELBACH – J. STAUBER (eds), Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten, 5 vols., München – Stuttgart – Leipzig, 1998-2004. H. LLOYD-JONES – P. PARSONS (eds), Supplementum Hellenisticum, Berlin, 1983. Thesaurus Linguae Graecae.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Illustration 12.1 3rd century BC ivory statuette of Ishtar from Babylon; Louvre Museum. Ref.: AO 20127; © R.M.N. / P. Bernard. Illustration 12.2 A śālabhañjikā from the gateway of Stupa 1 Sanchi, M.P., India. Illustration 12.3 A śālabhañjikā from Mathurä, Government Museum, Mathura, U.P., India. Illustration 12.4 Ivory figure of a śālabhañjikā found at Pompeii in 1938. Probably first century AD. Originally identified as Lakshmi, it more probably represents a tree-goddess, or yakshi. Museo Segreto, National Archaeological Museum, Naples. Illustration 25.1 Paul Friedländer (1882-1968). After P. FRIEDLÄNDER, Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst, Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 1969, p. II. Illustration 25.2 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission. Illustration 25.3 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission. Illustration 25.4 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission. Illustration 25.5 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission.

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Illustration 25.6 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission. Illustration 25.7 Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections. Courtesy of Stephanie Millon. Used by permission.

PART ONE: ROADMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. NONNIAN AUTHORSHIP AND POETICS

I. NONNUS’ POETIC ACTIVITY AS AN EXPRESSION OF A UNITARY IDEOLOGICAL AND ARTISTIC PROGRAMME Gennaro D’IPPOLITO

1. Nonnus, a Christian Author I began my introductory report at the Nonnian conference held in Warsaw a few years ago1 by comparing two important dictionary entries very distant from one another in time – the item “Nonnos” by Rudolf Keydell (RE 1936) and the analogous one by Domenico Accorinti (RAC 2013)2 – an adequate tool to realize immediately the progress made by the critics in the past eighty years. The comparison shows that a fundamental step forward was taken with the solution of the so-called quaestio Nonniana,3 which arose from the difficulty in accepting that a single author had written works that at first sight are so different as the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase of St John’s Gospel. In particular, the more or less simultaneous composition of the two works4 leads once and for all to the exclusion of any hypothesis of conversion or apostasy of the poet and reveals a Christian Nonnus as the sole author. This important conclusion opens up the way for a certain clarification of the personality of the author, considered until a few years ago as entirely evanescent, and it allows us to see Nonnus’ poetic activity as the expression of a unitary ideological and artistic programme. A necessary condition for making this attempt was the progressive, full literary recognition first of the Dionysiaca and then of the Paraphrase, the latter in the past seen as having almost only formal, linguistic and metrical analogies with the former. And here I return to subjects dealt with in my talk at the Warsaw Conference, taking it up in several points.

D’IPPOLITO 2021, Solved and Still Unsolved Issues. KEYDELL 1936, Nonnos 15; ACCORINTI 2013, Nonnos von Panopolis. 3 The expression was introduced by VIAN 1980, L’épopée grecque, pp. 78-81 with reference to the ‘Homeric Question’ and to the debate between Unitarians and Analysts regarding the Dionysiaca; it was subsequently acquired by LIVREA 1987, Il Poeta ed il Vescovo, p. 97 = LIVREA 1991, Studia Hellenistica, p. 439 in the broadest meaning, which we use here. 4 From an analysis of the term μάρτυς in Nonnus, VIAN 1997, ΜΑΡΤΥΣ chez Nonnos (= VIAN 2005, L’épopée posthomérique, pp. 565-584) it was deduced that the composition of the Paraphrase was the first to be begun. 1 2

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2. Recognition of the Dionysiaca Until more than half of the last century the Dionysiaca were seen as exhibiting both textual and structural disorder. The idea of textual disorder, which reached its acme in the nineteenth-century edition by the Comte de Marcellus, filled with gratuitous transpositions,5 is still present in the edition by Rudolf Keydell (1959):6 the latter scholar, convinced that the Dionysiaca remained incomplete because of what at that time seemed like an axiom, namely Nonnus’ conversion to Christianity, applying an analytical-rationalist and substantially unhistorical method, indicates no fewer than 145 lacunae, marks with a vertical line 28 longer passages (from a single line, 28.44 and 30.9, to a sequence of 34, 22.320-353) deemed not to be very congruent with the cotext, and finally breaks up the second part of canto 39 devoted to the naumachy into 18 ‘erratic blocks’, sequences of lines (of length varying from one to 45 lines) apparently out of place. The rationalistic excesses of the analytical method were gradually eliminated with the publication of the 18 volumes of the Budé edition by Vian and his team and the 4 volumes of the Italian edition, respectively by Daria Gigli Piccardi, Fabrizio Gonnelli, Gianfranco Agosti, and Domenico Accorinti.7 This way the “blocs erratiques”, first seen as incongruous by Vian,8 are explained, as the edition proceeds, as representative of the ‘Nonnian’ order, common to some extent to late antique Baroque aesthetics: the fact is that the poet loves juxtaposed and conflicting tableaux, descriptive pauses, continual digressions, not very consequential passages, the multiplication of points of view, and oxymoronic paradox,9 and refuses constantly to pursue a logical order.10 As for the deeply rooted idea of macrostructural disorder in the Dionysiaca, Viktor Stegemann began to demolish it as long ago as the 1930s.11 The scholar launced the hypothesis that, Nonnus’ Dionysus having the nature of a king (Alexander the Great) and the nature of a god (Weltheiland), the poet followed in the composition the scheme of royal encomium (βασιλικὸς λόγος) according to the precepts of the rhetor Menander12, with as τόποι ἐγκωμιαστικοί: προοίμια, γένος (ancestors and parents), πατρίς (native city), γένεσις, MARCELLUS 1856, Nonnos, Dionysiaques. KEYDELL 1959, Nonni Panopolitani Dionysiaca (I-II). 7 GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII); GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV); AGOSTI 2004 [2013], Nonno, Dionisiache (XXV-XXXIX); ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII). 8 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), pp. xxxix-xl. 9 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani, pp. 56-57; D’IPPOLITO 1987, Straniamento; AGOSTI 1995, Poemi digressivi, pp. 142-143. AVERINCEV 1988, L’anima, p. 201, defines the high medieval aesthetics as that of the paradox. 10 SIMON 1999, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXVIII-XL), p. 80. 11 STEGEMANN 1930, Astrologie, pp. 209-230. 12 Men. Rhet. 368-377. 5 6

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ἀνατροφή, πράξεις κατὰ εἰρήνην and κατὰ πόλεμον, ἐπίλογος, and a certain number of συγκρίσεις. The thesis, rejected at first by Collart and Keydell13 but without any clear and valid reason, is the only one that allows us to explain convincingly the presumed strangeness of the long preamble (the advent of Dionysus is prophesied in the seventh book, and the god is only born at the end of the eighth) precisely dedicated to the γένος of the god (his great-aunt Europa and his grandfather Cadmus, his cousin Actaeon, the ‘first Dionysus’ Zagreus) and to the πατρίς (Thebes). The theory of the encomium, to which Hans Gerstinger had arrived independently,14 was accepted by me,15 and subsequently also by Vian16 and after him generally by all critics. Eduard Darius Lasky17 defines the poem as “an encomium of the god”; Thierry Duc18 considers the encomium format the unifying principle of the poem. On the general concept of the rhetorical scheme of the royal encomium as an overall diegetic plan, there have been grafted various analyses that aim to verify, from different points of view, the structural coherence of the poem. Discarding the idea of a mosaic composition,19 still linked to the obsolete concept of compositional disorder, a purely formal analysis of mine (which I defined as “fenomenologia delle strutture superficiali”)20 sees in the poem the confluence of two types of epic narrations equally present in the Alexandrian age: the epyllion, practised by Callimachus and then particularly widespread in Late Antiquity,21 and the long epic, which nevertheless also shows the influence of the epyllion.22 The theory was taken up by Agosti,23 who in addition drew attention to the taste for the digression and the episodic narration characteristic not only of Nonnus but generally of Late Antiquity. And Paolo Nizzola justly concludes: “il criterio dell’episodicità riposa … su precisi dettami poetici elaborati dall’estetica letteraria di età tardo-antica, e, comunque, non preclude la possibilità di cogliere la coerenza narrativa dell’impianto macrotestuale delle Dionisiache.”24 For my part, in any case, I did not in the least intend to consider COLLART 1930, Nonnos de Panopolis. Études, pp. 275-278; KEYDELL 1932, Eine NonnosAnalyse (= KEYDELL 1982, Kleine Schriften, pp. 485-514); KEYDELL 1936, Nonnos 15, pp. 909-910. 14 GERSTINGER 1943-1947, Zur Frage der Komposition (cf. D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani, p. 27 n. 1). 15 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani, pp. 21-29. 16 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), pp. xx-xxii. 17 LASKY 1978, Encomiastic Elements, p. 376. 18 DUC 1990, La question de la cohérence. 19 KEYDELL 1936, Nonnos 15, p. 910. 20 D’IPPOLITO 1995, Intertesto evangelico, p. 220. 21 See, among others, BAUMBACH – BÄR 2012, Brill’s Companion to Greek and Latin Epyllion. 22 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani. 23 AGOSTI 1995, Poemi digressivi. 24 NIZZOLA 2012, Testo e macrotesto, p. 23. 13

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the presence of epyllia (which I could also easily call ‘brief epic compositions’25) “nel senso di un agglomerato di episodi cuciti piú o meno malamente, o con una voluta disattenzione al quadro generale, ridotto a mera cornice”:26 at the hylomorphic level I have always considered the narrative model of the poem as firmly grounded in the scheme of the encomium. But I have also found unity at the level of deep structure through an actantial analysis27 that records two models: a closed model, whereby the message consists in progressive acquisition by Dionysus (together a Subject actant and a Receiver actant), at the behest of his father Zeus (Sender), of divine nature (Object: ῎Ολυμπος) through various ordeals (Helpers: Βάκχων ὅμιλος; Opponents: ᾽Ινδῶν στρατός, φῦλα Γιγάντων), and an open model in which Dionysus (still a Subject but no longer a Receiver too), with the same Helpers and Opponents, redeems men (Receivers: βροτοί) through the gift of wine (Object: οἶνος λυσίπονος). Another type of analysis aims to find coherence through identification of centres of thematic organization. Taking a cue from some of my own classifications28 David Hernández de la Fuente distinguishes29 six mythical themes. I myself, alongside the architheme constituted by the encomium of Dionysus, have shown30 a second architheme, Eros, in line with the γυναιμανής protagonist: the concentration in the Dionysiaca of so many themes and motifs concerning love, dominated by a polymorphic Eros, is something unique in the whole of Greek literature. 3. Recognition of the Paraphrase As for valorization of the Paraphrase, no longer ‘Nonnus minor’, the merit of having promoted it, after centuries of it being obscured in favour of the Dionysiaca, must be attributed above all to Enrico Livrea, who at the end of the eighties set going, together with a group of young scholars, a series of critical editions of single cantos accompanied by translations and by thorough and rigorous commentaries.31 From these works there has emerged full evaluation of the Paraphrase as an ‘autonomous’ work of poetry and the consequent 25 In the sense that the word ἐπύλλιον already had in Antiquity (cf. Athen. Deipn. 2.65a), in addition to that of ‘small verse’. 26 AGOSTI 2016, L’epillio, p. 6. 27 D’IPPOLITO 1982, Per una analisi attanziale. 28 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani. 29 HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, Bakkhos anax, pp. 63-205. 30 D’IPPOLITO 2013, L’eros come arcitema. 31 DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I); LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B); CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV); AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V); FRANCHI 2013, Nonno, Parafrasi (6); GRECO 2004, Nonno, Parafrasi (13); LIVREA 1989, Nonno, Parafrasi (XVIII); ACCORINTI 1996, Nonno, Parafrasi (XX). To these editions there must be added various dissertations not (yet) printed, and also the edition of Book 11 published by SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI).

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overturning of the severe judgment according to which it was considered a modest juvenile exercise32 and of the isolated thesis of Sherry,33 who deemed it a Dionysiac cento by a Christian student of Nonnus. Regarding the ultimate meaning and the destination of the Paraphrase, the two dominant theses of the last century appear to have been overcome: the thesis that considered it a rhetorical work of art,34 and the one that in it saw an instrumental form of use connected to demands of cult and edification.35 As Livrea has shown,36 the originality of Nonnus’ work is quite evident if we consider the paraphrastic genre to which it belongs. In particular, comparison with the extant works of Eudocia and Apollinaris, versifications slavishly faithful to the Gospel text, highlights the big gap between the Paraphrase and its model, which is amplified through polymorphic literary memory37 and at the same time is interpreted according to the hermeneutic line of Cyril. Agosti describes the Nonnian Paraphrase as “il piú innovativo poema cristiano greco dell’antichità”.38 Therefore two aims interweave in characterizing this ambitious work, one connected to its form, and the other to its content. From the formal point of view, amplificatio of the Gospel text together with the use of a refined and musical hexameter, the highest of the pagan metres, aims to make the Christian message acceptable to a cultured class of Egyptians, largely but not entirely Christians. From the doctrinal point of view, the theological interpretatio furnishes an exegesis of the Gospel of John adherent to the ecclesial and political demands of the Alexandrian Patriarchate, which found a defender of its diphysite orthodoxy. I believe a decisive contribution was made to the choice of the Fourth Gospel by the big Commentary on John’s Gospel that in those years, between 425 and 428,39 was written by Cyril; Nonnus not only knew it but certainly also followed it.40 As this was poetry firmly rooted in society, the operation must also have been stimulated by the interest aroused in the Neoplatonic 32 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. xii. But later he will change his mind altogether. 33 SHERRY 1991, The hexameter and SHERRY 1996, The Paraphrase; COULIE – SHERRY – CETEDOC 1995, Thesaurus Pseudo-Nonni. 34 One need just quote the opinion of an authority like GOLEGA 1930, Studien über die Evangeliendichtung, p. 120: “Nonnos will kein bloßer Paraphrast sein; er will ein rhetorisches Kunstwerk schaffen.” 35 HERZOG 1975, Die Bibelepik, pp. 60-68. 36 LIVREA 1989, Nonno, Parafrasi (XVIII), pp. 36-42. 37 See, among others, MASSIMILLA 2016, Nel laboratorio del parafraste. 38 AGOSTI 2001, L’epica biblica, p. 97. 39 MAHÉ 1907, La date. 40 That among the hermeneutic models of the Nonnus’ Paraphrase there is above all the Commentary on John’s Gospel by Cyril of Alexandria has been amply demonstrated: cf., for example, ROTONDO 2014, La vera fede.

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milieu by the Fourth Gospel and by the theological disputes on the nature of Christ that at that time animated Christian communities.41 4. Nonnus Bishop and Poet Alongside recognition of the two works, an attempt can be made to delineate a less evanescent personality of the author. No absolute proof but many clues suggest considering as reasonable the hypothesis decidedly upheld by Enrico Livrea, that Nonnus is to be identified with the Bishop of Edessa. The scholar provides a reconstruction of Nonnus’ identity, which today appears to me the most plausible. Nonnus was born at Panopolis, in upper Egypt, around 400 in a Christian family probably of Syrian origin, as may be inferred from the name; he would have studied in Alexandria42 and at the law school in Berytus, in Syria; in 431, perhaps already a monk, he would have participated in the Council of Ephesus, in the retinue of Cyril of Alexandria; from 431 to 439 he would have sojourned at the Pacomian monastery of Tabennisi, in upper Egypt, often going away to visit Alexandria and the Patriarchate; from 449 to 451 he was the Bishop of Edessa, a metropolitan centre in the Roman province of the Osroene in the Patriarchate of Antioch; from 451 to 457 he was the Bishop of Heliopolis; in the years 457-471 he was again the Bishop of Edessa until his death. As for the composition of the two works, Livrea makes it more or less simultaneous and places it between 431 and 449, the latter being the year of Nonnus’ election as a bishop. Perhaps the Paraphrase but certainly the Dionysiaca, bearing in mind their long gestation, will have been partially diffused through public recitations. This fits in with the digressive structure of the Dionysiaca and the propensity for aurality or “performance poetry”,43 which at that time – but it is always a little – was the form of enjoyment preferred by poets. Even a “by stages” publication of the Dionysiaca is very probable.44 In this reconstruction the point most criticized has been identification of the poet with the bishop of the same name.45 Livrea46 defends his position by 41 On the relationship between both Nonnus’ poems and the Alexandrian cultural and religious context cf. AGOSTI 2014, Greek Poetry in Late Antique Alexandria. 42 On Alexandria as a very important centre of rhetoric studies in Late Antiquity see FOURNET 2007, L’enseignement. 43 AGOSTI 2004 [2013], Nonno, Dionisiache (XXV-XXXIX), pp. 16-17; AGOSTI 2006, La voce dei libri; TISSONI 2008, Ciro di Panopoli, pp. 78-79. 44 CASTELLI 2017, I canti separati, also supports this idea through an examination of the Pap. Berol. 10567, which presents books 14 and 15 complete with subscriptio and inscriptio. 45 CAMERON 2000, The Poet, the Bishop; CAMERON 2016, Wandering Poets and Other Essays (actually, his objections are summed up in this now outdated question: “Who can believe that a serving bishop devoted his spare time to writing the Dionysiaca?”, p. 307). Even ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, remains unconvinced by LIVREA’S reconstruction, as is already evident from the subtitle of his article on the identity of Nonnus “An Obscure Biography and a Controversial Figure.” 46 LIVREA 2003, The Nonnus Question Revisited (= LIVREA 2016, ΠΑΡΑΚΜΗ, pp. 489-496).

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showing how it is highly unlikely that two separate people existed at exactly the same time, both named Nonnus, one of whom, the Bishop of Edessa, defended the doctrinal position of Cyril at the Council of Ephesus in 431, and the other, the poet-theologian of Panopolis, wrote a Paraphrase of John’s Gospel in terms very appropriate to Cyril. To this there are to be added essential facts like the Syriac character of the Vorlage of John on which Nonnus based his work, the overwhelming preponderance of Syriac and Asia Minor mythology in the Dionysiaca, the complete agreement between the theological affirmations of Nonnus, the historical bishop, and the theological and exegetic point of view of the Paraphrase. And precisely the great culture, pagan and Christian, that shines through his works sets him alongside the great figures of authoritative literates who were representatives of the Church like Gregory of Nazianzus, Bishop of Sasima and Constantinople, and Synesius of Cyrene, Bishop of Ptolemais in Cyrenaica. In general I would add that, according to studies by Ewa Wipszycka on ecclesiastical institutions in late antique Egypt, the candidates for bishops were chosen mostly from among monks from wealthy families, who were distinguished by having received a good education; a bishopric was often conferred on them without them going through the lower degrees of the ecclesiastical career; and great differences in cultural level existed between bishops and the rest of the clergy, among the clergy in the big cities and those in the villages:47 this would perfectly explain the great culture exhibited by Nonnus both in the pagan sphere, acquired above all at school, and in the Christian sphere, as his position within the Church required. For my part I confess that I find it difficult to think of a poet that takes the liberty of intervening in an evangelical text, interpreting it and enlarging it, without enjoying great authoritativeness inside the Church. But I could add some other elements in favour of the identification. I mentioned above that the Dionysiaca – precisely because the protagonist rivals his father Zeus regarding lovers (48.550-552) and like him is a γυναιμανής – introduces an architheme that finds the reference figure in a multiform Eros and brings together a broad range of erotic themes, borrowed from the tradition of poetry and the novel48 but also from the sensibility and experience of the author. I recognize that the deep erotic sensibility shown by Nonnus, sometimes even interpreted as illness,49 and in any case not very appropriate to a prelate, WIPSZYCKA 1997, Le istituzioni ecclesiastiche, pp. 248, 264-265. On the influence of the Greek novel on the Dionysiaca, see FRANGOULIS 2014, Du roman à l’épopée. 49 The extraordinary collection of more or less unusual erotic themes like scopophilia, active and passive algophilia, fetishism, and necrophilia, has even led some scholars to attempt psychoanalytical analyses, not without eccentric conclusions, from BEZDECHI 1940, Symbolisme érotique, p. 390, who speaks of psychopathia sexualis, to NEWBOLD 2000, Breasts and Milk, p. 23, who defines the Dionysiaca a “phallic poem”, down to CAMERON 2016, Wandering Poets and Other 47 48

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may instead favour the hypothesis that the poet is to be identified with an expert on souls and sexuality like a bishop,50 whose role also involved watching over the behaviour of the people in his diocese, especially regarding sexual morality.51 To Nonnus’ great culture I have always believed it is plausible to add, and various scholars have agreed with me,52 knowledge of Latin language and poetry. Besides, so far nobody has proved the contrary. To my knowledge, only Enrico Livrea has tried to. The scholar affirms53 that Nonnus, “se avesse saputo il latino, non avrebbe mai definito l’evangelico σουδάριον un prestito ‘siro’” in Par. 11.173 and 20.30, “due passi in cui demonstratur eum latinam linguam nescisse e che avrebbero potuto risparmiarci, se evocati in tempo, il fiume di inutile bibliografia sulla presunta utilizzazione nonniana di modelli latini.”54 The two commentators of the respective books are more cautious. Konstantinos Spanoudakis55 admits that “It does not immediately follow that N. ignored Latin altogether…, although his attribution casts some doubt over his competence in Latin.” As Accorinti56 reminds us, Kuhn57 finds wholly motivated the qualification as Σύρων στόμα that Nonnus gives to the word σουδάριον: “allerdings kommt sūdār oder sūdārā im Syrischen für Schweisstuch oder Kopftuch vor; aber sein Charakter als Fremdwort liegt dort ebenso zutage wie im Griechischen.” The most obvious explanation would therefore be that Nonnus simply wanted to underline the fact that the word was not Greek and was present in the Syriac language58 while in Egypt it was probably not used anymore (the Egyptian papyri attest it until the third century).59 If, instead, it is considered an error, the consequence that Preller draws from it, followed by Livrea, seems disproportionate to me. It would be sufficient to reflect on how many errors the ancients committed regarding etymologies and history of words. There are countless examples of this. I will only mention that of another Essays, p. 157, who speaks of a “semipornographic … epic”. For my part, I am convinced that these elements simply reprise, though often in an exaggerated way, traditional loci, variously present in the preceding literature, and that in any case they reveal a sensibility largely accentuated by Nonnus’ role in the Church. 50 D’IPPOLITO 2013, L’eros come arcitema, p. 1. 51 WIPSZYCKA 1997, Le istituzioni ecclesiastiche, p. 258. 52 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani. Many scholars agreed with me: CHANTRAINE 1966, Review; DOSTÁLOVÁ JENIŠTOVÁ 1966, Review; GRIMAL 1964, Review; HENRY 1965, Review; HUNGER 1965, Review; KEYDELL 1966, Review (= KEYDELL 1982, Kleine Schriften, pp. 551-555); VIAN 1964, Review; VIARRE 1965, Review. 53 LIVREA 1987, Il Poeta ed il Vescovo, p. 106 n. 23 (= LIVREA 1991, Studia Hellenistica, pp. 446-447 n. 23). 54 Thus already PRELLER 1918, Quaestiones Nonnianae, desumptae e Paraphrasi, p. 111. 55 SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), p. 303. 56 ACCORINTI 1996, Nonno, Parafrasi (XX), p. 145. 57 KUHN 1906, Literarhistorische Studien zur Paraphrase, p. 94. 58 Cf. BAUER 1963, Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, under σουδάριον. 59 Cf. PREISIGKE 1925, Wörterbuch der griechischen Papyrusurkunden, under σουδάριον.

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bishop, also a philologist, Eustathius of Thessalonica (12th century). The latter, “benché dia prova in molte citazioni di conoscere il latino, arriva al punto di far derivare παλάτιον da Παλλάντιον, σελλίον da σέλμα, σέρρα (‘sbarra della porta’) da σειρά. Perfino le calende vengono fatte … greche e παννίον addirittura viene fatto risalire al dio Pan.”60 It seems to me that Nonnus’ ‘Syrian’ σουδάριον, admitting that it is an error, is comparable to the case of Eustathius’ Greek calends, which does not show that the learned bishop ignored Latin and even less that he did not know Greek well. On the contrary, we must not overlook the fact that in the Paraphrase itself the poet expressly quotes two Latin words: in 13.21-22: ὕφασμα, τόπερ φάτο Θυμβριὰς αὐδή | λέντιον (linteum); in 19.102: γράμμα, τόπερ καλέουσι Λατινίδι τίτλον ἰωῇ (titulus). We therefore continue to believe, until the contrary is proved, that the “scolaro devoto ed entusiasta”61 of the Berytus law school and the great admirer of Rome was able to read and understand Latin.62 Of course, as regards the various intertextual relationships postulated above all with Vergil and Ovid,63 which I do not consider here, a common observation can be that it is unlikely that they would have been recognized by his public. However, the objection does not hold, since every poet not only writes for his contemporaries but also imagines an implicit recipient that runs through time. Anyway, different levels of reading are possible, from the most naive and uncritical to the most cultured and refined, and the poet generally does not pose the problem of making everyone understand everything. The immense culture, both pagan and Christian, that emerges from these works is therefore perfectly suited to a high prelate like Nonnus bishop of Edessa, who undertakes a poetic rewriting of the most theological of the Gospels, introducing an exegetic amplification that fits in with the theology of Cyril, and at the same time writes a poem that brings face to face two dominant religions in the late antique world, Dionysism and Christianity, and almost presents Dionysus as a forerunner of Christ. 5. Nonnus’ Poetics through the Paraphrase With a view to reconstructing a global Nonnian programme, it is useful to try to derive a poetics from both his works. It is clear that from the Paraphrase, precisely because of the metatextual content of the work, we cannot expect ROTOLO 1984, Eustazio, p. 357, where what is asserted is documented. LIVREA 1987, Il Poeta ed il Vescovo, p. 107 (= LIVREA 1991, Studia Hellenistica, p. 447). 62 TISSONI 1988, Nonno. I Canti di Penteo, pp. 25-26 n. 89, rightly wonders how it is possible to admit plausibly and on the same page that Nonnus attended the Berytus law school and did not know Latin. 63 Cf. D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani; D’IPPOLITO 1991, Nonno e Vergilio; D’IPPOLITO 2007, Nonno di Panopoli e i poeti latini. 60 61

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explicit stances. Yet the autonomy of the poet can already be noticed from the prologue, even from the first line (ἄχρονος ἦν, ἀκίχητος, ἐν ἀρρήτῳ λόγος ἀρχῇ), which renders the first sentence of the Gospel of John (ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος): if the ineffability of the temporal dimension of the λόγος is declared in Cyril’s comment, nevertheless Nonnus breaks away from it, not sharing the interpretation of ἐν ἀρχῇ as “in the first Principle”, that is to say in God, and instead returning to the chronological meaning, that is “at the beginning”.64 Thus, a “splendido capolavoro dell’antichità senescente”,65 the Paraphrase after centuries of lethargy demands to be valued as an autonomous product of literary creation based on the theological interpretation of the Gospel of John, a product that on one side is linked to the Jewish-Christian tradition of testamentary poetry in Greek and on the other originally blends with the great Homeric-Alexandrian poetic tradition. The work is now to be considered not “una pedissequa transcodificazione in linguaggio alto del Vangelo” but instead “una compiuta operazione esegetica e poetica”.66 Identification of Nonnus with the bishop allows us to find the simplest explanation of the very novelty of conception of the Paraphrase: as already noted, a similar honour could only be taken on by an author that had great authority in the Church. And the choice of the Gospel of John, which sees in Christ the incarnation of the Logos, a concept dear to Greek philosophy and in particular to Neoplatonism, is the operation of someone that wants to show the continuity, rather than the opposition, between pagan and Christian culture. 6. Nonnus’ Poetics through the Dionysiaca It is from the lines of the Dionysiaca that we can derive the author’s particular poetics, the expression of a world in many respects opposed to the classical one, a ‘Baroque’ world, as I defined it about sixty years ago67 and as it is now commonly considered. Fundamental for the understanding of Nonnus’ poetic are the two programmatic proems.68 From them, as well as from other evidences, we see emerging an ambitious project nurtured by two characteristics of the author’s personality, which I would call ‘emulative inspiration’ and ‘totalizing inclusive inspiration’.

DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 103. LIVREA 1989, Nonno, Parafrasi (XVIII), p. 42. 66 AGOSTI 2004 [2013], Nonno, Parafrasi (XXV-XXXIX), p. 232. 67 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani, pp. 51-58 (cf. also D’IPPOLITO 1987, Straniamento). 68 HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, Bakkhos anax, pp. 40-57; BANNERT (2008), Proteus und die Musen; ACCORINTI (2009), Poésie et poétique; AGOSTI 2009, Niveaux de style; GIGLI PICCARDI 2016, Nonnus’ Poetics. 64 65

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The first proem (Dion. 1.1-45) immediately takes us into Nonnus’ Baroque poetic, through the formulation of the principle of ποικιλία, embodied in the multiform Proteus. This principle largely coincides with a πολυειδία, a variety of genres: in this way the Dionysiaca, satisfying the author’s totalizing inclusive inspiration, in addition to bringing together the two traditional genres, warlike epic and romantic epic – already represented by the two poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, that are at the basis of all Greek literature and with which Nonnus explicitly competes69 – include examples of every other subgenre. Indeed, in it one can recognize the epyllion, which influences the macrostructure of the poem,70 but also various epic subgenres: historic (like κτίσεις and πάτρια),71 ecphrastic,72 didascalic,73 bucolic,74 allegorical,75 satirical,76 aetiological,77 epigrammatic,78 mimic,79 and hymnic.80 It is significant that in the programmatic proem the Dionysiaca are introduced as a ποικίλος ὕμνος (Dion. 1.15): this corroborates the idea that Nonnus wanted to represent the poem as a gigantic hymn, devoted to narrating the vicissitudes of a τρίγονος god (Zagreus, Dionysus, Iacchus) that through various tests ascends to Olympus, where he sits together with Zeus and Apollo, and also that, as a learned poet, he structured it according to the rhetorical scheme of the royal encomium (βασιλικὸς λόγος). 69 Cf. D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani, pp. 37-41; VIAN 1991, Nonno ed Omero (= VIAN 2005, L’épopée posthomérique, pp. 469-482); HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnus and Homer. 70 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani. 71 The most important examples are Nicaea (Dion. 15.169-16) and Berytus (41-43). 72 The poem contains a complete typology, static and dynamic, of descriptions, from those of people (like the παρθένοι φυγόδεμνοι or the κοῦροι δυσέρωτες) to those of places (like the αὐλή of Electra at Samothrace with its ὄρχατος and its statues, in 3.124-179, or the city of Berytus, in 41.14.50) or to those of objects (like the necklace offered by Aphrodite to her daughter Harmony, in 5.135-189, or the shield of Dionysus, in 25.380-572). Cf. AGOSTI 2004-2005, Immagini e poesia. 73 Apropos of the thousand or so lines on astrological themes distributed in the poem, or of smaller parts like 2.482-507, twenty-six lines on the origin of lightning. 74 E.g. 15.398-419, twenty-two lines on the lament for the death of the cowherd Hymnus with a refrain: 4× βούτης καλὸς ὄλωλε, καλὴ δέ μιν ἔκτανε κούρη. Cf. HARRIES 1994, The Pastoral Mode; LASEK, Nonnus and the Play of Genres, pp. 406-412. 75 On the subject, for example, of Typhonia, 1.140-2.712, where the hundred-headed Typhon represents the principle of Chaos. 76 E.g. 1.323-342, twenty lines that include a sarcastic monologue by Hera addressed to Zeus. 77 E.g. 1.354-361, eight lines on the origin of the stock of Europa and on the catasterism of the Bull or 5.269-279, eleven lines on the Etesian winds. 78 COLLART 1913, Nonnos épigrammatiste, without any pretension to completeness, distinguished a variegated sample of types of it: 3 examples of erotic epigrams (15.298-302, 34.292296, 42.459-467), 2 of paederotic ones (10.280-286, 29.39-44), 6 of epitymbic ones (2.629-630, 11.475-476, 15.361-362, 17.313-314, 37.101-102, 46.318-319), and lastly 4 that could be catalogued as epideictic (4.238-246, 7.117-128, 9.149-154, 17.74-80); LASEK 2016, Nonnus and the Play of Genres, pp. 412-416. 79 LIND 1935, The Mime. 80 DILTHEY 1872, Über die von E. Miller, pp. 385-386; BRAUN 1915, Hymnen bei Nonnos; D’IPPOLITO 2011, Inno e preghiera; LASEK 2016, Nonnus and the Play of Genres, pp. 416-420.

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In the second proem, set at the beginning of canto 25, to mark the start of the second set of 24 cantos (Dion. 25.1-30, cf. 264-270), Nonnus makes a significant declaration of agonal poetics: the poet will sing, according to the Iliadic model, only the last year of war (25.8-9), and later on (25.27) he will affirm that he wants to compete with the ancient poets and also with the younger ones (νέοισι καὶ ἀρχεγόνοισιν ἐρίζων) and to apply the rhetorical devices of σύγκρισις in narrating the deeds of his hero (25.28-30). The emulative aspect and with it the inclusive aspect of the poem are already manifested in the number of books planned, 48, as many as those of the Iliad and the Odyssey together, and then in the simultaneous presence, imitative and innovative, of all the typical scenes and the structural devices that characterize epic, from the repeated invocations to the Muses81 to the catalogues,82 the comparisons and the similes,83 the dialogues and the monologues,84 from the description of a shield85 to that of funeral games and athletic competitions.86 This second proem is the one that can enlighten us on the meaning, the aims and the destination of this epic. Leaving behind us the theory that Nonnus would have composed the pagan Dionysiaca before a presumed conversion to Christianity, the genesis of the poem has been explained above all in two ways. A first theory, presented but not accepted by Pier Franco Beatrice,87 is purely abstract: the poem is said to constitute “una gigantesca, intenzionale demolizione ironica della religione pagana, condotta con l’arma della parodia e dell’umorismo raffinato da parte di un cristiano impegnato”. According to the theory today commonly accepted, the Dionysiaca are a document of paganChristian syncretism of deeply Christianised Egypt: considering that Nonnus played with an unquestionably pagan theme, but never introduced any sign in it of anti-Christian polemic, his paganism is rather an aesthetical attitude aiming to preserve the wealth of a cultural heritage.88 Hence at its basis there GEISZ 2018, A Study of Narrator, pp. 36-62. MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2018, Nonnus’ Catalogic Strategies. 83 GEISZ 2018, Similes and Comparisons; GEISZ 2018, A Study of Narrator, pp. 210-228. 84 VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech. 85 On Dionysus’ shield, see SPANOUDAKIS 2014, The Shield. 86 On funeral games and athletic competitions in the Dionysiaca, see BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems, pp. 500-502. 87 BEATRICE 2007, Nonno di Panopoli, p. 3531. 88 CHUVIN 1986, Nonnos entre paganisme et christianisme; CHUVIN 2006, Nonnos et la “déconstruction” de l’épopée. Already LIEBESCHUETZ 1995, Pagan Mythology, had observed that from the moment of the conversion of the Roman empire to the Arab conquest of the GreekRoman Near East, education and culture to be based on classical literature, mythology and Christianity enjoyed a reasonably peaceful cohabitation; elsewhere (LIEBESCHUETZ 1996, The Use of Pagan Mythology) clearly states that Christianity did not prevent Nonnus from composing an eclectic work, to the glory of Greek culture. SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, even supports the absence of clear-cut separations, in the world of Late Antiquity, between classical and Christian themes. BOWERSOCK 1996, Late Antique Alexandria, p. 266, says clearly: “wherever purely classical Greek paganism turns up in literature or art (Apollo, Dionysos, Herakles, Zeus, 81 82

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is a Christian spirit, which, nevertheless, at the same time does not repudiate ‘pagan’ values. An important element that helps to prove Nonnus’ literary ambition can certainly be considered the presence of περιοχαί, as they constitute a privilege reserved for canonical works: they are 48 couplets, handed down in the manuscripts into two groups of 24, put at the outset of the first and twenty-fifth canto, and in modern editions each printed individually at the beginning of the respective books. As Simone Zuenelli has shown in a recent analysis,89 they are not to be attributed to an editor of the poem that imitates Nonnus’ style, as was previously thought,90 but to the poet himself. The fact is that their text proves to be more ancient than the first edition of the Dionysiaca, as can be inferred from the summary of the 17th book: ἑβδομάτῳ δεκάτῳ πρωτάγριον Ἄρεα μέλπω | καὶ ῥόον οἰνωθέντα μελισταγέος ποταμοῖο “In the 17th I sing the first fruits of Ares | and the river current of honey made into wine.” This summary is misleading: neither of the two themes is dealt with in the 17th book, which instead describes the Dionysus’ hospitable reception by Brongus, an old man and a poor peasant, and then the god’s victory in the battle against the Indians on Mount Taurus, which is absolutely not the first but the second battle, and does not present a renewed miracle of wine. The contradiction indicates that the περιοχή refers to a previous version of the text of the Dionysiaca whose 17th book did indeed contain the themes indicated in the summary. On the basis of this discrepancy it can be concluded that the περιοχαί must be more ancient than the published version of the Dionysiaca and therefore cannot originate from an editor but were produced by Nonnus himself. They are the only known case of a poet who conceives as an integral part of his work that ὑπόθεσις which, as an editorial addition, it was customary to place at the beginning of classical editions in Antiquity. So Nonnus begins the cantos of his Dionysiaca with a metrical summary modelled on the ὑπόθεσις of the classical ancients, and particularly of Homer.91 With this self-presentation he defines himself a classical poet. and so on), it appears to be an elegant or erudite pleasure of Christians.” HAAS 2004, Hellenism and Opposition to Christianity, investigates the retention of pagan religion in late antique Alexandria and concludes that, whereas Egyptian beliefs survived, Hellenism, at least as it is applied to religion practices by polytheists, is a fiction perpetrated by intellectuals. Lately CHUVIN 2014, Revisiting Old Problems, pp. 12-18, has studied the emergency of Christian theology in the Dionysiaca. 89 ZUENELLI 2016, Die Perioche. 90 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. lvii. 91 We read Homer’s monostic Periochae in the scholia, and for the Iliad also from A.P. 9.385 (see LUDWICH 1887, Homeri, periochae metricae): their textual variety documents their wide diffusion. But the periochae as a privilege of canonical works are also those reserved for the works of Virgil: we mention, attributed to Ovid, twelve decasticha, singulis monostichis præmissis, reserved for the argumenta Aeneidos (Anth. Lat. 1: where, in different metrical positions, as in Nonnus, each introductory hexameter mentions the number of the book), one tetrastichon

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7. Ideological and Artistic Unity of a Poetic Project In my opinion one can still go a step further and see both works by Nonnus as having in common a concordant aim, a unitary ideological and artistic project, founded upon unity that is not only formal but also thematic. The starting point is precisely the theory, put forward and upheld by Enrico Livrea,92 who inscribes the writing of the Dionysus poem, together with the Paraphrase, in a unitary theological project aiming to show the pre-Christian presence of a saviour god. If Nonnus chose to bring together all the myths that refer to Dionysiac soteriology, one of the noblest and most elevated in the pagan world, the idea was not strange at all: a contemporary text, Theosophia Tubingensis, from the second half of the fifth century, which certainly reflects a nonexclusive concept, expresses itself as follows: “οὐ δεῖ ἀποβάλλειν τὰς τῶν σοφῶν ἀνδρῶν ῾Ελλήνων περὶ τοῦ θεοῦ μαρτυρίας. … ῞Ωστε ὅστις ἀθετεῖ τὰς τοιαύτας μαρτυρίας, ἀθετεῖ καὶ τὸν θεὸν ἐπὶ ταύτας κινήσαντα.” (Prooem. 2) “We must not refuse the testimonies of the wise Hellenes on the divinity. … Anyone who refuses such testimonies also refuses the God that produced them.”93 To consolidate this new perspective – which links the deep reason for the composition of the Dionysiaca with the message of the Paraphrase – at this point it will be useful to connect this conclusion with the no less innovative work done by another bishop that lived some years before and that Nonnus certainly knew and appreciated, Gregory of Nazianzus. Speaking of “forme e funzioni della poesia nella grecità tardoantica”94 and subsequently of Gregory’s poetics,95 I wrote that we see him enacting “una grande operazione culturale, purtroppo senza adeguato seguito, la creazione di una poesia cristiana greca formalmente impiantata nella tradizione pagana.” Today, however, I feel that I have to correct my observation at least partly. Nonnus, who read Gregory’s poetry and drew from it,96 surely must have seen in him a model which succeeded exemplarily in reconciling pagan form and motifs with Christian poetry. Gregory’s aims are substantially analogous to those that one century later Nonnus was to pursue: the 103 iambic trimeters of Carmen 2.1.39, known by the title In suos versus, contain the manifesto of his poetics, which I have condensed in the expression “poesia come tetrafarmaco.”97 On the basis of the second of the four medicines (2.1.39, 37-46), Gregory, addressing young dedicated to the Bucolica and four tetrasticha to four books of the Georgica (Anth. Lat. 2); and again, by various authors, the pentasticha de duodecim libris Aeneidos (Anth. Lat. 591-602). 92 LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B), pp. 71-76. 93 BEATRICE 2001, Anonymi Monophysitae Theosophia, p. 7. 94 D’IPPOLITO 2004-2005, Forme e funzioni, p. 139. 95 D’IPPOLITO 2008, Gregorio di Nazianzo, p. 411. 96 D’IPPOLITO 1994, Nonno e Gregorio. 97 D’IPPOLITO 2007, Gregorio di Nazianzo.

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Christians that love letters and the pagan tradition itself, presents poetry as a privileged form of teaching of Christianity, the objective remedy to teaching it in a pleasant way, sweetening the bitterness of admonishments and reducing the tension of precepts with the agreeability proper to the metre. It is to be noticed that the use of poetry for teaching purposes was not alien to the Church Fathers, educated in the rhetoric schools. But a further function of his verse is clearly taken up in the third point (47-53) and is also acknowledged by the Nonnian poetics, that of emulating the great pagan poetry and thus giving Christianity authentic Christian poetry able to surpass the former. Hence in line with the poetics already expressed by Gregory of Nazianzus (carm. 2.1.39), Nonnus pursues a highly didactic and at the same time cultural purpose, on one side emulating and renewing great pagan poetry and in it showing aspects anticipating Christianity, and on the other creating an authentic Christian poem, such as to attract even the pagans. That in the Dionysiaca Nonnus does not intend to present pagan propaganda and, far from taking an interest in cultual facts, instead behaves as a literate, is amply shown by Vian through the study of his vocabulary relating to the cult of the mysteries.98 The unity of the design is demonstrated by various elements.99 In the first place there are formal elements, which immediately gave rise to the conviction, by far the prevailing one, that the two works had a common author. And first of all the adoption of an ancient and noble but renewed metre. Through a thorough analysis Gianfranco Agosti100 was the main supporter of the substantial homogeneity between the metric system of the Paraphrase and that of the Dionysiaca: the presence of prosodic anomalies is justified by the differences between the two works regarding the literary genre and by the need to adhere to the text of the Gospel.101 But homogeneity also involves the formulaic system,102 and with it all language, from grammar to lexicon, and common adoption of a Baroque style, centring on variety and paradox. From the thematic point of view, a crossover reading of the two works, rightly upheld by Accorinti103 as a particularly precious approach to the poet, is the best proof of his complex dialogue between the Christian tradition and the classical one, showing assiduous correlation, which goes from ‘evangelical’ traits in the personality and vicissitudes of Dionysus to ‘Dionysiac’ motifs in the presentation of Christ.104 Here are some of them, which have been the VIAN 1988, Les cultes païens. SPANOUDAKIS 2016, Pagan Themes, p. 622, effectively writes: “the two poems seem to be bound together inextricably.” 100 AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), pp. 175-210. 101 AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), p. 205. 102 D’IPPOLITO 2016, Nonnus’ Conventional Formulaic Style. 103 ACCORINTI 2015, Nonnos und der Mythos. 104 On Christian themes in the Dionysiaca and pagan themes in the Paraphrase see SHORROCK 2016, Christian Themes and SPANOUDAKIS 2016, Pagan Themes, respectively. 98 99

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object of thorough comparative analyses: the transformation of water into wine at the marriage at Cana and the analogous metamorphosis of the waters of Lake Astacis (Par. 2.35-38, Dion. 14.411-417);105 the well dug by Jacob in Samaria and the one dug by Danaus in Argos (Par. 4.11-74, Dion. 4.249-284);106 the healing of a man born blind (Par. 9.1-65, Dion. 25.281-291), with the use of analogous expressions and even of a whole line repeated (Par. 9.43 = Dion. 25.291), which makes the much more developed story in the Paraphrase, the certain source of the five lines of the Dionysiaca;107 the weeping of Christ over the death of Lazarus (Par. 11.123-124: καὶ ἔστενεν αὐτὸς ᾽Ιησοῦς | ὄμμασιν ἀκλαύτοισιν ἀήθεα δάκρυα λείβων) which returns in the Dionysiaca 12.171 (Βάκχος ἄναξ δάκρυσε, βροτῶν ἵνα δάκρυα λύσῃ) as the weeping of Dionysus over the death of Ampelus, but in the form of the Gospel of John (11.35 ἐδάκρυσεν ὅ Ἰησοῦς) and above all in the form we read in Cyril’s Commentary (δακρύει ὁ Κύριος … ἵνα τὸ ἡμῶν περιστείλῃ δάκρυον);108 the resurrection of Lazarus and that of Tylus (Par. 11.1-180, Dion. 25.451-552);109 the arrival of Christ in Jerusalem and that of Dionysus in Athens (Par. 12.51-58, Dion. 47.1-33);110 the avarice condemned in Judas (Par. 13.113: φιλοκτεάνοιο φονῆος) and attributed with the same epithet to the Indian Melaneus (Dion. 29.51: φιλοκτεάνῳ Μελανῆι), who, allured by rich gifts, agrees to try to kill Dionysus; Jesus’ arrest by the Jews in the garden of Gethsemane and that of Dionysus by Pentheus’ servants (Par. 18.1-63, Dion. 45.228-239);111 in the Icarius episode (Dion. 47.1-264) the assimilation of the protagonist to Christ, of his assassins to the Jews, and of Erigone to Mary Magdalene (Par. 19).112 These evident correspondences have been explained in various ways. Most scholars have attributed them to syncretism: thus, starting from the Dionysiaca, Daria Gigli Piccardi deems “primaria nelle intenzioni del poeta la volontà di esaltare nel dionisismo l’ultimo tentativo del paganesimo morente di mantenere vivo un sistema di interpretazione del cosmo, pervaso di accenti salvifici e palingenetici”; and looking at the Paraphrase, she considers the Gospel of John “uno strumento ideale per veicolare un’operazione culturale in cui un poeta si proponeva di salvare il retaggio della paideia greca, che prendeva significativamente il volto di una divinità ancora viva a quel tempo, il cui simbolo principe, la vite, si caricava di attese salvifiche o più semplicemente 105 See LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B), pp. 76-92, 206-211. On the terminology of the Bacchic mysteries in the Cana episode, but also in Christ’s conversation with the Samaritan woman (Par. 4.97-118), see DOROSZEWSKI 2016, The Mystery Terminology. 106 See GIGLI PICCARDI 1995, Il pozzo di Danao e Giacobbe. 107 See AGOSTI 2004 [2013], Nonno, Dionisiache, pp. 105-107. 108 See SHORROCK 2016, Christian Themes, pp. 593-599. 109 See SPANOUDAKIS 2014, The Shield, pp. 334-358. 110 An affinity noticed and analyzed by ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), pp. 34-36. 111 See GIGLI PICCARDI 1984, Dioniso e Gesù Cristo. 112 See SPANOUDAKIS 2007, Icarius Jesus Christ.

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richiamava un modus vivendi affrancato dall’angoscia.”113 Basically she looks at a sort of ‘accommodationism’, according to which the Fourth Gospel was chosen because it showed a greater degree of overlap with the illuminated paganism of Neoplatonism. Others, like Agosti, on the subject of the Paraphrase speak of an intercultural dialogue based on the literary ‘postmodern’ practice of usurpation and contrastive imitation,114 through which the Christian poem appropriates the attributes of pagan gods in a competitive spirit. Lastly, Livrea believes that the Dionysiaca was destined to show that paganism already contained announcements of Christianity. In my opinion all these explanations are plausible and mutually compatible, and indeed contribute to the construction of truth.115 But the analogies also involve the deep structure: the main actantial model that I have noticed in the Dionysiaca is similar to the one that can be derived from the Paraphrase.116 The Subject in both cases is a man-god, born of God the father/Zeus (Sender) and of a virgin mother, Mary/Aura, followed by faithful followers, Apostles/Bacchants (Helper category), and opposed by men, Jews, Caiaphas/Indians, Pentheus, and by superhuman beings, Devil/Giants (Opponent category); the Object is partly the drink itself, wine, which, as a product of the Subject (blood of Christ/Bacchus-vine), frees humanity (Receiver) from sin and pain, the one looking to a soteriology of the soul, the other to terrestrial comfort.117 8. Literary Pride in an Epigram But the best confirmation of Nonnus’ literary pride comes from a self-celebratory epigram (AP 9.198) written for future memory to remember the name, the country and in the same image not one but both works. Zuenelli, speaking of the periochae, also dedicates a section118 to this epigram, appraising it as another possible ‘Selbstinszenierung’ of the poet limited to the Dionysiaca, perhaps destined to accompany a portrait of him The epigram goes as follows: Νόννος ἐγώ· Πανὸς μὲν ἐμὴ πόλις, ἐν Φαρίῃ δὲ ἔγχεϊ φωνήεντι γονὰς ἤμησα Γιγάντων. I am Nonnus. My city is Panopolis, but in that of the Pharos with a vocal sword I mowed down the lineages of the Giants.119

GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 80. AGOSTI 2011, Usurper. 115 LIGHTFOOT 2018, In the Beginning. 116 D’IPPOLITO 1995, Intertesto evangelico. 117 On this distinction cf. also VIAN 1994, Théogamies, pp. 214-233 (= VIAN 2005, L’épopée posthomérique, pp. 531-550). 118 ZUENELLI 2016, Die Perioche, pp. 592-594. 119 All translations from the Greek are by the author. 113 114

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The first line informs us about the name of the author, his native town, Panopolis, and the site of his activity, Alessandria, the city of the Pharos.120 The second line seems to allude, at first sight, only to the composition of a gigantomachia. So there has been no lack of scholars who have thought that Nonnus, in addition to the Dionysiaca, had composed a Gigantomachia.121 Actually, the images present in the couplet come from various parts of the Dionysiaca, and they are not even extraneous, as we shall see later, to the Paraphrase. At line 1, the banal construction ἐμὴ πόλις is present in Dion. 44.173 in the same metrical position before the adonean clausula ὅλη πόλις that it also occupies in Par. 11.206. At line 2, the first hemistich, ἔγχεϊ φωνήεντι, is a brilliant variation on Dion. 30.46 ἔγχεϊ φοινήεντι, an image that returns in ἔμπνοον ἔγχος at 25.265 and at 25.270, ὄφρα κατακτείνω νοερῷ δορὶ λείψανον Ἰνδῶν, “So that I exterminate the last Indians with my spiritual lance”;122 the second hemistich, γονὰς ἤμησα Γιγάντων, follows καλάμην ἤμησε Γιγάντων referring to Cadmus in Dion. 4.442 and 5.2 but to Dionysus in 25.87, and also echoes ἤμησε γονὰς at Dion 17.156. The reference to the Giants goes beyond an allusion to the gigantomachy with which the conclusive canto of the Dionysiaca opens (48.1-89): they are also identified with the Indians, as is clearly evinced from Dion. 18.265-267 (Γίνεο καὶ σὺ τοκῆι πανείκελος, ὄφρα καὶ αὐτόν | Γηγενέων ὀλετῆρα μετὰ Κρονίδην σὲ καλέσσω, | δήιον ἀμήσαντα χαμαιγενέων στάχυν Ἰνδῶν. “Be you too in everything like your father, so that you too | I may call exterminator of the Earthborn next to Cronides, | when you have reaped down the enemy harvest of the Indians born from the soil”) and 43.134135 (κταμένων δὲ νεόρρυτον αἷμα Γιγάντων | νεβρὶς ἐμὴ μεθέπουσα μελαίνεται. “with the newly shed blood of slain Giants | my fawnskin has blackened”). 120 Without any doubt, as CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, p. 632 n. 3, notes, ἐν Φαρίῃ, through the correlative particles, is opposed to ἐμὴ πόλις, and presupposes the noun πόλει. 121 The unjustified conviction that Nonnus had composed other poems besides the Dionysiaca was born from a misinterpreted testimony of Agathias, which thus recalls the myth of Apollo and Marsyas (Historiae 4.23.5): “ταῦτα γὰρ οἵ τε πρότερον ποιηταὶ ᾄδουσι καὶ οἱ νέοι παραλαβόντες συνᾴδουσιν. ὧν δὴ καὶ Νόννος, ὁ ἐκ τῆς Πανὸς τῆς Αἰγυπτίας γεγενημένος, ἔν τινι τῶν οἰκείων ποιημάτων, ἅπερ αὐτῷ Διονυσιακὰ ἐπωνόμασται, οὐκ οἶδα ἐφ’ὅτῳ ὀλίγα ἄττα τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος πέρι ἀφηγησάμενος (οὐ γὰρ δὴ τῶν προηγουμένων ἐπῶν ἐπιμέμνημαι) εἶτα ἐπάγει· “Ἐξότε Μαρσύαο θεημάχον αὐλὸν ἐλέγξας, | δέρμα παρῃώρησε φυτῷ κολπούμενον αὔραις.” (Dion. 1.42-43) “Such myths sing the ancient poets, and the moderns receive them and sing them together. Among these also Nonnus, a native of Panopolis in Egypt, in one of his cantos that he has titled Dionysiaca (since I do not remember the lines that precede) continues like this: ‘Since when, winner on the Marsyas’ flute, rival of the god, | [Apollo] has hung on the tree the skin inflated by the winds.’” 122 The image of poetry as a weapon goes back at least to Pindar, one of the authors dearest to Nonnus. However, Pindar was talking about the word-arrow not for hostile actions but for praise by the poet-archer: Pind. Ol. 1.111-112, 2.83-85 (Βέλη φωνάεντα συνετοῖσιν, “vocal arrows for connoisseurs”), 9.5-12; Isthm. 2.3, 5.46-48; Nem. 6.27-28.

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In the image of the Giants exterminated by the voice of poetry an allusion must be perceived to both Nonnus’ works. The fact is that the Giants do not allude only to Dionysus Γιγαντοφόνος (Dion. 17.10, 45.172) and to Indians. As I said before, the images present in the couplet do not refer only to the Dionysiaca but also involve the Paraphrase, where the Giants exterminated by the voice of poetry allude to heretics or, in general, to Christ’s adversaries. In fact, according to a traditional metaphor in the Christian sphere starting from the Giants Nephilim of Genesis 6.4, descendants of ungodly unions, they point to heretics,123 and as Γηγενέες, “sons of the earth”, recall an aversion of the poet towards everything that was born of the earth, a symbol of darkness and therefore of evil.124 Also the voice as a weapon reminds us of the Paraphrase.125 In Par. 18.3438 Jesus causes the soldiers who have come to arrest him to fall down just with the power of his voice: καὶ ὡς ἐφθέγξατο λαῷ ἁβροχίτων, ἀσίδηρος ἄναξ ῥηξήνορι φωνῇ· (35) Ναζαρὲθ ναέτης τελέθω Γαλιλαῖος Ἰησοῦς· (44) πάντες ἐπ’ ἀλλήλοισι μαχήμονες ἀσπιδιῶται (36) αὐτόματοι πίπτοντες ἐπεστόρνυντο κονίῃ πρηνέες, οἰστρηθέντες ἀτευχέι λαίλαπι φωνῆς. And when he proclaimed to the crowd the Lord, in soft tunic, unarmed, with a stentorian voice: “I am the citizen of Nazareth, Jesus Galilean”, all the warlike armies, on each other by themselves collapsing, they fell on the dust prone, pierced by the unarmed storm of the voice.

As for the Pharos, which identifies the city of Alexandria, it would not only allude to Proteus, which appears at the start of the Dionysiaca, but would also evoke the tradition of the Old Testament and the work of its translation by the seventy-two scholars summoned there by Ptolemy II Philadelphus.126 What further confirms that the epigram refers to both works of Nonnus is the fact that we find it placed as the inscriptio in a branch of the manuscript The legend is also taken from Flavius Josephus, Ant. Iud. 1.73: πολλοὶ γὰρ ἄγγελοι θεοῦ γυναιξὶ συνιόντες ὑβριστὰς ἐγέννησαν παῖδας καὶ παντὸς ὑπερόπτας καλοῦ διὰ τὴν ἐπὶ τῇ δυνάμει πεποίθησιν· ὅμοια τοῖς ὑπὸ γιγάντων τετολμῆσθαι λεγομένοις ὑφ᾽῾Ελλήνων καὶ οὗτοι δράσαι παραδίδονται. “Many angels of God copulated with women and begat sons that proved unjust and despisers of all that was good, on account of the confidence they had in their own strength; according to tradition, they did what resembled the acts of those whom the Greeks call Giants.” 124 GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), pp. 48-49. 125 Cf. ROTONDO 2008, La voce divina, pp. 295-297. 126 LIVREA 1987, Il Poeta ed il Vescovo, pp. 112-113 (= LIVREA 1991, Studia Hellenistica, pp. 452-453). 123

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tradition of the Paraphrase. That the epigram, on the other hand, was not transmitted together with the anonymous text of the Dionysiaca, rather than suggesting that the cover of the original manuscript including the couplet and the author’s name has been lost,127 can be explained by an intentional attempt not openly to tie the name of Nonnus, who in the meantime had held a high ecclesial office, to a poem of a pagan subject. The two hexameters of the epigram have come down to us without an attribution of paternity, but I have no doubt that they are to be attributed to Nonnus himself and to his convinced and justified ambition.128 It has been rightly observed that the epigram hides the title, that is the name of Dionysus, the precise argument of the poem of Nonnus, and more than one justification of this absence, certainly not negligible, has been put forward. This absence seems to me the most important argument for attribution of the couplet to the poet himself: apart from the originality of metaphors and images, which bear the imprint of the Nonnian genius, we do not see who, if not Nonnus, would have been interested in hiding the name of the god that is the protagonist of the poem. The epigram marks the highest point of Nonnus’ ambition: it is authentic since no one except his genius could have indicated his works in a way that is at the same time so refined and so cryptic. On the other hand, if Nonnus is the author of both the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase, and the latter work was guaranteed by his authority as bishop, he could not in any way not allude to the work that was doctrinally but also literally his most important. His status as a bishop explains many things: the title hidden in the epigram, due to a sort of self-censorship; the absence of the author’s name in the Dionysiaca manuscripts and vice versa its presence in those of the Paraphrase; the complete absence of references to the Dionysiaca, from the sixth to twelfth century, when the relations between Christians and Pagans were less conciliatory. If we want to condense in a sentence the aims of Nonnus’ programme we can say, with the words of Alan Cameron, that Nonnus “helped many educated people to embrace a Christianity that did not involve rejecting too much of the pagan past.”129

A hypothesis advanced by ZUENELLI 2016, Die Perioche, p. 593 n. 89. Against COLLART 1913, Anthologie Palatine IX; COLLART 1930, Nonnos de Panopolis. Études, pp. 2-3, who judged it a work by a disciple of Nonnus, the first to believe the epigram was probably by Nonnus was WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, pp. 166-168; VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. lvii, preferred to attribute it, together with the Περιοχὴ Διονυσιακῶν, to the first editor of the Dionysiaca, and finally LIVREA 1987, Il Poeta ed il Vescovo, pp. 110-113 (= LIVREA 1991, Studia Hellenistica, pp. 450-453), not only believed it to be Nonnian but also referable to both works. 129 CAMERON 2016, Wandering Poets and Other Essays, p. 158. 127

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II. NONNUS, A CLASSIC IN THE MAKING: THE BOOK EPIGRAM ON THE DIONYSIACA (A.P. 9.198) Simon ZUENELLI 1. Methodological Considerations: A.P. 9.198 Text or Paratext?1 The section from 184-214 in the 9th book of the Anthologia Palatina mainly consists of epigrams on books, for the most part allegedly used as real book inscriptions prior to being removed from their original context and incorporated into an epigram book by either Cephalas or someone else before him.2 Among them, an anonymous epigram on the Dionysiaca of Nonnus of Panopolis (A.P. 9.198) has survived. The poem is not transmitted in the Laurentianus plut. 32.16, the main witness to Nonnus’ epic, nor in the codices stemming from it, but is found in two late manuscripts of the Paraphrasis.3 Nevertheless, based on what we know about the textual tradition of the Paraphrasis, the epigram – pace Enrico Livrea4 – must have been added at a later stage.5 Besides the interest in A.P. 9.198 as a crucial testimonium for the biography of Nonnus, much scholarly attention has been devoted to the question of the epigram’s authorship.6 Three possible authors have been suggested by scholars: Nonnus himself,7 the (posthumous) editor of the Dionysiaca,8 or a further 1 This contribution is part of the project, “The Ancient Greek Book Epigram” (P 28702-G23), generously funded by the Austrian Science Fund (FWF). The corpus of ancient Greek book epigrams still ought to be studied in the depth it deserves and I am currently preparing a monograph on this topic. The best general treatment so far is DEMOEN 2019, Epigrams on Authors, who discusses the dichotomy of ‘inscribed’ (paratextual) and literary (textual) book epigrams on pp. 70-75. In what follows, I will use the terms “book epigram” in relation to epigrams whose function is that of ‘inscriptions’ on books, regardless of whether the book context is real (‘inscriptional’ epigram) or fictional (literary epigram). 2 There is strong evidence that these epigrams were part of the so called Palladas sylloge, an epigram collection possibly composed in the 6th century, which – besides epigrams by Palladas and Lucian – contained other various “short poems” (see LAUXTERMANN 1997, The Palladas Sylloge). Most likely, the sylloge was read by Cephalas in an updated mid-9th century version composed by Leo the Philosopher himself or copied at his behest (LAUXTERMANN 2003, Byzantine Poetry, pp. 100-101). 3 These are manuscript Moscow, GIM, Synod. gr. 442 (= M) (mid. 16th century), and its derivative Athos, Iviron 388 (= I) (16th ex./17th in.); on the relationship between these manuscripts, see DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 51-52. 4 LIVREA 1987, Il poeta e il vescovo, p. 112. 5 CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, pp. 643-644. 6 On A.P. 9.198’s critical bibliography, see CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto. 7 LIVREA 1987, Il poeta e il vescovo, p. 112; D’IPPOLITO in this volume, section 8. 8 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. lvii.

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person deeply acquainted with Nonnus’ poetic production.9 All three suggestions are equally valid, yet none can be proved for certain.10 However, what previous scholars have failed to offer is a differentiated view with regard to the pragmatic setting of the epigram (Sitz im Leben). Two plausible contexts for the production of the epigram can be identified: (1.) The epigram was originally conceived as a book ‘inscription’, to be added to an edition of the Dionysiaca. In this case, we are dealing with a real book, for which the epigram served as a paratext. The scholars suggesting that Nonnus, or rather the editor of the Dionysiaca, authored the epigram, believe this is the case. Surprisingly, in their argumentation, they do not reflect upon the fact that the epigram is not part of the manuscript tradition of the Dionysiaca. If the epigram were in fact prefixed to the text of the Dionysiaca by either Nonnus or the editor, one would expect it to have found its way into the tradition of the Dionysiaca. But, as I mentioned above, there is no evidence of that. However this fact does not rule out the possible authorship of Nonnus or of the editor, as one can still assume that the epigram may have gone astray, for whatever reason, at some point during the transmission process. As evidence of this, let’s consider the fact that the author’s name is not present in the manuscript tradition, nor was it known to medieval scholars.11 To me, this fact can be explained through the hypothesis that at some point during the transmission of the Dionysiaca, the ‘frontispiece’, identifying Nonnus as the author of the epic, became lost. If we take A.P. 9.198 as a real book inscription, it was most likely written on that same ‘frontispiece’. Consequently, we may well conclude that the epigram suffered the same material fate as that of the author’s name. However, prior to that, someone must have included the poem in an epigram collection (vel sim.), which was ultimately incorporated into Cephalas’ anthology (and, as a result, into the Anthologia Palatina). In doing so, this collector – about whose identiy identity we can only speculate – saved the epigram from oblivion. (2.) As there is a long tradition of fictional book epigrams, it is equally possible (and perhaps even more plausible) that A.P. 9.198 was originally conceived as a mere literary text, not intended to pragmatically function as a paratext. This being the case, the reference to an edition of the Dionysiaca must be regarded as entirely fictional. We may therefore picture the epigram’s author as a literate person who – following in the footsteps of earlier epigrammatists – 9 WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, pp. 166-168 (who also considers Nonnus’s authorship possible); COLLART 1913, Anthologie Palatine IX.198. 10 See, for instance, CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, pp. 636-638 and ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, p. 23. 11 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), pp. lxi-lxii and lxvi; DE STEFANI 2016, Brief Notes, pp. 677-678; for a different view, see ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, pp. 16-23, who suggests that Eustathius eventually learnt of Nonnus’ authorship of the Dionysiaca.

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wished to convey his appreciation for the Panopolitan poet by using the conventions of the book epigram genre. Given his high poetic skills and deep acquaintance with the Dionysiaca, I believe that we are entitled to call him a poet and to infer that he penned A.P. 9.198 for it ultimately to be included in an epigram book (vel sim.) that he would author. This leads us to make a final consideration: on a literary level, the text functions as a paratext for a Dionyisaca manuscript; however, the real contextual setting of the epigram is that of an epigram book. Thus, I suggest that those scholars who attributed the epigram to a person other than Nonnus or the editor of the Dionysiaca might – although not explicitly specified – have located the composition of A.P. 9.198 in such a context. It must be noted, however, that the epigram being anonymous (ἀδέσποτον) could be considered as an argument against the second hypothesis. Indeed, provided that the epigram was gathered from a book collection by a (famous) poet, one would expect the lemma to mention the relevant author. Yet, all considered, this observation does not make the hypothesis less plausible: besides the accidental loss of the ascription, let’s consider the following scenario. What if, at some stage, the epigram was re-used – contrary to its original purpose – as a paratext for a specific Dionysiaca manuscript and taken from there by a collector liable for its inclusion into an epigram book? Now, as it seems, ascriptions were not (or only rarely) recorded, if an epigram was used as a paratext.12 Therefore, we can infer that the hypothetical collector – when coming across the epigram in a Dionysiaca manuscript – might have found it there without any reference to its original author. Consequently, it would have not been possible for him to identify its author, unless he knew the poem by other means. This leads us to a further issue that we must consider, that of the functional fluidity of book epigrams. In general, the issue finds a parallel in sepulchral and votive epigrams, for which the transference from object to book and vice versa is well documented. In the case of book epigrams, this transference mainly goes in the following two directions:13 (1.) An epigram, primarily intended to form a paratext for a specific manuscript, can be detached from its original context and – probably due to its aesthetic appeal – included in an epigram book (the latter intended for more private or public readership). Hence, the original ‘inscriptional’ paratext becomes a literary text. (2.) On the contrary, 12 This phenomenon is well attested during the Middle Ages. In fact, many Byzantine epigrams, originally composed by famous poets, were transmitted as anonymous paratexts in later codices (BERNARD – DEMOEN 2019, Byzantine Book Epigrams, p. 414). I believe the situation was not much different in Late Antiquity, as the following two considerations suggest: (1.) Most of the book epigrams in the Anthologia Palatina – some of which are sophisticated poems arguably composed by skilled poets (see, for instance, 9.190, 9.191, 16.311) – are anonymous; (2.) None of the book epigrams which survived as paratexts in situ, that is in an ancient manuscript, transmits the name of their author. 13 DEMOEN 2019, Epigrams on Authors, pp. 80-82, taking the Anthologia Palatina as a case study, illustrates this functional fluidity.

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as discussed above, an epigram originally conceived for publication in an epigram book can be used as a paratext for a specific manuscript if its owner – for whatever reason – decides to copy it there. In this case, the literary epigram becomes a paratextual book ‘inscription’. Yet, for the interpretation of the epigrams, the different readings stemming from a potential shift from text to paratext or vice versa can be neglected (unless we are primarily interested in its reception history), as long as we have reliable information about its original context. This being the case, the interpreter will of course focus on the original setting of the epigram and choose this as the basis for his further investigation. However, when such information is not available, the situation becomes problematic – as is the case for A.P. 9.198 whose original context and author we do not know. This lack of information makes interpretation difficult. There is a significant difference between reading the epigram, for instance, as a prefixed paratext to the first edition of the Dionysiaca by Nonnus himself, and as a literary epigram penned by an unknown poet, testing his own poetic ability to write a “modern” book epigram. These preliminary considerations seemed necessary to me in order to appropriately interpret the epigram from a literary perspective, which is the aim of this contribution. To me, the key to understanding A.P. 9.198 lies in the correct interpretation of its generic aspects. Hence, this contribution will focus on the analysis of its generic affiliation (or rather affiliations), which has received only marginal attention to date. In order to critically re-evaluate the methodological aporia outlined above, I decided to take the following approach in interpreting the epigram. I do not intend to reconstruct the “original” meaning of the text (since – as shown – this would be a futile attempt), but rather to take the epigram book setting as a starting point in order to examine the meaning of the text within that context. In other words, the main aim of this contribution is to assess the way in which an ancient pepaidomenos may have read the epigram when coming across it as an anonymous poem in an epigram book (sylloge, anthology vel sim.). My approach is motivated by the fact that, at least from one point onwards in its transmission history, A.P. 9.198 was indeed part of an epigram book the latest possible candidate being the anthology of Cephalas. Hence, the reader I intend to focus upon is the one who unquestionably existed at some point in history, and who could read A.P. 9.198 as part of an epigram collection, as opposed to the hypothetical reader who might, or might have not, read A.P. 9.198 as a real book inscription. First of all, I would like to offer a brief introduction to the epigram focusing, in particular, on the metaphor of the giants. The core of this contribution will consist of an analysis of the generic aspects of A.P. 9.198. As previously mentioned, the poem will be considered from the perspective of a reader who came across A.P. 9.198 as an anonymous poem in an epigram book. Through this

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analysis, I will offer a new interpretation of the epigram, arguing that A.P. 9.198’s main concern is to evaluate the literary quality of the Dionysiaca. Thus, I will demonstrate that the key function of the epigram is to claim the rank of a literary classic for Nonnus’ work. Finally, I will address the question of A.P. 9.198’s hypothetical transmission as a real paratext and discuss the possibility of Nonnus being the epigram’s author. 2. Nonnus’ Giants: A Preliminary Analysis of A.P. 9.198 The epigram in question consists of two lines conforming to the rules of the “Nonnian” hexameter: Νόννος ἐγώ· Πανὸς μὲν ἐμὴ πόλις, ἐν Φαρίῃ δέ ἔγχεϊ φωνήεντι14 γονὰς ἤμησα Γιγάντων. I am Nonnus; my native town is Panopolis, but in Alexandria I mowed down with my vocal spear the race of the giants.15

The narrative voice of the epigram is the poet Nonnus, who introduces himself to the reader by providing him with key information about his biography. The first part of the epigram, conveying the poet’s name and that of his hometown, is rather straightforward in its meaning. Yet the second part appears more obscure. Firstly, there is particular battle imagery, which deserves a closer reading. For someone already familiar with the Dionysiaca, relating the battle image to the middle proem of the epic might have not been particularly difficult. There, the narrator presents himself as a warrior of the word, fighting, on a literary level, the same battle as his protagonist (Dion. 25.264-270): ἀλλὰ θεά με κόμιζε τὸ δεύτερον ἐς μόθον Ἰνδῶν, ἔμπνοον ἔγχος ἔχοντα καὶ ἀσπίδα πατρὸς Ὁμήρου, (265) μαρνάμενον Μορρῆι καὶ ἄφρονι Δηριαδῆι σὺν Διὶ καὶ Βρομίῳ κεκορυθμένον· ἐν δὲ κυδοιμοῖς Βακχιάδος σύριγγος ἀγέστρατον ἦχον ἀκούσω καὶ κτύπον οὐ λήγοντα σοφῆς σάλπιγγος Ὁμήρου, ὄφρα κατακτείνω νοερῷ δορὶ λείψανον Ἰνδῶν. (270) Then bring me, O goddess, into the midst of the Indians again, holding the inspired spear and shield of Father Homer, while I attack Morrheus and the folly of Deriades, armed by the side of Zeus and Bromios! Let me hear the syrinx of Bacchos summon the host to battle, and the ceaseless call of the trumpet in Homer’s verse, that I may destroy what is left of the Indians with my spear of the spirit.16

14 15 16

A.Pl. Ib 37.5 f. 85v transmits the lectio facilior φοινήεντι. Transl. after PATON 1916-1918, The Greek Anthology. Transl. ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca.

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In these lines, the narrator establishes a parallel between the battle fought by Dionysus within the framework of the epic and his own poetic endeavour of describing it. The narrator, aided by the weapon of the word, becomes thus a warrior of the word, fighting side by side with his protagonist Dionysus against the god’s enemies. This metaphorical conflation of the act of narration with the narrative itself is a poetic technique rooted in an ancient literary tradition. In his seminal study on the subject, Godo Lieberg coined the term “poeta creator” for such a narrator, who presents himself not just by telling, but indeed by acting out his plot.17 The battle imagery employed in the epigram is thus imitating that of the middle proem and encourages us to interpret the martial act of mowing down the giants also as a metaphor for the poetic production. In this context, some special emphasis should be placed upon the expression ἔγχεϊ φωνήεντι, which echoes the phrases ἔμπνοον ἔγχος (25.265) and νοερῷ δορί (25.270) of the middle proem. Indeed, ἔγχος φωνήεν seems to me a particularly fortunate image of poetic arms, as the shape of a spear does indeed resemble the actual weapon of an ancient poet, that is, the reed pen. Secondly, a more complex issue than establishing the accurate reading of the battle imagery is how to interpret the mention of the giants. This exegetical conundrum has been dominating the scholarly discussion on the epigram. Some scholars saw in it a reference to a lost Gigantomachia by Nonnus,18 while others stressed the parallel with the gigantomachy in book 48 of the Dionysiaca;19 finally, others read the reference as a metaphor for the Dionysiaca as a whole,20 or even for both the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrasis.21 As it is often the case, such a disagreement among scholars might suggest that the text allows multiple levels of interpretation – and I believe this is the case for this particular passage, too. The different readings put forward by scholars in so far do not all seem to be equally convincing. For instance, there is no evidence whatsoever that Nonnus composed other poems beside the Paraphrasis and the Dionysiaca; hence, the idea that the epigram refers to a lost poem dealing with giants can hardly be sustained. The same applies to the attempt to connect the epigram 17 LIEBERG 1982, Poeta creator; see esp. pp. 156-158, where the middle proem of the Dionysiaca is discussed. 18 This view is generally considered by scholars as outdated; however, more recently KRÖLL 2016, Die Jugend des Dionysos, pp. 3-4 considers it as a valid alternative reading of the epigram. 19 STADTMÜLLER 1884-1906, Anthologia Graeca, ad loc.; COLLART 1913, Anthologie Palatine IX.198 (see COLLART 1930, Nonnos de Panopolis, pp. 2-3); CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, pp. 633-635. 20 LUDWICH 1909, Nonni, Dionysiaca, p. VI; STEGEMANN 1930, Astrologie, pp. 206-207; WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, p. 167; VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. lvii. 21 LIVREA 1987, Il poeta e il vescovo, pp. 110-113; WHITBY 2016, Nonnus and Biblical Epic, p. 216; D’IPPOLITO in this volume, section 8.

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with the Paraphrasis by interpreting the giants as enemies of Christ, as the interpretation is based on too wobbly ground – at least in my opinion.22 However, I believe those critics are right when – following in the footsteps of Ludwich – they see in γονὰς … Γιγάντων a reference to the Dionysiaca as a whole, for most of Dionysus’ enemies (or those of other protagonists like Zeus) are either explicitly called Γίγαντες or somehow associated with them.23 This also applies to the most prominent enemies of Dionysus, the Indians. The striking characterization of Dionysus as ἀκοντιστῆρα Γιγάντων in a crucial passage of the middle proem (25.258)24 highlights this literary conflation of the Dionysian enemies with the giants in the course of the Dionysiaca. The poetic image used in the epigram is thus an imitation of a major Leitmotiv underlying the epic. Therefore, for a reader familiar with the epic, it must have been rather easy to see in the γοναὶ Γιγάντων a poetic reference to the Dionysian adversaries, and thus to decode the fight against the giants as a metaphor for the composition of the epic as a whole. In other words, I suggest that the text of the epigram should be primarily interpreted as follows. Firstly, the narrative voice provides some basic biographical information; secondly, it moves on to inform us of its literary achievement – namely the composition of the Dionysiaca – expressed via the poetic imagery of the fight against the giants. In this context, it would be rather tempting also to associate the victory over the giants with the huge (or shall we say gigantic) size of the epic. Of course, it is not possible to establish how extraordinary an epic consisting of 48 books was in Late Antiquity – there might have circulated even much longer poems, if indeed Pisander of Laranda’s Heroikai Theogamiai spanned 60 books.25 Nonetheless, there shall be no doubt for Nonnus’ 48-book poem having being perceived as at least a huge epic.26 After all, the word Γιγάντειος implies the same connotation that “gigantic” does in today’s English;27 it is thus reasonable for the giants of the epigram to be interpreted as a figurative expression of the gigantic size of the epic in which they feature. With this being true, Nonnus’ victory over the giants would emphasize the huge effort which must have been gone into the composition of a 48-book epic. 22 Some Nonnian scholars strongly uphold this possibility, but the lucid objections raised by CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, pp. 641-644 suggest otherwise. 23 On Dionysus’ enemies described as a kind of earthborn monsters, see the concise overview by HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, pp. 138-139; further elements in STEGEMANN 1930, Astrologie, pp. 206-207. 24 For a similar characterization as Γιγαντοφόνος, see 17.10 and 45.172. 25 The best treatment is still KEYDELL 1935, Die Dichter. 26 The story told by the bard Leucus in book 24 seems to reflect, on a metapoetical level, the huge size of the Dionysiaca (see ZUENELLI 2015, Das Lied von der Webenden Aphrodite, esp. 229-231). 27 See, for instance, Lucian Philops. 23 ἀπίθανον κολοσσόν […] γιγάντειόν τι μορμολύκειον; Georg. Pisid. Laudatio sancti Anastasii Persae 37.4 γιγάντειον … πύργον.

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However, there is a further reading implied in the image of the gigantomachy. Upon reading line two, it is hard not to recall the episode describing the actual fight of Dionysus against the Thracian giants offered at the end of the epic. Therefore, the phrase γονὰς … Γιγάντων may also be linked to the actual gigantomachy of book 48. Recently, Emanuele Castelli demonstrated that such a link can indeed be established.28 The Italian scholar convincingly argued that the epigram presents itself as a kind of condensed Dionysiaca by establishing intertextual references to the pivotal points of the epic, namely the beginning, the middle, and the end. Φαρίῃ [scil. πόλει] is a clear allusion to the island of Pharos mentioned in the proem of the Dionysiaca; the battle imagery points to the middle proem; and finally, the mention of the giants establishes a relation with the closing gigantomachy of book 48. Therefore, for a deeper understanding of the epigram, it is crucial to interpret γονὰς … Γιγάντων as a reference to the last book of the epic. In the next section, I will further elaborate the implications raised by such an association. 3. Death or Immortality? A.P. 9.198 as a Mock Epitaph As mentioned at the beginning of this contribution, for a correct understanding of A.P. 9.198, it is vital to consider the ways in which the epigram plays with the conventions of the genre. Thus, in what follows, I intend to offer an analysis on the generic play at work in the epigram. To start with, I would like to focus on the beginning of the epigram, a rather vigorous invitation to read the text as a sepulchral epigram. Indeed, for an ancient reader the phrase Νόννος ἐγώ· Πανὸς μὲν ἐμὴ πόλις must have resembled – quite inevitably – the onset of an epitymbion, since such phrases were frequently used in epigrams on tombstones.29 Among the sepulchral epigrams of the Anthologia Palatina, a poem dedicated to a certain Athis by the first century BC poet Erycius (A.P. 7.368 [= Erycius 6 GPh]) comes particularly close, at least from a formal viewpoint, to the opening line of Nonnus’ epigram. There the deceased woman introduces herself with the words Ἀτθὶς ἐγώ· κείνη γὰρ ἐμὴ πόλις; the main difference between this and Nonnus’ epigram lies in the transformation of the traditional phrase into a witty pun, playing with the similarity of the name of the deceased and her homeland. At times, this traditional sepulchral phrase was used to establish an antithetic juxtaposition with the death place of the deceased, such as in a verse inscription from Abydos in Upper Egypt, dated to the High Empire (CIG 4708).30 The inscription commemorates a sixteen-year-old from CASTELLI 2017, Il titolo taciuto, p. 635. See, for instance, the epigrams nr. 1089-1093 in PEEK 1955, Griechische Versinschriften. 30 For a thorough discussion on the epigram, see BERNAND 1969, Inscriptions métriques, pp. 294-303 (= nr. 73). 28 29

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Lycopolis who died in Alexandria and was buried in Abydos. In the first couplet, the πατρίς of the deceased is juxtaposed with his death place. It is remarkable how close the text of these two lines is to A.P. 9.198: πατρὶς μέν μοί ἐστι Λύκων πόλις· εἰμὶ δ᾿ Ἀπολλ[ώς ?], ἐν Φαρίηι γαίηι θυμὸν ἀποφθίμενος … My native town is Lycopolis. I am Apollos, who passed away in the land of Alexandria […].31

Therefore, it is probable that the ancient reader of A.P. 9.198 at first – that is, before moving on to the next line – referred to the assumed death place of Nonnus with ἐν Φαρίῃ. He may well have expected the text to progress, for example, in the way in which the epitaph for the poet Hesiod – attributed to Mnasalcas (A.P. 7.54 [= 18 HE]) – does.32 Here once more, the opening of the epigram (vv. 1-2) is characterized by a strong antithetic structure juxtaposing Hesiod’s birthplace Ascra, mentioned in the onset, with his grave in Orchomenus, featuring in the following line: Ἄσκρη μὲν πατρὶς πολυλήιος, ἀλλὰ θανόντος ὀστέα πληξίππων γῆ Μινυῶν κατέχει […] Ascra, the land of broad corn-fields, was his country, but the land of the horse driving Minyae holds the bones of the dead […].33

In contrast to these examples, the expectations raised in line one of the Nonnus’ epigram are not going to be fulfilled. Instead of the poet’s death place in Alexandria, line two indicates the Egyptian capital as the place where Nonnus wrote the Dionysiaca. In my opinion, this surprising turn is aimed at attracting the reader’s attention. Specifically, the narrative voice expects his reader to reflect on the possible interpretative implications raised by the fact that the poet’s death is replaced by his poetic production. In this context, a pepaideumenos could of course count on his familiarity with poetic epitaphs on poets, texts which frequently, albeit to different degrees, play with the paradox of the poet’s death and his literary immortality.34 Already Simias of Rhodes35 seems to have made use of this paradox in his epitaph for Sophocles (A.P. 7.21 [= 4 HE]), which ends with the distich (vv. 5-6):

31

Translation is mine. See HE, ad loc. The text of the epigram was also inscribed on Hesiod’s tomb in Orchomenus, albeit with a substantial variant in line 3. 33 Transl. after PATON 1916-1918, The Greek Anthology. 34 A striking example is the epitaph on Sappho written by a certain Pinytus (A.P. 7.16 [= Pinytus 1 GPh]), in which the paradox dominates the whole distich (Ὀστέα μὲν καὶ κωφὸν ἔχει τάφος οὔνομα Σαπφοῦς·| αἱ δὲ σοφαὶ κείνης ῥήσιες ἀθάνατοι). On the topos of immortal fame in epitaphs on poets, see, for instance, GABATHULER 1937, Hellenistische Epigramme, p. 107. 35 The ascription to Simias of Rhodes is uncertain (see HE, ad loc.). 32

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τύμβος ἔχει καὶ γῆς ὀλίγον μέρος, ἀλλ’ ὁ περισσὸς αἰὼν ἀθανάτοις δέρκεται ἐν σελίσιν. […] a tomb and a little piece of earth holds you, but your extraordinary life shines yet in your immortal pages.36

To me, this topos – arguably familiar to any learned contemporary reader – offers an important clue for a better understanding of the sepulchral tone underlying the mock epitaph A.P. 9.198. It invites us to read the disappointment of the generic expectations raised by the sepulchral opening as an intentional hint towards a metaliterary interpretation. With this in mind, I believe that the shift from Nonnus’ death to his poetic achievements can be interpreted as a metaliterary message suggesting that Nonnus will supersede his death through his epic, as this will provide him with immortal fame. In this context, the image of the gigantomachy becomes particularly relevant. As previously discussed, the phrase ἔγχεϊ φωνήεντι γονὰς ἤμησα Γιγάντων evokes the victory of Dionysus over the Thracian giants in the last book of the Dionysiaca. The gigantomachy in book 48 is Dionysus’s last martial achievement before his final apotheosis and overtly relates to the defeat of the giant Typhon by his father Zeus at the beginning of the epic.37 The episode is crucial for an understanding of the Dionysiaca’s plot, insofar as the victory over the giants, with which Dionysus matches his father in the realm of martial accomplishments, is one of the final steps which will eventually lead Dionysus to his own apotheosis.38 Thus, given the conflation between the narrator Nonnus and his protagonist Dionysus by the prominent use of the poeta creator motive in A.P. 9.198, line two of the epigram can be read as a reference to the immortality, which Nonnus will gain thanks to his symbolic victory over the giants, that is the finalization of his epic. With this in mind, the actual function of the sepulchral opening of the epigram becomes clear: by imitating the form of an epitymbion, the onset of the epigram generates certain expectations in the reader, only to have them overturned. Instead of the expected death of the poet, the emphasis is placed upon his literary immortality. The parallel between Dionysus’ apotheosis and Nonnus’ rise into the literary pantheon put forward in A.P. 9.198 seems already rooted in the epic itself.39 Transl. after PATON 1916-1918, The Greek Anthology. See, now, ZUENELLI 2019, Die axialsymmetrische Struktur, p. 92. 38 On the importance of the gigantomachy – and of book 48 in general – for Dionysus’ final apotheosis, see the concise overview by HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, pp. 126-127. 39 For a metapoetic reading of book 48, see SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 197205, esp. 204: “The final stage of Dionysus’ journey towards apotheosis is paralleled by Nonnus’ own ultimate advance, and assumption into, the literary pantheon.” On the gigantomachy in particular, see pp. 198-200, esp. p. 199: “The victory of Dionysus is also a victory for Nonnus and his Dionysiac poetic.” 36 37

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This becomes especially obvious in the case of the catasterism of Ariadne’s crown (Dion. 48.969-973), the very last of Dionysus’ tasks, performed before entering Olympus. To me, this passage cries out for a metapoetical reading, which parallels the catasterism of Ariadne’s crown with the crowing of the poet himself, who has just completed his epic.40 This interpretation also complies with the core message conveyed by the so called perioche of the Dionysiaca, a poetic summary on the Dionysiaca arguably written by Nonnus himself.41 4. Try Again: A.P. 9.198 as a Book Epigram Our reader would have realized at this point that interpreting the epigram as an epitymbion was a “dead-end”: he would have needed to go back to square one. Most likely, he would have tried to read the distich as a literary book epigram. As Mathäus Gabathuler has already pointed out, the Buchaufschrift was an important subgenre of the ancient literary epigram; Hellenistic poets frequently used it as a poetic tool to discuss literary aspects of their past or contemporary colleagues’ works.42 The subgenre continued to be popular in the following centuries and up to Late Antiquity, as many later (mostly anonymous) book epigrams – ranging from highbrow poems to subliterary texts – bear clear witness. Usually, albeit not necessarily, book epigrams offer an explicit reference to the setting of the book (either real or fictional). This is mainly achieved either by employing deictic pronouns which directly refer to the book, or by making the book itself the narrative voice. Epigram A.P. 9.198 does not provide the reader with such explicit clues. Nevertheless, its strong focus on the Dionysiaca as a poetic work allows the reader to associate the epigram with a book setting, thus enabling him to consider the epigram as an inscription on a Dionysiaca manuscript.43 Furthermore, A.P. 9.198, when read as a book epigram, offers striking generic affinities with other examples of this genre. On the one hand, the poem shares similarities with a particular group of book epigrams, which provides

40 Like athletes, poets were also usually crowned after winning a literary competition (see, in particular, BLECH 1982, Studien zum Kranz, pp. 143-145, 312-316). 41 A more detailed discussion on the perioche will be offered in the last section of this contribution. 42 GABATHULER 1937, Hellenistische Epigramme, esp. pp. 110-111; BING 1988, The Well-Read Muse, pp. 29-30; see also MÄNNLEIN-ROBERT 2007, Stimme, pp. 175-180. 43 A different context is, of course, hypothetically possible (for an overview on the different possible settings for epigrams on poets, see LAUSBERG 1982, Einzeldistichon, pp. 245-246 and ROSSI 2001, Epigrams, pp. 91-101). For example, one could imagine the epigram functioning as an inscription for a work of art representing the poet (like a statue, a bust, a painting vel. sim.). However, in general these epigrams are different in content and form than A.P. 9.198. Such a reading is therefore not entirely convincing.

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information about both the author and the content of his book. Due to their similarity to book titles,44 these sort of epigrams have been termed “title epigrams”.45 Among them, the book epigram on the Halieutica of Oppian (A.P. 16.311)46 comes particularly close to A.P. 9.198. It has been anonymously transmitted and its precise date of composition cannot be established. Nonetheless, the publication of Oppian’s Halieutica – usually dated between 177 and 180 AD47 – offers a firm terminus post quem. Thus, both epigrams, i.e. A.P. 9.198 and 16.311, are products of later Imperial times, a fact that may explain their close relation: Ὀππιανὸς σελίδεσσιν ἁλίπλοα φῦλα συνάψας θήκατο πᾶσι νέοις ὄψον ἀπειρέσιον. Oppian, collecting in his pages the tribes that swim the sea, served to all young men a dish of fish infinite in variety.48

There should be little doubt about ascribing the poem to the genre of book epigram, as σελίδεσσιν evidently refers to the pages of a Halieutica manuscript. Moreover, the reference to the schoolboys (πᾶσι νέοις)49 in line two offers an additional clue for a better understanding of its context, as we may conclude that the epigram accompanied a school edition of the Halieutica. – I would strongly argue, however, that both the book inscription and, consequently, the school edition trasmitting it are fictional. – The wit of the epigram lays in the clever metaphorical mirroring of the act of literary production, which parallels the composition of the didactic epic on fishing to a fisherman’s task. The epigram’s entangled metaphorical network can be unraveled as follows. The author of the Halieutica, who has collected ichthyological information for the use of school boys, acts – on a metaphorical level – as a fisherman, who has caught fish in his boat50 for (we may guess) his own children. As already mentioned, the epigram bears great similarity to 9.198. In terms of content, both poems can be assigned to the category of “title epigram” LAUSBERG 1982, Einzeldistichon, p. 246 (for further examples, see pp. 269-270). Important studies on the form of the ancient title have been recently published by CAROLI 2007, Il titolo iniziale; SCHIRONI 2010, Το μέγα βιβλίον, and DEL MASTRO 2014, Titoli. 46 A.P. 16.311 (= A.Pl. 4b 17.6). Some remarks on the epigram are provided by LAUSBERG 1982, Einzeldistichon, pp. 269-270; SCHULTE 2011, Griechische Epigramme, pp. 153-154. I am currently preparing an article aiming to discuss comprehensively the literary aspects of this sophisticated epigram. 47 See, for instance, FAJEN 1999, Oppianus, pp. VIII-IX. 48 Transl. after PATON 1916-1918, The Greek Anthology. 49 There is evidence that the Halieutica were part of the school curriculum in Byzantium (AGAPITOS – NELSON 1991, Oppian, pp. 1527-1528). Hence, it is probable that they were also read at school during Late Antiquity. As I will point out in my forthcoming article, the epigram text also implies a metaliterary level, where νέοι can be interpreted as a reference to “new” poets. 50 Σελίδες is also a nautical term meaning “upper deck” or similar (see Hsch. s.v. σελίδες: τὰ μεταξὺ διαφράγματα τῶν διαστημάτων τῆς νεώς; Poll. 1.88-89). 44 45

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because of their strong focus on both author and subject matter.51 However, their affinities are even more striking on a formal level. Both epigrams are single distichs and as such are forced to convey all the necessary information in a minimal amount of space. In order to do so, both rely on the poeta creator motive, making Nonnus a warrior and Oppian a fisherman.52 The two texts differ in one essential aspect. In contrast to the Oppian epigram which focuses more on issues concerning poetic composition, A.P. 9.198 also emphasizes biographical aspects. The importance of the poet’s persona is highlighted by the use of the first person, which enables the poet to address his reader directly. Compared to other transmitted book epigrams, the strong biographical focus of A.P. 9.198 is noteworthy, but far from unique, as A.P. 9.434 (= GOW [27]) – a poem incorrectly attributed to Theocritus in the Antholgia Palatina – shows. In this epigram, which is conceived in the form of a book label for an edition of Theocritus, Theocritus addresses his reader in a way rather similar to that of Nonnus: Ἄλλος ὁ Χῖος· ἐγὼ δὲ Θεόκριτος, ὃς τάδ ‘ἔγραψα, εἷς ἀπὸ τῶν πολλῶν εἰμὶ Συρακοσίων, υἱὸς Πραξαγόραο περικλειτῆς τε Φιλίννης· Μοῦσαν δ’ ὀθνείαν οὔ τιν’ ἐφελκυσάμαν. The Chian is another, but I, Theocritus, who wrote these poems, am one of the many Syracusans, the son of Praxagoras and noble Philinna; never have I made use of a foreign Muse.53

Despite different attempts at explanation, the deictic expression τάδ’ ἔγραψα in line one has to be read as a reference to the book, for which the epigram serves as label (be it fictional or not).54 Similar to the narrative voice of the Nonnus’ epigram, Theocritus addresses the reader in first person; as in the case of the former (Νόννος ἐγώ), the use of the personal pronoun ἐγώ adds particular emphasis (ἐγὼ δὲ Θεόκριτος). Moreover, both texts also share a strong focus on biographical aspects. In the case of the Theocritus epigram, this consists in the mentioning of his home town Syracuse and that of his parents, Praxagoras and Philinne, amounting to half of the epigram. Yet, the focus on the poets’ biography bears different meanings in each epigram. Theocritus evidently deals with identity issues, in order to distinguish himself from ὁ Χῖος – whoever he might be.55 In this context, the use of the emphatic ἐγώ becomes 51

For further relevant examples see, in particular, A.P. 9.185 and 9.195. For the motive in other ‘book epigrams’, see A.P. 9.205 (Artemidorus grammaticus), Mart. 14.187, 14.193. 53 Transl. after PATON 1916-1918, The Greek Anthology. 54 A thorough discussion on the epigram previous scholarship is now offered by ROSSI 2001, Epigrams, pp. 343-347. 55 The identification of ὁ Χῖος for the understanding of the epigram is as important as it is debated, but an entirely convincing solution has not been offered so far (see ROSSI 2001, 52

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clear, as it stresses the difference between Theocritus and ἄλλος ὁ Χῖος; conversely, in the case of Nonnus, the strong focus on his person provided by ἐγώ remains somehow puzzling – at least for now. I believe that the similarities between the epigram on the Dionysiaca and other book epigrams highlighted so far well demonstrate that – although playing with its generic affiliation – A.P. 9.198 has to be considered, and read, as a book epigram. This means that our reader had to imagine the epigram as an inscription somewhere on the ‘frontispiece’ of a Dionysiaca manuscript. 5. Νόννος ἐγώ … . A.P. 9.198 as Inscription for a Fictional Author Portrait At this point, our reader could have continued in his Ergänzungsspiel, as the text offers a further level of interpretation for what concerns the epigrams’ fictional setting. Particularly revealing is the wording Νόννος ἐγώ. The personal pronoun ἐγώ has a strong deictic force here and the reader is inevitably asked to look for its point of reference outside the epigram. Generally speaking, there are two possible options: he could interpret the reference to Nonnus either in a metaphorical or in a concrete way. In the first case, he would read Νόννος ἐγώ as a reference to the book itself – a reading supported by the fact that the identification of the poet and his book was in fact a rather common poetic image.56 In the second case, he would look for a more tangible presence of Nonnus in the book, such as that offered by images of some kind.57 To me, there is no valid ground to rule out the first option, and in fact modern scholars have tended to interpret the epigram in this way. Yet – as I will shortly demonstrate – I believe that the second option is more appealing, as it allows a more sophisticated interpretation of the epigram as a whole. Once the reader had imagined A.P. 9.198 as an inscription on a Dionysiaca manuscript, figuring a portrait of Nonnus standing next to it on the page would have been an easy task. Author portraits were indeed used to illustrate ‘frontispieces’ of – mainly luxury – editions of literary classics.58 Most probably, this would have also applied to editions in book roll format. However, the first firm Epigrams, p. 344: “These questions have aroused and continue to arouse an animated controversy among scholars”). As the issue does not affect the core of my argument, I will not linger on this discussion. 56 A significant parallel is, for instance, Mart. 14.194 ‘Lucanus’: Sunt quidam qui me dicant non esse poetam: | sed qui me vendit bybliopola putat. 57 See the book epigram transmitted in the last sheet of P.Lond. Lit 11 (probably 1st century AD); here, the personal pronoun ἐγώ refers to the coronis drawn next to the poem (v. 1 Ἐγ[ὼ κορ]ωνίς εἰμι γραμμάτων φύλαξ). For deictic ἐγώ referring to miniature portraits in Byzantine manuscripts, see Paris, BNF, Coisl. 79, f. 2v (= RHOBY 2018 FR32); Paris, BNF. gr. 2144, f. 11r (= RHOBY 2018 FR42); Venice, Inst. Hell., 5, f. 1r (= RHOBY 2018 IT22). 58 The standard work of reference for author portraits in ancient illustrated manuscripts is WEITZMANN 1959, Ancient Book Illumination, pp. 116-127. A good overview is offered by SPORTOLARI 2018, AL 37 R2, pp. 44-53.

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witness of an author portrait accompanying a literary text is the famous description of a codex of Vergil in Martial’s Apophoreta (14.186). Further evidence that the production of luxury editions with authors’ portraits was already en vogue by the first century AD can be found in a remark of Seneca, who apparently criticized bibliophiles collecting luxury editions with author portraits for decorative aims.59 Fortunately, for what concerns the use of author portraits in late antique manuscripts, we can rely on more authentic material evidence, which allows us to form a better idea of the ways in which an ancient reader of A.P. 9.198 might have imagined Nonnus’ portrait. The most reliable pieces of evidence are offered by two Latin manuscripts, the so-called Vergilius Romanus (Vatican City, BAV, lat. 3867), dated 5th century AD and containing three portraits of Vergil (always depicted in a seated frontal position), and a Carolingian codex of Terence, which faithfully reproduces the images of a lost ca. 4th century AD model (Vatican City, BAV, lat. 3868); here, on folium 2r, two actors are depicted, holding a medallion portrait (clipeus) of the Roman comedian in their hands. From the Greek East, the Vienna Dioscorides (see below), containing miniature portraits of famous pharmacologists, provides the best evidence for this type of book illumination. None of these author portraits is accompanied by an epigram but it is more than likely that in other cases they were. The idea of combining author portraits with epigrams – although not on a ‘frontispiece’– can be traced back to Varro’s Heptomades.60 In this work, the Latin scholar gathered 700 imagines of illustrious Greek and Roman individuals, all furnished with an epigram.61 Since the usus of combining author portraits with epigrams was well established by the first century BC, one could assume that such a practice of combining author portraits with epigrams was also present on ‘frontispieces’. Although there is not enough material evidence from Late Antiquity in support of such an assumption, the following example would suggest otherwise. Let’s consider the Vienna Dioscorides manuscript (Vienna, ÖNB, med. gr. 1), a lavishly illuminated codex containing Dioscorides’ De Materia Medica along with some other scientific texts. The manuscript was executed at the beginning of the 6th century on behalf of the guilds of Honoratae, a town on the Asiatic side of the Bosporus, as a gift to Anicia Juliana, who had built a church in the city.62 On the first folia of the codex, different kinds of portraits are present: two images 59 Sen. Dial. 9.9.7: cum imaginibus suis discripta sacrorum opera ingeniorum in speciem et cultum parietum comparantur. 60 See WEITZMANN 1959, Ancient Book Illumination, p. 116. 61 Only the epigram on Homer survived, which – being an epitymbion – shows that the link between epigram and imago did not necessarily need to be strong (Varro fr. 69 Funaioli (= Gell. 3.11.7): M. Varro in libro de imaginibus primo Homeri imagini epigramma hoc apposuit: Capella Homeri candida haec tumulum indicat | quod hac Ietae mortuo faciunt sacra). 62 For the correct date, see, now, MÜLLER 2012, Ein vermeintlich fester Anker.

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portraying several physicians (f. 2v and 3v); two pictures of Dioscorides (f. 4v and 5v); and finally a dedicatory image of Anicia Juliana (463-527/8), the oldest extant dedication portrait transmitted in an illuminated manuscript (f. 6v). The dedicatory image of Anicia Juliana is particularly important as it appears to be – at least as far as I know – the first material evidence of combining a miniature with what one may call an epigram.63 It is especially noteworthy that the epigram is enclosed within the miniature. The text – which is nowadays only barely visible – is situated in the inner sides of the octagonal frame which surrounds Anicia Juliana’s portrait, whose eight star points each contains a gold letter on a purple ground forming the name ΙΟΥΛΙΑΝΑ. The text itself is a dedication in the form of an acrostic, which repeats the name of the dedicatee given in the eight star points: ΙΟΥΛΙΑΝΑ. Ἰοῦ· δόξαισι[ν, ἄνασσα?] [Ὀν]ωρᾶτ[αι σ᾿] ἀ[γα]θ[αῖ]ς π[ά]σ[αις] Ὑμνοῦσιν κ(αὶ) δο[ξάζουσιν]. Λαλῖσαι γὰρ εἰς πᾶσα[ν] γῆν [Ἱ]ησ’ ἡ μεγαλο[ψ]υχία (5) Ἀνικήω[ν], ὧν γένο[ς] πέλεις· Ναὸν [γὰρ] κ[υρ]ίου ἤγιρας Ἄνω [προεκβ]άντα καὶ καλῶς.64 Hail, oh princess, Honoratae extols and glorifies you with all fine praises. For, the Magnanimity of the Anicii, to whose family you belong, allows you to be mentioned over the entire world. You have built a temple of the Lord, raised high and beautiful.65

There should be no doubt that the author of this text – whoever he may be – considered it as an epigram (or, at least, a poem),66 but it is hard to understand which principles he applied to its metrical shape. If he really had intended to write iambic dimiters, then Anton von Premerstein may be right in his drastic verdict, as the text would be full of obvious metrical and prosodical mistakes.67 Despite the lack of similar striking examples, we can assume that the Vienna Dioscorides was not an isolated case. Beside other indications pointing in this direction,68 the strongest argument is the fact that as early as the 9th century, 63 On the portrait, see, now, KIILERICH 2001, The Image of Anicia Juliana (with references to previous scholarship). 64 The text is given according to VON PREMERSTEIN 1903, Anicia Iuliana, p. 111 keeping the itacistic forms l.4 Λαλῖσαι = (Λαλῆσαι) and l.7 ἤγιρας (= ἤγειρας). 65 Transl. after SPATHARAKIS 1976, The Portrait in Byzantine. 66 This is clearly visible in the use of the form δόξαισι[ν, which belongs to a poetic register. 67 VON PREMERSTEIN 1903, Anicia Iuliana, p. 112: “Wenig Gutes läßt sich von der metrischen Form des Gedichtes sagen; es ist vielmehr ein Stümperwerk ersten Ranges.” 68 For example, it is very likely that epigram Anth. Lat. 1.26 Sh.-B. (1.37 Riese) refers to two Victoriae, which were depicted next to it on the ‘frontispiece’ of a late antique edition of Luxurius’

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epigrams accompanying ‘frontispiece’ miniatures were already a wellestablished feature in Byzantine manuscripts.69 Since it is unlikely that the fondness for the combination of miniatures with epigrams came out of the blue in the 9th century, it seems reasonable to assume that this particular practice had been inherited from Late Antiquity, as is the case for many other aspects of Byzantine book culture. In relation to the practice of combining author portraits with epigrams in late antique books, the evangelist’s miniatures accompanied by epigrams in two 9th century codices – i.e. Sofia, Dujčev gr. 27270 and Messina, Bib. Reg. Univ., F. V. 1871 – offer a vivid example of the way in which late antique ‘frontispieces’ might have looked. To conclude, the outline given so far has contributed to show that, at least during the period of Late Antiquity, codices containing both author portraits and epigrams did indeed circulate. This fact elicits important considerations for the reading of A.P. 9.198. Given these circumstances, the expression Νόννος ἐγώ could have triggered the idea of an author portrait in the mind of our reader and encouraged him to take his imaginative process further. In my opinion, the reconstruction of this virtual ‘frontispiece’ – consisting of a Nonnus portrait with a corresponding inscription – is not an end in itself, but a crucial clue for a full understanding of the epigram. As previously mentioned, author portraits were primarily used to embellish luxury editions of classical texts.72 This being the case, the theoretical existence of a portrait on the ‘frontispiece’ of a Dionysiaca codex becomes particularly significant. It would imply that Nonnus – with an epic regarded worthy of being penned in lavishly executed manuscripts – had himself become a classic. This message, conveyed via the fictional setting of the epigram, strengthens the reading of the epigram suggested at the beginning of the contribution, namely that the epigram ultimately celebrates Nonnus’ literary immortality. Therefore, the particular Sitz im Leben of the epigram as an inscription on a fictional luxury edition of the Dionysiaca would parallel the admission of Nonnus to the pantheon of literary classics claimed by the text of the epigram itself.

Liber epigrammaton; on the epigram, see now SPORTOLARI 2018, Anth. Lat. 37 R2 (I do not agree, however, with the author’s suggestion that the epigram could refer to an author portrait). 69 Byzantine book epigrams dealing with miniatures are now easily accessible thanks to RHOBY 2018, Ausgewählte byzantinische Epigramme; epigrams in 9th century codices can be found via the “Chronologischer Index” on p. 565. 70 Epigrams on Matthew and Luke (47v and 73v respectively [= RHOBY 2018 BG1-2]). 71 Epigrams on Matthew, Mark, and Luke (olim f. 127, f. 81v, and f. 126v respectively [= RHOBY 2018 IT11-13]. 72 See, for instance, BLANCK 1992, Buch, p. 108: “Anders stand es mit dem einzelnen Verfasserporträt, das man in anspruchsvolleren Editionen dem Text gelegentlich voranstellte.”

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6. A.P. 9.198 and Nonnus’ Self-fashioning Strategy The interpretation of the epigram offered so far is that of a reader who came across the epigram within the mere literary realm of an epigram book. As announced at the beginning of the contribution, at this point I would like to explore the theoretical history of A.P. 9.198 as a real book inscription. Given the lack of reliable evidence, the following conclusions – although tempting – must remain speculative. As mentioned before, the fact that in the Anthologia Palatina A.P. 9.198 is registered as anonymous might suggest that the poem, prior to its inclusion into an epigram book, had been transmitted as a paratext. If this is the case, the following conclusion may be drawn. Providing that the hypothetical collector had not discovered the epigram by pure accident, i.e. in a codex available to him, one could assume that the epigram was present in more than one Dionysiaca manuscript. Consequently, this would be evidence of an early inclusion into the manuscript tradition of the Dionysiaca. There is of course no certain way to determine when this inclusion might have happened. However, it can be argued that the earlier it happened, the more widespread the epigram would have been across the manuscript tradition of the Dionysiaca. As a result, the possibility of Nonnus himself being the author of the epigram ought to be explored. There is already a poetic paratext prefixed to the epic, the so called perioche, a hexametric summary of the 48 books of Nonnus’ epic. As I have tried to demonstrate in a recently published article, the perioche was most probably written by Nonnus himself.73 In the same article, I argued that the perioche served the purpose of Nonnus’ self-fashioning as a classic, since poetic summaries had usually been reserved for editions of the great classics. Thus, by furnishing his own epic with a poetic summary, Nonnus intended to claim that he himself should be included in the rank of classical authors. The self-fashioning strategy at work in the perioche complies rather well, therefore, with the claim implied in A.P. 9.198, namely that Nonnus be included in the Olympus of classical authors. Since the same aim appears in both texts, it is rather tempting to argue that arguing that Nonnus is the author of both A.P. 9.198 and the perioche.74 This being the case, the reference to an 73 ZUENELLI 2016, Die Perioche. Following VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. lvii, Nonnian scholarship has hitherto been inclined to attribute the perioche to the editor of the Dionysiaca. However, to me this attribution seems highly improbable, as the perioche reflects an older structural arrangement of the Dionysiaca text. This inevitably leads us to assume that it was Nonnus himself who authored the perioche while was still reworking the single episodes. 74 This argument is corroborated by the fact that Nonnus himself composed several epitymbia (all of them two lines long) for the plot of the Dionysiaca (see COLLART 1913, Nonnos épigrammatiste, pp. 136-138; SCHULZE 1974, Zu einigen literarischen Inschriften). Among them, Dion. 46.318-319, a virtual epitymbion for Pentheus, is the most similar to A.P. 9.198: εἰμὶ νέκυς Πενθῆος, ὁδοιπόρε· νηδὺς Ἀγαύης | παιδοκόμος με λόχευσε καὶ ἔκτανε παιδοφόνος χείρ.

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author portrait implied in the epigram becomes even more significant. In light of this, inclusion of A.P. 9.198 in Nonnus’ authorative edition can be interpreted as an invitation to every future owner of a Dionysiaca manuscript to have such a portrait executed – according to their financial means – and thus contribute to the Gesamtkunstwerk of the Dionysiaca. To conclude, it would be rather tempting to attribute A.P. 9.198 to Nonnus himself and to read the epigram in the context of his self-fashioning strategy at work in the Dionysiaca. However, this hypothesis is based on too many questionable presumptions. In fact, the perioche argument can also be used the other way round. After all, a paratext claiming the rank of a classic for Nonnus already existed. Hence, this could be also considered as an incentive for a later poet to write A.P. 9.198 as a fictional book inscription supplementing the perioche. We will never know for sure whether it was Nonnus himself who penned A.P. 9.198 or someone else but does the question of authorship really matter in the end? As it is Nonnus’ narrative voice that speaks to us via the epigram, it is likely that most readers – whether they found the epigram in a Dionysiaca manuscript or as an anonymous poem in an epigram book – would nonetheless have attributed the distich to Nonnus.75 7. Résumé As I have demonstrated throughout this contribution, A.P. 9.198 has to be approached as a book epigram. Like many other examples of this genre, the poem deals with aspects concerning the composition of the relevant book, namely Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. The epigram, however, differs from other book epigrams in two aspects: first, it takes the form of a mock epitaph and secondly, it evokes an author portrait of Nonnus in the reader’s mind. As I have tried to demonstrate, both features ultimately serve the same purpose, that is to claim for Nonnus’ work the rank of a literary classic. Thus, beyond its evident reading as a book inscription, the text also allows a more sophisticated interpretation, as a gloss on the literary value of the Dionysiaca. In relation to the precise pragmatic setting of A.P. 9.198 and the related question of authorship, no clear conclusion can be drawn. Given the scarce evidence available, we have to be content with the conclusion drawn by Albert Wifstrand in 1933, namely that the epigram is either authored by Nonnus himself or an “intimen Nonnoskenner”.76 However, the analysis of the generic aspects offered in this contribution further emphasizes the epigram’s strong familiarity with the Dionysiaca, which can be considered as an argument for Nonnus’ authorship. 75 See A.P. 9.434 (see above), which was incorrectly attributed to Theocritus, seemingly because it is he who speaks in the epigram. 76 WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, pp. 167-168.

III. THE LURE OF PAGANISM: NONNUS’ PARAPHRASIS OF THE GOSPEL OF JOHN AND HESIOD’S THEOGONY Michael PASCHALIS

We are fortunate to possess Nonnus’ literary profile of Hesiod, the only other poet besides Homer and Pindar that he mentions in the Dionysiaca. The profile is only 1,5 lines long (Dion. 13.75-76) and is inserted in the catalogue of the forces of Dionysus for the expedition against the Indians, but it is nonetheless a valuable piece of evidence as regards my topic: δυσπέμφελον Ἄσκρην πατρίδα δαφνήεσσαν ἀσιγήτοιο νομῆος.1 inclement Ascra, the laurelled homeland of the unsilent shepherd.

Gianfranco Agosti has observed that in this passage Nonnus “alla sua maniera realizza un piccolo tour de force menzionando entrambi i poemi maggiori [Theogony and Works and Days] ed esaltando al tempo stesso l’imperitura fama di Esiodo (ἀσιγήτοιο).”2 I would like to draw attention to the poet’s priorities in composing this brief literary portrait of Hesiod, whereby I mean what was foremost on his mind when he thought of the Greek poet. Commenting on the first of these lines Francis Vian notes that the phrase “δυσπέμφελον Ἄσκρην” is actually a gloss on the “bourg maudit” (“the accursed town”) of Ascra where, according to Works and Days 639-640, Hesiod’s father had settled: νάσσατο δ᾽ ἄγχ᾽ Ἑλικῶνος ὀιζυρῇ ἐνὶ κώμῃ, Ἄσκρῃ, χεῖμα κακῇ, θέρει ἀργαλέῃ, οὐδέ ποτ᾽ ἐσθλῇ. And he settled near Helicon in a wretched village, Ascra, evil in winter, distressful in summer, not ever fine.3

Wretched or not, Ascra was the poet’s place of origin and in Antiquity he came to be known as “Hesiod of Ascra” or “the Ascraean Hesiod”, or just “the poet of Ascra” or “the Ascraean poet” and simply the “Ascraean”.4 Ascra is in addition located near Mt Helicon, at the foot of which Hesiod was initiated into The text is taken from VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII). AGOSTI 2016, Esiodo, p. 182. 3 Hesiodic quotations and their translation are taken from MOST 2006, Hesiod, Theogony, Works and Days, Testimonia. 4 The catalogue is based on TLG citations. 1 2

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poetry by the Heliconian Muses while pasturing his lambs, according to the proemial fiction of the Theogony. Hesiod’s birthplace and the word “ποιμήν” (“shepherd”), intended as a synecdochic allusion to the initiation scene, came together in the briefest literary portrait of Hesiod surviving from Antiquity, the antonomastic appellative “the Ascraean shepherd” (“ὁ Ἀσκραῖος ποιμήν”). Here are two passages in which it occurs ([Dion. Hal.] Ars rhetorica 1.1 and Choricius 18.1.1: ἐκεῖνοι δὲ καὶ οἱ ἔτι τούτων ἀνωτέρω παρ’ Ἑρμοῦ τε καὶ Μουσῶν λαβεῖν ἔφασαν οὐ μείον’ ἢ ὁ Ἀσκραῖος ποιμὴν [ποίησιν] παρὰ τῶν αὐτῶν τούτων ἐν τῷ Ἑλικῶνι. which they themselves and their predecessors claimed to have received from Hermes and the Muses, no less than what Hesiod the Ascraean shepherd had acquired from those same Muses on Mt. Helicon.5 Λέγει που ὁ ποιμὴν ὁ Ἀσκραῖος, οὐχ ὅτε ὑπῆρχε ποιμήν, ἀλλ’ ὅτε ποιητὴς ἐγεγόνει, ὡς γυμνασίας ἄτερ καὶ πόνων οὐ βούλεται θάλλειν ἀνθρώποις τὰ ἔργα.6 The Ascraean shepherd says somewhere, not when he was a shepherd but when he became a poet, that without struggle and toils human enterprises are reluctant to prosper.

It is furthermore worthy of notice that Hesiod mentions Helicon once in relation to his homeland (the passage quoted above) and twice more with reference to the location of his poetic initiation. I mean respectively in the abovementioned Proem of the Theogony and in Works and Days 656-659, where he dedicates to the Muses of Helicon the tripod he won in a poetic competition at Chalkis: ἔνθα μέ φημι ὕμνῳ νικήσαντα φέρειν τρίποδ᾽ ὠτώεντα. τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ Μούσῃς Ἑλικωνιάδεσσ᾽ ἀνέθηκα, ἔνθα με τὸ πρῶτον λιγυρῆς ἐπέβησαν ἀοιδῆς. and there, I declare, I gained victory with a hymn, and carried off a tripod with handles. This I dedicated to the Heliconian Muses, where they first set me upon the path of clear-sounding song.

Quite significantly Ascra and Helicon come together in Nonnus’ profile of Hesiod. The former is mentioned directly and is so described (δυσπέμφελον Ἄσκρην) as to refer the reader to Hesiod’s own text. The latter is alluded to in πατρίδα δαφνήεσσαν ἀσιγήτοιο νομῆος: this line directs the reader to the

5 Text and translation from RACE 2019, Menander Rhetor, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ars Rhetorica. 6 Quoted from FOERSTER – RICHTSTEIG 1929, Choricii Gazaei opera.

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Proem of the Theogony,7 where the Muses gave Hesiod a staff of laurel and taught him to sing (Theog. 30-34): καί μοι σκῆπτρον ἔδον δάφνης ἐριθηλέος ὄζον δρέψασαι, θηητόν· ἐνέπνευσαν δέ μ᾽ αὐδὴν θέσπιν, ἵνα κλείοιμι τά τ᾽ ἐσσόμενα πρό τ᾽ ἐόντα, καί μ᾽ ἐκέλονθ᾽ ὑμνεῖν μακάρων γένος αἰὲν ἐόντων, σφᾶς δ᾽ αὐτὰς πρῶτόν τε καὶ ὕστατον αἰὲν ἀείδειν. and they plucked a staff, a branch of luxuriant laurel, a marvel, and gave it to me; and they breathed a divine voice into me, so that I might glorify what will be and what was before, and they commanded me to sing of the race of the blessed ones who always are, but always to sing of themselves first and last.

In the Nonnian portrait of Hesiod δαφνήεσσαν means “abounding in bay” and ἀσιγήτοιο means “never silent” (according to LSJ). The epithet δαφνήεις is extremely rare and it is worthy of note that, apart from grammarians and lexicographers, only Nonnus mentions it again, with reference to the fruit of Apollo’s sacred tree.8 The extended interpretation “wreathed with laurel” applied to Hesiod’s homeland and intended to convey poetic distinction9 makes sense if it is meant metaphorically, because in Hesiod’s initiation scene the poet is not crowned with laurel but given a laurel staff as a visible token of his “call”, just as Archilochus was given a lyre.10 Translations of ἀσιγήτοιο vary considerably.11 Nonnus favors the epithet ἀσίγητος which, according to TLG, occurs eighteen times in the Dionysiaca and nine times in the Paraphrasis. Most other instances, out of a total of two hundred and ninety-five, are found in (late antique and Byzantine) Christian writings and commonly refer to “unceasing” hymning and chanting in celebration of God or the saints. The first occurrence of the epithet in Greek literature is applied to the bronze tripod from which the prophecies at Dodona were uttered (Callim. Hymn. 4.286 [to Delos], ἀσιγήτοιο λέβητος, “of the unsilent cauldron”).12 In the Dionysiaca it twice qualifies the sources of Delphic divination: “never silent Pytho” (Dion. 4.290, ἀσιγήτοιο […] Πυθοῦς) and “never silent Castalian source” (Dion. 13.132-133, ἀσιγήτοιο δὲ πηγῆς | Κασταλίης 7 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), points precisely to Theog. 30 for the epithet δαφνήεσσαν. 8 Dion. 12.208-209, καρπὸν Ἀπόλλων | οὐ φάγε δαφνήεντα. 9 So ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca; AGOSTI 2016, Esiodo, p. 182. 10 So WEST 1966, Hesiod, Theogony, ad loc. On the laurel symbol in Hesiod see further KAMBYLIS 1965, Die Dichterweihe, pp. 17-23; VERDENIUS 1972, Notes, p. 236. 11 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), translates “à la voix impérissable”; ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca, gives “whose name is on every tongue” (he curiously understands νομῆος as “farmer”); MOST 2006, Hesiod, Theogony, Works and Days, Testimonia, p. 229 renders it as “eloquent”; GONNELLI 2008, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV) understands it as meaning “not unknown”; and AGOSTI 2016, Esiodo, p. 182 translates “whose voice is never silent”. 12 See STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, ad loc.

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λάλον οἶδμα). One could argue therefore that by means of ἀσιγήτοιο Nonnus intended to endow Hesiod’s voice with the notions of divine inspiration and enduring effect, perhaps alluding thereby also to the Muses’ command in the Theogony: “to sing (ὑμνεῖν) of the race of the blessed ones who always are, but always to sing of themselves first and last.” It is finally worthy of note that the overwhelming majority of ἀσίγητος occurrences are found in Christian writers, which would seem to confirm the conclusion of Gianfranco Agosti’s article on the reception of Hesiod by Christian writers of Late Antiquity: Sicuramente non c’è in età tardoantica una diffusa esegesi allegorica di Esiodo paragonabile a quella dei poemi omerici, se si esclude Proclo. Ma senza dubbio si era imposta l’idea di un Esiodo ‘divino’, i cui riflessi e le cui realizzazioni attendono di essere valorizzate. La qualifica di ἀσίγητος data al poeta da Nonno appare senz’altro promettente.13

In light of the programmatic importance that Nonnus seems to have attached to the celebrated poetic initiation of Hesiod in the Theogony, I intend to explore the possible relation of the Proem of the Theogony to the Prologue of Nonnus’ Paraphrasis of the Gospel of John. Any such discussion will necessarily begin with and directly involve the Prologue of the Fourth Gospel itself. I start with a structural comparison. The epiphany scene in Hesiod (Hes. Theog. 22-34) is a section of the long and elaborate hymnic Proem to the Muses (Hes. Theog. 1-115). In an analogous fashion John’s Gospel opens with the so-called “Hymn to Logos” (John 1.1-18) and contains two sections on John the Baptist (John 6-8, John 15). It has been suggested that the “Hymn to Logos” may have adapted a pre-Christian or Christian hymn and that the sections on the Baptist are later insertions.14 It may not be irrelevant in this respect that the compositional and structural cohesion of Hesiod’s “Hymn to the Muses”, which reflects the custom of Greek singers to preface their recitations with a hymn to a god,15 is still being debated.16 Furthermore Hesiod and the Baptist have several features in common: they are both divinely inspired; they are both endowed with “prophetic” powers; each of them is assigned a mission, which involves the glorification of a divine being / beings; and each experiences a divine epiphany and speaks of it in the first person. Just as Hesiod witnesses the epiphany of the Muses quoted above,

AGOSTI 2016, Esiodo, p. 194. BARTON – MUDDIMAN 2001, The Oxford Bible Commentary, pp. 961-962. 15 WEST 1966, Hesiod, Theogony, pp. 150-151. 16 See e.g. WEST 1966, Hesiod, Theogony, pp. 150-151; VERDENIUS 1972, Notes; THALMANN 1984, Conventions, pp. 124-150; JOHNSON 2006, Hesiod’s Theogony; RIJKSBARON 2009, Discourse cohesion. 13 14

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in an analogous fashion the Baptist witnesses the epiphany of the Holy Spirit quoted below (John 1.32-34):17 καὶ ἐμαρτύρησεν Ἰωάννης λέγων ὅτι Τεθέαμαι τὸ πνεῦμα καταβαῖνον ὡσεὶ περιστερὰν ἐξ οὐρανοῦ, καὶ ἔμεινεν ἐπ αὐτόν. κἀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτόν· ἀλλ’ ὁ πέμψας με βαπτίζειν ἐν ὕδατι, ἐκεῖνός μοι εἶπεν, Ἐφ’ ὃν ἂν ἴδῃς τὸ πνεῦμα καταβαῖνον καὶ μένον ἐπ’ αὐτόν, οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ βαπτίζων ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ. Κἀγὼ ἑώρακα, καὶ μεμαρτύρηκα ὅτι οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ. John also testified by saying: “I have seen the Spirit descending as a dove from the sky, and he rested on him; and I did not recognize him; rather he who sent me to baptize in water, that one said to me, ‘On whomever you see the Spirit descending, and resting upon him, this is he who baptizes in a Holy Spirit.’ And I have seen and have borne witness that this man is the Son of God.”

In paraphrasing John’s Prologue Nonnus almost tripled its length to a total of fifty-eight lines, expanding and enriching the section on the Baptist and his mission (Par. 13b-23):18 μελισσοβότῳ δ’ ἐνὶ λόχμῃ ἔσκε τις οὐρεσίφοιτος ἐρημάδος ἀστὸς ἐρίπνης, κῆρυξ ἀρχεγόνου βαπτίσματος· οὔνομα δ’ αὐτῷ (15) θεῖος Ἰωάννης λαοσσόος. οὗτος ἐπέστη ἄγγελος ἐμπεδόμυθος, ὅπως περὶ φωτὸς ἐνίψῃ μαρτυρίην, ἵνα πάντες ἑνὸς κήρυκος ἰωῇ ὀρθὴν πίστιν ἔχοιεν, ἀτέρμονα μητέρα κόσμου· οὐ μὲν κεῖνος ἔην νοερὸν φάος, ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον (20) πᾶσιν ἀναπτύξειε θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα καὶ φάεος προκέλευθος ἀκηρύκτοιο φανείη, ξυνὴν μαρτυρίην ἐνέπων θεοδέγμονι λαῷ. From a bosky lair Where bees do suck, came one, a lonely citizen Of rocky crags, a mountain roaming wanderer, And herald of the ancient baptism; his name Was John, a godly rouser of the crowd. He came As messenger, as steadfast preacher, as reproach To mortal men, so that, called by his herald’s cry, 17 New Testament quotations are derived from ROBINSON – PIERPONT 2005, The New Testament. New Testament translations are derived from HART 2017, The New Testament. This is a literal translation but it is based on the textus receptus and not on the Robinson and Pierpont Byzantine text edition from which I quote. 18 The Paraphrasis text is quoted from DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I); the translation is by PROST 2003, Nonnos, Paraphrasis. AGOSTI 2014, Greek Poetry in Late Antique Alexandria, p. 304, comments as follows on the significance of the Nonnian amplification: “[…] the special attention to the Baptist in the rewriting by Nonnus at the beginning of the poem manifested a crucial link with Alexandrian Christianity: to compose such a poem during the episcopacy of Cyril was in no way just a literary exercise. Nonnus’ rewriting of the Gospel programmatically considers a twofold audience: Christians who were interested in both poetical biblical exegesis and Christological debate, and pagans for whose sake the biography of Christ, θεὸς ἀνήρ, was outlined against that of Neoplatonic θεῖοι ἄνδρες.”

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All might believe in God, creator of the world. Though not himself the Light of mind, yet still he was A God-filled mouth who preached to all who came, Forerunner, bringing secret, hidden Light to light, And testifying to the God-receptive crowd.

It is worthy of note that the portrait of the Baptist in the Fourth Gospel undergoes a transformation vis-à-vis the Synoptics, and a further one in Nonnus’ paraphrase. The basic information as regards his parents and the circumstances of his conception and birth is given in Luke; what concerns his life in the desert, his food and clothing is found in Matthew and Mark and is the following: Αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ Ἰωάννης εἶχεν τὸ ἔνδυμα αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τριχῶν καμήλου, καὶ ζώνην δερματίνην περὶ τὴν ὀσφὺν αὐτοῦ· ἡ δὲ τροφὴ αὐτοῦ ἦν ἀκρίδες καὶ μέλι ἄγριον. (Matt. 3.4) Now this man John had on a garment made from the hairs of a camel, as well a leather girdle about his loins; and his food was locusts and wild honey. ἦν δὲ ὁ Ἰωάννης ἐνδεδυμένος τρίχας καμήλου, καὶ ζώνην δερματίνην περὶ τὴν ὀσφὺν αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἐσθίων ἀκρίδας καὶ μέλι ἄγριον. (Mark 1.6) And John was clothed in camel’s hairs and a leather girdle about his loins, and would eat locusts and wild honey.

In John’s Gospel all references to the desert are omitted with the exception of the (probably figurative)19 line “I am a voice crying in the wilderness” (ἐγὼ φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ). Omitted is also all information concerning John’s food and clothing, his family and the circumstances of his meeting with Jesus, the Logos incarnate. In the Fourth Gospel John is placed in an abstract and almost timeless frame; he is a spiritual rather than bodily presence or, according to Ruben Zimmermann, he is a liminal figure standing between the temporal and the eternal, the divine and the human,20 with his character portrait almost totally restricted to that of a “witness” to Jesus (John 1.7, Oὗτος ἦλθεν εἰς μαρτυρίαν, ἵνα μαρτυρήσῃ περὶ τοῦ φωτός, ἵνα πάντες πιστεύσωσι δι᾿ αὐτοῦ, etc.).21 In the Paraphrasis the Baptist does not live in the desert, as in John; he does not subsist on locusts and honey, again as in John; he does not have a leather girdle around his loins, also as in John.22 Information drawn on the Synoptics23

19 20 21 22 23

Cf. KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, pp. 438-440. ZIMMERMANN 2016, John (the Baptist) as a Character. WILLIAMS 2013, John (the Baptist): The Witness. On the Baptist in Nonnus see further DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 27-28. DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 118-119.

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is subtly modified so as to acquire a different meaning. Below I discuss the significance of his innovations one by one. Instead of “feeding on” honey John is placed in a habitat where bees “feed on (the flowers) of thickets” (μελισσοβότῳ δ’ ἐνὶ λόχμῃ, literally “in thickets fed on by bees”). De Stefani observes that “It is possible that Nonnus may echo here the traditional association between bees on the one hand and prophecy and the prophets on the other” and cites a number of relevant instances.24 A total of nine instances of the epithet μελισσόβοτος are found in TLG, one of which occurs in Nonnus. All references to places concern mountains, which may not be irrelevant to the fact that in Nonnus the Baptist is a “mountain-roamer” (see below). One of these references, occurring in a poem by Michael Choniates, qualifies Hymettus, a mountain famous for its honey through the ages: νέκταρος Ὑμηττοῖο μελισσοβότοιο.25 Another one occurs in an anonymous, late antique epigram (A.P. 9.523): it is addressed to Calliope as the mother of Homer26 and uniquely combines Mt Helicon as bee-feeding pasture with the call for the birth of another Homer in the context of the conventional association of Helicon, bees and honey with poetics: Καλλιόπη πολύμυθε μελισσοβότου Ἑλικῶνος, τίκτε μοι ἄλλον Ὅμηρον, ἐπεὶ μόλεν ἄλλος Ἀχιλλεύς. Calliope. eloquent goddess of Helicon, the pasture of bees, bear me a second Homer, since a second Achilles has come.

As noted above, Nonnus transferred the Baptist from the desert to the mountains: he is οὐρεσίφοιτος, “mountain-roaming”. οὐρεσίφοιτος is a favorite epithet of Nonnus’: according to TLG, there are twenty-four occurrences in the Dionysiaca and two in the Paraphrasis. It is variously employed but one aspect of its use concerns divinities or humans in an ecstatic or highly stressful condition. Nonnus uses it twice of frenzied Agave, Pentheus’ mother (Dion. 9.76; 46.160) and twice of Aura seized with the pangs of protracted labor (Dion. 48.786, 847). In his commentary on Hesiod’s Theogony Martin West notes that mountains are a common location for the encounter of poets, prophets and lawgivers with a god; among others he cites Hesiod, Archilochus, Epimenides, Parmenides, Callimachus, Ennius, Propertius (3.3) and Quintus of Smyrna (12.310) on the Western side, and Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Moses and Elijah on the Eastern side.27 DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 118. LAMBROS 1880, Μιχαὴλ Ἀκομινάτου, p. 377 line 53. 26 Recent discussions of the epigram have focused on the epithet “πολύμυθε”, in connection with Arist. Poet. 1456a 10-19 (ἐποποιικὸν λέγω τὸ πολύμυθον, οἷον εἴ τις τὸν τῆς Ἰλιάδος ὅλον ποιοῖ μῦθον) for the purpose of elucidating Triph. 3, πολὺν διὰ μῦθον ἀνεῖσα; see among others MONTES CALA 1989, La invocación a Calíope. 27 WEST 1966, Hesiod, Theogony, pp. 159-161; see further FALTER 1934, Der Dichter. 24 25

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Living in the wilderness on a diet of honey and locusts and wearing clothes made of camel’s hair are meaningful in the Jewish and Christian tradition but not in Greco-Roman poetry. Mountains are meaningful in both traditions, while bees and honey in the Western tradition are prominently associated with inspiration, especially poetic.28 Placing the Baptist on a mountain with bees sucking the nectar of wild flowers is an intriguing innovation, also considering that the “honey” that the historical John the Baptist would have tasted in the desert was not necessarily bee honey but could have been any sweet substance, like sap from trees.29 Taking into account that the Nonnian passage in question leads to John heralding (in Greek hexameters!) the coming of Christ, it may not be unreasonable to associate his habitat with the pagan tradition of poetic-prophetic inspiration and even with Hesiod’s initiation in the Theogony. Furthermore one wonders why the Baptist in Nonnus would be called ἐρημάδος ἀστὸς ἐρίπνης (“a lonely citizen of rocky crags”), since ἀστός applies to one who inhabits a city or town and has civic rights. De Stefani30 quotes Cyril’s comment on John 1.7, τὰς ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ διατριβὰς τῶν ἐν πόλεσιν ἐνδιαιτημάτων προτιμήσας ὁ βαπτιστής; and, adducing also Non. Par. 1.63, φυγὰς μερόπων (of the Baptist), he refers the reader to Eur. El. 209-210, δωμάτων πατρίων φυγάς | οὐρείας ἀν’ ἐρίπνας. Cyril and Euripides distinguish sharply, however, by linking city and wilderness, while Nonnus’ ἐρημάδος ἀστὸς ἐρίπνης creates a conspicuous oxymoron between city and wilderness. One wonders also why the Baptist’s clothing, casually mentioned in 3.129 λεπτοφυεῖ λασίῳ πεπυκασμένον ἄνδρα χιτῶνι, retains its Jewish and Christian “hairy” texture but becomes “λεπτοφυής”. Since the exact meaning of λεπτοφυής in this context escapes me,31 one might be inclined to see in it a touch of pagan aesthetic sophistication, probably not irrelevant to the oxymoronic employment of ἀστός. Going back to the “hymnic” opening of the Fourth Gospel, it is significant to remember that the phrase “Ἐν ἀρχῇ” has been associated with the beginning of creation and specifically with Gen. 1.1, Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἐποίησεν ὁ Θεὸς τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ τὴν γῆν.32 John goes on to speak openly of creation in 1.3 (ἐγένετο, twice) and in 1.6 he employs the same verb ἐγένετο to introduce the Baptist:

28 ROBERT-TORNOW 1893, De apium mellisque; COOK 1895, The Bee; WASZINK 1974, Biene und Honig. 29 KELHOFFER 2005, John the Baptist’s “Wild Honey”. 30 DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 119. 31 In Dion. 18.86, λεπτοφυῆ τύπον εἶχε νεοπρίστων ἐλεφάντων, it means “delicate” or “elegant”, while in Dion. 26.129, λεπτοφυὴς ἐλάχεια τινάσσεται ἄστατος οὐρή, it means “thin” or “small”. 32 KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 364.

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Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος. Οὗτος ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θεόν. Πάντα δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ χωρὶς αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο οὐδὲ ἕν ὃ γέγονεν. […] Ἐγένετο ἄνθρωπος ἀπεσταλμένος παρὰ θεοῦ, ὄνομα αὐτῷ Ἰωάννης· In the origin there was the Logos, and the Logos was present with God, and the Logos was god. This one was present with God in the origin. 3 All things came to be through him, and without him came to be not a single thing that has come to be […]. There came a man, sent by God, whose name was John;

The opening of the Fourth Gospel has been compared with Greek “theogonies” in terms of substance.33 It should furthermore be noted that, from a formal viewpoint, there is a remarkable verbal and structural correspondence between the opening lines of John’s Gospel on the one hand and the concluding lines of Hesiod’s “Hymn to the Muses” and the beginning of the main narrative on the other (Hes. Theog. 114-116): ταῦτά μοι ἔσπετε Μοῦσαι, Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾽ ἔχουσαι ἐξ ἀρχῆς, καὶ εἴπαθ᾽, ὅτι πρῶτον γένετ᾽ αὐτῶν. ἤτοι μὲν πρώτιστα Χάος γένετ᾽· […]. These things tell me from the beginning, Muses who have your mansions on Olympus, and tell which one of them was born first. In truth, first of all Chasm came to be, […].

Extensive theological amplification in Nonnus’ Paraphrasis (concerning among other issues the relationship between Father and Son, which since Golega’s Studien has been linked with the Nicene Creed34) vis-à-vis the opening lines of John’s Gospel quoted above overshadows the verbal and structural correspondence with Hesiod’s Theogony; the reader needs the mediation of John’s Gospel in order to grasp the association. Did Nonnus ever consider attaching a Proem to the Paraphrasis? Juvencus, who around 329 AD introduced the genre of biblical paraphrase in Graeco-Roman literature, had added a Praefatio to his Evangeliorum Libri Quattuor, in which he presented himself as the Christian successor to Homer and Virgil. I would assume that John’s “Hymn to Logos” satisfied the poet’s possible urge for a proem, especially if it could be associated with the “Hymn to the Muses” that prefaces Hesiod’s Theogony. Besides, John’s Prologue stands out among the four Gospels: Matthew and Mark pass directly to their respective narratives, while Luke’s brief Preface, which explains the author’s reasons for undertaking to write the life of Jesus, is of a different kind and widely believed to belong to the Graeco-Roman historiographical tradition:35 KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 376. GOLEGA 1930, Studien, p. 106. 35 This view found its definitive expression in CADBURY 1922, Commentary; see, however ALEXANDER 1993, The Preface. 33 34

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Έπειδήπερ πολλοὶ ἐπεχείρησαν ἀνατάξασθαι διήγησιν περὶ τῶν πεπληροφορημένων ἐν ἡμῖν πραγμάτων, καθὼς παρέδοσαν ἡμῖν οἱ ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται καὶ ὑπηρέται γενόμενοι τοῦ λόγου, ἔδοξε κἀμοί, παρηκολουθηκότι ἄνωθεν πᾶσιν ἀκριβῶς, καθεξῆς σοι γράψαι, κράτιστε Θεόφιλε, ἵνα ἐπιγνῷς περὶ ὧν κατηχήθης λόγων τὴν ἀσφάλειαν. Since many have set their hands to laying out an orderly narrative regarding the events that have been brought to fulfilment among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning, and who became servants of the word, passed it on to us, it seemed a good thing that I also, having exactingly traced out everything from the beginning, should write it out inorder for you, most exalted Theophilus, so that you might recognize the reliability of the accounts you have been taught.

IV. THE MIRACLE BABY. ZAGREUS AND THE POETICS OF MUTATION Emma GREENSMITH

1. Introduction In Book 6 of the Dionysiaca, Dionysus, not yet born, appears in proto-form in the figure of Zagreus. This baby ascends to Zeus’ throne, brandishes his weapons, but is torn to pieces by the Titans, transforming into a kaleidoscopic range of figures as he attempts to escape (Dion. 6.155-205). This is not, however, the end of Zagreus’ story. Nonnus tells us at the end of this episode that he will soon begin again, finding new life as Dionysus (6.175). The episode takes up fifty lines of poetry. In less than a fifth of the book, a story smaller than an epyllion, this tiny section of Nonnus’ gargantuan epic is over. Although Zagreus ‘finds new life’ as Dionysus, it seems that in his own existence he is rather minunthadios. He is mentioned again only in passing in the poem, for instance, as various characters recall his challenge to Zeus (Hermes at Dion. 38.209-210; Deriades at 39.70-71) and his violent death (Hera at 31.47-48; Gaia at 48.41-43) or summon and honour him in prayer (48.962-978). As a result, the figure has attracted scant attention from scholars concerned with the Dionysiaca as a whole. In the most extensive recent discussion, Rob Shorrock has suggested that Zagreus, like the monstrous usurper Typhoeus, should be read as a foil for Nonnus’ own early ambitions as a poet. Just as Typhoeus steals Zeus’ weapons and stages a book-long attempt to reign over the cosmos (Dion. 1), before he is ultimately defeated by the lyric power of Cadmus, so too can Zagreus’ momentary power and rapid demise represent an image of the prior failed attempts of Nonnus to assert his literary authority: his arrogance and errors, his anxious grappling to surpass his own poetic ‘father’ Homer,1 before he grows to poetic maturity, confident in his own status and abilities, instantiated in the later figure of the ‘real’ Dionysus:2 This [Zagreus] episode might refer to poetic juvenilia, lacking not in talent but in experience, which have been cut down to size by Titan critics.

1 SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 116-121. A key part of Shorrock’s reading is to map Nonnus’ Bloomian relationship to Homer, named as ‘father’ at Dion. 25.265, onto Dionysus’ competitive emulation of his father Zeus. 2 SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 127-129 (both quotations at p. 129).

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What is more, Shorrock goes on to suggest, this infantile first stab at epic glory may have a specific analogue in Nonnus’ œuvre: One imagines, perhaps, an earlier unsuccessful version of the Dionysiaca, or perhaps even the paraphrase of St John’s Gospel, a work generally regarded as being anterior to the Dionysiaca. As Dionysus is born out of the dying Zagreus, it is possible to imagine the Dionysiaca itself rising up out of the ‘ashes’ of the epic paraphrase.

A precursor and a prototype, Zagreus is thus largely written out, or written over, in Nonnus’ poetic story. In this contribution, however, I focus centrally on this miniature episode, and on this ‘marginal’, mysterious baby. In this choice of focus, I may seem to be subscribing to a particular trend in Nonnian scholarship, and since this volume aims to prompt reflection on our own positions as critics of this epic – our methods of constructing the ‘roads’ of inquiry into Nonnus’ work – I shall begin by considering this trend. My ‘episodic’ focus (i.e. my focus on an episode) may seem to reflect the critical tendency, when faced with the hyperbolically vast, disparate, poikilos poetics of the Dionysiaca, or the ‘Janus-esque’ character of Nonnus’ two disparate poems,3 to bifurcate into one of two routes: either the macrocosmic or the microcosmic – to roam broadly or to zoom in intensely. As the titles of recent bibliography and the contributions within this volume readily illustrate, recent writers on Nonnus either take on a large, overarching theme and select evidence from across the whole text(s) to analyze it (in itself, perhaps, a self-conscious marker of paideia; demonstrating the far from inconsiderable feat of mastering this exceptionally expansive author) or else focus on one, carefully selected character, episode, or passage, and read it closely. To take just two contrastive examples, output on the Dionysiaca in the past five years alone has included a study of direct speech across the whole of the poem, and a thirty-page article focusing on just sixty lines from Book 35.4 The same pattern is evident in scholarship on the Paraphrase, which has been the subject of increasing scholarly attention in recent years,5 but very rarely in For this phrase, see ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, p. 37. Respectively, VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech and GOLDHILL 2015, Preposterous Poetics. I have selected these two examples from the copious bibliographical output on the poem in the twenty first century because of the closeness of their publication date and the highly contrastive nature of their approaches. For further examples of this contrast, see the contents of the recent ACCORINTI 2016, Brill’s Companion to Nonnus which displays the penchant for both of these methodologies for the Dionysiaca (compare, e.g. the surveying approach of Hadjittofi’s chapter, HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, pp. 125-151, versus the case-study-based specificity of Fitzgerald Johnson’s chapter, FITZGERALD JOHNSON 2016, Nonnus’ Paraphrastic technique, pp. 267-288) and whose contributions shift from focusing on the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase, with too few authors examining in detail both. 5 Editions and commentaries have been prepared on, thus far, eight books of the Paraphrase (the most recent is SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis XI). 3 4

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active dialogue with studies of Nonnus’ earlier(?), ‘pagan’, (post)-classical poem.6 Ironically, the poet who programmatically refuses to be contained – who evokes Proteus the Odyssean shapeshifter par excellence as the emblem for his slippery and polymorphous texture; and begins his metabole with the word ἂχρονος, tearing open and refusing to close John’s foundational ‘beginning’ –7 is approached with moves of dissection: opposing methodologies of reading which are not only more pronounced for Nonnus than for other areas of ancient literature, but also more mutually suspicious.8 My suggestion, however, and the central claim of this contribution, is that this dichotomy between the episode and the entity is a false dichotomy in Nonnian discourse; and that Zagreus – the miniature episode, the tiny baby – offers a crucial indicator as to why. Zagreus, I shall argue, represents a major locus for the ways in which the episodic and the hollistic collide, combine, and reflect one another in Nonnus’ adamantly alternating poetics. I shall start by close reading the ‘episode’ in a different way, focusing on its competing intertextual strands, and showing how Nonnus encourages a programmatic reading of this baby, as a vehicle for these multiple fabrics woven together in his poem, and – more deeply and ambivalently – as an image of a poet critically aware of the complexities and dangers of his task in composing it. I shall then suggest the ways in which this emblematic figure exerts a continuous presence in and beyond the Dionysiaca: Zagreus’ ‘new life’ extends beyond the shady, literal reincarnation into Dionysus – he is reincarnated into Nonnus’ poetics too. Zagreus, we shall see, thus functions as a programmatic image not for the poet’s earlier ‘failed’ ambitions, but for the tensional aspirations which continue to drive both of his works. Zagreus, like the Nonnian corpus itself, requires a reading which insists on the confrontation of contradiction, the conceit of self-reflection, and the multiplicity of temporality, all embodied in the paradoxical miracle of ‘beginning again’.

6

On the direction of influence between the two works, an open question to which we shall return from a different perspective in what follows, see the summary of positions in ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, pp. 37-46. My own stance in this contribution will be not to venture into the probably unanswerable issue of anteriroty, but rather to consider the interpretative and literary-cultural imperative to treat the texts as simultaneous, mutually interacting. 7 John 1.1: ἐν ἀρχῇ. Cf. Paraphrase 1.1: ἂχρονος ἦν ἀκίχητος ἐν ἀῤῥήτῳ λὀγος ἀρχῇ. On this opening line of the paraphrase, see GOLDHILL 2020, Preposterous Poetics, chapter 4, which offers a lucid account of Nonnus’ transformative moves therein (still, however, not fully embedded with discussions of the Dionysiaca, which the same book also analyses, but in a separate part). 8 I discuss and illustrate this sense of suspicion in GREENSMITH 2018, Brill’s Companion to Nonnus (Rev.), pp. 269-270.

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2. Source Collisions Let us first turn directly and in detail to Nonnus’ story of Zagreus. Considered in full, the passage (Dion. 6.155-205) reveals an intensely intricate texture, comprised of multiple, competing strands: παρθένε Περσεφόνεια, σὺ δ’ οὐ γάμον εὗρες ἀλύξαι, (155) ἀλλὰ δρακοντείοισιν ἐνυμφεύθης ὑμεναίοις, Ζεὺς ὅτε πουλυέλικτος ἀμειβομένοιο προσώπου νυμφίος ἱμερόεντι δράκων κυκλούμενος ὁλκῷ εἰς μυχὸν ὀρφναίοιο διέστιχε παρθενεῶνος, σείων δαυλὰ γένεια· παρισταμένων δὲ θυρέτρῳ (160) εὔνασεν ἰσοτύπων πεφοβημένον ὄμμα δρακόντων …. καὶ γαμίαις γενύεσσι δέμας λιχμάζετο κούρης μείλιχος. αἰθερίων δὲ δρακοντείων ὑμεναίων (164) Περσεφόνης γονόεντι τόκῳ κυμαίνετο γαστήρ, (163) Ζαγρέα γειναμένη, κερόεν βρέφος, ὃς Διὸς ἕδρης (165) μοῦνος ἐπουρανίης ἐπεβήσατο, χειρὶ δὲ βαιῇ ἀστεροπὴν ἐλέλιζε· νεηγενέος δὲ φορῆος νηπιάχοις παλάμῃσιν ἐλαφρίζοντο κεραυνοί. οὐδὲ Διὸς θρόνον εἶχεν ἐπὶ χρόνον· ἀλλά ἑ γύψῳ κερδαλέῃ χρισθέντες ἐπίκλοπα κύκλα προσώπου (170) δαίμονος ἀστόργοιο χόλῳ βαρυμήνιος Ἥρης Ταρταρίῃ Τιτῆνες ἐδηλήσαντο μαχαίρῃ ἀντιτύπῳ νόθον εἶδος ὀπιπεύοντα κατόπτρῳ. ἔνθα διχαζομένων μελέων Τιτῆνι σιδήρῳ τέρμα βίου Διόνυσος ἔχων παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν (175) ἀλλοφυὴς μορφοῦτο πολυσπερὲς εἶδος ἀμείβων, πῇ μὲν ἅτε Κρονίδης δόλιος νέος αἰγίδα σείων, πῇ δὲ γέρων βαρύγουνος ἅτε Κρόνος ὄμβρον ἰάλλων· ἄλλοτε ποικιλόμορφον ἔην βρέφος, ἄλλοτε κούρῳ εἴκελος οἰστρηθέντι, νέον δέ οἱ ἄνθος ἰούλων (180) ἀκροκελαινιόωντα κατέγραφε κύκλα προσώπου· πῇ δὲ χόλῳ δασπλῆτι λέων μιμηλὸς ἰάλλων φρικαλέον βρύχημα σεσηρότι μαίνετο λαιμῷ, ὀρθώσας πυκινῇσι κατάσκιον αὐχένα χαίταις, ἀμφελελιζομένῃ λασιότριχος ὑψόθι νώτου (185) αὐτομάτῃ μάστιγι περιστίζων δέμας οὐρῇ. ἔνθα λεοντείοιο λιπὼν ἴνδαλμα προσώπου ὑψιλόφῳ χρεμετισμὸν ὁμοίιον ἔβρεμεν ἵππῳ ἄζυγι, γαῦρον ὀδόντα μετοχμάζοντι χαλινοῦ, καὶ πολιῷ λεύκαινε περιτρίβων γένυν ἀφρῷ· (190) ἄλλοτε ῥοιζήεντα χέων συριγμὸν ὑπήνης ἀμφιλαφὴς φολίδεσσι δράκων ἐλέλικτο κεράστης, γλῶσσαν ἔχων προβλῆτα κεχηνότος ἀνθερεῶνος, καὶ βλοσυρῷ Τιτῆνος ἐπεσκίρτησε καρήνῳ ὁρμὸν ἐχιδνήεντα περίπλοκον αὐχένι δήσας· (195) καὶ δέμας ἑρπηστῆρος ἀειδίνητον ἐάσας τίγρις ἔην, στίξας δέμας αἰόλον· ἄλλοτε ταύρῳ ἰσοφυής, στομάτων δὲ νόθον μυκηθμὸν ἰάλλων

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θηγαλέῃ Τιτῆνας ἀνεστυφέλιξε κεραίῃ. καὶ ψυχῆς προμάχιζεν, ἕως ζηλήμονι λαιμῷ (200) τρηχαλέον μύκημα δι᾽ ἠέρος ἔβρεμεν Ἥρη, μητρυιὴ βαρύμηνις, ἰσοφθόγγῳ δὲ θεαίνῃ αἰθέριον κελάδημα πύλαι κανάχιζον Ὀλύμπου, καὶ θρασὺς ὤκλασε ταῦρος· ἀμοιβαίῃ δὲ φονῆες ταυροφυῆ Διόνυσον ἐμιστύλλοντο μαχαίρῃ. (205) Ah, maiden* Persephone! You could not find how to escape your mating! No, a dragon was your mate, when Zeus changed his face and came, rolling in many a loving coil through the dark to the corner of the maiden’s chamber, and shaking his hairy chaps: he lulled to sleep as he crept the eyes of those creatures of his own shape who guarded the door. He licked the girl’s form gently with wooing lips. By this marriage with the heavenly dragon, the womb of Persephone swelled with living fruit, and she bore Zagreus the horned baby, who by himself climbed upon the heavenly throne of Zeus and brandished lightning in his little hand, and newly born, lifted and carried thunderbolts in his tender fingers. But he did not hold the throne of Zeus for long. By the fierce resentment of implacable Hera, the Titans cunningly smeared their round faces with disguising chalk, and while he contemplated his changeling countenance reflected in a mirror they destroyed him with an infernal knife. There where his limbs had been cut piecemeal by the Titan steel, the end of his life was the beginning of a new life as Dionysus. He appeared in another shape, and changed into many forms: now young like crafty Cronides shaking the aegis-cape, now as ancient Cronos heavykneed, pouring rain. Sometimes he was a curiously formed baby, sometimes like a mad youth with the flower of the first down marking his rounded chin with black. Again, a mimic lion he uttered a horrible roar in furious rage from a wild snarling throat, as he lifted a neck shadowed by a thick mane, marking his body on both sides with the self-striking whip of a tail which flickered about over his hairy back. Next, he left the shape of a lion’s looks and let out a ringing neigh, now like an unbroken horse that lifts his neck on high to shake out the imperious tooth from the bit, and, smearing his cheek, whitened it with horary foam. Sometimes he poured out a whistling hiss from his mouth, a curling horned serpent covered with scales, darting out his tongue from his gaping throat, and leaping upon the grim Titan encircled his neck in snaky spiral coils. Then he left the shape of the restless crawler and became a tiger, his body tattooed with stripes; or again like a bull emitting a counterfeit roar from his mouth, he butted the Titans with a sharp horn. So he fought for his life, until Hera with jealous throat bellowed harshly through the air – that heavy-resentful stepmother! and the gates of Olympus rattled in echo to her jealous throat from high heaven. Then the bold bull collapsed: the murderers each eager for his turn with the knife chopped piecemeal the bull-shaped Dionysus.9

The myth of Zagreus, or the dismembering of the first Dionysus, is considered a central tenet of Orphism, where it is used to explain the origin of humanity

9 All translations of the Dionysiaca are adapted from ROUSE 1940, Nonnus, Dionysiaca. *I include an asterisk here to indicate how, as we shall see, this specific part of the translation can be strongly challenged.

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whilst also implicating a series of ritual needs for the lifestyle of the initiate.10 The presence of Zagreus in the Dionysiaca, therefore, is often heralded as a firm piece of evidence for Nonnus’ engagement with Orphic theogonies in his poem (the other two such divinities present are Rhea and Phanes); a reflection, perhaps, of the prominence of and accelerated interest in the Orphic ‘movement’ during the imperial Period.11 Nonnus particularly appears to follow the Neoplatonic recycling of the myth; for instance, his choice to focus on the central role of Hera in Zagreus’ destruction aligns this version with Olympiodorus’ commentary which cites the goddess as the central instigator of the crime (In Phd. 1.3).12 He also, however, notably diverges from a number of aspects of the so-called Orphic Zagreus. He removes all anthropogonic repercussions from the story: there is no trace here of the idea that the human race was itself born from the Titans. He is also pointedly reticent about the dismembering event itself. And whereas multiple sources attest to a keen interest in what happened to this murdered baby’s flesh (according to one popular version, once he was dismembered, his limbs were put in a cauldron and given to his brother, who kept them near a tripod; commemorated with a tomb in Delphi)13 on this topic too our usually-boisterous poet is uncharacteristically silent. Such deviations have led most scholars to conclude that Zagreus, as with all the Orphic narratives in the text, does not indicate any strong or coherent adherence to Orphic discourse on Nonnus’ part, but is rather used “solely for poetic purposes” – whatever exactly we take that to mean.14 However, within this ambivalently Orphic framework, Nonnus also includes a number of competing voices in Zagreus’ brief birth, life and death. We may first note the suggestively – or at least suspiciously – Christian nodes with which the passage is laced. In the opening of the story, the lead up to Zagreus’ birth, Nonnus addresses Persephone in an apostrophe, as παρθένε (6.155). Nonnus addresses his own characters a mere seven times in the whole of his sprawling epic: far less frequently than Homer (there are nineteen such addresses in the Iliad and fifteen in the Odyssey) – the poet who doubles Homer’s canon shrinks his use of apostrophe – and less even than Apollonius, 10 On Orphism see BERNABÉ – CASSADÉSUS 2008, Orfeo; EDMONDS 2013, Redefining Ancient Orphism; and HERRERO ET AL. 2011, Tracing Orpheus, with further comprehensive bibliography in BERNABÉ 2014, Orpheus and Orphism. Discussion of Orphic themes in the Dionysiaca in BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, by whose observations this section’s analysis has been much informed. 11 Full references in in BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, pp. 98-102. 12 Proclus (In Tim. 1), by contrast simply cites ‘envy’ as the reason for the murder. 13 Sch. in Lycoph. 207, Callim. fr. 643 Pf. (on which see discussion below); Philochorus FGrHist 392 F 7. See BURKERT 1983, Homo Necans, p. 225, n. 43 and BERNABÉ ET AL. 2013, Redefining Dionysos, pp. 109-116. 14 Cf. BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, p. 99: “[this] leads us to affirm that [Orphic] names and episodes are used solely for poetic interests.”

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who calls to his characters eight times. However, as Camille Geisz has shown, what makes Nonnus’ use of the device so brazen, despite its brevity, is the type of characters to whom he speaks:15 unlike Homer and Apollonius, Nonnian apostrophes are almost always addressed to the main character Dionysus, and in stark contrast to Homer in particular (and his compassionate calls to ‘victims’ like Eumaeus and Patroclus), Nonnus does not just use apostrophe to elicit pity, but also to evoke more varied and even critical emotions: he addresses Dionysus “to encourage the narratee to share not only in his compassion for [his hero], but also in his admiration, and even amusement.”16 The use of the vocative for Persephone, therefore, is marked in multiple ways as peculiar: she is one of the few characters in the Dionysiaca to receive the device,17 other than Dionysus himself (she, in this sense, is Dionysus ‘firstcalled’); she is summoned into the narrative using a technique characterised in the poem by ambiguity; and, what is more, this is the only time in the entire epic (and, with one exception, in all surviving epic)18 that the word παρθένος occurs in the vocative in the narrator’s voice.19 This striking singularity may point to a deep potential ambivalence in this apostrophe too: the poet calls, and thus calls attention, to Persephone as definable by this pivotal term. Now, when and whether παρθένος should be rendered ‘maiden’ in a straightforward sense of young woman (as Rouse translates it here) and when it carries more loaded connotations of virginity, chastity and unweddedness can be slippery and difficult to locate.20 There is on the one hand no such difficulty in this passage. In Nonnus’ story, the imminent, violent sexualization of Persephone is clearly the dominant theme: as the very next words in this line make clear, the poet “calls her παρθένε just as she is about to be a virgin no more”21 (παρθένε Περσεφόνεια, σὺ δ’ οὐ γάμον εὗρες ἀλύξαι, Dion. 6.155). As the two inescapable ‘unions’ of rape and marriage are combined and syntactically GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, pp. 231-246. GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, p. 225. 17 The other characters who receive an apostrophe from the narrator are Iolaos, as part of the syncrisis of Book 25 (25.211); Beroe at 41.143-54 and Actaeon, called Ἀκταίων βαρύποτμε at 5.3 10. Geisz herself reads Actaeon and Persephone (the only two characters who share the honour of narrative-text apostrophe from the poet’s voice) as early foils for Dionysus. 18 A single other occurrence of this vocative is found in epic, in Triphiodorus, in a speech of Priam to Cassandra (433) (cf. GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, p. 239 n. 30); a mythological virgin who refuses sex with a god and gets raped by a human; whose parthenos status, therefore, carries comparably complex connotations. 19 Its other uses, all spoken by characters and about characters, are: Harmonia, Dion. 4.92, Dion. 4.114 and Dion. 4.119; Nicaia, Dion. 15.264, Dion. 15.277 and Dion. 15.343, Dion. 16.145, Dion. 16.296, Dion. 16.298-299; Chalcomede, Dion. 34.334; Beroe, Dion. 42.114, Dion. 42.297, Dion. 42.363, Dion. 42.369 and Dion. 42.468; Ariadne, Dion. 47.428; Pallene, Dion. 48.205-206; Aura, Dion. 48.765, Dion. 48.832 and Dion. 48.859. See GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, p. 239. 20 See LSJ s.v. παρθένος 1-3. For specifically op. virgin, opp. γυνή, cf. e.g. Soph. Tr. 148, Theoc. 27.65. 21 GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, p. 239. 15 16

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juxtaposed, the macabre interplay of παρθένε, γάμον and εὗρες works to stress Persephone’s double status as unwedded and unbedded.22 Rouse’s translation is, therefore, clearly unnecessarily reticent. However, on the other hand, this exceptional use of the term by the Nonnian narrator, in the context of a virgin not yet married, and to narrate a wayward birth from a divine father, of a child who is innocent yet powerful, destined to rise again, may open up another powerful web of associations. One of the driving features of Gospel teaching is that Mary gives birth to Christ while still retaining her status as a “virgin” (παρθένος). This phenomenon of the virgin mother can be traced back to the Septuagint: the Hebrew word almah (“young woman”) used at Isa. 7.14 folded into Greek as παρθένος. Via a famous move of typology, “the words of Isaiah were subsequently reinterpreted as a prophecy that finds fulfilment in the παρθένος Mary.”23 And, of course, for all of the range of meanings attested for the term in Greek, it is the specific reading of παρθένος as “virgin” that has dominated New Testament exegesis. As Shorrock well summarizes, Mary’s dazed question to the angel Gabriel after he has informed her that she is to give birth to a child, “How shall this be seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1.34) provides a neat encapsulation of how “Mary is to be understood not simply as young, nor unmarried, but above all a virgin – lacking intimate knowledge of her betrothed.”24 Now, scholars converted to the possibility of a Christian reading of Nonnus’ ‘pagan’ poem (as arbitrary and unhelpful as such short-hands always are) have been quick to note the heavy emphasis on the παρθένος in the wider narrative of the Dionysiaca: how Nonnus seems to go ‘out of his way’25 to draw attention to a succession of παρθένοι throughout the poem, many of whom who are raped either by Dionysus or his father Zeus; and how his frequent use of the term itself is a marked deviation from the preceding epic tradition (where the word barely features at all, in the vocative or otherwise).26 This emphasis has been read as reflective of Nonnus’ engagement both with ‘the parthenos debate’ at the heart of the miracle of the Nativity, and with wider contestations surrounding the body and sexuality within the late antique world. Virginity, in 22 Euripides, a key model for Nonnus as part of his wide reaching tragic inheritance, also uses the term for Persephone during the choral ode in Helen, where the chorus ventriloquise the speech of Zeus in his attempts to placate the wrath of Demeter (βᾶτε, σεμναὶ Χάριτες, ἴτε, τᾷ περὶ παρθένῳ | Δηοῖ θυμωσαμένᾳ | λύπαν ἐξαλλάξατ᾽ ἀλαλᾷ, Eur. Hel. 1342-1345) Nonnus here provides his own redrafting of the links between Zeus, Persephone, virginity and motherhood, this time moving one branch further down the mythological family tree. 23 SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 93. 24 SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 92-93. 25 SHORROCK 2011, Myth of Paganism, p. 93. 26 Cf. SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 94: “Though … statistics are prone to mislead as often as they illuminate, it may be of interest to note that 276 out of a total of 383 citations of the word παρθένος (and associated words with the same stem) from the epic canon on the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae database come from Nonnus.”

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other words, is taken as one of the manifold connections between the myths of Dionysus and Christ which Nonnus expands and exploits.27 Particular attention has been paid in this vein to the rape of Aura, the huntress who prized her virginity above all else before it is taken from her by Dionysus in the final book of the epic. Liebeschuetz has highlighted verbal connections between the episode and discussions of Christ’s paradoxical birth in Gregory Nazianzus and John Chrysostom;28 and Shorrock has suggested a knowing irony in Artemis’ mocking of Aura’s childlessness (Dion. 48.834, οὐκ ἴδον, οὐ πυθόμην, ὅτι παρθένος υἷα λοχεύει, “I have neither seen nor heard that a virgin bears a child”) – “since the story of Christ is precisely about the revelation of a virgin who does give birth to a son. Aura behaves like a Classical heroine, ironically unaware that she is playing out her role before a late antique audience in a post-Classical world.”29 Virtually no mention, however, in any such discussions is made of Persephone, who is bestowed not only with the loaded term parthenos, but in the almost-unique vocative, in tidings from the poet’s own voice. The role of the Zagreus episode in this Christian-inflected discourse in the Dionysiaca remains bafflingly under-considered. We shall shortly return centrally to the role of Zagreus in the Christian resonances of the poem. But my first point here is a simple one. Given the ‘Christian context’ of Nonnus’ world, broadly conceived, such story structures, verbal cues and narrative themes always already have double significance. In this telling of this story, our poet makes Zagreus a crucial early contender for this sort of typological overlapping. In the carefully duplicitous language of this description, the Orphic story of Zagreus is redrafted through a capaciously Christian lens, just as the Christian potentiality of the story is refracted through its Orphic inheritance. These alternative modes and traditions are made to fuse rather than compete, entwined like the tendrils of a vine. This fusion continues and intensifies, as running alongside such Orphic and Christian currents are intertextual moments drawn from the classical world. To even the casual reader of this passage (if such a reader exists for the Dionysiaca…), the prevalence of Homeric language is obvious: Homeric lexica, divine appellations (patronymics such as Kronides, 6.177) and morphology (pronouns and uncontracted forms). In all respects, Nonnus’ engagement with the Homeric idiolect, here as in the whole of the Dionysiaca, is a resounding feature of his diction.30 27 Other such themes include birth, the vine, illuminations, verbal salutations, and, of course, and a topic to which we shall soon centrally return, resurrection. 28 LIEBESCHUETZ 1995, Pagan Mythology, p. 206. 29 SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 94. 30 On Nonnus and Homeric language see the syntheses in HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnus and Homer and BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems, pp. 484-487, each with further bibliography.

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However, within this broad Homeric texture, the scene also exhibits some characteristic verbal innovations, and competing intertextual quotations. In Dion. 6.180-181, Nonnus gives the image of Zagreus as a teenager, “with the flower of youth first marking his rounded chin with black”. This phrase displays two key strategies of Nonnian self-differentiation: one lexical and the other literary. In terms of vocabulary, the adjective ἀκροκελαινιόωντα, a complex, compound participle, is found only once in Homer (Il. 21.249, to describe a river), and is used three times by Nonnus (also at the Dionysiaca, Dion. 18.156 and Dion. 38.377), demonstrating our poet’s penchant for playing with Homeric hapaxes: “the repetition of rare but exquisitely positioned words to stimulate flashback literary recollection is [one of his] favourite means of literary zest.”31 On a poetic level, this whole description is highly suggestive of Callimachean programmatics. Youth and childhood have long been recognized as running themes in the Aetia; and when the old poet falls asleep, his young counterpart meets the Muses in a dream, where, a scholion relates, he is ἀρτιγένειος, “sprouting his first beard” (fr. 2d = Σ Flor. 15-20). The epithet enjoyed a long literary afterlife and inspired many subsequent imitations; and as Alan Cameron and Annette Harder have convincingly argued, may well have its basis in the text of Callimachus itself.32 This chain of imagery has often been thematically connected to Callimachus’ innovating intentions in his poetry – his aim to create something fresh and new. On an initial reading, therefore, Nonnus is appropriating this Callimachean symbol of novelty in order to assert his own agenda of originality. But a further node in Nonnus’ passage affects the tone of this Callimachean appropriation. At 165 Persephone is described as Ζαγρέα γειναμένη. This phrase contains a very different allusion to Callimachus. It appears word-forword in a surviving hymnic fragment of his œuvre (Callim. fr. 643 Pf): Υία Διώνυσον Ζαγρέα γειναμένη.

In this fragment, Callimachus himself is discussing Dionysus’ early life as Zagreus. His version seems to adhere rigorously to Orphic aspects of the myth: the verse stands as our first identifiable reference to the dismemberment strand of the story, and its location at Delphi – strands which, as we have seen, Nonnus pointedly ignores. By using this identical phrase to describe his own reimaging of Persephone, Nonnus thus combines Callimachean poetological themes (the Aetia’s appeals to youth as innovation) with Alexandrian ‘literary’ Orphism. In other words, he points to Callimachus as an ‘Orphic’ source and 31 BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems, p. 485. A full study of hapaxes in Nonnus has yet to be undertaken. 32 CAMERON 1995, Callimachus and his Critics, p. 131 and HARDER 2012, Callimachus’ Aetia (vol. 2), p. 144.

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model too; a model which he follows closely intertextually but whose storybook he fearlessly casts aside. The passage thus draws attention to the numerous lines of inheritance which inform and lie behind it: just as Orphism and Christianity are linked via the hinge of Persephone’s ‘virginal’ status, so too is Orphism twinned with Callimacheanism through alternative verbal echoes. The different models for the scene are made to speak directly to one another, in a polyphony of ventriloquized voices. 3. Shape Shifting Poetics and Nonnian Self-Reflection What these examples begin to show is how in the description of this monstrous baby, Nonnus creates a ‘hybrid of hybrids’. Dubious Orphism and elicit Christianity, Homeric lexica and Callimachean allusion: Zagreus contains within him multiple different parts. Now, this claim could of course be made for almost any passage of the Dionysiaca. Part of what makes this poem so remarkable is precisely its enlarged and elaborate mixture of elements – cultural, generic and literary. However, I now want to consider how Zagreus represents not just an example of Nonnian hybridity, but an image for it: a guide for how to read the multiplex poetics of the Dionysiaca as a whole. Key to this image is a major element of this episode, which I have deferred from discussing until this point, and which dominates and even derails all of the more subtle Orphic, Christian and classical echoes, is the remarkable shapeshifting that Zagreus undertakes (Dion. 6.176-199): first into gods (his father Zeus and grandfather Cronus), then into humans (a baby and adolescent) – which together represent the four stages of human life – and then into animals: a lion, a horse, a serpent, a tiger and a bull. And crucially, these transformations seem to be an innovation on Nonnus’ part. A substitution for the usual facets of the Orphic story (the anthropogony, the sparagmos, the burial) this sequence forms a unique interjection in his take on the Zagreus myth. The decision to turn Zagreus into a mutating figure clearly aligns him not only with the shape-shifting tendencies of his heir, the ‘real’ Dionysus, but also with the bendy, protean aesthetic of the Dionysiaca, heralded in the first proem, by the programmatic shape-shifter god Proteus, with whom the epic begins (Dion. 1.13-33): ἀλλὰ χοροῦ ψαύοντα, Φάρῳ παρὰ γείτονι νήσῳ, στήσατέ μοι Πρωτῆα πολύτροπον, ὄφρα φανείη ποικίλον εἶδος ἔχων, ὅτι ποικίλον ὕμνον ἀράσσω· (15) εἰ γὰρ ἐφερπύσσειε δράκων κυκλούμενος ὁλκῷ, μέλψω θεῖον ἄεθλον, ὅπως κισσώδεϊ θύρσῳ φρικτὰ δρακοντοκόμων ἐδαΐζετο φῦλα Γιγάντων· εἰ δὲ λέων φρίξειεν ἐπαυχενίην τρίχα σείων, Βάκχον ἀνευάξω βλοσυρῆς ἐπὶ πήχεϊ Ῥείης (20) μαζὸν ὑποκλέπτοντα λεοντοβότοιο θεαίνης·

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εἰ δὲ θυελλήεντι μετάρσιος ἅλματι ταρσῶν πόρδαλις ἀίξῃ πολυδαίδαλον εἶδος ἀμείβων, ὑμνήσω Διὸς υἷα, πόθεν γένος ἔκτανεν Ἰνδῶν πορδαλίων ὀχέεσσι καθιππεύσας ἐλεφάντων· (25) εἰ δέμας ἰσάζοιτο τύπῳ συός, υἷα Θυώνης ἀείσω ποθέοντα συοκτόνον εὔγαμον Αὔρην, ὀψιγόνου τριτάτοιο Κυβηλίδα μητέρα Βάκχου· εἰ δὲ πέλοι μιμηλὸν ὕδωρ, Διόνυσον ἀείσω κόλπον ἁλὸς δύνοντα κορυσσομένοιο Λυκούργου· (30) εἰ φυτὸν αἰθύσσοιτο νόθον ψιθύρισμα τιταίνων, μνήσομαι Ἰκαρίοιο, πόθεν παρὰ θυιάδι ληνῷ βότρυς ἁμιλλητῆρι ποδῶν ἐθλίβετο ταρσῷ. But bring me a partner for your dance in the neighbouring island of Pharos, Proteus of many turns, that he may appear in all his manifold form, since I strike a manifold song. For if, as a serpent, he should glide along his winding trail, I will sing of that divine achievement, how with ivy- wreathed wand he destroyed the horrid swarms of serpent-haired Giants. If as a lion he shake his bristling mane, I will cry “Euoi” to Bacchus on the arm of burly Rhea, stealthily draining the breast of the lion-breeding goddess. If as a leopard he shoot up into the air with stormy leap from his paws, quickly changing his many-shaped form like a master craftsman, I will hymn the son of Zeus, how he slew the Indian people, riding down the elephants with his teams of leopards. If he makes his body into the shape of a boar, I will sing of Thyone’s son, love-sick for well-married Aurora, slayer of boars, mother of the third Bacchus, late-born. If he be mimic water, I will sing Dionysus diving into the bosom of the sea, when Lycurgus armed himself. If he becomes a quivering tree and tune a counterfeit whispering, I will tell of Icarius, how in the jubilant winepress his feet crushed the grape in rivalry.

Indeed, Zagreus’ series of shapes, each (apart from the horse) related to the cult of Dionysus, are also directly parallel to Proteus’ opening transformations. So, the ‘proto Dionysus’ also becomes a posterior Proteus, himself a programmatic emblem for the yet-to-be-born Dionysus. Here is a dramatic instance of Nonnus’ ‘preposterous’ use of analogy – “where one narrative [or character] always seems to have the capability of announcing another proleptically, as well as echoing another retrospectively.”33 We may note also the repeated presence in this sequence of the word νόθος. Zagreus is attacked whilst looking at his νόθον εἶδος (Dion. 6.173), and during his metamorphosis he emits a roar which is νόθον (Dion. 6.198) – which intensifies the earlier description of his leonine cry as μιμηλός (Dion. 6.182). Now, νόθος – which means (and we shall come back to this translation) either “counterfeit” or “bastard” – is a term which recurs again and again throughout 33 GOLDHILL 2015, Preposterous Poetics, p. 156. Goldhill gives a convincing account of Nonnus’ penchant for this sort of topsy-turvy echoing, which he terms ‘preposterous poetics’, and connects to typological strategies of Jewish and Christian exegesis. Different but related comments on this aspect of Nonnus’ style in SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 120; AGOSTI 2008, Le Dionisiache e le arte figurative, p. 2; HARDIE 2005, Nonnus’ Typhon, p. 123.

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the poem. Thus, to take just the first book as a paradigmatic example, the proem’s own shape-shifting series ends by imagining Proteus’ “counterfeit whispering” (νόθον ψιθύρισμα, Dion. 1.31) – with ψιθύρισμα itself already a loaded programmatic term from the pastoral world: it occurs in the first line of Theocritus’ first Idyll as he announces his own ‘rebellious’ venture in this new bucolic poetics – 34 and the concept is personified and magnified in the narrative through Typhon the usurper, who is described as a Ζεὺς νόθος (Dion. 1.295).35 As a result of such applications, the term is often most tightly connected to the poem’s sense of hybridity: part of a series of words related to imitation, appropriation and mimesis (μιμηλός, πολύτροπος, ποικίλος, all of which also star in the opening proem).36 However, whilst this is undoubtedly an important aspect of the word’s valence in the poem, νόθος exerts a stronger force than the other mimetic words in this group, because bastardy is also inherently connected to conditions of parentage and birth – and so νόθος connects polyformity of texture with deviance of genealogy. In this familial sense, the word also functions from the start of the poem as a tag not only for Dionysus’ own dysfunctional birth, and anxious relationship with his distant father Zeus, but also for the text’s own wayward relationship to its literary heritage – Nonnus as the ‘bastard’ child of his own errant poetic dad, ‘father Homer.’ This double aspect of νόθος is what makes the term particularly emblematic for Dionysus the character, and for Nonnus the Dionysiac poet. Its application to Zagreus – to refer, literally, to the ‘counterfeit’ aspects of his transformative performance, but also, more conceptually, as a nod to his wayward family lineage – brings both aspects of the term to the fore through him. Zagreus, like Dionysus, and like Nonnus himself, emerges as a figure who embodies both senses of νόθος, as a driving metaphor for the poem. Through these programmatic alignments, Zagreus can clearly function as a figure for Nonnus’ transformative epic ambitions in the Dionysiaca. That is, he serves to visualize the literary-cultural hybridity of the passage, and, by extension, the poem: an emblem for this daring, multi-faceted epic undertaking. However, this straightforward metapoetic ‘match up’ (character as mise en abyme for poem) is not the end of the reflexive story. In the deeper recesses of the episode, there are more complex, and indeed more critical, aspects to Zagreus’ depiction, which begin to suggest his more lasting impact on Nonnus’ conception of his project.

34

On Nonnus’ engagement with pastoral poetry, particularly enshrined in the figure of Cadmus and the power of his song, see LASEK 2016, Nonnus and the Play of Genres, pp. 406-412, and ACOSTA-HUGHES 2016, Composing the Masters, each with further bibliography. 35 The same description is applied to Brontes at Dion. 28.199. 36 For example, Hadjittofi discusses the word in her discussion of ‘hybridity’, in her survey of the major themes and motifs in the poem (HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, p. 141).

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Nonnus’ version of the Titans’ attack also includes some pointed, and initially baffling, emphases. The Titans “disguise their faces with chalk” in order to ambush the baby (ἀλλά ἑ γύψῳ κερδαλέῃ χρισθέντες ἐπίκλοπα κύκλα προσώπου, Dion. 6.169-170). This on the one hand may be understood as part of the Orphic material in the scene: precedent for the Titans’ ‘chalk moment’ is found a verse from the Hellenistic poet Euphorion (πάντα δέ οἱ νεκυηδὸν ἐλευκαίνοντο πρόσπωπα, “they whitened themselves their entire faces, as if they were corpses”)37 which corresponds to the information provided in other sources, like the text of Harpocration, who also describes the Titans “smearing themselves with chalk, so as not to be recognized”.38 However, we have seen how happy is Nonnus to dispose of a number of ‘obvious’ Orphic manoeuvres in his version of the tale. So why retain this particular esoteric strand? The incident first creates a situation whereby the Titans themselves to take part in the process of disguise and mutation, later matched and outdone by the drama of Zagreus’ own metamorphic spectacle. It also concentrates attention on faces, as the loci for this dress-up act. This emphasis is picked up by other references to the same feature. Zeus changes his ‘face’ in Dion. 6.157 (προσώπου again) as he becomes a serpent to rape Persephone. Zagreus the ‘Callimachean youth’ has the down first staining his κύκλα προσώπου (Dion. 6.181) – a direct repetition of the wording for the Titans’ disguise. And even the horse (Dion. 6.190) is described as “smearing his cheek” (περιτρίβων γένυν) to whiten it with foam. Also salient is the presence of reflective surfaces or metals: Zagreus is destroyed, as we have seen, whilst contemplating his νόθον εἶδος in a mirror (Dion. 6.173); he is cut down by the Titan steel (Dion. 6.174 σιδήρῳ) and, later, with their knife (Dion. 6.205). This combination of faces and mirrors works together to create an insistent focus on reflection: and specifically, reflection on (and of) the self.39 In a programmatic passage which ‘reflects’ the changeable poetics of the epic, selfreflection itself is also thematized. It is as if Nonnus is being self-conscious about being self-conscious: visualizing the sorts of metapoetic moves that the narrative of the episode displays. This is all the more significant because Zagreus (at least literally) fails in this story. He fails to take over Zeus’ position, and to escape from the Titans; and transformation here disables, as well as enables, such acts of usurpation. Zeus’ metamorphosis into a snake facilitates his rape of Persephone. But Zagreus’ shape-shifting awesomeness does not help him at all – like Homer’s Proteus, he is not able to slip his way out of capture. In this respect, the Zagreus story enables the Nonnian poet to ‘close Fr. 29 DE CUENCA. Harpocration, Lexicon s.v. ἀπoμάττων (36 Keyney = Bernabé OF 308 II). On these precedents, see GARCIÁ-GASCO VILLARUBIA 2011, Titans in Disguise, pp. 113-116. 39 On mirrors and the mise en abyme, see DALLENBACH 1989, The Mirror in the text, who would have surely loved this passage (and Nonnus). 37 38

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read’ critically his own poikilos persona: to consider what is at stake in this new kind of epic, what it will look like, and even what it will cost. Self-laudatory mutability is not always the key to easy superiority – and Zagreus can contain a warning, even a self-warning, against the smugness of excessive self-reflection. 4. Zagreus Lives: The Poem Which ‘Begins Again’ Such a line of interpretation may seem to affirm, after all, Shorrock’s negative reading of the scene. If he works as a vehicle for Nonnus’ critical scrutiny, surely Zagreus indeed represents the poet’s failed prototype; a catalogue of his former literary misfires? However, the end of the scene contains the twist to this Nonnian self-‘close reading’. After Zagreus is torn apart, Nonnus tells us that his transformative usurpation is replaced by something else (Dion. 6.175): τέρμα βίου Διόνυσος ἔχων παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν The end of his life was the beginning of a new life as Dionysus.

We shall soon return in detail to the crucial paradoxes underscored by every word in this line. But for now, it must first be noted that as a narrative prolepsis, the statement primes the reader to look for Zagreus in the poem again. And this return comes in a number of different ways. The first, as directly cued by this prediction, is his ‘rebirth’ as Dionysus, who is born in full in the ninth book of the epic. And yet such a process is difficult, even discomforting, in its significations – as the grammar of this verse subtly foregrounds. It remains true, after all, that it is Dionysus, not Zagreus, who is really the subject of Dion. 6.175 : the τέρμα βίου is his. Gods are not meant to die, but before he achieves a new beginning, this divinity ‘has’ a death.40 So too is the narrative fulfilment of this rebirth equally murky, almost dark. For despite his frequent appellation (in the Dionysiaca and elsewhere) as Dionysus ‘first born’, the scene describing Dionysus’ ‘real’ birth does not feature Zagreus directly at all: the emphasis instead is on Zeus’ paradoxical status as child bearer – the proxy womb of his thigh – Hera’s characteristic jealousy, and the attempts to hide the new-born with a series of surrogate carers: the river nymphs, then Io, then Rhea (Dion. 9). However, as the poem continues, Zagreus ‘reappears’ more palpably in the words and memory of the characters. A number of the ‘passing mentions’ which we discussed at the beginning of this contribution in fact provide strong vocal reminders of Zagreus’ inherent connection to the new star of the 40 This uncomfortable – but crucial – fact that Dion. 6.175 makes Dionysus die and have a new beginning from Zagreus, not Zagreus dying and having a new beginning as Dionysus, is obscured by most of the existing translations of the line (as ROUSE’s here, which I have once again retained in order to critique).

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Dionysian show: neither Dionysus, nor his readers, are allowed to forget the existence of his earlier incarnation. He is used as rhetorical sniping tool for Dionysus’ enemies, as a means of undermining his divine and heroic status. To buoy up his troops before the sea battle, the Indian leader Deriades recalls how Zeus once gave his throne to Zagreus, “the more ancient Dionysus” (Dion. 39.72, παλαιοτέρῳ Διονύσῳ), to deflate Dionysus’ claims to divine parentage: and by retelling the story of Zagreus’ usurpation as an act of willing benevolence from Zeus (Dion. 9.73, δῶκε γέρας Ζαγρῆι) Deriades also punctures Dionysus’ connection to his heavenly father by establishing a jarring contrast: the baby got the lightening, Bacchus only the lowly vine (Dion. 39.73, ἀστεροπὴν Ζαγρῆι καὶ ἄμπελον οἴνοπι Βάκχῳ). Likewise Gaia, who later incites the Giants against Dionysus, alludes to the death of Zagreus as an earlier instance of how she armed her ‘slayers’ against Dionysus, and won (Dion. 48.29-30, πρεσβυτέρους Τιτῆνας ἐπὶ προτέρῳ Διονύσῳ, | ὁπλοτέρους δὲ Γίγαντας ἐπ᾽ ὀψιγόνῳ Διονύσῳ, “the older Titans against the former Dionysus, the younger Giants against Dionysus later born”). By terming both enemies ‘Dionysus’, Gaia exploits the potential vulnerability of the god who has died before. In the jibes of his opponents, therefore, Zagreus is not Dionysus’ failed prototype, but his superior ‘more ancient’ rival, or palimpsestic entity, whose presence can continue to sting him. What better way to deflate the (ego)centricism of the epic hero than to remind him that he is always supplementary; his ‘story’ has happened before? However, in the final book of the poem, the two figures are linked more positively. Once Dionysus is enthroned on Mount Olympus, the Athenians welcome his son Iacchus into the Temple of Athena. As they conduct their Bacchic ceremonies, they establish new sacrifices for a full cast of ‘Dionysuses’ (Dion. 48.962-968): καὶ θεὸν ἱλάσκοντο μεθ᾽ υἱέα Περσεφονείης, καὶ Σεμέλης μετὰ παῖδα, θυηπολίας δὲ Λυαίῳ ὀψιγόνῳ στήσαντο καὶ ἀρχεγόνῳ Διονύσῳ, καὶ τριτάτῳ νέον ὕμνον ἐπεσμαράγησαν Ἰάκχῳ. (965) καὶ τελεταῖς τρισσῇσιν ἐβακχεύθησαν Ἀθῆναι· καὶ χορὸν ὀψιτέλεστον ἀνεκρούσαντο πολῖται Ζαγρέα κυδαίνοντες ἅμα Βρομίῳ καὶ Ἰάκχῳ. They honoured him (Iacchus) as a god next after the son of Persephone, and after Semele’s son; they established sacrifices for Dionysus late born and Dionysus first born and third they chanted a new hymn for Iacchus. In these three celebrations Athens held high revel; in the dance lately made, the Athenians beat the step in honour of Zagreus and Bromius and Iacchus altogether.

So, the epic ends its winding journey with Zagreus, who is placed at the heart of the Athenian ritual, the first of a Dionysian triptych. It is thus in the language and performance of worship that pre-, ‘full’ and post-Dionysus are experienced ἅμα: ‘living’ in the poem at the same time.

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Zagreus therefore exerts a presence on the epic that goes beyond his opaque manifestation ‘in’ Dionysus, and his relationship with the poem’s protagonist is in many ways a dynamic co-existence: not a palimpsestic write-over. These verbal combinations pave the way for a final mode of recurrence for Zagreus, and it is here that his status in the poem achieves its most profound and lasting effect. Zagreus ‘becomes’ Dionysus through resurrection: and the framing of that line Dion. 6.175 makes clear that his final transformation will be in this act: an ontological revivification, with ‘end’ (τέρμα) making way for a beginning (ἀρχήν). Zagreus’ life, death, and future life are all shaped by this concept of resurrection: it is his re-beginning that is underscored and emphasized; not, as we have seen, the more terrestrial destiny of his former body. It could be that in his selective use of Orphic tenets of the myth, Nonnus chose to do away with the description of what happened to his dismembered limbs or bones precisely so as to focus attention solely on this aspect of his afterlife. Now, the promise of Zagreus’ resurrection is of course the first example of a theme which frequently occurs throughout the poem. The Dionysiaca features many examples of physical as well as metaphorical resurrection. In the two most prominent cases, in a story depicted on the shield of Dionysus, Tylus is killed by a serpent but is miraculously resurrected by a life-giving herb (Dion. 25.451-552). And in Books 11-12 Dionysus’ lover Ampelus dies in an accident, but is brought back to life in form of the vine.41 This theme is, unsurprisingly, considered to be one of the most major vectors of connection between the Dionysiaca and Christian discourse: strengthened by the presence of ambivalent terms such as parthenos, such scenes can be read as intersecting intensely with a wider Christian concern with life after death – an example of the ‘explosion’ of interest in the literature of the imperial period (also observed readily in the prose romances) with resurrection, often in the original body.42 In the case of Tylus, such a case can be made with vehemence: Tylus is restored to life in his original form, thus providing, on the most Homeric of objects (a re-writing of the shield of Achilles) and most classical of literary forms (the tool of narrative ekphrasis) “an incontrovertible narrative of bodily resurrection”.43 So much so, that for Spanoudakis, through the inclusion of such themes on the shield Nonnus offers “a universal history equal to

41 For further analysis of this theme in the poem, and these two episodes in particular, see SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 97-100 and BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, pp. 104-107. 42 E.g. BOWERSOCK 1994, Fiction as History, p. 99: “Among the most conspicuous features of the fiction of the Roman empire, not only the prose romances but the mythological confections as well, is resurrection after death in the original body.” Further discussion of this quotation in this vein in SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 97. 43 SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 97.

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Christian salvation: from the creation of the world to the installation of the new world, prefigured, albeit not fulfilled, in Dionysus and Zeus.”44 Ampelus, by contrast, does not return in the same bodily form as before, but rather gains new life through metamorphosis. And yet there remain ample parallel possibilities with Gospel narratives through his very name and status as the vine. Shorrock has shown how such parallels are supported by the correspondence and interaction between the ampelos in Nonnus’ Paraphrase 15 and the man-cum-vine in the Dionysiaca: “where Christ uses metaphor to describe his own similarity to a vine, the young satyr called Ampelus is actually transformed into the plant that bears his name; Christ the metaphorical vine will suffer death, but will be bodily resurrected and will then return to heaven; Ampelus, the satyr, will die, but will enjoy resurrection and new life as the vine.”45 Through his twin embodiment of these two symbolic and suggestive themes – the vine and the resurrection – Ampelus thus cements his central status in the religious duplicity of the text. These ‘Christian’ layers in the Dionysiac resurrections have been located most directly through a further, specific set of parallels: the striking overlap, both verbal and thematic, between these two episodes in the Dionysiaca and the story of Lazarus as retold by Nonnus in the Paraphrase.46 In the case of the Tylus episode especially, the essential similarity of a man mourned by his friends and family who is resurrected from death in his original body is bolstered by a number of close intertextual parallels.47 The most crucial of these connections is the striking compound παλινάγρετον. Meaning “taken back”, “recalled”, or “coming back again”, it is a rare piece of morphology: found just once in Homer, in the negative, as Zeus asserts his unbreakable promise to Thetis (Il. 1.526-527, οὐ γὰρ ἐμὸν παλινάγρετον οὐδ’ ἀπατηλόν | οὐδ’ ἀτελεύτητον ὅ τί κεν κεφαλῇ κατανεύσω.,), it otherwise appears only sparingly (usually on isolated occasions, once in a text) in a range of works from Theocritus to the Pseudo-Hesiodic Shield.48 Unsurprisingly, given the lexical megalomania that we have discussed, Nonnus explodes and experiments with the term: it features twenty-two times in the Dionysiaca alone, and a further eight times in the Paraphrase, more uses than any other surviving author. On SPANOUDAKIS 2014, The Shield, pp. 370-371, as discussed in BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, p. 107. 45 SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 100. 46 For the connections between the Lazarus story and the Ampelus episode, on which this argument will not focus, see especially SPANOUDAKIS 2013, Resurrections; SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), and SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 100, with full references and potential correspondences. 47 List at VIAN 1990, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXV-XXIX), pp. 267-268, reprinted by SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 98. Vian contrary to Shorrock, prefers the anteriority of the Dionysiaca to the Paraphrase. 48 See LSJ s.v. παλινάγρετος. 44

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three such occasions, however, he pairs the adjective with ἀρχή.49 Such a doublet creates a brazen temporal contradiction. A newness that is also a return, a start predicated by a recall; to begin, this phrase demands, you also have to go back. By coining this paradoxical formula,50 Nonnus thus constructs and enacts that profound tension of competing motions – the linear versus the circular – that our own compound ‘re-surrection’ more latently conveys. It is therefore particularly resonant that this pairing occurs during the corporeal resurrections of Tylus and Lazarus; miracles which forcefully express exactly this doubleness of position in time (Dion. 25.545-549 and Par. 11.160-165): καὶ νέκυς ἀμφιέπων βιοτῆς παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν (545) δεξιτεροῦ μὲν ἔπαλλε ποδὸς θέναρ, ἀμφὶ δὲ λαιόν ὀρθώσας στατὸν ἴχνος ὅλῳ στηρίζετο ταρσῷ ἀνδρὸς ἔχων τύπον ἶσον, ὅς ἐν λεχέεσσιν ἰαύων ὄρθριον οἰγομένης ἀποσείεται ὕπνον ὀπωπῆς The body, busy again with the beginning of life, moved the sole of the right foot, rose upon the left and stood firmly based on both feet, like a man lying in bed who shakes the sleep from his eyes in the morning. ἄπνοον ἄνδρα κάλεσσε, καὶ ἔτρεχε νεκρὸς ὁδίτης (160) στείχων αὐτοκέλευθος ὁμοπλέκτῳ χθόνα ταρσῷ ἄπνοον ἄνδρα κάλεσσε, καὶ ἐν φθιμένοισιν ἀκούσας ἐξ Ἄϊδος νόστησε φυγὰς νέκυς ὄψιμον ἄλλην ἀθρήσας μετὰ τέρμα βίου παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν θαμβαλέην… (165) He called the lifeless man; the corpse at once sat up, ran staggering along the ground on tangled feet. He called the lifeless man among the withered dead, who, hearing, ran from Hades, fleeing, seeing here a stunning new beginning after the end of life.

It is remarkable, however, that the third and only other use of the phrase – the first occurrence in the Dionysiaca (also, like the Lazarus line, with the phrase τέρμα βίου), much earlier in narrative time than Tylus, and far deeper in mythical-chronological history than Lazarus – has not been fully brought in to this picture.51 And yet the παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν of Zagreus is surely of vital Cf. relatedly, Dion. 10.49, χρονίην παλινάγρετον Ἰνώ. It is only in Nonnus’ poems that the phrase παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν occurs anywhere in surviving Greek literature. 51 Scholars have used the phrase to link either the Tylus and Lazarus episodes (in addition to VIAN as discussed here, see also SPANOUDAKIS 2014, The Shield, pp. 370-371, whose argument about the shield of Dionysus and the Christian narrative of the cosmos are based in part on intertextual parallels between the Tylus panel and the Lazarus section of the Paraphase) or the Tylus and Zagreus scenes (BERNABÉ – GARCIÁ-GASCO 2016, Nonnus and Dionysiac-Orphic Religion, p. 105): no discussion has, in any depth or detail, joined the three passages together. In his discussion of Tylus and Lazarus, SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 98, notes in passing the recurrence of the phrase in the Zagreus episode, but it is baffling that neither he nor Vian includes παλινάγρετον ἀρχήν in their lists of parallels between the with Tylus and Lazarus episodes (in 49 50

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importance to understanding the links between the phrase and Nonnian narratives of resurrection. Achieving a ‘new life’ which is both, like Tylus and Lazarus, ‘physical’ (he becomes Dionysus) and, like Ampelus, metamorphoric and symbolic (connected to his series of previous shape-shiftings); a change which is both linear and (in the poetic memory of the characters) always already a return, Zagreus best embodies the multifaceted aspects of Dionysiac-Johannine resurrection. So, it is entirely fitting that he is given the loaded first instance of a phrase which Nonnus uses to capture the paradoxical power of this process. The intertext thus strengthens the connections between the Zagreus episode and the (so-called) ‘major’ expositions in Nonnus of life after death (Ampelus, Tylus, Lazarus, Christ), and affirms this baby’s central, epigonal, instigative role in the theme of resurrection as explored across the poet’s work. 5. Coda: The Nonnian Whole ‘Metapoetics’ is not a popular word in classical scholarship anymore. Matthew Leigh has deemed it “the dreariest of contemporary approaches to ancient verse”52 and Pramit Chaudhuri warned against its “overfamiliarity” in modern readings of ancient poets, which “works against the thrill of [their] gambit”.53 But Nonnus resists such critical resistance: the epic poet who, as we have seen, uses Proteus as the image for the protean, begins Gospel time by denying time itself, doubles up on proems, and glosses his own metaphors, actively revels in the programmatic, and explores new routes for literary self-consciousness which are surely anything but dreary. Zagreus, I have argued, needs to figure much more centrally in conversations about this highly reflective, hyper-reflexive poet’s voice. As a figure in such conversations, it is now clear how the previous programmatic readings of Zagreus can be overturned, and even reversed. Via his literal, linguistic and literary resurrection, Zagreus cannot represent an earlier attempt at Nonnian poetics because he does not end or die: at 175 earliness and currentness collapse into themselves. Resurrection, it seems, allows Nonnus to formulate an antidote to the pitfalls of ostentatious mutation; to sidestep the idea that the only kind of succession is the replacement of one generational figure by the next. It is telling, in this light, that during his shape-shifting show, Zagreus appears at one time as Zeus and at another as Cronus: he can be son, and father, and son of the father at any given time. Dionysus, the god who dies, is split the Tylus scene, both only cite only cite the συριγμὸν … παλινάγρετον of the serpent at Dion. 25.536, and ignore entirely the second use of the compound with ἀρχήν, a few lines later in the resurrection itself. Further noting of the Zagreus reference in SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), p. 286 (‘Also significant’, but without extended discussion). 52 LEIGH 2006, Statius, p. 238. 53 CHAUDHURI 2014, The War with God, p. 2.

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apart (sparagmos) but keeps signifying through this process of multiplication, and has a lasting life which is a (series of) beginnings. The notion of continuation inherent to the process of reincarnation thus offers a counterbalance to the agonism and self-spectacle required for a poetics of shapeshifting. As the first example of this motif – transformation versus, and via, resurrection – Zagreus represents the first case of a theme which continues to characterize and connect the varied strands of Nonnus’ two epics. In this way, Zagreus and his ‘resurrection’ across the Nonnian corpus suggest above all that to consider the Dionysiaca and Paraphrase as palimpsestic to one another – one ‘anterior’, first born, short-lived, and the other the fully formed, complete and central – is a mutation and a misreading. Like the Athenians’ closing dance to the multiple Dionysuses, so must our driving approach to the poems, as to all of Nonnus’ poetics, be dialogic, open-ended and self-consciously symbiotic: κυδαίνοντες ἅμα.

PART TWO: OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. THE CREATIVE USE OF MODELS

V. SHAPE-SHIFTING ATHENA: ON THE TRANSFORMATION OF HOMERIC CHARACTERS IN NONNUS’ DIONYSIACA Nicole KRÖLL

1. Point of Departure and Questions One vital aspect for the understanding of the Dionysiaca is to see the 48 books as the literary play with traditional epic forms and their learned alterations and deviations from the Homeric tradition.1 To track and pin down some of these rearrangements I would like to take the Homeric character of Pallas Athena as a case study and put forward the following questions: does the late antique poet Nonnus of Panopolis sketch characters who appear already in Iliad and Odyssey as a Homeric blueprint, or does he rather transform them into Dionysian shapeshifters in order to meet the special requirements of his own narrative code?2 In which way does he deal with Homer, the epic poet par excellence and “patrón siempre presente”?3 As a starting point and working hypothesis for the present contribution, I would like to take up the argument that our poet follows his Homeric role model for Athena only in a restricted way and usually modifies her characteristic features in order to retain his own Dionysian atmosphere. I approach these questions by looking at Athena’s diverse character traits, which can be traced both on the level of the narration realised by the narrator himself and on the secondary level of character speech. Each of these traits will be dealt with in a separate section: Athena’s affiliation to the Olympic realm (section 2), her talent for weaving and handcrafts (section 3), her fighting spirit (section 4), her guidance and aid for mortals in battle (section 5), her ability to 1 For Nonnus’ reception of Homer see BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems with further bibliographical references on p. 481 n. 1, furthermore, VIAN 1991, Nonno ed Homero; FRANGOULIS 1995, Nonnos transposant Homère; CHUVIN 2009, Homère christianisé, pp. 472-473 and HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnus and Homer; for Homer in late antique poetry in general cf. AGOSTI 2005, Interpretazione omerica. – For the Nonnian technique of altering traditional epic elements cf. HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XX-XXIV), pp. 157-162 as well as GEISZ 2016, Narrative and Digression, p. 191, who summarises: “(…) as often in the Dionysiaca, the narrator pays homage to the Homeric model by imitating elements of it, which he reworks in an innovative manner. (…) This game of imitation and innovation is also visible as far as the form is concerned.” 2 On Dionysus as a shape-shifter in the Dionysiaca see FORBES IRVING 1990, Metamorphosis, pp. 191-193. 3 BRIOSO SÁNCHEZ 1994-1995, De la épica, p. 10.

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transform and disguise herself (section 6), her beauty and celibacy (section 7), her similarities to Dionysus (section 8) and the association of her cult to the city of Athens and the region of Attica (section 9). Where there are parallels to Iliad and/or Odyssey, I shall compare these model narratives to the corresponding passages in the Dionysiaca and analyse the degree of modification undertaken by the narrator. The aim of the analysis is to pinpoint the techniques of reworking Athena’s character in the special Dionysian context of Nonnus’ epic. 2. Homeric Athena in the Dionysiaca: Her Divine Status Transferred In Homer’s Iliad Athena is the daughter of Zeus, divinity of strategic thinking and warrior-goddess par excellence who always focuses on a purpose, intervenes – as the other co-fighting gods – on the human level in the Trojan War and acts constantly in favour of the Achaeans.4 She does not even shrink back from fighting against her own brother Ares and stops his attacks by throwing a huge rock at him (Hom. Il. 21.403-408). Having assisted Ulysses in inventing the wooden horse at the end of the Trojan War, she proves to be Telemachus’ and Ulysses’ protector-goddess throughout the Odyssey. She is, then, responsible for various events concerning Ulysses’ homecoming and Telemachus’ perseverance and, at the end of the epic, engineers a massacre against the suitors.5 In both Iliad and Odyssey Athena distinguishes herself as an assistant in the aristeiai of her fosterlings, e.g. Diomedes, and applies her ability for cunning trickery not only during Ulysses’ wanderings but also in the siege of Troy, where she disguises herself in order to deceive mortals. Furthermore, she appears as the patron of weaving and virginity and, comparable to Dionysus in Nonnus, she cannot be classified into common gender stereotypes. Thus, in Homer, Athena, like no other divinity, acts for the characters favoured by herself and repeatedly forms the driving force of the narrative. If we now take a first look at the Dionysiaca, we can see that Nonnus provides the whole scope of these characteristic features known from the Homeric poems, but often reinterprets them with regard to his own narrative of the rise of the wine-god-to-be. As will be demonstrated, Athena also serves in the Dionysiaca as promoter of the narration, but this time she favours Dionysus instead of a traditional Homeric character.

4 For Athena’s function as the goddess of protection for various Iliadic and Odyssean heroes such as Diomedes, Achilles, Menelaus and Ulysses cf. MÜLLER 1966, Athene als göttliche Helferin, for a comparative interpretation of her function in Iliad and Odyssey esp. pp. 22-24 and pp. 92-96. 5 For Athena’s leading function in managing Ulysses’ return and the guidance of Telemachus cf. MÜLLER 1966, Athene als göttliche Helferin, pp. 15-22, for Athena in the mnesterophoneia see pp. 136-144.

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First of all, Homeric Athena appears as a well-established goddess in line with the other Olympians at the end of the second book, where she takes part in the god’s triumph back to Olympus after Zeus’ victory over Typhon (Dion. 2.708-709): Ἁβροχίτων δ᾿ ἀσίδηρος ἐς οὐρανὸν ἦλθεν Ἀθήνη Ἄρεϊ κῶμον ἄγουσα, μέλος δέ οἱ ἔπλεκε Νίκη. Athena came into heaven unarmed, in dainty robes with Ares turned Comus, and Victory for Song.6

Already at this early stage, the narrator of the Dionysiaca distinguishes Athena not exclusively as a Homeric divinity but as a goddess of the Dionysian realm when providing her with the epithets ἁβροχίτων, “in soft tunic”, and ἀσίδηρος, “without sword”. Ἀσίδηρος parallels her to Dionysus and his entourage for whom the lack of conventional weapons turns out to be a distinctive trait throughout the Dionysiaca. Ἁβροχίτων, on the other hand, is a hapax in the Aeschylean Persians (A. Pers. 543) and is multiplied by Nonnus, who uses it altogether eight times in the Dionysiaca and once in the Paraphrase.7 This parallelism between Athena and Dionysus is made explicit in Dion. 20.299 where both epithets are attributed to Dionysus himself being on his way to the funeral games for Staphylus: ἁβροχίτων ἀσίδηρος ἐκώμασε πεζὸς ὁδίτης, “(…) and himself walked on foot to the festival in holiday garb without weapon.”8 Athena and her divine status are again mentioned in the context of the Dionysian sphere: in book 8 Zeus turns Semele into one of the Olympians and places her in the midst of a divine circle of which Athena is also part (Dion. 8.413-418):9 Καὶ, καθαρῷ λούσασα νέον δέμας αἴθοπι πυρσῷ, καὶ βίον ἄφθιτον ἔσχεν Ὀλύμπιον· ἀντὶ δὲ Κάδμου καὶ χθονίου δαπέδοιο καὶ Αὐτονόης καὶ Ἀγαύης (415) σύνθρονον Ἄρτεμιν εὗρε καὶ ὡμίλησεν Ἀθήνῃ καὶ πόλον ἕδνον ἔδεκτο, μιῆς ψαύουσα τραπέζης Ζηνὶ καὶ Ἑρμάωνι καὶ Ἄρεϊ καὶ Κυθερείῃ. So her new body bathed in the purifying fire. She received the immortal life of the Olympians. Instead of Cadmos and the soil of earth, instead of Autonoë and Agauë, she found Artemis by her side, she had converse with Athena, she received the heavens as her wedding-gift, sitting at one table with Zeus and Hermaon and Ares and Cythereia. 6 The Greek text of the Dionysiaca follows the edition of VIAN ET AL. 1976-2006, Nonnos de Panopolis, all English translations are taken from ROUSE 1940, Nonnos. Dionysiaca. 7 Cf. Dion. 2.708, 19.249, 20.299, 23.197, 25.160, 29.53, 35.113, 43.441 and Par. 18.35. For Jesus, cf. ad loc. GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), pp. 444-445. 8 Cf. GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 257 ad v. 2.708. 9 For the mythical tradition of Semele ascending to Olympus by means of a purifying fire and the eschatological meaning of the scene in sense of a resurrection see GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), pp. 614-617 ad vv. 407-418.

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The attendance of the divine circle by Dionysus’ mother sets the scene for Dionysus’ own appearance. In contrast to Dionysus, who at this stage of his ‘career’ in book 8 is not yet born out of Zeus’ thigh, Athena is an established goddess. By accepting Semele within the Olympian realm, Athena transfers her divine status to the future god of wine and, hence, marks an important step towards Dionysus’ own admission to Olympus. 3. The Goddess of Weaving and Handcrafts in Dionysian Context One of the subjects of the narrative in both the Homeric epics and the Dionysiaca are Athena’s technical skills as the goddess of handcrafts.10 By means of referring to the mythical knowledge of his readers, Nonnus specifies Athena as the goddess of weaving through the eyes of various other characters within the narrative who define her as the “mistress of the loom” or mention her in close connection to her technical skills. By choosing three out of a total of six passages I will focus on Athena’s appearance in key passages concerning Dionysus’ evolution into an established Olympian god (Dion. 6.152-154, 24.200-329, 41.294-302).11 It is not by chance that Athena’s competence in handcraft is connected to the narrative progress of the epic, as we will see. First of all, Athena is mentioned in Dion. 6.153-154 as the goddess of the loom in the scene with Persephone who, while weaving, praises her sister Athena as a “clever webster” or “mistress of the loom” (Dion. 6.152-154): (…) ὕφαινε δὲ κερκίδι κούρη πηνίον ἐξέλκουσα παρὲκ μίτον, ἀμφὶ δὲ πέπλῳ γνωτὴν ἱστοτέλειαν ἑὴν ἐλίγαινεν Ἀθήνην. She wove away, plying the rod and pulling the bobbin along through the threads, while she sang over the cloth to her cousin Athena the clever webster.

The epithet ἱστοτέλεια, “mistress of the loom”, appears only two more times in Greek literature – in Dion. 37.312 and 45.49 also for Athena – so that the goddess is clearly marked by one of her distinctive features.12 The connection of Persephone and Athena at this point of the narration is no coincidence:13 Athena’s skills in the art of weaving are transferred to Persephone, who was 10 For Athena as the goddess of weaving and handcrafts in the Homeric epics cf. Hom. Il. 5.59, 5.735, 9.390, 14.179, 15.412 and Hom. Od. 2.116, 6.233, 7.110, 8.493, 20.72. 11 For Athena as the goddess of weaving and handcrafts in Nonnus cf. also Dion. 34.262-268, 34.352-356, 36.409-411. 12 Cf. LSJ Suppl. and TLG; in his German translation EBENER 1985, Nonnos, vol. 1, p. 100 reproduces the Greek term with “Herrin des Handwerks”. 13 For the cosmological interpretation of the scene with the weaving Persephone and the relation to the weaving Aphrodite in the song of Leucus in Dion. 24 cf. GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), pp. 457-458 and 480-481 ad vv. 145-154.

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placed, for safety reasons, by her mother Demeter into a Sicilian grotto guarded by a dragon (Dion. 6.134-144). After the liaison with Zeus in the shape of a dragon (Dion. 6.155-162), Persephone gives birth to Zagreus, the first Dionysus (Dion. 6.163-168). In providing Persephone with one of her skills, we find Athena, again, at an essential turning point of the narrative where the birth of the wine god is anticipated. Just like Semele in book 8, Persephone bears Zeus’ child and therefore ensures the continuity of the Olympian reign. Athena, for her part, becomes the mythical paradigm for an already well-known example of Zeus’ offspring and refers to the imminent birth of Dionysus, who will prove himself to be equally successful as a divine child. This cosmological and theogonic connotation of Athena’s skills is reprised in Dion. 41.294-295 where Harmonia weaves at “Athena’s loom” when Charis arrives at her palace: Ἡ μὲν ἐποιχομένη πολυδαίδαλον ἱστὸν Ἀθήνης κερκίδι πέπλον ὕφαινεν. … (295) She was then busy at Athena’s loom, weaving a patterned cloth with her shuttle.

Again, Athena’s art of weaving is linked with the cosmic balance symbolised by Harmonia and her woven cloth illustrating cosmic harmony (Dion. 41.294302) which now, after Dionysus’ victory over the Indians in book 40, is guaranteed.14 In repeating the weaving scene in book 6 and 41 the narrator draws a direct line from the generations of gods before Dionysus to the wine god himself coming fresh from the victory over the Indians. In both cases the protagonists Persephone and Harmonia mirror Athena in being the symbol of the creation of order through one’s own manual skills and strategic thinking. The weaving of Athena – a vehicle for the narrator to navigate through his epic – also forms the setting for the song of Leucus in book 24 (Dion. 24.200329).15 In the context of the triumphal banquet of Dionysus and his troops after the successful crossing of the Hydaspes river, the Nonnian bard performs the contest between Athena and Aphrodite and underlines Athena’s superiority over Aphrodite in the field of handcrafts. After announcing the theme of Leucus’ song (Dion. 24.242-245), Aphrodite ineffectively performs the task 14

For the parallels of the ekphrasis of Harmonia’s cloth to the shield of Dionysus in Dion. 25.387-397 and the reference to the scene with the weaving Persephone cf. ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 209 ad vv. 294-302. 15 Here, Nonnus’ reuse of prominent Homeric scenes is brought to perfection. In a context which is set entirely in the Dionysian realm, he alludes, at the same time, to two narratives within the Homeric epics, namely Demodocus’ song in the Odyssey and the shield of Achilles in the Iliad. For colouring the relaxed scene around the victorious Dionysus at the banquet with the suitable cheerfulness, the narrator harks back to Demodocus’ song on Ares and Aphrodite and transposes the humorous atmosphere onto his own narration. – For the scene cf. KRÖLL 20112012, Aphrodite am Webstuhl; for the myth of Athena and Aphrodite, its possible origins and its metapoetic significance see GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), pp. 572-577.

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of producing a piece of cloth while neglecting her own duties of caring for the love life of humans (Dion. 24.246-258). The consequence of her going astray is a short-term disorder in the world, devoid of the care of the goddess of love (Dion. 24.265-273). In her speech to Zeus, Athena mocks Aphrodite because of her incompetence in the field of handcrafts (Dion. 24.258-291), which is followed by the gods’ wondering and laughing at Aphrodite’s product (Dion. 24.292-295 and 24.321). Referring to the famous love affair of Aphrodite and Ares, which is sung by Demodocus in Hom. Od. 8, Hermes, on his part, teases Aphrodite and asks her to fabricate a coat for her beloved Ares.16 On it she should depict the very scene in which Helius exposes their love to the amusement of all the other gods. Furthermore, Hermes advises Athena to change places with Aphrodite and wear her girdle (Dion. 24.296-320). The scene ends with Aphrodite ashamedly turning away to her island Cyprus and resuming her own duties (Dion. 24.322-24.326). The narrator of the Dionysiaca delivers this episode purposely at this stage of Dionysus’ biography. The role which Athena assumes in Leucus’ song turns out to be of significant meaning for the evolution of the wine god. This scene with Aphrodite taking on Athena’s tasks is comparable to the mundus inversus theme in book 2 where the usurper Typhon struggles in vain for the upheaval of Zeus and the Olympian gods. However, of course, there is a significant difference between the two scenes: the serious threat which was produced by Typhon vis-à-vis the world order and which was averted by Zeus and his ally Cadmus is turned here, in Leucus’ song, into an amusing piece of entertainment which is not in any case to be taken seriously. On the contrary, whereas Dionysus’ father Zeus, was able to outplay his competitor only by calling on the help of Dionysus’ grandfather Cadmus, the wine god amuses himself listening to Leucus’ song and, like Athena in the song, does not have to fear being beaten by his rivals. By inserting the song of Leucus at this point of the narration, the narrator aims at paralleling Athena and Dionysus, both children of Zeus: just as the well-established goddess easily won over clumsy Aphrodite in performing her distinct technical skills, Dionysus conquered the Hydaspes river the center of Indian civilisation and, thus, is one step further on his way to becoming an Olympian. The fact that the mythical episode is not part of the level of narration of Dionysus’ fight against the Indians but performed on a secondary level via the bard’s song reinforces the impression that Dionysus’ campaign is already successfully completed. Leucus performs his song not only on the narrative level for the characters of Dionysus and his troops but also for the readers of the Dionysiaca. Hence, the narrator implies a narratee whose reaction to the 16 For the metatextual allusion to Demodocus’ song on Ares and Aphrodite in Hom. Od. 8 cf. GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), pp. 608-609 ad vv. 297-308.

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subject of the song is intended to be parallel to the reaction of the gods in the narrative. In the same way that the listener of the song of Leucus is convinced of Athena’s manual skills, the narratee is convinced as well that Dionysus’ military strategies will lead him, ultimately, to divine power. However, not only goddesses and demigoddesses like Persephone, Harmonia and Aphrodite but also mortals are gifted with Pallas’ craftsmanship. In Dion. 15.175-178 Athena’s fondness for her art of weaving is compared to Nicaea’s predilection for hunting so that, by means of a well-defined rhetorical trope, the Nonnian character of Nicaea obtains its most significant feature through comparison with a well-known mythical paradigm:17 Καί οἱ ἐνὶ σκοπέλοισιν ἐρημονόμῳ παρὰ πέζῃ (175) ἠλακάτη πέλε τόξον, ἀεὶ δέ οἱ ἔνδοθι λόχμης μηκεδανοὶ κλωστῆρες ἔσαν πτερόεντες ὀιστοί, καὶ σταλίκων ξύλον ὀρθὸν ὀρειάδος ἱστὸς Ἀθήνης. She was ever among the rocks, by lonefaring path, where the bow was her distaff; she was ever in the forest, where winged arrows were her long threads, the upright wood of the net-stakes was a loom for this Athena of the mountains.

By intertwining the spheres of domestic work – as the stereotypical work of women at home – with the preferred masculine engagement in hunting, the narrator highlights the exceptional nature of Nicaea, the “Athena of the mountains”, who can only be compared to masculine goddesses like Athena and Artemis.18 Precisely in this parallel with Athena lies another layer of meaning: although Athena’s fondness for weaving represents an occupation traditionally attributed to women, she is taken as the point of comparison for Nicaea’s highly masculine skills in putting up traps in the woods. Thus, the much appreciated female qualities are turned upside down and are substituted by an idealised concept of male activity. As can be seen in the example with Nicaea and as will be discussed in section 6 in detail, the narrator of the Dionysiaca is particularly fond of applying Athena’s skills and character traits to other female characters of Dionysian nature. 4. Fighters in War: Athena, Cadmus, and Dionysus One Iliadic function of Athena is her military skill as a fighter in war, a strategic ability which appears on the primary level of narration as well as on the secondary level within character speech.19 The narrator makes various For the Nicaea episode cf. CHAMBERLAYNE 1916, A Study of Nonnos, pp. 51-53; CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 148-154; HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, Bakkhos Anax, pp. 98-103; LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, pp. 127-130. 18 Cf. Dion. 15.179-181. 19 In addition to the passages discussed here in detail, we also find Athena and her military qualities in Morrheus’ soliloquy in which he renounces war because of his love to Chalcomedeia 17

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characters in his narration interpret Athena’s military skills either in a positive or in a negative light. An exclusively negative approach to the fighter Athena we find in Dion. 1.476-477 where Typhon, boasting confidently of his own imminent victory over Zeus, shows off and asks the rhetorical question “And what could Athena do to me with her armour? – a female!” (οὐτιδανὴ γάρ | ἔντεσι θῆλυς ἐοῦσα τί μοι ῥέξειεν Ἀθήνη;). In characterising her as “a female” he does not take her skills seriously and claims the military merits for himself. Likewise, as a rhetorical comparison, we find the goddess in Dion. 36.48-50 where Hera, trying to prevent Artemis from taking part in the ongoing fighting, mentions Athena as the fighter-god par excellence wearing greaves: Ἄρτεμι, θηρία βάλλε· τί μείζοσιν ἀντιφερίζεις; καὶ σκοπέλων ἐπίβηθι· τί σοὶ μόθος; οὐτιδανὰς δέ ἐνδρομίδας φορέουσα λίπε κνημῖδας Ἀθήνῃ. (50) Go and shoot wild beasts, Artemis! Why do you quarrel with your betters? Climb your crags – what is war to you? Wear your trumpery shoes and let Athena wear the greaves.

Athena’s military nature serves as a rhetorical foil for Hera who tries to prevent Artemis from participating in the gods’ fight on Dionysus’ side. Although usually a positive quality, her fighting spirit is presented in a negative light insofar as it should not make up an essential part of Artemis’ actions. This revaluation of the fighter Athena – who seems more apt for fighting in war than the huntress Artemis – is closely connected with the duel performed by Ares and Athena in Dion. 36.13-27. Here, fighting Athena is part of the narration and represents the group of gods who are in favour of Dionysus and his followers. In an onrush, Ares throws his spear against Athena, hitting only her aegis and the head of Gorgo-Medusa (Dion. 36.13-20). Athena, in her turn, does not miss her brother with her lance, but makes him sink down to earth and sends him back to his mother Hera unwounded (Dion. 36.21-27). Following Francis Vian in an earlier paper, Frangoulis and Gerlaud in their edition of book 35 and 36 of the Dionysiaca outline that with the beginning of book 36 the narrator takes up the Iliadic theme of theomachy as it appears in Hom. Il. 20.54-74 and 21.342-513.20 The Nonnian narrator keeps the structure of the Homeric original with some variations: by cutting out the passages of the original Homeric passage of Athena’s fight against Ares in Hom. Il. 21.391-434, he leaves out the humoristic feature with Athena mocking Ares for his inferiority. Instead of stressing the shameful defeat of Homeric Ares who, hit by Athena’s and announces to throw away the lances of Ares and Athena (ῥίψας χάλκεον ἔγχος Ἐνυαλίου καὶ Ἀθήνης, Dion. 33.245). 20 Cf. VIAN 1988, La théomachie; FRANGOULIS – GERLAUD, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXVXXXVI), pp. 65-71.

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stone, falls over and covers seven plethra of land (ἑπταπέλεθρος, Hom. Il. 21.407; Dion. 36.14), the narrative of the Dionysiaca lets Ares fall only to his knees and recover in a reconciliatory act by Athena herself. Again, Athena functions as warrantor of the equilibrium of the gods.21 A further hint to this reading of the scene can be found in the short allusion to her birth out of Zeus’ head in full armour, which points to Dionysus’ own birth out of Zeus’ thigh and his initiation into the divine circle at the closure of the poem (Dion. 36.21-24):22 Κούρη δ᾿ ἐγρεκύδοιμος ἐπαΐξασα καὶ αὐτή σύγγονον ἔγχος ἄειρεν ἐπ᾿ Ἄρεϊ Παλλὰς ἀμήτωρ, κεῖνο, τό περ φορέουσα λεχώιον ἥλικι χαλκῷ ἄνθορε πατρῴοιο τελεσσιγόνοιο καρήνου. Then the battlestirring maiden, motherless Pallas, rushed forwards in her turn and raised her birthmate spear, the weapon as old as herself, with which at her birth she leapt out of her father’s pregnant head born in armour.

The scene in which Athena, the principle of strategic thinking, wins over the raging war – which is symbolised by Ares – prepares the ultimate fate of Dionysus. In the course of the narrative, the wine god is about to integrate himself into the already established divine order. In two passages the fighter Athena appears even in closer connection to Dionysus and his family: In Dion. 13.333-366 the myth about Cadmus and Harmonia settling in Egypt and “founding one hundred cities” (δωμήσας πολίων ἑκατοντάδα δῶκε δ᾿ ἑκάστῃ | δύσβατα λαϊνέοις ὑψούμενα τείχεα πύργοις, Dion. 13.365-366) is integrated in the presentation of the Libyan forces in order to explain their military assistance for Dionysus. According to the myth Cadmus and the Libyans undertake a, finally, successful military task against the Moors and Ethiopians respectively, who are spurred by the beauty of Harmonia to battle against them (Dion. 13.337-348). In Dion. 13.344-348 we find the narration of Cadmus’ confident victory over his enemies: (…) ἀλλὰ τινάσσων χερσὶ χαμαιγενέεσσι Λιβυστίδος ἔγχος Ἀθήνης (345) Ἁρμονίης πολέμιζε προασπίζων παρακοίτης, Ἑσπερίων δ᾿ ἐφόβησεν ὅλον γένος Αἰθιοπήων σὺν Διὶ θωρηχθέντι, σὺν Ἄρεϊ καὶ Κυθερείῃ. But Harmonia’s mate held his shield before her, grasping in hand the spear of Libyan Athena to defend his beloved wife, and put to flight the whole nation of western Ethiopians, with armed Zeus as ally, with Ares and Cythereia. 21 Cf. VIAN 1988, La théomachie, p. 282 who states for this passage that “l’ordre du monde est rétabli après un ébranlement passager”. 22 On Athena’s and Dionysus’ birth and on further parallels between the two gods in the Dionysiaca see below in section 8.

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Here, Cadmus is shown as a favourite of the Olympian gods, especially of Athena, whose spear constitutes his main weapon of defence.23 The fact that the narrative of the Libyan contingent forms the most extensive passage of all contingents in the catalogue of Dionysian troops24 can be deemed as a deliberate narrative strategy chosen by the narrator. The story, which is not to be found elsewhere in classical literature,25 clearly serves as preparation for the Indian war, as a ‘test case’ for the imminent narrative developments. Like his grandson Dionysus together with his allies against the Indians, the grandfather Cadmus leads a war of nations against the Moors/Ethiopians with the help of his Libyan troops. The expulsion of the Moors/Ethiopians with the help of Athena’s lance (ἔγχος Ἀθήνης, Dion. 13.345) mirrors Dionysus’ victory over the Indians in book 40, and, again, the tough fighter Athena transfers her might onto her fosterling Cadmus who, ultimately, will pass it on to his grandson. Thus, the narrator introduces Athena as a diachronic narrative device which guarantees the continuity of the narrative. The second passage stages Athena again as a tough fighter. In Dion. 20.5361 Eris, the goddess of strife, encourages Dionysus in a dream by means of a scolding speech to desist from banqueting in order to encounter the Indian troops: Καὶ γνωτὴν σέο μᾶλλον, ἀριστογόνοιο τοκῆος αὐτοτελῆ γονόεντος ἀμήτορα παῖδα καρήνου, Παλλάδα δειμαίνω κορυθαιόλον, ὅττι καὶ αὐτή (55) μέμφεται ἄρσενα Βάκχον ἀεργέα θῆλυς Ἀθήνη· εἴκαθεν αἰγίδι θύρσος, ἐπεί ποτε Παλλὰς ἀγήνωρ αἰγίδα κουφίζουσα πύλας ἔστεψεν Ὀλύμπου, Τιτήνων σκεδάσασα θυελλήεσσαν ἐνυώ, πατρῴην δ᾿ ἐγέραιρε σοφὴν ὠδῖνα καρήνου· (60) καὶ σὺ Διὸς γονόεσσαν ἐπαισχύνεις πτύχα μηροῦ. And I fear your sister still more, selfbred daughter of a father of fine progeny, unmothered child of her father’s head, flashhelm Pallas, because Athena too blames Bacchos idle, the woman blames the man! Thyrsus yielded to goatskin, since once upon a time valiant Pallas holding the goatskin defended the gates of Olympos, and scattered the stormy assault of the Titans, thus honouring the dexterous travail of her father’s head – but you disgrace the fruitful pocket in Zeus’s thigh!

In a rhetorically elaborate way, the character speech spurs Dionysus’ fighting spirit by stating his military inferiority to Athena. Three points of comparison serve as an instrument of enargeia and reinforce Eris’ rhetorical argumentation: 23 For Athena’s aid for Cadmus in his fight against Damasen cf. FRANGOULIS 2013, Annonces et présages, pp. 185-186. 24 Cf. GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), p. 100 ad vv. 333-392. 25 Cf. GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), pp. 100-101 ad v. 334 with a note on possible lost sources.

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first, she addresses Dionysus by appealing to his descent from Zeus and his kinship to Athena. Dionysus – who is explicitly named Athena’s brother (γνωτὴν σέο, Dion. 20.53) – has so far not proven himself worthy of his father Zeus and is, in this respect, by far outmatched by his sister. Secondly, the precarious situation in which Zeus had found himself when threatened by the Titans is intended to drive Dionysus to fight against the Indians, for they are presented as an imminent threat for the wine god’s own ascent to the Olympian realm. As a third point, the goddess contrasts Athena’s masculine behaviour with Dionysus’ feminine appearance when, after the funeral ceremony and games for Staphylus, switching to a jolly Dionysian feast. Eris’ speech seeks to mirror the current situation in which the protagonist should recommence active involvement in the narrative, and this is what he does in the following books. Emerging as the protagonist in the campaign against the Indians, Dionysus is introduced as an Iliadic-style fighter in book 30 and is, in this sphere of activities, constantly supported by Athena who, as Zeus’ messenger, in Dion. 30.249-292 prompts him to enter the battlefield. In her speech, she appeals to Dionysus’ fighting spirit by mentioning Perseus as the mythic exemplum for her brother who still has to prove himself of being worthy of the Olympians. The rhetorical design of this speech comprises Dionysus’ reproach as well as Athena’s promise of military assistance. Similar to Homeric characters, he is accused of not going into battle: in Dion. 30.258 he is rebuked with the same question which Diomedes uses for Ulysses in Hom. Il. 8.94 (πῇ φεύγεις;),26 and in Dion. 30.253-255 the goddess grabs him by his hair just as she does in Hom. Il. 1.197-200 with Achilles.27 At the same time, the goddess encourages him in a positive sense and brings in Perseus and Zeus as mythical paradigms for successful fighting. As an immediate result of divine intervention, the godto-be Dionysus is shown confident of his military success (Dion. 30.293-295) and brings about a massacre in his aristeia at the end of book 30 (Dion. 30.296326). Finally, in Dion. 39.78-79, we find a warlike Dionysus accepting Athena’s help when he directs a speech to his troops encouraging their fight against the Indians and addressing them as “mighty sons of Ares and corseleted Athena” (Ἄρεος ἄλκιμα τέκνα καὶ εὐθώρηκος Ἀθήνης). The fighter Dionysus is modelled after Iliadic examples and the narrator likewise casts Athena in her traditional (Trojan War) role as divine supporter. Her acting in favour of the victorious Achaean troops has to be taken as a narrative foil for the expectations of the readers of the Dionysiaca: with the aid of the reliable goddess, Dionysus doubtlessly will make his way towards

Cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, p. 75 n. 147. See also Dion. 47.673-675 where Hermes assumes Athena’s role and pulls Dionysus back by the hair, cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 102-103. 26 27

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his own deification. In order to reach this goal, Athena not only supports the wine god but also backs his military assistants and co-fighters. 5. Supporting Mortals in Battle: The Cases of Aeacus and Erechtheus In the Dionysiaca Pallas Athena appears to be backing her two fosterlings, Aeacus and Erechtheus. Aeacus, son of Zeus and Aegina, first king of the Myrmidons and grandfather of Achilles, is introduced as the leader of the fifth military contingent backing Dionysus (Dion. 13.201-221) and is characterised by his divine descendance and kinship to Dionysus.28 The family ties between Aeacus and Zeus are illustrated by the ekphrasis of Aeacus’ shield (Dion. 13.214-221), on which an eagle serves as a symbolic emblem (Dion. 13.21413.216). In Dion. 13.201-204 the etymology of Aeacus’ name is derived from this αἰετóς: Ἀτθίδα γαῖαν ἔλειπε καὶ Αἰακός, ὃν νόθος ὄρνις ἁρπαμένῃ σπέρμηνε μιγεὶς Ἀσωπίδι νύμφῃ, αἰετὸς Αἰγίνης πτερόεις πόσις ὑψιπέτης Ζεύς· ἐκ δὲ γάμου πεφάτιστο καὶ Αἰακός. (…) Aiacos also left his native land, whom the sham bird begot, mingling with the daughter of Asopos whom he carried off, the eagle, highsoaring Zeus the feathered husband of Aigina. He was named Aiacos from this marriage.

In addition, his attribution to Ἀτθίδα γαῖαν in Dion. 13.201 brings him close to Athena as the city patron of Athens, a function through which, as will be discussed later in this contribution, she is closely associated with Dionysus. Once more, the narrator of the Dionysiaca establishes a link between Zeus, the father of gods, and his two prominent descendants. The key passage for Aeacus’ relation to Athena and Zeus can be found in book 22, where Athena supports him in his aristeia (Dion. 22.253-292) with Zeus’ clouds and makes him prevail against Indian warriors (Dion. 22.257258):29 ἀλλά ἑ πατρῴοις πεπυκασμένον ἀντὶ σιδήρου ἀρρήκτοις νεφέεσσιν ὅλον πύργωσεν Ἀθήνη (…). But Athena built all around him a defence in place of steel, his father’s impregnable clouds (…). 28 For the myth of Zeus, Aegina, their son Aeacus and the creation of the Myrmidones by Zeus cf. GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), pp. 86-87 ad vv. 202-204, 206 and 215. 29 For Aeacus’ active involvement in the Dionysiaca cf. Dion. 37.553-613 (wrestling match with Aristaeus), Dion. 37.588-589 (Aeacus’ descendants Peleus and Telamon) and Dion. 39.138170 (Aeacus’ supplication speech to Zeus). As can be seen especially from the reference to Peleus and Telamon, the narrator points to characters in a mythical future which lies beyond the narration of the Dionysiaca and, thus, ties the poem to its Iliadic traditions around Achilles as Peleus’ and Aias as Telamon’s descendant.

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After Gaia’s speech (Dion. 22.276-283) in which Aeacus is named Υἱὲ Διός (Dion. 22.276) and is placed in close connection to his father, both Zeus and Athena take action in favour of Aeacus. Zeus sends his approving thunder (Dion. 22.284-286) and Athena diverts a hostile missile so that Aeacus is not seriously hurt (Dion. 22.287-292): Καί τις ἐν ἀντιβίοισιν ἐς Αἰακὸν ὄμμα τανύσσας πέμπε βέλος, καὶ βαιόν, ὅσον χροὸς ἄκρον ἀμύξαι, μηρὸν ἐπιγράψαντα παρέτραπεν ἰὸν Ἀθήνη. Μάρνατο δ᾿ εἰσέτι μᾶλλον ἀνώδυνος εἰς μέσον Ἰνδῶν (290) Αἰακὸς ἀστήρικτος, ἐπεὶ βέλος ἥπτετο μηροῦ, λεπτὸς ὄνυξ ἅτε φωτός, ὅτε χροὸς ἄκρα χαράξῃ. There one of the enemy fixed his eye on Aiacos and let fly a shot: the arrow just grazed his thigh so as to scratch the skin, but Athena turned it aside. Aiacos felt no pain, and fought still more without ceasing among the Indians, after the arrow touched his thigh, like the light touch of a man’s nail which just scratched the skin.

The passage is intended to remind the reader of the famous Iliadic scene with Athena averting the fatal arrow from Menelaus (Hom. Il. 4.129-131) and points to another comparable incident in the Dionysiaca: in book 29 Melaneus shoots an arrow towards Dionysus, who is helped by Zeus and, together with Aphrodite, keeps Hymenaeus from being seriously injured (Dion. 29.68-86).30 Again, Dionysus gradually takes over Athena’s part as Zeus’ divine agent. In the Iliad, Athena is instructed by Zeus in person to intervene and break the truce (Hom. Il. 4.68-72), and in book 22 of the Dionysiaca she again fulfils the task of averting a deadly shot. However, it is Dionysus who in book 29 is backed by Zeus and supersedes her entirely. This technique of incorporating and reworking Homeric models in a new narrative context can also be found in the case of Athena and Erechtheus who, like Aeacus, is particularly favoured by the goddess.31 The close connection of Erechtheus and Athena is highlighted in the catalogue of Dionysian troops where his descent from Athena and Hephaestus (Dion. 13.171-179) as well as various landmarks of his Attic homeland (Dion. 13.182-195) are listed.32 In Dion. 24.95-96, Erechtheus enters the foreground of the narration of the For parallels between the Homeric and Nonnian passages see AGOSTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XXV-XXXIX), p. 296, ad vv. 68-86. – Aphrodite’s presence in this event is explainable out of the fact that Nonnus rewrites the scene of the bow-shot for the special Dionysian context of the love story of Dionysus and Hymenaeus, cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 73-74. 31 In addition to the passages discussed cf. Dion. 32.265-267 (Erechtheus’ retreat from battle) and Dion. 39.202-205 (Poseidon and Athena as Erechtheus’ supporters). 32 Among Oinone, Hymettus, Marathon, Brauron, Thorikos, Aphidna, Acharnae and the city of Athens (ὅρμον Αθήνης, Dion. 13.185) we also find Eleusis, which in Dion. 13.185 is named “the city of Keleos” (πόλιν Κελεοῖο) and is associated with the myth about Demeter and Triptolemus (Dion. 13.188-192). – For Nonnus’ technique of inserting traditional myths into the catalogue of troops cf. CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 29-34. 30

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Dionysiaca when Athena, named Ἀκταίη and Πάλλας, takes her fosterling out of the ongoing fighting. The narrator models the relation between the two characters by following the classical example of Homeric epic in which mortals address their personal divine patron in crucial situations: in Dion. 37.320-323 he requests Athena’s help in the imminent chariot race:33 Κοίρανε Κεκροπίης, ἱπποσσόε Παλλὰς ἀμήτωρ, (320) ὡς σὺ Ποσειδάωνα τεῷ νίκησας ἀγῶνι, οὕτω σὸς ναέτης Μαραθώνιον ἵππον ἐλαύνων υἱέα νικήσειε Ποσειδάωνος Ἐρεχθεύς. Lady of Cecropia, horsemistress, Pallas unmothered! As thou didst conquer Poseidon in thy contest, so may Erechtheus thy subject, who drives a horse of Marathon, conquer Poseidon’s son!

Erechtheus’ appeal to Athena does not remain unheard. As such, in Dion. 37.334-345 he expresses his thanks to Athena on the occasion of his victory over Skelmis, an offspring of Poseidon and opponent in the chariot race. This once again alludes to her mythical victory over Poseidon in the conflict concerning the city patronage over Athens. The success of both Athena and Erechtheus foreshadows the fight between Dionysus and Poseidon for the patronage over Beroe/Berytus in books 41 to 43. Thus, the narrator establishes a direct link between Athena and Dionysus via the character of Erechtheus. The reason for Athena’s aiding Erechtheus is given within the narrative of the Dionysiaca itself. Following the well-known myth, Athena is presented as Erechtheus’ mother in three passages: first in Dion. 27.110-114, Deriades prompts his fighters to bring him the Athenian military contingent commanded by Erechtheus as captives and mentions the virgin suckling her baby. The second instance in Dion. 29.334-339 is an allusion to this myth in a dream sent by Hera to Ares encouraging him to fight. The third reference to the circumstances of Erechtheus’ birth can be found in Dion. 38.72 where he, now named “the citizen of unmothered Athene” (ἀμήτορος ἀστὸς Ἀθήνης), hopes for an imminent ending of the Indian war and a quick return to his homeland.34 The main object of integrating Erechtheus into the narration of the Dionysiaca is to locate the Dionysian cult in Attica as the traditional homeland of Pallas Athena. Whereas the incorporation of the Aeacus myth serves, first and foremost, to hint at Dionysus’ unusual birth, the character of Erechtheus and his relation to Athena prepare the change of cultic patronage in Athens and the switch from the older cult of Zeus’ daughter to the new cult of his son, the wine god, a reading which will be further exemplified in section 8. 33 For the passage cf. BRAUN 1915, Hymnen bei Nonnos, pp. 47-49 and LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, pp. 19-22. 34 For Erechtheus as a “citizen of Athens” (ἀστὸς Ἀθήνης) cf. also Dion. 22.319 (Erechtheus’ aristeia), Dion. 19.117 (musical contest against Oiagros), Dion. 37.451 (chariot race) and Dion. 37.657 (foot race).

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6. Deceitful Gods in Disguise Throughout the Dionysiaca Athena proves to be the principal supporter not only for Dionysus’ allies but also for the wine god himself. As she constantly assists Ulysses in the Odyssey, she also promotes, as Zeus’ messenger, the mission against the Indians by reprimanding Dionysus for not going into battle (Dion. 30.249-295). There, she prompts him to campaign against Deriades by referring to Perseus and Zeus and in the closing lines of the scene she is explicitly mentioned as a fighter spurring Dionysus into battle (Dion. 30.296-297). Hence, in taking up this aspect of Athena’s multifaceted character, the narrator of the Dionysiaca follows a standard pattern of Homeric poetry.35 Furthermore, the narration follows Homeric design when adopting another characteristic theme: in order to achieve her divine mission, Athena can appear in the role of a deceiver and shape-shifter, a character trait which is prominently displayed also in Homeric epic, e.g. when she manipulates Pandarus in Hom. Il. 4.93-103, or when she makes Nausicaa believe she could get Ulysses as a husband in Hom. Od. 6.25-40. Within the narration of the Indian war in Dion. 26.1-37 Athena sends a false dream to Deriades, appearing in the guise of his son-in-law Orontes and challenging him to avenge Orontes’death. This scene is patterned after the dream sent by Zeus to Agamemnon in Hom. Il. 2.5-6.36 In the passage in the Dionysiaca, Athena is characterised by two adjectives: θοῦρις (“rushing, furious”, Dion. 26.2), which stresses the impetus of her ongoing action, and πολύμητις (“of many counsels”, Dion. 26.36), which highlights her talent for cunning and trickery. The fact that this is the only passage in which an individual character in the Dionysiaca is provided with the Homeric epithet πολύμητις underlines the close link which the narrator establishes between his literary antecessor and his own poetry.37 Athena’s function as Dionysus’ clever ally and Deriades’ deceiver recurs in Dion. 40.1-61 where she, in the guise of the Indian warrior Morrheus, again misleads the Indian chief into returning to battle, a policy which she already followed in Hom. Il. 22.229-231 when, in the guise of Hector’s brother Deiphobus, she halted the Trojan’s flight and persuaded Hector to stand his ground.38 Here too, the narrator follows the standard pattern of the Homeric

35 The theme of divine supervision over Dionysus is variegated in the typical Nonnian way by replacing Athena by Hermes who in Dion. 47.667-674 – as Athena herself does with raging Achilles in Hom. Il. 1.197 – pulls back Dionysus by his hair when he sees his bride Ariadne petrified by the head of Medusa, cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 102-103. 36 Cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, p. 71. 37 The only other instance where we find πολύμητις in Nonnus is the phrase ἡνίοχος πολύμητις in Dion. 37.203 where Actaeon’s father Aristaeus advises his son with regard to his participation in the upcoming chariot race and uses the adjective to define a successful charioteer in general. 38 Cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 86-87.

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narrative technique of a god disguised as a mortal in order to address a mortal,39 but brings in a new narrative aspect. Acting on a mortal level, but having divine knowledge, the wine god breaks up the narrative illusion and reveals his cunning and trickery which clearly dominates the Nonnian scene and is emphasised by several distinctive adjectives (Dion. 40.3-10): ἀλλά μιν ἀθρήσασα πεφυζότα Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη – ἕζετο γὰρ κατὰ πόντον ἐπὶ προβλῆτος ἐρίπνης, ναύμαχον εἰσορόωσα κορυσσομένων μόρον Ἰνδῶν – (5) ἐκ σκοπιῆς ἀνέπαλτο, καὶ ἄρσενα δύσατο χάρμην· κλεψινόοις δ᾿ ὀάροισι παρήπαφεν ὄρχαμον Ἰνδῶν, Μορρέος εἶδος ἔχουσα, χαριζομένη δὲ Λυαίῳ Δηριάδην ἀνέκοψε, καὶ ὡς ἀλέγουσα κυδοιμοῦ φρικτὸν ἀπερροίβδησεν ἔπος πολυμεμφέι φωνῇ. (10) No – Pallas Athena beheld him in flight, for she sat on a headland high over the sea, and watched the Indians contending in their battle on the sea. Down from the height she leapt, and put on the shape of a man, the form of Morrheus; and, all to please Dionysos, she checked Deriades, cajoling the Indian chieftain with mindstealing whispers. As if anxious about the conflict, she poured out words of affright in reproachful tones.

In Dion. 40.7 Athena’s words to Deriades are deemed to be “mindstealing” (κλεψινόοις δ᾿ ὀάροισι).40 This colouring of Athena’s words confers a special evaluation of Athena’s following speech in Dion. 40.11-30 in which she scolds Deriades in order to misleadingly spur him into battle, but with the actual goal to continue her aid for Dionysus rather than to change sides. Directly after the scolding of Deriades, Athena is described by another adjective which emphasises her insidiousness at the point where Deriades fails to recognise that the goddess is working against him (Dion. 40.34-35): Καὶ θρασὺς ἀγνώσσων δολίην παρεοῦσαν Ἀθήνην ψευδομένου Μορρῆος ἐλεγχέα μῦθον ἀκούων. (35) He knew not that it was deceitful Athena before him; he heard the reproachful voice of the pretended Morrheus.

Athena’s characterisation as δολίην develops the theme of deception further, which in Dion. 40.60 is transferred to Dionysus himself by attributing to him the epithet δολορραφής (“weaving treacherously”).41 After having turned into 39 For this narrative technique in Homer and Nonnus see VERHELST 2016, Minor Characters, pp. 159-163. 40 The adjective κλεψίνοος can be found eight times in the Dionysiaca (Dion. 8.74, 8.127, 20.185, 22.82, 31.135, 34.90 and 35.252) and once in the Paraphrase (Par. 7.45) as well as, according to TLG, four times in late antique and Byzantine literature outside the Nonnian œuvre. The phrase κλεψινόοις (δ᾿) ὀάροισι(ν) reoccurs in Dion. 8.74, 8.127 and 31.135. 41 This adjective is another specimen of typical Nonnian diction and can also be found in Dion. 20.182, 20.377, 22.122, 48.896 and Par. 8.112, 11.236.

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her divine form again, Athena is described by the phrase δολοπλόκον εἶδος (“deceptive shape”, Dion. 40.74) and fights at Dionysus’ side. The epithet δολοπλόκος for Athena – as δολορραφής for Dionysus – singles out the goddess’s capability of strategic thinking and deceit of mortals. Both Athena and Dionysus appear as deceitful gods in disguise who easily outmatch the mortal Deriades. Finally, in Dion. 40.75-79, Deriades realises that he has been taken in by Athena and shows himself to be extremely frightened when being aware of her presence (Dion. 40.76-79): δείματι θεσπεσίῳ λύτο γούνατα Δηριαδῆος· ἔγνω δ᾿ ἀνδρομέης ἀπατήλιον εἰκόνα μορφῆς Μορρέος ἀντιτύποιο φέρειν μίμημα προσώπου· καὶ δόλον ἠπεροπῆα σοφῆς ἐνόησεν Ἀθήνης. Deriades saw her, and his knees trembled with overwhelming fear: he understood that the human shape which bore the likeness of Morrheus was all deception, and recognized the deluding trick of wise Athena.

In contrast to Deriades, Dionysus gladly recognises Athena’s presence and help in the following lines (Dion. 40.80-81):42 Τὴν μὲν ἰδὼν Διόνυσος ἐγήθεεν, ἐν κραδίῃ δὲ ψευδομένην γίνωσκε συναιχμάζουσαν Ἀθήνην. But Dionysus was glad when he saw Athena, and knew in his heart that she had been helping him in disguise.

The fact that both Athena and Dionysus are provided with comparable epithets underlines the close relation of these two characters. Pretending to help Deriades in his fight against the wine god, Athena supports Dionysus and his combatants. Deriades’ re-entry into battle – provoked by Athena – ultimately effects Dionysus’ victory over the Indian enemy. At this point of the narration Dionysus can doubtlessly be added to the divine realm. In describing him with epithets similar to the goddess Athena, Dionysus is sketched as an approved Olympian god immediately before he easily masters the final duel with Deriades and puts the Indian War to an end (Dion. 40.82-96). 7. Divine Beauty of Mortal Women: Athena as Paradigm for Dionysian Characters In a couple of scenes, we find Athena serving as a paradigm for the beauty of mortal women. In order to shape characters specific to the Dionysiaca – who are usually absent from Homeric epic – the poet employs the rhetorical

42 A similar case can be found in Dion. 47.645-646 where, again, Dionysus himself is aware of being helped by Zeus and Athena in his fighting against Perseus.

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technique of syncrisis. Hence, lesser known characters who do not form part of the traditional Homeric cast are enhanced in their status and granted literary authorisation by comparison to well-known mythic counterparts. The comparisons of female characters with Athena are mostly made within character speech and are related to three main topics: (1) Athena’s skills in weaving and handcrafts, (2) her beauty and (3) her non-conformity to conventional gender stereotypes, as evident in her refusal to marry. Since the transfer of Athena’s skills in weaving and handcrafts to other female characters has already been discussed in section 2, the two other topics will be dealt with in the present section. Concerning the divine beauty of mortal women, again, Athena’s traditional mythical profile is passed on to several female characters who all share their affiliation to the Dionysian realm: an anonymous nymph watching Semele bathing tries to identify the girl by reciting a catalogue of women, among them γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη (Dion. 7.248-251). Furthermore, in Hyssacus’ description of Chalcomedeia, the young Bacchant is compared to various goddesses (Dion. 34.43-47), among them Athena, who receives the epithet χρύσασπιν (“Goldenshield”, Dion. 34.47). This adjective transfers her abilities as an effective fighter on to valiant Chalcomedeia. In Dion. 34.292-293 Morrheus – although hit by a stone thrown by Chalcomedeia – is still in love with her and compares her to Peitho, Aphrodite, Selene and Athena. In addition, two of Dionysus’ lovers, Beroe and Ariadne, are likewise contrasted with Pallas Athena: in his attempt to coach Dionysus in winning Beroe’s love, Pan compares Beroe to Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite (Dion. 42.224-226), and Dionysus prompts Pan to cease his flute-playing in order not to disturb the sleeping Ariadne and compares her beauty to the unarmed Athena (Dion. 47.291-294). In each case the female character displays a specific trait traditionally associated with Olympian goddesses like Athena who, thus, become its narrative foil. Athena’s outward appearance and character traits, as they are developed throughout the Dionysiaca, form the basis for the comparison of female characters with the goddess. Her non-conformity to gender stereotypes, the third subject matter of integrating Athena in the Dionysiaca, is repeatedly emphasised by the attribution of appropriate adjectives and phrases to her which stress her virginity and celibacy. For instance, in Dion. 1.83-85, when looking at Europa crossing the sea on the bull’s back, Pallas blushes and is described with the epithet ἀμήτωρ (“motherless”)43 as well as the phrase παρθενίην παρηίδα (“maiden cheek”). In Ariadne’s description of Athena in Dion. 47.417 she is 43 The adjective ἀμήτωρ appears a further four times in the Dionysiaca characterising Athena (Dion. 27.114, 36.22, 37.320, 48.803) and once as an epithet of Physis, the mythical mother of the inhabitants of Berytus, as well as once at the beginning of the Paraphrase for the λόγος, the Word of God (Par. 1.2). For the epithet ἀμήτωρ for Athena see LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, p. 21; SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 94-95, 144 n. 88 and 153 n. 96.

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named ἀχράντοιο (“immaculate”), an adjective which brings her close to the Christian ideal of chasteness taken up several times in the Paraphrase.44 Athena’s chastity is further mentioned in Dion. 2.106 with ἀνύμφευτος, uttered by a nymph who, harmed by Typhon, is about to give up her laurel tree and wishes to rather die from the “unwedded” Athena’s arms than from Typhon.45 Already at this point it is obvious that the narrator of the Dionysiaca sticks to prevalent narrative traditions around Athena as an Olympian goddess. For the purpose of tying in with epic traditions he adopts standard elements of epic diction and narrative, and reinterprets them according to the new Dionysian code. Instead of mentioning Athena’s non-conformity to gender stereotypes as a mere fact, the narrator of the Dionysiaca more often makes use of the virginity motif as a kind of mundus inversus theme when picturing Athena wedded and as a mother. All of these passages are in context with Dionysus’ adversaries who – by applying rhetorical means – try to prevent his ascent to the Olympian realm. When provoking Cadmus to abandon Zeus, Typhon offers Cadmus any goddess for marriage as a potential reward, even Athena if he wishes (Dion. 1.468-469). Moreover, in Dion. 2.209-211, Nike, in the guise of Leto, prompts Zeus to fight against Typhon, mentioning the mythical adynaton of Typhon marrying Athena as a catastrophe which Zeus should avert in any case. The imagined wedding of Athena to a usurper is, once more, mentioned by Typhon who aims to wed Athena to Ephialtes and pictures her with labour pains (Dion. 2.311-313). Other instances we find in the scenes with the two mythical giants Ephialtes and Enceladus (Dion. 36.244-250 and 48.21) as well as in a hybristic speech uttered by Perseus (Dion. 44.174).46 In all these examples Athena – who in Dion. 36.249 receives the epithet καθαρή (“pure”) – represents the stability of the established Olympian gods commanded by Zeus, which is endangered by attempts of usurping the divine throne. However, the mere fact that the imagined successful victory over the Olympians is linked to the impossibility of marrying Athena foreshadows the imminent failure of this attempt. The transfer of Athena’s non-conformity to gender stereotypes is achieved by taking up the theme of her unsuccessful marriage to Hephaestus, which serves as a foil for two unlucky relationships of various women in the Dionysiaca. For ἄχραντος see also Dion. 35.209 (Chalcomedeia), 41.383 (Solon’s laws) and 42.509 (marriage act for Beroe) as well as Par. 2.10 (Mary), 13.107 (Jesus), 14.56 (God) and 19.21 (Jesus). The adjective in Par. 2.10 sums up the late antique discussion on the virginal status of the mother of Christ and can also be found repeatedly in texts of Church Fathers, cf. TLG; for the connection of Athena and Mary cf. SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 62-63, 91, 96 and 118 as well as SHORROCK 2014, A Classical Myth, pp. 329-330. 45 For ἀνύμφευτος cf. Soph. Ant. 980 and El. 165; the adjective appears particularly in a Christian context from Methodius of Olympus onwards and is used for the characterisation of the Mother of God, cf. for example Gr. Nyss. bapt. Chr. 9.232; for ἀνύμφευτος as Athena’s epithet cf. SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 96. 46 For Pentheus’ hybris cf. HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, pp. 139-140. 44

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Nicaea argues that she would never love Dionysus just as Hephaestus was never really able to win Athena (Dion. 16.179-180). Pan lists various mythical characters, among them Hephaestus (Dion. 42.247-250), in order to exemplify his opinion that gifts do not effectuate love. Again, the rhetorical purpose of implementing this myth within the narration of Dionysus is obvious. By means of enargeia, the narrator aims at shaping his new Dionysian characters as foils of a well-established goddess whose typical traits reinforce the image of otherwise unfamiliar mythical personnel. This adoption of character traits to a new epic world is completed when Athena’s non-conformity is passed over to the so-called παρθένοι φυγόδεμνοι, female characters who pursue an independent life and, therefore, reject all personal bonds.47 Not only when refusing Hymnus’ love in books 15 and 16 but also when nursing the child Iacchus, the third Dionysus, at the end of the Dionysiaca (Dion. 48.948-951), Nicaea mirrors Athena being the unwedded goddess par excellence and Erechtheus’ nanny in the mythological tradition. We can find several passages in which Nicaea affirms her close link to divine patrons, e.g. in Dion. 16.149-154 where in her speech to Dionysus she equates herself with Artemis and Athena. There, Nicaea refuses any possibility of marriage with Dionysus by applying the rhetorical technique of adynaton: Εἰ δύνασαι Γλαυκῶπιν ἢ Ἄρτεμιν ἐς γάμον ἕλκειν, καὶ βριαρὴν Νίκαιαν ἔχεις πειθήμονα νύμφην· (150) εἰμὶ γὰρ ἀμφοτέρῃσιν ὁμόστολος. Εἰ δέ σε φεύγει ἀπροϊδὴς ὑμέναιος ἀπειρώδινος Ἀθήνης καὶ νόον οὐ θέλξειας ἀπειθέος Ἰοχεαίρης, δέμνια Νικαίης μὴ δίζεο· (…). If you can draw into marriage the grey-eyed goddess, or Artemis, you shall have hard Nicaia a willing bride; for I am a comrade of both. But if you miss wedlock with Athena, – none ever heard of such a thing, no birth-pangs for her – if you could not charm the wits of the inflexible Archeress, seek not Nicaia’s bed.

The relation to the virgin goddess Athena is rhetorically shaped also in the case of Beroe. Beroe’s unwedded status is pointed out to Dionysus in Pan’s speech in the context of the rhetorical duel between Dionysus and Poseidon who both seek to win Beroe as a bride (Dion. 42.247-250).48 In his speech to Beroe,

47 As a contrasting character to the παρθένοι φυγόδεμνοι, in Dion. 3.111, Athena is named οὐ φυγόδεμνος (“who is not coy”) in the prophecy of the crow to Cadmus arriving at Samothrace. Cadmus should prepare for his future bride and should be convinced that Harmonia is already waiting for him. Here, Athena’s role as an independent goddess is turned around in order to achieve a rhetorical effect and to prepare the success of Cadmus’ and Harmonias’ union. – For the παρθένοι φυγόδεμνοι see HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, Bakkhos Anax, pp. 86-97; SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, pp. 62-63, 92-93 and 144 n. 87 as well as ACCORINTI 2015, Nonnos und der Mythos, p. 55 with further bibliographical references. 48 On the Beroe episode cf. LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, pp. 63-70.

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Dionysus compares Athena and her status as a motherless child who is not interested in marriage, to Beroe’s own character traits (Dion. 42.374-375): ἀλλ᾿ ἐρέεις Γλαυκῶπιν ἀπειρήτην ὑμεναίων· νόσφι γάμου βλάστησε καὶ οὐ γάμον οἶδεν Ἀθήνη. (375) But you will say Brighteyes had nothing to do with marriage; Athena was born without wedlock and knows nothing of wedlock.

Aura, the third main female character who is based on Athena, directs her hybristic conduct towards both Artemis and Athena throughout the whole episode in book 48.49 In Dion. 48.352 she reproaches Artemis for her feminine appearance and, by contrast, praises Athena’s masculinity.50 In addition, she designates Athena as a typical virgin who outclasses Artemis. According to Aura, Artemis appears rather as Aphrodite than as the chaste Athena (Dion. 48.358). The ‘drama’ closes with Aura who, about to give birth, dispraises Athena for not having helped her against Dionysus and wishes to see Artemis and Athena pregnant as well (Dion. 48.799 and 48.803). This play with mythic traditions is to be understood through the special Dionysian flavour of the Dionysiaca. In presenting Athena rather as her own contrafactual image and mirroring her typical traits in Dionysian characters, Nonnus brings her closer to the qualities of the new Dionysian world established by the son of Zeus and Semele. In this respect, a transition from the older generation of gods, Zeus and Athena, to the new Dionysus takes place. Athena’s traditional features gradually diminish and, at the same time, are passed down to the next generation of gods and mythical characters. 8. Athena’s Dionysian Traits Athena appears as Dionysus’ forerunner in three further aspects: (1) her unconventional birth, (2) her ability to produce divine music by inventing and playing the aulos, as well as (3) her patronage over the cultivated plant of the olive tree, which makes her apt for representing divine qualities in the generation before Dionysus. In the course of the Nonnian epic Athena’s gradual replacement by Dionysus is achieved by matching her special traits not only with characters like the παρθένοι φυγόδεμνοι but also with the wine god himself. 49 For Aura in the Dionysiaca cf. CHAMBERLAYNE 1916, A Study of Nonnos, pp. 53-55; CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 167-170; HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, Bakkhos Anax, pp. 93-97. – Another character connected with Athena is Ariadne who changes from Theseus’ virgin to Dionysus’ bride and reflects on this personal development when questioning herself as to what Pallas has in common with Aphrodite (Dion. 47.418). Her former affiliation to Athena is pointed out when she, while sleeping, is compared to various beauties, among them Athena (Dion. 47.292), cf. SHORROCK 2014, A Classical Myth, pp. 324-325. 50 Her self-comparison to Athena is resumed in Dionysus’ lament over Aura stressing that it would be easier to win Pallas (Dion. 48.510).

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First, Athena is substituted by Dionysus regarding her unconventional birth from Zeus, which is highlighted in the proem (Dion. 1.8-10).51 The close link between both divinities is reinforced several times in speeches of Dionysus’ supporters and antagonists respectively: for example, in book 8 the personification of envy, Phthonos, provokes Hera to oppose Semele when recounting Athena’s unusual birth and warning of the imminent threat by Dionysus, who would be even mightier than Athena (Dion. 8.80-88). Athena, for her part, counterattacks Phthonus and emphasises her quality of being “selfborn” (αὐτόγονοιο … Ἀθήνης, Dion. 8.103). The passages dealing with Athena’s and Dionysus’ birth often appear in context with the ability of fighting like in Dion. 20.207-215 where Iris – in the guise of Ares – draws a comparison between the two gods when provoking Lycurgus to battle against Dionysus. In order to make Lycurgus rush into fighting, Dionysus is reduced in rank and put in an inferior position to Athena. Neither Lycurgus nor the Indian chief Deriades seems to be impressed by the wine god, but Deriades, ultimately, accepts the common descent of both divinities from Zeus in his parainesis to Indian troops (Dion. 27.56-69).52 Dionysus’ ascent to the divine realm is achieved not only by the fighting modelled on Athena’s art of warfare but also by the Dionysian way of gaining authority through the medium of music. In this respect, again, Athena appears as his forerunner with respect to her temporary predilection for music. She is referred to as the inventor of the aulos in book 7 in Aion’s speech to Zeus, in which he anticipates the genesis of the wine and illustrates that music can eliminate human grief and sweeten pleasant events like wedding ceremonies (Dion. 7.48-49).53 Within the narrative of the Dionysiaca, flute-playing forms a regular part of Dionysian activities and cultic practice: e.g. in Dion. 17.70-71 Dionysus’ host Brongus plays Athena’s aulos to celebrate Dionysus (Βρόγγος, ἐπιθλίβων διδυμόθροον αὐλὸν Ἀθήνης, | ὑμνείων Διόνυσον, “Brongus […] played Pan’s wellknown tune on his pipes, and pressed his fingers on Athena’s double tube in honour of Dionysos”), and in Dion. 20.331-332 the aulos-playing Bacchantes drop “Athena’s breathing hoboy” (ἔμπνοον αὐλὸν Ἀθήνης) and are chased away from their Dionysian feast by Lycurgus.54

51 Cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, pp. 11-12; SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, p. 84; GEISZ 2016, Narrative and Digression, pp. 175-176. 52 A further parallel between Dionysus and Athena can be found in Dion. 39.78 where Dionysus, addressing his troops as “mighty sons of Ares and corseleted Athena” (Ἄρεος ἄλκιμα τέκνα καὶ εὐθώρηκος Ἀθήνης), prompts them to fight against the Indians. 53 On Athena’s invention of the aulos in the Dionysiaca cf. FAYANT 2001, La musique, pp. 79-80. 54 For other references to Athena and her aulos cf. Dion. 10.230-234, where Dionysus foreshadows Ampelus’ death by recalling the myth of Marsyas, who contested Athena in playing the aulos (διδυμόθροον αὐλόν Ἀθήνης, Dion. 10.234), and Dion. 24.35-38, where the river Hydaspes

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With the third common trait of Athena and Dionysus, their affinity to cultivated plants, the narrator ultimately joins together both gods. As the representative of the city of Athens and the olive plant, Athena shares two similarities with Dionysus, who is distinguished by his attribute, the grapevine, and will triumphantly enter the Greek capital in book 47.55 When Autumn inspects the tablets of Harmonia in book 12, Athena is named goddess of the olive tree (γλαυκὸν Ἀθηναίῃ γλαυκώπιδι θαλλὸν ἐλαίης, Dion. 12.112). Her plant is compared several times to Dionysus’ grapevine, most prominently in Dion. 12.259-269 where the new wine is compared to Athena’s olive oil and rated far superior due to its multifunctionality as a remedy and mood lifter, giving comfort in the event of personal losses.56 Just as the olive plant and the oil serve as precursors of the wine, Athena is to be ranked as Dionysus’ antecessor. She is the representative of a Golden Age which now, with the coming of Dionysus, is revived again.57 This relation and dependency on Athena is emphasised in the two founding-myths of the cities of Tyrus and Berytus: in the story about the founders of Tyrus, the first settlers are instructed by Heracles-Astrochiton to build the first ship, execute a series of tasks and find an olive tree, the symbol of Athena, on one of the islands on which they are supposed to settle (Dion. 40.521-522): Καὶ σχεδίην ἔστησαν ἁλιστεφάνῳ παρὰ νήσῳ, καὶ σπιλάδων ἐπέβαινον, ὅπῃ φυτὸν ἦεν Ἀθήνης. There they stayed their craft beside the sea-girt isle, and climbed the cliffs where the tree of Athena stood.

This olive tree can be seen as symbol for the presence of pre-Dionysian culture, which has been substituted by Dionysus’ own cult since his arrival in the city of Tyrus. The city of Berytus, on the other hand, appears as a symbol of the transfer of Greek culture to a city of the Hellenic East. Its founding reprises Athens’ role as the mythical site of Athena and the centre for law-making (Dion. 41.273-275):

requests Dionysus for mercy and prompts him to spare the reed on the river banks, mentioning the myth of the invention of the aulos by Athena. 55 For Athens in the Dionysiaca cf. KRÖLL 2021, Sites and Cities. 56 Cf. also Dion. 2.86-87 where Athena – in the context of the chaos provoked by Typhon – bemoans a fallen olive tree and its nymph, Dion. 12.134-135 where the olive tree drops its foliage to show grief over the dead Ampelus and Dion. 16.29-34 with Dionysus praying to the Olympic gods and offering a grapevine to support his plea. 57 A pre-Dionysian Golden Age in India is described in Dion. 22.26-27 when Dionysus and his troops arrive at the Hydaspes and watch olive oil flowing out of the olive branches at the banks of the river: αὐτομάτου δὲ χυθέντος ἐπ᾿ ἀκρεμόνεσσιν ἐλαίου | ἰκμάσιν ἀθλιβέεσσιν ἐλούετο δένδρον Ἀθήνης, “oil poured of itself on the twigs of Athena’s tree, and bathed it in unpressed drops.”

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Φραζομένη δὲ Σόλωνος ἀλεξικάκων στίχα θεσμῶν δόχμιον ὄμμα τίταινεν ἐς εὐρυάγυιαν Ἀθήνην, γνωτῆς ζῆλον ἔχουσα δικασπόλον. … (275) She observed there the long column of Solon’s Laws, that safeguard against wrong, and turned aside her eye to the broad streets of Athens, and envied her sister the just Judge.

In this passage, Aphrodite designs a new, eponymous city for her daughter Beroe. This new city, patterned after Athens, is named εὐρυάγυιαν, “with wide streets”, implying a developed city provided with full infrastructure. In addition, Aphrodite’s envy towards Athena and her ideal city emphasises that the eastern Greek cities pay cultural tribute to the traditions of classical Athens. A last rhetorical statement concerning Athena and her olive tree as divine predecessors for Dionysus and the vine is to be found in the speech of Skelmis, a participant in the chariot race (Dion. 37.307-314) who prefers Dionysus’ grapevine to Athena’s olive branch. With reference to Skelmis’ descent from Poseidon, the narrator introduces, at the same time, two different myths regarding the power of his divine father, namely Pelops’ success in the chariot race against Oinomaus, in which he was backed by his father Poseidon, and the contest between Poseidon and Athena over the city patronage of Athens. The speaker Skelmis addresses his opponent Erechtheus, Athena’s favourite, who will, in the end, succeed in the chariot race. The race between Skelmis and Erechtheus reiterates the contest of the two gods of mythical tradition: it is still Athena represented by Erechtheus and the olive tree, who wins over Poseidon, represented by Skelmis and the Dionysian grapevine. However, the Dionysiaca will narrate the story even further and rewrite it to fit it into the Dionysian context: Dionysus himself will – after having suffered a temporary backlash in his fight for Beroe against Poseidon in book 43 – take over Athena’s city patronage in Athens in book 47. 9. Athena and Dionysus in Thebes and Athens Throughout the Dionysiaca Athena proves to be the principal supporter of both Dionysus and his grandfather Cadmus. As can be seen from the example of Cadmus, the installation of Athena’s cult in Thebes is directly linked to the goddess’s support of Dionysus’ grandfather in the course of the narration of the Dionysiaca: in Cadmus’ fight against the dragon of Thebes, Athena assists him by shaking the aegis and addressing him with an encouraging speech (Dion. 4.389-408) so that by following her instructions (Dion. 4.441) he finally achieves a victory over the dragon. Cadmus, for his part, promotes the goddess’s cult by sacrificing the Delphian cow on the altar of Athena Oncaia (Dion. 5.15) and naming the western town gate ‘Oncaia’ (Dion. 5.70). The installation of Athena’s cult in the new-founded city of Thebes makes her the

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predecessor of Dionysus, who will receive cultic worship by all inhabitants of Greece. Even more direct cultic relations between Athena and Dionysus are made visible by Semele who, instructed by her father Cadmus, sacrifices a bull and a goat in honour of Zeus on Athena’s altar (Dion. 7.161-165) as well as by the earthquake shattering both Pentheus’ palace and the altar of Oncaia (Dion. 44.38-44). Together with the altar – which was originally built by Cadmus on the spot where the Delphian cow had lain down – not only Pentheus as Athena’s follower but also Athena’s cult in Thebes itself are overturned and replaced by Dionysus. The decline of Athena’s cult is foreshadowed by the shaking of the altar and the sweating of the statue of the goddess inside the sanctuary, and coincides with the conversion of the women of Thebes to the Dionysian cult (Dion. 45.30 and 45.49).58 The fact that Cadmus himself backs both Athena and Zeus in the course of the narrative establishes a close interdependence between all acting characters and integrates the new god Dionysus into a familiar cultic and narrative context. As a consequence of Cadmus’ help, Athena is introduced as a divine assistant not only of Dionysus’ grandfather but also to his next of kin: in his exhortatory speech to Athena, Zeus signals his help for Dionysus by pointing out the similarities between his two children and naming Attica the homeland for both Athena and Dionysus (Dion. 27.278-307). At the end of book 27 when the Olympians split into two opposing groups backing either the Indians or Dionysus’ entourage, Athena takes her brother’s part and from then on constantly assists him in his military campaigns (Dion. 27.331-332).59 The narrator even goes one step further and approximates both divinities to each other by interchanging some of their character traits. In a speech he makes Hera imagine the final victory of Dionysus and his ascension into the divine sphere of the Olympians. In Dion. 31.244-245 she utters her fear of seeing Athena inebriated by the new Dionysian drink disturbing the old order (μὴ μενέχαρμον ἴδω μεθύουσαν Ἀθήνην | μὴ δόρυ κουφίσσειεν ἐπ᾿ Ἄρεϊ καὶ Κυθερείῃ, “I fear to see warlike Athena drunken, shaking her spear against Ares and Cythereia”), and in Dion. 31.270 she pictures Dionysus carrying Zeus’ and Athena’s aegis assuming divine leadership (αἰγίδα κουφίτοντα μετὰ Κρονίδην καὶ Ἀθήνην, “bearing the aegis once borne by Cronides and Athena”). 58 In both cases the narrator stresses that the women resign from Athena’s art of spinning and weaving and leave their homes for the new religion. In a last attempt against the emergence of the Dionysian cult, Pentheus orders Cadmus and Tiresias to cease to venerate Dionysus by prompting Cadmus to raise the spear of Athena Oncaia instead and by contrasting divine Athena to undivine Dionysus (Dion. 45.69 and 45.92-95). 59 Cf. Dion. 47.644-646 where Dionysus, in his contest against Perseus, implies that he himself is indeed aided by Zeus and Athena.

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After having backed Dionysus in his military quest and been assimilated with her brother in rhetorical imagination, Athena loses ground even further and actually gives up her right to be venerated in Attica exclusively. Thus, as a final point of this contribution, I put forth the argument that Attica and its capital Athens play a major role within the narrative progress of the epic towards Dionysus’ appreciation as a divinity in his own right. The cult of Athena in Attica – which is already documented in Hom. Il. 2.549-551 with the mention of her temple –60 is repressed with Dionysus’ entry into the heartland of Greek culture.61 Upon Dionysus’ arrival in Dion. 46.368369 the boughs of the grapevines blossom (ἀεξιφύτοιο δὲ Βάκχου | ἡμερίδων πετάλοισιν ἐμιτρώθησαν Ἀθῆναι | αὐτόματοι, “and vineleaves which Bacchus made to grow wreathed themselves all over Athens”, Dion. 47.7-9), Attic flutes praise (Dion. 47.22-24) and Bacchantes worship the new god (Dion. 47.24-29), and furthermore, Icarius assumes Athena ποιλιοῦχος as the possible inventor of the new drink (Dion. 47.96). Finally, Athena appears as the leader of the Dionysian cult in Eleusis, and Dionysus introduces his own son Iacchus to the Eleusinian mysteries and gives him into Athena’s care (Dion. 48.951-958). The goddess initiates him to the Bacchic rites by suckling him like she did with Erechtheus and hands him over to the Eleusinian Bacchantes.62 10. Conclusion As presented in this contribution, the myths about Athena are adapted by Nonnus and reworked according to the new Dionysian code. By introducing Cadmus, Aeacus and Erechtheus and by linking the new female cast of the Dionysian kind with Homeric Athena, the narration of the Dionysiaca ties in with the mythical pre-history and thus receives its legitimation. Athena’s way of living the life of an unmarried female fighter and strategic thinker is replaced by new female characters who are assigned to the Dionysian world. Traditional epical traits, prevalent since Iliad and Odyssey, are expanded, dismissed and rewritten in order to convey the idea of Dionysian epic and the aesthetic principles of late antique poetry.

Cf. EDMUNDS 2016, The Gods of Homer, pp. 109-110 and 112-114. We find a parallel incident of Dionysus moving into a city in the case of his entry into Argos (Dion. 47.472-741). In contrast to the scene with Athena in Athens, Dionysus has to face a fight against the local hero Perseus who, backed by Hera, finally gives in to the wine god after the intervention of Hermes. 62 Cf. SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, p. 111 n. 234. 60 61

VI. NONNOS ET CALLIMAQUE: UNE SCÈNE DE BAIN DANS LES DIONYSIAQUES Hélène FRANGOULIS

Au chant 48, dernier chant des Dionysiaques, Nonnos de Panopolis décrit une scène au cours de laquelle Artémis, se baignant en compagnie de ses suivantes, est observée et insultée par l’une d’elles, la nymphe Aura. Comparant avec insolence les formes viriles de son corps de vierge et l’aspect trop féminin du corps de la déesse, Aura met en doute la virginité d’Artémis, attirant ainsi sur elle le châtiment de Némésis. Violée par Dionysos, elle enfante des jumeaux, massacre le premier en le fracassant contre le sol avant de le dévorer tandis que le deuxième, sauvé par Artémis, deviendra Iacchos, le troisième Dionysos, honoré à Éleusis.1 Ce passage, que les commentateurs ont déjà comparé avec celui où Actéon épie le bain d’Artémis au chant 5 du poème,2 est fortement influencé par la poésie hellénistique, et en particulier par les Hymnes de Callimaque.3 L’objet de notre étude sera donc d’abord d’analyser l’influence callimachéenne sur cette scène de bain des Dionysiaques. Certaines ressemblances ponctuelles ont depuis longtemps été relevées par les chercheurs, notamment avec l’Hymne 3 (à Artémis) et l’Hymne 4 (à Délos), mais l’épisode nonnien comporte également de nombreuses réminiscences de l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas).4 Après avoir examiné les similitudes manifestes qui existent entre les compagnes d’Artémis chez Nonnos et celles qui composent habituellement l’escorte de la déesse chez Callimaque, nous reviendrons ensuite plus précisément sur la manière dont il est possible d’établir des rapprochements entre les personnages principaux, humains ou divins (Aura et Chariclo, Artémis et Athéna, Artémis et Aphrodite, Aura et Actéon, et surtout Aura et Athéna). Enfin, en élargissant notre analyse pour prendre en compte plusieurs échos internes entre ce passage et d’autres passages du poème nonnien, nous verrons 1

Dion. 48.302-968. Dion. 5.287-551. Cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 166 (Aura se comportant comme Actéon, à la façon d’un voyeur mâle). 3 Sur l’influence de la poésie hellénistique sur Nonnos, cf. HOLLIS 1994, Nonnus and Hellenistic Poetry; ACOSTA-HUGHES 2016, Composing the Masters (pp. 507-512 sur Callimaque); DE STEFANI – MAGNELLI 2011, Callimachus and Later Greek Poetry (pp. 557-562, ‘Nonnus’ Jeweled Callimachus’). 4 Sur les réminiscences des Hymnes de Callimaque dans la scène de bain du chant 48, voir VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 31-39, 161-168; ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), pp. 658-667. Sur l’ensemble de l’épisode d’Aura, cf. SCHMIEL 1993, The story of Aura. 2

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de quelle manière ces comparaisons et notamment l’attention particulière portée à Athéna permettent d’anticiper la fin du dernier épisode des Dionysiaques et le rôle primordial de Pallas dans la divinisation du troisième Dionysos. 1. Les compagnes d’Artémis Intéressons-nous tout d’abord aux nymphes qui composent l’escorte d’Artémis chez Nonnos et que le poète désigne comme des Naïades: ainsi, au chant 5, “une Nymphe, une Naïade” (Dion. 5.309, Νηιὰς … Νύμφη)5 pousse un cri en voyant Actéon; dans le récit des événements que le fantôme du jeune homme fait ensuite à son père, la clameur est poussée par des Naïades (Dion. 5.489, au pluriel, Νηιάδες); au chant 48 enfin, c’est en compagnie des “Nymphes Naïades” (Dion. 48.304, Νηίσι Νύμφαις) que la déesse part baigner son corps dans l’eau de la montagne. Leur nombre n’est pas précisé dans ce passage mais, comme le remarque à juste titre Francis Vian, ces Nymphes sont “apparemment nombreuses” puisque, dans une comparaison inspirée par la description de Penthésilée se détachant au milieu de douze Amazones comme la lune au milieu de tous les astres chez Quintus de Smyrne, Artémis est comparée à Séléné se levant parmi les astres par une nuit sans nuages.6 De plus, même si l’expression Νηίσι Νύμφαις est très générale, le chant 48 nous apporte une indication supplémentaire: les suivantes d’Artémis sont des Océanides. Cette filiation est mentionnée deux fois: d’abord au vers 313 (ἀενάου δὲ θύγατρες … Ὠκεανοῖο, “des filles de l’Océan au cours perpétuel”) puis au vers 333 (Ὠκεανοῦ δὲ θύγατρες). L’influence callimachéenne est ici évidente: les Océanides qui escortent Artémis au chant 48 des Dionysiaques sont inspirées par les soixante Océanides demandées par Artémis enfant à son père au début de l’Hymne 3 de Callimaque: Δὸς δέ μοι ἑξήκοντα χορίτιδας Ὠκεανίνας (Callim. Hymn. 3.13, “donne-moi un chœur de soixante Océanides”).7 D’ailleurs, même si Nonnos ne précise pas ici leur nombre, il évoque bien dans un autre chant, le chant 16, le chœur des soixante Océanides qui sont les servantes d’Artémis.8 Quant à Aura, même si elle n’est pas 5 Sauf mention contraire, les textes et les traductions de Nonnos et de Callimaque sont tirés de la Collection des Universités de France: VIAN ET AL. 1976-2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques; CAHEN 1922, Callimaque. 6 Cf. Dion. 48.319-327 et Quint. Smyrn. 1.33-41 (comparaison relevée par VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 33-34); voir aussi ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 661. 7 Sur Artémis enfant assise sur les genoux de son père chez Callimaque, cf. BORNMANN 1968, Callimachi Hymnus in Dianam, pp. 6-27; BING – UHRMEISTER 1994, The unity of Callimachus’ Hymn to Artemis, pp. 20-21; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, pp. 122-127. 8 Cf. Dion. 16.125-130, où Dionysos promet de donner à Nicaia, nouvelle Artémis, un chœur de soixante suivantes semblable au chœur des soixante Océanides qui servent Artémis. Le passage est très inspiré par l’Hymne 3 de Callimaque: cf. DE STEFANI – MAGNELLI 2011, Callimachus and Later Greek Poetry, pp. 559-560.

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elle-même une Océanide mais la fille d’une Océanide et du Titan Lélantos (Dion. 48.245-247), elle possède tout de même une des caractéristiques des Océanides callimachéennes: au vers 507, elle est qualifiée de ἀμιτροχίτωνι δὲ κούρῃ (“enfant qui n’a pas de ceinture sur sa tunique”). Or, chez Callimaque, les Océanides réclamées par la petite Artémis sont désignées par l’expression πάσας ἔτι παῖδας ἀμίτρους (Callim. Hymn. 3.14).9 L’adjectif ἀμίτρους, un hapax chez le poète de Cyrène, a été interprété de deux manières différentes par les commentateurs: il peut signifier que les fillettes n’ont pas de ceinture (μίτρα), seules les femmes pubères portant une ceinture destinée à être dénouée au moment du mariage10 ou bien qu’elles ne portent pas le bandeau de tête (μίτρα) réservé aux femmes mariées.11 La transposition des Dionysiaques (ἀμιτροχίτωνι)12 pourrait être un indice sur l’interprétation nonnienne du vers callimachéen et souligner le caractère presque impubère d’Aura.13 De plus, trois noms de nymphes cités aussi bien au chant 5 qu’au chant 48, Loxô, Oupis et Hécaergé,14 sont les noms portés par les Vierges hyperboréennes dans l’Hymne 4.292 (à Délos): Οὖπις τε Λοξώ τε καὶ εὐαίων Ἑκαέργη (“Oupis et Loxô, et la bienheureuse Hécaergé”). L’influence callimachéenne15 est ici d’autant plus manifeste que la réunion de ces trois noms pour désigner les Vierges hyperboréennes est particulière au poète de Cyrène. En effet, chez Hérodote qui distingue pour elles deux expéditions mythiques, celles qui participent à la première expédition se nomment Argé et Opis venues en même temps qu’Apollon et Artémis, tandis que la seconde expédition est composée d’Hyperoché et de Laodicé accompagnées de cinq jeunes gens.16 Quant à Oupis et Hécaergé, ensemble ou séparément, elles sont présentées dans plusieurs versions de la légende comme étant des compagnes d’Artémis: c’est ainsi que Claudien fait d’elles des Scythes hyperboréennes devenues des suivantes de la déesse chasseresse, tandis que Virgile considère Opis comme une Nymphe des eaux qu’il associe à deux Océanides.17 Nonnos, selon son habitude, mêle donc Cf. BORNMANN 1968, Callimachi Hymnus in Dianam, p. 13. Selon la scholie ad loc., qui glose ἀμίτρους par ἀζώστους; cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 178-179. 11 C’est l’interprétation de STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, p. 124. 12 L’adjectif qualifie aussi Béroé (Dion. 42.439). Ce sont les deux seules occurrences chez Nonnos. Il s’agit d’un hapax homérique (Il. 16.419) employé dans un contexte guerrier à propos des guerriers lyciens. 13 Sur le caractère presque impubère d’Aura, cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 39. Contra: ibid., pp. 178-179. 14 Loxô, Oupis et Hécaergé (5.489-492), Oupis et Hécaergé (48.332), Loxô (48.334). 15 Cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 34. 16 Hdt. 4.33, 35; cf. MINEUR 1984, Callimachus Hymn to Delos, pp. 230-234; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, pp. 226-227. 17 Cf. Claud. Cons. Stil. 3.253-257; Schol. in Callim. Hymn. 3.204 (Oupis, nourrice d’Artémis); Verg. Georg. 4.341-343; Opis et les deux Océanides sont aussi mentionnées dans le catalogue des Néréides d’Hygin (Fab. Praef. 8). De plus, Oupis est une dénomination d’Artémis chez 9

10

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manifestement diverses traditions, comptant pour sa part Loxô, Oupis et Hécaergé au nombre des Océanides.18 Il n’en reste pas moins vrai que l’association des trois noms ne se trouve que chez lui et chez Callimaque. D’ailleurs, l’imitation ne s’arrête pas là, puisque Nonnos ne se contente pas de reprendre la nature ou les noms des Nymphes ou des vierges callimachéennes. Leurs occupations, elles aussi, s’inspirent de l’œuvre du poète alexandrin. Chez Callimaque en effet, Artémis veut obtenir de son père vingt nymphes pour s’occuper de ses chaussures de chasse et de ses chiens (Callim. Hymne 3.15-17): δὸς δέ μοι ἀμφιπόλους Ἀμνισίδας εἴκοσι νύμφας, (15) αἵ τέ μοι ἐνδρομίδας τε καὶ ὁππότε μηκέτι λύγκας μήτ᾽ἐλάφους βάλλοιμι, θοοὺς κύνας εὖ κομέοιεν. donne-moi pour servantes vingt nymphes de l’Amnisos, qui pour moi prendront bien soin de mes sandales et, quand j’aurai fini de frapper lynx et cerfs, de mes chiens rapides. (traduction personnelle)19

Même si Nonnos ne mentionne pas les Nymphes de l’Amnisos, pourtant présentes aussi parmi les compagnes de la déesse chasseresse au chant 3 (881-883) des Argonautiques d’Apollonios de Rhodes, les tâches à effectuer, elles, sont bien les mêmes. Certaines des Océanides nonniennes du chant 48 (333-334) s’occupent des filets d’Artémis et de ses chiens, tandis que Loxô est chargée de lui ôter ses endromides: Ὠκεανοῦ δὲ θύγατρες ἐύπλοκα δίκτυα θήρης | καὶ κύνας˙ ἐνδρομίδας δὲ ποδῶν ἀνελύσατο Λοξώ (“Les filles d’Océan prennent ses filets de chasse bien tressés et ses chiens; Loxô lui ôte des pieds ses sandales,” traduction CUF modifiée).20 On le voit, Nonnos s’inspire donc de Callimaque aussi bien pour le choix des Nymphes que pour leur nom et leurs occupations, tout en se plaisant, selon un procédé qui lui est cher, à mêler plusieurs hymnes, ne citant pas par exemple les nymphes de l’Amnisos de l’Hymne 3 mais s’amusant à transférer leur charge sur des Océanides de l’Hymne 3 portant le nom des Vierges hyperboréennes de l’Hymne 4.

Callim. Hymn. 3.204, 240. Pour un point sur la question, cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 164-165. 18 Cf. infra, n. 20. 19 Cf. BORNMANN 1968, Callimachi Hymnus in Dianam, pp. 13-14; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, pp. 124-125. 20 Les Océanides du vers 333 sont à distinguer de Loxô, Oupis et Hécaergé. Le cortège des suivantes d’Artémis comporte au chant 48 de nombreuses Océanides dont trois portent le nom des Vierges callimachéennes de l’Hymne 4 (cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 34).

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2. Aura et Chariclo Toutefois, alors qu’aucune nymphe ne se singularise dans l’hymne callimachéen à Artémis, une des nymphes nonniennes du chant 48 prend une place primordiale à partir du vers 341, la chasseresse Aura: à partir de ce vers en effet, aucune autre compagne n’intervient dans l’épisode. Or, dans un hymne callimachéen présentant lui aussi une scène de bain, concernant cette fois non plus Artémis mais Athéna, l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas), il se trouve que, parmi les nymphes21 qui entourent la déesse, une place unique est également réservée à une nymphe (νύμφαν μίαν), Chariclo (Callim. Hymn. 5.57-59):22 Παῖδες, Ἁθαναῖα νύμφαν μίαν ἔν ποκα Θήβαις πουλύ τι καὶ πέρι δὴ φίλατο τᾶν ἑταρᾶν, ματέρα Τειρεσίαο, καὶ οὔποκα χωρὶς ἐγέντο. Jeunes filles, jadis à Thèbes, Athéna chérissait une nymphe, bien plus que ses compagnes, la mère de Tirésias, et jamais elles ne se séparaient. (traduction personnelle)

Certes, à première vue, tout oppose Chariclo et Aura. Chariclo est avant tout une mère, la mère de Tirésias, alors que, dans la présentation initiale de la chasseresse nonnienne (Dion. 48.241-257), avant la scène du bain, l’accent est mis sur la virginité d’Aura, sur son aspect viril, sur ses talents à la chasse et à la course. Pourtant, des ressemblances inattendues semblent se dessiner entre les deux personnages. Ainsi, dans l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas), Chariclo est la seule de ses compagnes qu’Athéna invite régulièrement sur son char: πολλάκις ἁ δαίμων νιν ἑῶ ἐπεβάσατο δίφρω (Callim. Hymn. 5.65, “Souvent la déesse la faisait monter sur son char”; traduction personnelle). Or, chez Nonnos, au moment où Artémis et son escorte se dirigent vers le lieu de la baignade, c’est justement Aura qui mène l’attelage (Dion. 48.310-312): ἐπεμβαίνουσα δὲ δίφρου (310) λάζετο καὶ μάστιγα καὶ ἡνία παρθένος Αὔρη, καὶ κεραὴν ἤλαυνε θυελλήεσσαν ἀπήνην. [Elle] monte sur le char et, prenant le fouet et les rênes, elle mène à un train de tempête l’attelage aux coursiers cornus (traduction CUF modifiée).

Ἐπεβάσατο δίφρω ~ ἐπεμβαίνουσα … δίφρου: la similitude des termes permet de rapprocher Aura et Chariclo.23 Remarquons d’ailleurs que l’imitation

21

Callim. Hymn. 5.66 (νυμφᾶν). Sur l’amitié entre la déesse et la nymphe, cf. BULLOCH 1985, Callimachus. The Fifth Hymn, pp. 163-177; CHESHIRE 2014, Callimachus’ Hymn 5 and an Alexandrian Audience, pp. 65-74. 23 Cf. aussi [Hes.] Sc. 195, δίφρῳ ἐπεμβεβαώς; 324, δίφρου ἐπεμβεβαώς, à propos d’Iolaos conduisant le char d’Héraclès. 22

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mêle encore une fois deux hymnes callimachéens puisque, au vers 312, κεραὴν … ἀπήνην (“l’attelage aux coursiers cornus”) transpose une expression du vers 113 de l’Hymne 3: Ποῦ δέ σε τὸ πρῶτον κερόεις ὄχος ἤρξατ᾽ἀείρειν; (“Où, pour la première fois, t’enleva ton char aux coursiers cornus?”).24 De même, en 48.329 (καὶ κεμάδας χρυσέοισιν ἀνακρούουσα χαλινοῖς, “elle tire sur les rênes dorées pour arrêter les biches”), la formule χρυσέοισιν … χαλινοῖς vient du vers 112 de l’Hymne 3: ἐν δ᾽ἐβάλευ χρύσεια, θεά, κεμάδεσσι χαλινά (“et tu mis à tes biches, déesse, des rênes d’or”).25 De plus, un autre élément vient renforcer les liens qui existent entre Aura et Chariclo: alors que de nombreuses nymphes, nous l’avons vu, accompagnent l’Artémis nonnienne sur le lieu de sa baignade, il semble qu’Aura soit la seule à aller nager avec elle. Une fois que la déesse est entrée dans l’eau, aucune autre “nageuse” n’est en effet mentionnée, à l’exception d’Aura à partir du vers 345: Καὶ πόδας ἁπλώσασα τιταινομένων παλαμάων | δαίμονι νηχομένῃ συνενήχετο παρθένος Αὔρη (“Et, déployant ses pieds, les bras étendus, près de la déesse qui nage vient nager la vierge Aura”).26 Or, dans l’Hymne 5.70-73, Chariclo est également la seule à se baigner en compagnie d’Athéna, l’exclusivité de la relation étant même soulignée par l’emploi du duel λυσαμένα au vers 70.27 Δή ποκα γὰρ πέπλων λυσαμένα περόνας (70) ἵππω ἐπὶ κράνᾳ Ἑλικωνίδι καλὰ ῥεοίσᾳ λῶντο˙ μεσαμβρινὰ δ᾽εἶχ᾽ ὄρος ἁσυχία. Ἀμφότεραι λώοντο, μεσαμβριναὶ δ᾽ἔσαν ὧραι Un jour en effet, après avoir détaché les agrafes de leurs péplos, près de la source Hippocrène aux belles eaux, sur l’Hélicon, elles se baignaient. Le calme de midi régnait sur la colline. Toutes deux se baignaient, c’était l’heure de midi. (traduction personnelle)

Midi, heure traditionnellement néfaste,28 c’est aussi l’heure du bain d’Artémis et d’Aura au chant 48.335 des Dionysiaques (μεσημβρίζουσα).29 Mais surtout, nous pouvons nous interroger sur la similitude des situations: pourquoi Aura est-elle la seule nymphe à venir nager aux côtés d’Artémis? Certes, dans le 24 Sur le sens de l’expression (“le char aux coursiers cornus”), cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 162. 25 Sur l’ensemble de ces transpositions, cf. VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 162 et 164; ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 660. 26 Dion. 48.345-346. 27 Cf. HADJITTOFI 2008, Callimachus’ Sexy Athena, p. 32; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, p. 256. 28 Cf. BULLOCH 1985, Callimachus. The Fifth Hymn, pp. 179-180; VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 36 n. 4; ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), pp. 658-659; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, p. 256. 29 Cf. aussi μεσημβρινόν (48.307). Midi est également l’heure du bain d’Artémis au chant 5.601-608.

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poème nonnien, l’entrée dans l’eau de la nymphe Aura est précédée par sa contemplation effrontée du corps de la déesse (Dion. 48.341-344), nous y reviendrons, ce qui n’est absolument pas le cas pour Chariclo. Mais le bain commun d’Artémis et d’Aura est-il uniquement lié à l’effronterie de la vierge? Il nous semble possible d’émettre une autre hypothèse. Le rapprochement qui peut être établi entre cet épisode du chant 48 des Dionysiaques et l’Hymne 5 pourrait bien signifier qu’il existait, avant l’incident, entre Aura et Artémis, une relation privilégiée, comme entre Chariclo et Athéna. Et après tout, dans le cas de Chariclo et d’Athéna, ce qui vient s’interposer ensuite dans la qualité de leur relation, c’est aussi un regard indiscret, bien que cette fois involontaire, celui du fils de Chariclo, Tirésias (Callim. Hymn. 5.78). Et, même si la teneur des propos est différente, la compagne chérie de Pallas, rendue furieuse par l’aveuglement de son fils, adresse elle aussi à la déesse un discours empli de violence verbale.30 3. Artémis et Athéna Faut-il donc dégager dans cet épisode du chant 48 un double parallèle avec les personnages de l’Hymne 5, en rapprochant Aura de Chariclo et donc Artémis d’Athéna? Le lien entre l’Artémis nonnienne et l’Athéna de l’Hymne 5 de Callimaque pourrait venir appuyer l’hypothèse proposée par Francis Vian pour expliquer l’étrangeté apparente de la conduite d’Artémis. En effet, au moment où elle entre dans l’eau, la déesse prend bien soin de protéger sa pudeur en se mettant à l’abri des regards indiscrets (Dion. 48.335-337).31 Ἡ δὲ μεσημβρίζουσα σέβας φιλοπάρθενον αἰδοῦς (335) ἐν προχοαῖς ἐφύλαξε, διερπύζουσα ῥοάων ἴχνεσι φειδομένοισι, Elle, en cette heure de midi, veille à protéger dans les ondes la sainteté de sa pudeur virginale: elle entre dans le courant d’un pas prudent.

C’est la raison pour laquelle elle cache son corps au fur et à mesure qu’elle l’immerge (Dion. 48.337-340): καὶ ἐκ ποδὸς ἄχρι καρήνου ἀκροβαφῆ κατὰ βαιὸν ἀναστείλασα χιτῶνα, ἀμφιπερισφίγγουσα πόδας διδυμάονι μηρῷ, κρυπτόμενον μετρηδὸν ὅλον δέμας ἔκλυσε κούρη. (340)

30

Callim. Hymn. 5.85-92 (Chariclo); Dion. 48.351-369 (Aura). Le caractère étrange de la pudeur d’Artémis a été relevé par H.J. Rose dans ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca (III), p. 449 (“This prudery is of course quite alien to the classical Artemis”). 31

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depuis les pieds jusqu’à la tête, elle retrousse peu à peu sa tunique dont le bord trempe dans l’eau; avançant un pied devant l’autre, les deux cuisses serrées, la jouvencelle cache au fur et à mesure son corps, jusqu’à l’immerger tout entier.

Or, très peu de temps après, quand Aura vient la rejoindre dans l’eau, Artémis n’éprouve absolument aucune gêne à se montrer à moitié nue devant elle. Quand la déesse se redresse pour s’essuyer les cheveux, la moitié supérieure de son corps est visible et ses seins sont donc librement, de sa propre volonté, exposés à la vue de la nymphe (Dion. 48.347-349): ἡμιφανὴς ἀτέλεστος ἔσω ποταμηίδος ὄχθης ἰκμαλέας ῥαθάμιγγας ἀποσμήξασα κομάων Ἄρτεμις ἀγροτέρη˙ à moitié visible, incomplètement, en bordure du fleuve: elle essuie les gouttes d’eau qui coulent de ses cheveux, Artémis la chasseresse.

Comment donc expliquer cette apparente incohérence dans le comportement d’Artémis? Francis Vian, dans la Notice de son édition du chant 48, propose de voir dans la narration la transposition d’une “procession précédant le bain rituel d’une statue divine”. Artémis, immobile sur son char, passive puisque c’est Aura qui conduit, est amenée jusqu’au fleuve, entièrement vêtue “afin que l’assistance soit protégée du pouvoir magique – ou des miasmes – qui en émane. Quand les officiants la plongent dans l’eau, ils lui ôtent progressivement son voile, par précaution.”32 Si on suit cette hypothèse, ne pourrait-on pas penser qu’il s’agit là pour le poète d’un clin d’œil littéraire lui permettant de signaler implicitement à son lecteur que, même s’il décrit le bain d’Artémis avec des références aux compagnes de la déesse dans l’Hymne 3 de Callimaque, il prend aussi comme modèle un hymne consacré au bain de Pallas, un hymne où le récit mythique de l’aveuglement de Tirésias33 est utilisé de façon étiologique pour expliquer pourquoi, dans le contexte rituel du bain du Palladion, statue d’Athéna, dans le fleuve Inachos à Argos, les hommes doivent se retirer avant le début de la cérémonie pour éviter de voir la déesse nue?34 Une telle façon de procéder correspondrait tout à fait à la façon de faire habituelle de Nonnos, qui aime semer des indices implicites destinés à un lectorat érudit. 32 VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), pp. 35-36 (et pp. 36-37 pour les problèmes de texte des vers 335, 338); voir aussi ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 663. 33 Callim. Hymn. 5.57-136. La version choisie par Callimaque est inspirée par celle de Phérécyde: cf. BRISSON 1976, Le mythe de Tirésias, pp. 21-28; BULLOCH 1985, Callimachus. The Fifth Hymn, pp. 17-19; CALAME 2000, Poétique des mythes, pp. 177-179; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, pp. 237-238. 34 Callim. Hymn. 5.53-56. Sur le bain du Palladion et le parallèle avec les Πλυντήρια à Athènes, cf. BULLOCH 1985, Callimachus. The Fifth Hymn, pp. 8-12; HOPKINSON 1988, A Hellenistic Anthology, pp. 111-112; CALAME 2000, Poétique des mythes, pp. 174-177; STEPHENS 2015, Callimachus, The Hymns, p. 235.

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4. Féminité d’Artémis et virilité d’Aura Nous avons donc pu rapprocher d’une part les deux déesses vierges, filles de Zeus, et d’autre part leurs compagnes, Aura et Chariclo. Mais l’analyse doit aller plus loin. En effet, si nous reprenons en détail les propos tenus par Aura au chant 48 et le début de l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas), il est possible d’établir d’autres comparaisons. Que dit en effet la nymphe chasseresse chez Nonnos? Tout d’abord, quand elle décrit les seins d’Artémis, ce n’est pas à ceux d’Athéna qu’elle les compare, loin de là (Dion. 48.352, 48.355, 48.358, 48.365-366): Θῆλυν ἔχεις Παφίης, οὐκ ἄρσενα μαζὸν Ἀθήνης, […] Ἀλλὰ δέμας μεθέπουσα ποθοβλήτοιο θεαίνης (355) […] λεῖψον Ἀθήνην. […] Ἦ τάχα φαίης (365) ὅττι τεοὶ γλαγόεσσαν ἀναβλύζουσιν ἐέρσην. Tu as le sein femelle de la Paphienne, pas le sein viril d’Athéna […]. Eh bien, puisque ton corps est celui de la déesse du désir, […] délaisse Athéna. […] On dirait que les tiens [tes seins] laissent perler une rosée de lait!

Dans la bouche d’Aura, Artémis est donc comparée à Aphrodite. Bien sûr, les propos de la nymphe doivent être replacés dans leur contexte, celui de la raillerie, et il convient d’examiner aussi le comportement de la déesse dans l’épisode, tel qu’il est présenté non plus par Aura mais par le poète lui-même. Agit-elle comme Athéna ou bien comme Aphrodite? Pour répondre à cette question, voyons d’abord quelle est l’attitude d’Athéna chez Callimaque. Même si, dans l’Hymne 5.31-32, Pallas peigne ses cheveux avec un peigne d’or, son premier geste est toujours, avant de se baigner elle-même, de s’occuper de ses chevaux (Callim. Hymn. 5.5-6, 9-11): Οὔποκ᾽Ἀθαναία μεγάλως ἀπενίψατο πάχεις, (5) πρὶν κόνιν ἱππειᾶν ἐξελάσαι λαγόνων Jamais Athéna ne baigna ses bras robustes, qu’elle n’eût d’abord, du flanc de ses chevaux, chassé les souillures de la poussière […] ἀλλὰ πολὺ πράτιστον ὑφ᾽ἅρματος αὐχένας ἵππων λυσαμένα παγαῖς ἔκλυσεν Ὠκεανῶ (10) ἱδρῶ καὶ ῥαθάμιγγας Mais d’abord, déliant ses chevaux du joug, elle lava aux eaux de l’Océan la sueur qui leur perlait.

Or, que fait Artémis au chant 48? “Elle essuie les gouttes d’eau qui coulent de ses cheveux” (Dion. 48.348, ἱκμαλέας ῥαθάμιγγας ἀποσμήξασα κομάων). Les soins attentifs donnés par Athéna à ses coursiers, c’est donc à elle-même que la déesse chasseresse les réserve. Bref, cette Artémis sortant de l’eau à moitié nue en essuyant soigneusement ses cheveux pourrait bien avoir des allures

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d’Aphrodite au bain! Certes, Nonnos affectionne tout particulièrement ce type de scènes, mais dans ces vers, on croirait voir l’Aphrodite “à la molle chevelure” (ἁβροκόμῳ Κυθερείῃ) à laquelle Aura compare Artémis quelques vers plus loin (Dion. 48.356). Ou encore, on croirait voir l’Aphrodite que Callimaque oppose précisément à Athéna dans son Hymne 5.22, quand il décrit Cypris qui, le jour du jugement de Pâris, sur le mont Ida, devant son miroir, “à de multiples reprises, arrangea et réarrangea la même boucle de ses cheveux” (πολλάκι τὰν αὐτὰν δὶς μετέθηκε κόμαν, traduction personnelle). Face à la féminité d’Artémis, Aura se distingue par sa virilité. Et les commentateurs se sont intéressés à la masculinité de son attitude au moment où elle contemple Artémis depuis le rivage (Dion. 48.341-343): Λοξὰ δὲ παπταίνουσα δι᾽ὕδατος ἄσκοπος Αὔρη τολμηροῖς βλεφάροισιν ἀναιδήτοιο προσώπου ἁγνὸν ἀθηήτοιο δέμας διεμέτρεε κούρης. Le regard oblique, au travers de l’onde, Aura l’observe sans être vue; la paupière effrontée, la face impudente, elle parcourt le chaste corps de la vierge que nul ne doit contempler.

Le passage est analogue à celui où Actéon, lui aussi compagnon de chasse d’Artémis chez Nonnos, épie sans vergogne la déesse au chant 5.35 Et le comportement de la nymphe est encore plus offensant que celui d’Actéon ou de Tirésias chez Callimaque, la faute des deux jeunes gens étant involontaire chez le poète hellénistique: c’est “sans le vouloir” (οὐκ ἐθέλων) que Tirésias “vit ce qu’on ne doit voir” (Callim. Hymn. 5.78, εἶδε τὰ μὴ θεμιτά); c’est aussi “sans le vouloir” (κοὐκ ἐθέλων) qu’Actéon aperçut “le bain de la gracieuse déesse” (χαρίεντα λοετρά | δαίμονος).36 Quant à Aura, comme le remarque à juste titre Francis Vian, “son regard oblique est celui d’un voyeur mâle […]; s’il n’est pas concupiscent, il est insolent et impie […] puisqu’elle ose dévisager la chaste déesse qu’il est interdit de contempler.”37 La masculinité du regard d’Aura est donc indéniable. Et la masculinité de son regard va de pair avec la virilité de son corps, implicitement comparé par la nymphe à celui d’Athéna.38 En effet, quand elle refuse à Artémis la virilité d’Athéna pour lui attribuer la féminité d’Aphrodite, cela signifie bien sûr qu’elle considère que celle qui possède “le sein viril d’Athéna” (Dion. 48.352, ἄρσενα 35 Dion. 5.305-306. Voir aussi 7.216 (Zeus épiant Sémélé au bain) et VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 166. 36 Callim. Hymn. 5.113-114. Nonnos, au contraire, suit la tradition des tragiques en ce qui concerne la culpabilité d’Actéon, tout en introduisant la scène du bain dans une version qui l’ignorait probablement: cf. CHUVIN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (III-V), pp. 95-104. 37 VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), p. 37. Cf. aussi SCHMIEL 1993, The story of Aura, p. 473 et, sur le voyeurisme dans les Dionysiaques, pp. 480-483 (Appendix). 38 Sur la virilité d’Athéna chez Callimaque, cf. LORAUX 1989, Les expériences de Tirésias, pp. 259-261; MORRISSON 2005, Sexual Ambiguity, pp. 38-41.

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μαζὸν Ἀθήνης), c’est elle, Aura. Elle précise d’ailleurs (Dion. 48.362-365) que ses “seins, ces fruits verts pulpeux, […] n’ont rien de féminin (ἠνίδε μαζούς | ὄμφακας οἰδαίνοντας ἀθήλεας), que son “aspect” est “viril” (μορφήν | ἄρσενα), que son “corps est robuste” (βριαρὸν δέμας) et ses bras “musclés” (δέρκεο πῶς σφριγόωσι βραχίονες). La virilité d’Aura n’a donc rien à envier à celle de l’Athéna de Callimaque qui n’utilise comme produit que “l’huile virile” (Callim. Hymn. 5.29, ἄρσεν … ἔλαιον) et qui, comme elle, possède un corps et des “bras robustes” (Callim. Hymn. 5.5, μεγάλως … πάχεις). Aura, présentée comme une “nouvelle Artémis” (Dion. 48.245, Ἄρτεμις ὁπλοτέρη) au début de l’épisode serait-elle donc plutôt une “nouvelle Athéna?” 5. Athéna et l’anticipation de la fin du chant 48 En fait, nous devons plutôt nous interroger sur l’importance accordée par le poète à Athéna dans un récit qui devrait en principe être centré sur Artémis et sur Aura, une importance encore accentuée par les rapprochements implicites que nous avons pu établir avec l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas). Notre hypothèse, c’est que les références à Athéna qui apparaissent dans cette partie de l’épisode ont une fonction d’anticipation par rapport à la fin du chant 48. Pour étayer cette hypothèse, examinons donc la suite des événements: Artémis, ulcérée par les insultes de sa compagne, va demander vengeance à Némésis (Dion. 48.370-469). Le châtiment ne se fait pas attendre: Aura, parce qu’elle a insulté une vierge, perd sa virginité. Violée par Dionysos, elle met au monde deux jumeaux (Dion. 48.470-865). Conformément à la vengeance divine, il est alors tout à fait naturel que, dans les propos d’Artémis, une inversion se produise entre elle-même et Aura. Dès la naissance des enfants, la déesse de la chasse oppose en effet le sein désormais nourricier de la nymphe et son propre sein de vierge, impropre à l’allaitement (Dion. 48.858-859, 862): Μαῖα, γύναι ταμίη, διδυμητόκε δύσγαμε νύμφη, υἱάσι μαζὸν ὄρεξον ἀήθεα, παρθένε μήτηρ˙ […] Ἄρτεμις οὐ γάμον οἶδε καὶ οὐ τρέφεν υἱέα μαζῷ. Dame nourrice et gouvernante, mère de jumeaux, épouse malgré toi, tends à tes fils ton sein novice, vierge mère! […] Artémis ignore le mariage et ne nourrit pas d’enfant à son sein.

Ce rôle maternel, il est tout aussi normal qu’Aura le refuse (Dion. 48.906-908): μὴ βριαρὸν τεκέεσσιν ἐμόν ποτε μαζὸν ὀπάσσω, μὴ παλάμῃ θλίψοιμι νόθον γάλα, μηδ᾽ἐνὶ λόχμαις θηροφόνος γεγαυῖα γυνὴ φιλότεκνος ἀκούσω. jamais je ne donnerai mon sein robuste à mes enfants ni ne presserai de la main un lait adultère; née pour tuer les fauves dans les sous-bois, qu’on ne dise jamais de moi que je suis une femme qui chérit des enfants!

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Et, tout de suite après avoir tenu ces propos, Aura, joignant les actes aux paroles, tente vainement d’offrir les enfants en pâture aux fauves, avant de tuer elle-même l’un des jumeaux en le fracassant contre le sol et de le dévorer (Dion. 48.910-924). Et c’est alors que, remplaçant Aura dans le rôle maternel qu’elle rejette, se succèdent plusieurs nourrices. La première, un fauve, se manifeste avant même le meurtre du premier enfant (Dion. 48.912-913): “une panthère (πόρδαλις) […] pleine de raison en son cœur […] les allaite avec son intelligente mamelle (ἔμφρονα θυμὸν ἔχουσα σοφῷ μαιώσατο μαζῷ).” Ensuite, Artémis sauve le deuxième enfant, Iacchos et, en dépit de son inexpérience (Dion. 48.927, ἀήθεϊ) et même de sa honte (Dion. 48.946, αἰδομένη), elle emporte le bébé dans ses bras. Horrifiée par le comportement non maternel d’Aura (Dion. 48.924-925, ἀστόργοιο τεκούσης | ταρβαλέη), la déesse vierge (Dion. 48.926, παρθένος) devient, même brièvement, celle qui prend affectueusement soin de l’enfant (Dion. 48.927, παιδοκόμῳ κούφιζεν ἀήθεϊ κοῦρον ἀγοστῷ, “[elle] emporte le bébé dans le repli maternel de son bras novice” traduction CUF modifiée), avant de le remettre à son frère Dionysos (Dion. 48.947). Quant à Bacchos, il confie le bébé à Nicaia qui le nourrit, le poète qualifiant alors ses seins de παιδοκόμων (Dion. 48.949-951): καὶ ἀκροτάτης ἀπὸ θηλῆς παιδοκόμων θλίβουσα φερέσβιον ἰκμάδα μαζῶν (950) κοῦρον ἀνηέξησε. et, pressant du bout de ses seins le suc vivifiant de ses mamelles nourricières, elle élève le garçon.

L’adjectif composé employé ici (παιδοκόμων, “qui prend soin d’un enfant”)39 est donc le même que celui déjà utilisé auparavant à propos d’Artémis tenant le petit Iacchos dans ses bras (παιδοκόμῳ). Nonnos sous-entendrait-il donc que la déesse vierge, contrairement à ce qu’elle a affirmé avec force dans les vers précédents, a elle aussi donné le sein à l’enfant? Certes, pour Artémis, l’adjectif s’appliquait, non à son sein, mais au repli de ses bras (παιδοκόμῳ … ἀγοστῷ); mais il convient, pour mieux comprendre l’intention du poète, de prêter attention à l’emploi du terme dans un autre épisode nonnien. En effet, au chant 9, quand Ino se saisit du petit Dionysos, on retrouve l’expression παιδοκόμῳ … ἀγοστῷ, placée de la même façon au début et à la fin du vers: παιδοκόμῳ πήχυνεν ἀμήτορα Βάκχον ἀγοστῷ (Dion. 9.95, “elle prend dans ses bras, d’une étreinte maternelle, Bacchos privé de mère”). Or, que fait justement Ino aux vers suivants? Elle allaite à la fois (μαζὸν ὄρεξε) son fils Palaimon et son 39 L’adjectif est une création de Nonnos et est employé avec le même substantif (μαζῶν) en Dion. 5.378 (Autonoé et Actéon) et 47.491-492 (Argiennes; cf. FAYANT 2000, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVII), p. 180).

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neveu Dionysos (Dion. 9.96-97). Ne pourrait-on donc pas penser qu’au chant 48, Artémis elle aussi allaite son neveu après l’avoir pris dans ses bras? Après tout, Nonnos a une prédilection pour les allaitements paradoxaux, un motif qu’il a déjà employé par exemple pour le roi Athamas offrant son sein à son fils Mélikertès (Dion. 9.310-311), pour l’allaitement du chef indien Tectaphos par sa fille (Dion. 26.101-145)40 ou pour celui des enfants illégitimes de Zeus par Héra.41 Quant à la dernière nourrice de l’enfant, c’est bien encore une déesse vierge, et l’allaitement est cette fois explicite: Iacchos, encore petit (Dion. 48.952, νήπιον εἰσέτι) est en effet enlevé par Dionysos à Nicaia pour être confié à Athéna (Dion. 48.954-957):42 Θεὰ δέ μιν ἔνδοθι νηοῦ Παλλὰς ἀνυμφεύτῳ θεοδέγμονι δέξατο κόλπῳ˙ (955) παιδὶ δὲ μαζὸν ὄρεξε τὸν ἔσπασε μοῦνος Ἐρεχθεύς, αὐτοχύτῳ στάζουσα νόθον γλάγος ὄμφακι μαζῷ. La déesse Pallas, en son temple, l’accueille dans son giron de vierge, hospitalier pour un dieu; elle donne au garçon un sein que seul avait sucé Érechthée, en lui distillant le lait insolite qui coule spontanément du fruit vert de ses seins.

Et c’est là que le rapprochement entre Aura et Athéna prend tout son sens, comme une anticipation du moment où Athéna se substitue à Aura pour devenir la véritable mère de son fils. Comme Aura avant le viol, elle a des seins de vierge, des “fruits verts” (μαζούς | ὄμφακας aux vers 364-365 pour Aura, ὄμφακι μαζῷ au vers 957 pour Athéna) mais, bien qu’étant demeurée vierge, elle les utilise pour nourrir un enfant. La véritable παρθένος μήτηρ, nom ironiquement donné à Aura par Artémis au vers 859, c’est bien, et sans ironie cette fois, Athéna.43 Tous les allaitements du jeune Iacchos sont donc paradoxaux: il est d’abord nourri par une panthère, puis par la déesse vierge Artémis, puis par Nicaia, que Dionysos a violée auparavant et qui le lui reproche encore (Dion. 48.867, μεμφομένην ἔτι λέκτρα), puis par Athéna. Or, nous avions déjà analysé, il y a quelques années, la manière dont certains motifs d’allaitements paradoxaux (Mélikertès et Athamas, Tectaphos et sa fille) fonctionnaient comme des anticipations pour annoncer le plus important d’entre eux, l’allaitement de Dionysos par Héra, un allaitement qui possède une grande valeur symbolique, puisque 40 Sur ce type d’allaitement symbolique, cf. DEONNA 1955, Deux études de symbolisme religieux, pp. 5-50. 41 Dion. 9.232-234 (Hermès); 35.300-335 (Dionysos). 42 L’allaitement paradoxal d’Érechthée par Athéna est aussi mentionné en 13.174-177; 27.112114, 322-323; 29.338-339. 43 Nous faisons volontairement abstraction de toutes les implications chrétiennes qui n’entrent pas dans le cadre de notre propos. Sur cet aspect, cf. HADJITTOFI 2008, The death of love in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca.

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“le lait d’Héra constitue pour les bâtards de son époux l’un des moyens qui leur rendra possible l’accès à l’Olympe et à l’immortalité.”44 Ne pourrait-on donc pas considérer qu’au chant 48, les allaitements paradoxaux de Iacchos, le troisième Dionysos, fonctionnent de la même manière, pour anticiper le dernier d’entre eux, le plus important qui, comme celui du héros de l’épopée par Héra, aura une valeur symbolique? En donnant le sein à Iacchos, Athéna accomplit en effet, vis-à-vis du troisième Dionysos, le rôle habituellement dévolu à Héra: elle lui permet d’accéder à la divinité. Le rapprochement entre Héra et Athéna, mentionné dans l’Hymne 5 de Callimaque, n’a rien de très original puisqu’il s’agit simplement d’opposer à Aphrodite les deux déesses victimes du jugement de Pâris (Callim. Hymn. 5.18-21): Οὐδ᾽ ὅκα τὰν Ἴδᾳ Φρὺξ ἐδίκαζεν ἔριν, οὔτ᾽ἐς ὀρείχαλκον μεγάλα θεὸς οὔτε Σιμοῦντος ἔβλεψεν δίναν εἰς διαφαινομέναν˙ (20) οὐδ᾽Ἥρα˙ Même à l’époque où sur l’Ida le Phrygien jugeait la querelle, la grande déesse [Athéna] ne regarda ni dans le disque de bronze ni dans les flots diaphanes du Simoïs, et Héra non plus. (traduction personnelle)

Mais il faut surtout remarquer que, dans le chant 48 des Dionysiaques, quand Aura adresse à Artémis le discours injurieux où elle compare la féminité d’Artémis à celle d’Aphrodite et sa propre virilité à celle d’Athéna, elle prononce aussi ces mots: ἐγὼ σέο μᾶλλον ἀρείων (Dion. 48.361, “je suis plus forte que toi et de loin”). Or, cette affirmation est similaire à celle par laquelle, dans la théomachie du chant 36, Héra revendique sa supériorité par rapport à Artémis: Ἥρης κάλλιπε δῆριν ἀρείονος (Dion. 36.76, “renonce à te battre contre Héra: elle est plus forte que toi”).45 Héra et Athéna sont d’ailleurs les seules divinités victorieuses dans l’épisode de la théomachie nonnienne.46 Cet écho interne semble donc bien suggérer un rapprochement à établir entre Héra et Athéna dans les Dionysiaques. Dans ce cas, tout semble concorder pour que le jeune Iacchos, une fois nourri par Athéna comme son père l’a été par Héra, puisse accéder à la divinité. D’ailleurs, non seulement le poète insiste sur leur similitude de nom (Dion. 48.952, Βάκχον ἐπώνυμον υἷα τοκῆος, “Bacchos, ce fils qui a même nom que son père”), mais, tout de suite après son allaitement, il est immédiatement qualifié de “divinité nouveau-née” (Dion. 48.960-961, ἀρτιτόκῳ δὲ | δαίμονι). Or, à ce moment-là, Iacchos n’est plus tout à fait un “nouveau-né”. L’expression ne signifierait-elle pas plutôt qu’il FRANGOULIS 2010, Les Indiens dans les Dionysiaques, p. 97. Cf. aussi Dion. 36.48, τί μείζοσιν ἀντιφερίζεις; 46 Sur la théomachie nonnienne, cf. VIAN 1988, La théomachie de Nonnos; FRANGOULIS – GERLAUD 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXV-XXXVI), pp. 65-80. 44 45

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vient juste d’accéder à la divinité, qu’il est devenu un “nouveau dieu” un θεός, selon le terme utilisé au vers suivant (Dion. 48.962)? Et dans ce cas, n’est-ce pas son allaitement par Athéna qui l’a fait accéder à ce statut? 6. Conclusion Au terme de cette étude, nous pouvons d’abord constater l’influence callimachéenne sur l’épisode d’Aura. Les désignations et les occupations des nymphes qui composent l’escorte d’Artémis sont inspirées par celles des nymphes et des vierges présentes dans l’Hymne 3 (à Artémis) et dans l’Hymne 4 (à Délos), le poète des Dionysiaques se plaisant, selon son habitude, à mélanger les sources. De plus, Nonnos est aussi influencé dans cet épisode par l’Hymne 5 (pour le bain de Pallas). Certaines ressemblances apparaissent en effet entre Athéna et Artémis d’une part, Chariclo et Aura d’autre part. Mais l’analyse permet également, dans les propos d’Aura comme dans les descriptions du poète, de percevoir des rapprochements parfois inattendus non seulement entre Artémis et Aphrodite mais aussi entre Aura et Athéna, que ce soit chez Nonnos ou chez Callimaque. L’importance accordée à Athéna dans le dernier épisode des Dionysiaques permet ainsi, grâce à un jeu d’échos internes, d’anticiper la fin du poème. Le fils d’Aura, Iacchos, nourri par une série d’allaitements paradoxaux, accède à la divinité grâce à son allaitement par Athéna, comme son père Dionysos l’avait fait grâce à son allaitement par Héra.

VII. HOW NONNUS EMPLOYS ARATUS’ ASTRONOMY IN THE DIONYSIACA: A CASE STUDY Arianna MAGNOLO

The importance of astronomy in the Dionysiaca is striking. Indeed, there are large sections which are characterized by an astronomical theme and taste, like, for example, the Typhonomachy (Books 1 and 2), the description of Dionysus’ shield (Book 25) and the episode of Phaeton (Book 38). Moreover, even when dealing with different themes, Nonnus often indulges in astronomical digressions, as an erudite poet fond of this subject. This is why we can find many presences of Aratus’ poem, the Phaenomena, in the Dionysiaca. As it is wellknown, throughout Late Antiquity and beyond, Aratus was an authority in the field of astronomy, as the numerous translations and commentaries of his work, written over time, prove. The poet was even more important than the other famous astronomical poet, Eratosthenes, whom Nonnus, however, sometimes makes reference to. In this contribution, I will focus on a case study which I think is particularly significant. I will analyze the thematic and linguistic elements Nonnus seems to draw from Aratus and the modes he follows in using this author, but also the aims which could underlie this use in the broader plan of the poem, making reference to the cultural context of Nonnus’ age. I will adopt an intertextual approach. 1. Intertextuality in Nonnus I clarify right away that the two categories of intertextuality I will consider in this contribution are imitation,1 which is always varied in Nonnus, as we will have the opportunity to see, and (literary) allusion,2 which is less extended than imitation and a little more difficult to detect. These intertextual categories are both intentional. An allusion is not an explicit declaration of the model used by 1 See BERNARDELLI 2013, Che cos’è l’intertestualità, pp. 36-37: “L’imitazione consiste nella ripresa volontaria e consapevole da parte dell’autore di un brano estraneo, e che è sottoarticolata in due ulteriori tipologie in base alle supposte intenzioni dell’autore stesso nei confronti del lettore: a) può essere stata prodotta dall’autore con l’intenzione che non sia riconosciuta dal lettore (si veda, ad esempio, il caso del plagio); b) può essere stata compiuta con l’intenzione che il lettore riconosca il calco (stilistico o tematico) da un altro testo o da un autore di riferimento.” 2 See PASQUALI 1968, Arte allusiva, p. 275: “Le allusioni non producono l’effetto voluto se non su un lettore che si ricordi chiaramente del testo cui si riferiscono.”

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the author, nor a verbatim reproduction of the text contained in it, as the quotation can be defined. On the contrary, the literary allusion is characterized by some relevant variations from the model. So, it presupposes that author and reader share the same amount of knowledge and that the reader can recognize the implicit reference through a series of indicators, beyond the variations introduced by the author in re-elaborating the model.3 An imitation, although wider, can work in the same way. In fact, we know that the public of Nonnus’ Dionysiaca was constituted by pagans as well as Christians, who were trained in the same classical education. Furthermore, a considerable part of it had a very high level of culture, as especially the studies of Gianfranco Agosti have showed.4 It is true that it is not easy to distinguish between conscious and unconscious presences (the latter being the so-called “reminiscences”5). However, when the presences seem to conform to a sort of regularity and a well-defined logic, we can assert their intentionality with some degree of certainty. I will argue that this is true in our case and, therefore, that Nonnus places himself at the intersection point of a crossroads between two dimensions. The vertical (or diachronic) one concerns the poet’s choice of the source: indeed, he looks back in time when employing Aratus. The horizontal (or synchronic) one refers to the poet’s time and to the cultural context which surrounds him, strictly linked to the reelaboration of the source and to the meaning attributed to it.6 2. A Case Study: Dionysiaca 1.448-467 The passage I am concerned with belongs to Book 1. In Book 1 we find the Typhonomachy, so named after Typhon, the Giant who steals Zeus’ thunderbolt while the god is absent and manages to alter the natural order, attacking not only earth and sea, but also (and primarily) heaven. In this section the influence of Aratus is pervasive, as it can be traced in the description of both Typhon’s assault and heaven’s reaction to this assault, but not only. The model is completely subverted. The ordinary movement of the vault of heaven is blocked and those constellations described by Aratus as fixed are displaced. Cf. PASQUALI 1968, Arte allusiva, pp. 275-282. See, for example, AGOSTI 2006, La voce dei libri, pp. 35-62, and, more recently, AGOSTI 2012, Greek Poetry, pp. 378-380. 5 See BERNARDELLI 2013, Che cos’è l’intertestualità, p. 36: “La reminiscenza viene considerata come una ripresa intertestuale non consapevole da parte dell’autore (una citazione inconscia o inavvertita), ma che viene riconosciuta dal lettore.” 6 In Hebel’s opinion, an intertextual study has to follow three steps, that are 1) identification of the presences of the text employed as a model (what are the presences); 2) description of the presences (how they present themselves in the text that is to be analyzed); 3) interpretation of the presences (what is their function in the text that is to be analyzed): cf. HEBEL 1989, Romaninterpretation als Textarchäologie, p. 109. 3 4

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They even voluntarily leave their position to fight against Typhon. When Zeus realizes what has happened, discovering himself disarmed, he decides to send Cadmus, Dionysus’ grandfather, to deceive the Giant by pretending to be a shepherd and playing the αὐλός: in this way, the god will be able to regain his thunderbolt. I will focus on Dion. 1.448-467, where Typhon promises Cadmus a series of catasterisms in exchange for his charming music: οὐδὲ τεῆς ἀγέλης νοσφίσσεαι· ἰσοτύπου γάρ στηρίξω σέθεν αἶγας ὑπὲρ ῥάχιν Αἰγοκερῆος ἢ σχεδὸν Ἡνιοχῆος, ὃς Ὠλενίην ἐν Ὀλύμπῳ (450) πήχεϊ μαρμαίροντι σελασφόρον Αἶγα τιταίνει. στήσω δ᾽ ὀμβροτόκοιο παρὰ πλατὺν αὐχένα Ταύρου σοὺς βόας ἀστερόεντας ἐπαντέλλοντας Ὀλύμπῳ, ἢ δροσερὴν παρὰ νύσσαν, ὅπῃ ζωθαλπέι λαιμῷ ἠνεμόεν μύκημα βόες πέμπουσι Σελήνης. (455) οὐδὲ τεῆς καλύβης ὀλίγης χρέος· ἀντὶ δὲ λόχμης αἰθερίοις Ἐρίφοισι συναστράπτοι σέο ποίμνη· καὶ φάτνης ἑτέρης τελέσω τύπον, ὄφρα καὶ αὐτή ἰσοφυὴς λάμψειεν Ὄνων παρὰ γείτονι Φάτνῃ. ἔσσο καὶ ἀστερόεις μετὰ βουκόλον, ἧχι Βοώτης (460) φαίνεται, ἀστραίην δὲ καλαύροπα καὶ σὺ τιταίνων ἔσσο Λυκαονίης ἐλατὴρ Ἀρκτῷος Ἁμάξης, οὐρανίου Τυφῶνος ὁμέστιος, ὄλβιε ποιμήν, σήμερον ἐν χθονὶ μέλπε, καὶ αὔριον ἐντὸς Ὀλύμπου· μολπῆς δ᾽ ἄξια δῶρα παρ᾽ ἀστεροφεγγέι κύκλῳ (465) στηρίξω σέθεν αὐλὸν Ὀλύμπιον, ἡδυμελῆ δέ οὐρανίῃ Φόρμιγγι τεὴν σύριγγα συνάψω. You shall not be parted from your herd. I’ll settle your goats over the backbone of Aigoceros, one of the same breed; or near the Charioteer, who pushes the shining Olenian She-goat in Olympos with his sparkling arm. I’ll put your cattle beside the rainy Bull’s broad shoulder and make them stars rising in Olympos, or near the dewy turning-point where Selene’s cattle send out a windy moo from their life-warming throats. You will not want your little hut. Instead of your bushes, let your flock go flashing with the etherial Kids: I will make them another crib, to shine beside the Asses’ Crib and so good as theirs. Be a star yourself instead of a drover, where the Ox-driver is seen; wield a starry goad yourself, and drive the Bear’s Lycaonian wain. Happy shepherd, be heavenly Typhon’s guest at table: tune up on earth to-day, to-morrow in heaven! You shall have ample recompense for your song: I will establish your face in the starlit circle of heaven, and join your tuneful pipes to the heavenly Harp.7

We could divide the text in three parts: in the first one (Dion. 1.448-459) Typhon promises Cadmus the catasterism of his animals, in the second one

7 The greek text of the Dionysiaca in this contribution follows the Belles Lettres edition of VIAN (1976), Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II). The translations are by ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca (I).

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(Dion. 1.460-464) the catasterism of Cadmus himself, and in the third one (Dion. 1.465-467) the catasterism of his αὐλός. Firstly, we notice in general that Typhon, in presenting all these catasterisms, follows an “associative logic”, that is to say, he proposes to place all the elements concerning Cadmus next to constellations having a similar shape: for instance, Cadmus’ goats would be placed on the backside of the Capricorn or next to the Charioteer, his oxen next to the Bull, Cadmus himself next to Bootes, and so on. It is the same logic we can find in Typhon’s assault to heaven, where the beasts forming his body attack the constellations having a similar shape. Secondly, some details in the description of the constellations seem to derive from Aratus. First of all, Typhon promises to place Cadmus’ goats on the backside of the Capricorn or next to the Charioteer (Dion. 1.448-451). The first option finds a reason simply in the shape of the constellation, which is similar to that of these animals (cf. Dion. 1.448 ἰσοτύπου), according to the traditional iconography of the Capricorn,8 or, more likely, refers to his name, which suggests a goat-like appearance. This option, as well as the second one, immediately reminds us of that “associative logic” followed by Typhon in his assault to the vault of heaven. But what is interesting here is that the second option clearly leads back to Aratus, who, in Phaenomena 162-166, describes the position of the Goat in this way: σκαιῷ δ᾽ ἐπελήλαται ὤμῳ Αἲξ ἱερή, τὴν μέν τε λόγος Διὶ μαζὸν ἐπισχεῖν· Ὠλενίην δέ μιν Αἶγα Διὸς καλέουσ᾽ ὑποφῆται. ἀλλ᾽ ἡ μὲν πολλή τε καὶ ἀγλαή, οἱ δέ οἱ αὐτοῦ (165) λεπτὰ φαείνονται Ἔριφοι καρπὸν κάτα χειρός. Fastened to his left shoulder is the sacred Goat, who is said to have tendered her breast to Zeus: the interpreters of Zeus call her the Olenian Goat. Now she is large and brilliant, but her Kids there on the Charioteer’s wrist shine faintly.9 8

The Capricorn is not described by Aratus, who mentions it as a sign of bad season in a long digression (Aratus Phaen. 282-299), but also as a reference point for the identification of other constellations. Eratosthenes (Cat. 27) considers it the catasterism of Aegipan. Cf. Sch. in Arat. 283, MAASS 1898, Commentariorum in Aratum, p. 397: ὁ δὲ Αἰγόκερως ὅμοιός ἐστι τῷ Αἰγίπανι. κατηστερίσθη δὲ εἰς τιμὴν τοῦ Πανός. εἰς γὰρ τοῦτον μετεβλήθη διωκόμενος μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν. (…) τῷ δὲ ἤχῳ αὐτοῦ, πανικῷ καλουμένῳ, τοὺς Τιτᾶνας ἐτρέψατο “the Capricorn is equal to Aegipan. He was catasterized to honour Pan. Indeed, he was turned into him – the Capricorn – while pursued together with the other gods. (…) With his voice, which is called ‘Panic’, he scared away the Titans”; MARTIN 1974, Scholia in Aratum, p. 220: εἰς Αἰγόκερων μετεσχηματίσθη ὁ Πὰν διωκόμενος καὶ αὐτὸς μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν ὑπὸ τῶν Τιτάνων, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο κατηστερίσθη καὶ ὁ Αἰγόκερως “Pan was turned into the Capricorn while pursued together with the other gods, he too, by the Titans, and for this reason also the Capricorn was catasterized” – translations are mine. Thus it is described as a creature with the legs of a goat and horns. Hyg. Poet. astr. 4.2.1 describes it in the same way. 9 All the translations from Aratus are by KIDD 1997, Aratus, Phaenomena. The Greek text follows the edition of MARTIN 1998, Aratos, Phénomènes.

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We can observe primarily that both authors attribute the same epithet to the Goat.10 In Aratus the adjective seems ambiguous, as it could mean “Olenus’ daughter”, but also “from the city of Olenus”, or could hint at the position of the Goat in heaven, on the Charioteer’s arm (ὠλένη means “arm”).11 For the first two possibilities, there are no decisive elements either in the Aratean passage, nor in the passage of the Dionysiaca under discussion. By contrast, the third interpretation, as it has rightly been noticed,12 is likely to be dismissed in the case of Aratus, because the poet mentions a shoulder (Phaen. 162, ὤμῳ) and not an arm.13 On the contrary, it perfectly fits the Nonnian passage, where the Goat is on the Charioteer’s “sparkling arm” (Dion. 1.451, πήχεϊ μαρμαίροντι): as a matter of fact, πῆχυς is roughly a synonym of ὠλένη, which properly identifies the arm from elbow down.14 Therefore, in my opinion, Nonnus here substitutes the obscure word of his model with a clearer one, in order to make its comprehension easier. I think it is a case of interpretatio, a procedure which appears particularly significant in relation to Aratus’ difficult poetry. Furthermore, we should not neglect the fact that, according to the myth which Aratus (and maybe also Nonnus)15 refers to in the passage above, the constellation of the Goat represents the catasterism of the Goat Amalthea, Zeus’ nurse in Crete.16 If we take this into account, the placement proposed by Typhon for Cadmus’ goats, next to a creature whose role was fundamental for the life of the father of the gods,17 proves extremely significant: indeed, the The parallel is reported also by KIDD 1997, Aratus, Phaenomena, p. 243 and GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 174. 11 Cf. KIDD 1997, Aratus, Phaenomena, p. 243; MARTIN 1998, Aratos, Phénomènes, pp. 228231 and GIGLI PICCARDI, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 174, but also Sch. in Arat. 164 (MARTIN 1974, Scholia in Aratum, p. 162): ὠλενίη δὲ λέγεται διὰ τὸ ἐπὶ τῆς ὠλένης τοῦ Ἡνιόχου. ἤ, ὡς ἄλλοι, Ὠλένου θυγάτηρ, ἢ ἐξ Ὠλένου πόλεως. Maass in his edition leaves out the last option (ἢ … πόλεως); see MAASS 19582, Commentariorum in Aratum, p. 368. 12 Cf. KIDD 1997, Aratus, Phaenomena, p. 243 and MARTIN 1998, Aratos, Phénomènes, pp. 228-231. 13 ZANNONI 1948, Fenomeni e Pronostici, improperly translates “braccio” (arm), cf. also DEL CORNO – MALETTA – TISSONI 1997, Nonno, Dionisiache (1-12). 14 GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 174 simply thinks that Nonnus hints at the first of the three possible interpretations of the word “dando risalto all’inizio del v. 451 al ‘braccio luminoso’ dell’Auriga.” VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 161 mentions the possibility that Nonnus explains Ὠλενίην with πήχεϊ, but only as a final option and without providing further explanation. 15 Cf. ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca (I), p. 35; VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 161; DEL CORNO – MALETTA – TISSONI 1997, Nonno, Dionisiache (1-12), p. 225 and GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 174. 16 The myth is narrated also by Eratosthenes (Cat. 13, about the Charioteer), who, however, attributes the name “Amalthea” not to the goat, but to the girl who owns it by Zeus’ will, as in Hyg. Poet. astr. 2.13.3-4, where we can read other myths linked to this constellation). See also Callim. Hymn 1.48-49, employed by Nonnus as a model in some passages of the Dionysiaca which are not astronomical (namely Dion. 28.314-316 and 46.16-18). 17 According to the tradition, when Zeus is still a child, he is hidden in Crete in order to escape from his father Cronus. 10

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Giant, after realizing various “caricatures” of catasterism, here declares himself able to emulate “real” catasterisms in every respect, especially because also in this case it would be a reward for a worthy deed. The verb τιταίνει (Dion. 1.451), as Vian notices,18 translates into an active form the Aratean expression ἐπελήλαται ὤμῳ (Phaen. 162), where ἐπελήλαται is to be understood as “l’équivalent de ἐπίκειται, mais avec l’idée de mouvement”.19 This substitution obviously depends on the fact that the focus here is on the Charioteer, because it is near the Charioteer that Cadmus’ goats could be placed. Moreover, it is worth noting that at the same verse there are two words (Dion. 1.451, μαρμαίροντι and σελασφόρον) expressing a form of light that is exclusively linked to the celestial elements. At Dion. 1.452-455 Typhon worries about Cadmus’ oxen, which he proposes to place beside the Bull’s neck or next to the “dewy turning-point”, i.e. the point where the moon rises in springtime, which all the mentioned elements (the dew, the “windy moo” – the Zephyr – sent out by Selene’s oxen) refer to.20 The second option finds an explanation in the presence of Selene’s oxen at that very point and, therefore, in the associative logic already detected in this section of the poem.21 The first option can be easily understood (the bull is, after all, an ox). But it could also remind us of Apollonius Rhodius;22 as Vian writes,23 more precisely of the iunctura κατὰ πλατὺν αὐχένα at v. 429 of the first book of the Argonautica, which, however, refers to one of the oxen sacrificed by the Argonauts before their departure. If we take into account the context of the Apollonian nexus, we can grasp a sort of associative logic also here, in the interweaving of the Nonnian text and the passage employed as a model. Indeed, Cadmus’ oxen could be placed also beside the Bull’s neck, since Apollonius uses a similar expression to indicate the neck of an ox, which Cadmus’ oxen can be compared to. But, above all, we can find the designation of the Bull as an ox in Phaenomena 169-171, inside the description of this constellation: οὐδέ τις ἄλλῳ σήματι τεκμήραιτο κάρη βοός, οἷά μιν αὐτοί (170) ἀστέρες ἀμφοτέρωθεν ἑλισσόμενοι τυπόωσιν. One needs no other sign to identify the ox’s head, so well do the stars themselves model both sides of it as they go round. Cf. VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 161. MARTIN 1998, Aratos, Phénomènes, p. 227. 20 Cf. VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 161; DEL CORNO – MALETTA – TISSONI 1997, Nonno, Dionisiache (1-12), p. 225 and GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 174. 21 In this case, Selene’s oxen correspond to Cadmus’ oxen. 22 On the presences of Apollonius Rhodius in the Dionysiaca see, recently, MAZZA 2012, La fortuna della poesia, pp. 226-328. 23 Cf. VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 161. 18 19

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So, Aratus too is introduced in this interweaving, composition or – we could say – mosaic. Or, better, he seems the starting point, which provides Nonnus with an element that allows him to combine his text with Apollonius’. More in detail, Aratus mentions the Bull’s head as the head of an ox and it could be for this reason that Nonnus decides to attribute to this constellation an expression which in Apollonius refers to an ox, but – as usual – slightly varying it. In addition, we can observe that we find the Bull in conjunction with the spring also in other passages of the Dionysiaca: in 1.171 the constellation is blocked by Typhon in order to prevent the arrival of this season,24 while in 1.356-357 it represents the catasterism of the bull-Zeus and is portrayed with a dewy back,25 which we can compare with the “dewy turning-point” of the passage we are analyzing. It almost seems that the Giant wants to interrupt the spring which is linked to Zeus’ order and then restart it when he desires – namely when he would act like a new Zeus, acquiring and performing all of the god’s prerogatives. The following verses (Dion. 1.456-457), where Typhon promises the catasterism of Cadmus’ herd, which would be placed next to the Kids, are similarly inspired by Aratus. The Kids are mentioned by Aratus in Phaenomena 166,26 where they are represented on the Charioteer’s wrist: it is no doubt because of their position beside the Goat that they are mentioned by Nonnus. So, we can talk of associative logic again, but not as an assimilation of a terrestrial element to a celestial one, because we cannot find a perfect correspondence between the Kids and Cadmus’ herd of sheep, even if they are both head of cattle. Rather, here we have to understand this logic in the following sense. Probably the Kids are mentioned as they are located, according to Aratus, next to the Goat and to the Charioteer, which are mentioned shortly before; all the more so as the Kids and the Goat are always mentioned together in the Phaenomena.27 Likewise, a perfect correspondence cannot be recognized between Cadmus’ hut and the manger which Typhon would shape and add to the celestial one (Dion. 1.458-459). It is once more Aratus who talks about this particular constellation, in Phaenomena 892-908: σκέπτεο καὶ Φάτνην. ἡ μέν τ᾽ ὀλίγῃ εἰκυῖα ἀχλύι βορραίη ὑπὸ Καρκίνῳ ἡγηλάζει, ἀμφὶ δέ μιν δύο λεπτὰ φαεινόμενοι φορέονται ἀστέρες οὔτε τι πολλὸν ἀπήοροι οὔτε μάλ᾽ ἐγγύς, (895) Dion. 1.171, εἴρυσεν Ἠριγένειαν· ἐρυκομένοιο δὲ Ταύρου. Dion. 1.356-357, νυμφίος ἀστερόεις ἀμαρύσσετο Ταῦρος Ὀλύμπου | εἰαρινῷ Φαέθοντι φιλόδροσα νῶτα φυλάσσων. 26 The Kids are mentioned also in Aratus Phaen. 679, where they are associated with storms, and 718, where they rise together with the Goat and the Bull. 27 Cf. Aratus Phaen. 679 and 718. 24 25

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ἀλλ᾽ ὅσσον τε μάλιστα πυγούσιον ὠίσασθαι, εἶς μὲν πὰρ βορέαο, νότῳ δ᾽ ἐπικέκλιται ἄλλος. καὶ τοὶ μὲν καλέονται Ὄνοι, μέσση δέ τε Φάτνη. ἥ τε κεἰ ἐξαπίνης πάντη Διὸς εὐδιόωντος γίνετ᾽ ἄφαντος ὅλη, τοὶ δ᾽ ἀμφοτέρωθεν ἰόντες (900) ἀστέρες ἀλλήλων αὐτοσχεδὸν ἰνδάλλονται, οὐκ ὀλίγῳ χειμῶνι τότε κλύζονται ἄρουραι. εἰ δὲ μελαίνηται, τοὶ δ᾽ αὐτίκ᾽ ἐοικότες ὦσιν ἀστέρες ἀμφότεροι, ἐπί χ᾽ ὕδατι σημαίνοιεν. εἰ δ᾽ ὁ μὲν ἐκ βορέω Φάτνης ἀμενηνὰ φαείνοι (905) λεπτὸν ἐπαχλύων, νότιος δ᾽ Ὄνος ἀγλαὸς εἴη, δειδέχθαι ἀνέμοιο νότου, βορέω δὲ μάλα χρή ἔμπαλιν ἀχλυόεντι φαεινομένῳ τε δοκεύειν. Observe also the Manger: like a slight haze in the north it leads the year in company with the Crab.28 On either side of it move two faintly shining stars, not at all far apart and not very close, but as far as the approximate estimate of an ell; one comes on the north side, the other on the south. Now these are called the Asses, and between them is the Manger. If suddenly, when the sky is clear all over, it disappears completely, and the stars that go on either side appear close to each other, then the fields are drenched with no mean storm. If the Manger should darken and the two stars be at the same time recognisable, they will be giving a sign of rain. If the one to the north of the Manger shines faintly, being slightly hazy, and the southern Ass is bright, expect wind from the south; and wind from the north you must certainly look for if the hazy and the bright stars are the other way round.

It is clear that the Nonnian expression Ὄνων … Φάτνῃ (Dion. 1.459) hints right at the Aratean description reported above. Indeed, according to this description, the Asses are the two stars placed at the sides of the Manger. It is worth noting that Aratus describes this constellation essentially for its meteorological characteristics. In fact, it provides useful information about weather, especially about the coming of rain and wind.29 Now, if we consider the stress on these two elements at the beginning of Typhon’s speech (Dion. 1.451-455), we can plausibly assume that the “Manger of the Asses” is mentioned in the Nonnian passage exactly for these meteorological peculiarities. However, we cannot exclude a reference to the myth which places the Asses in the context of the fight between gods and Giants and relates that they scared away the Giants and saved Dionysus, Hephaestus and the Satyrs.30 In this case Typhon For this interpretation cf. KIDD 1997, Aratus, Phaenomena, p. 481. As a matter of fact, the author talks about this constellation only in that section of the poem which is focused on the meteorological signs provided by the various constellations. 30 The myth is narrated by Eratosthenes, in the section devoted to the Cancer (Eratosth. Cat. 11), as the Manger is recognizable inside this constellation (we report here the text recorded by the Epitome, Greek text by PÀMIAS I MASSANA – ZUCKER 2013, Ératosthène de Cyrène): καλοῦνται δέ τινες αὐτῶν ἀστέρες Ὄνοι, οὓς Διόνυσος ἀνήγαγεν εἰς τὰ ἄστρα. ἔστι δὲ αὐτοῖς καὶ Φάτνη παράσημον· ἡ δὲ τούτων ἱστορία αὕτη· ὅτε ἐπὶ Γίγαντας ἐστρατεύοντο οἱ θεοί, λέγεται Διόνυσον καὶ Ἥφαιστον καὶ Σατύρους ἐπὶ ὄνων πορεύεσθαι· οὔπω δὲ ἑωραμένων αὐτοῖς 28 29

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would choose this constellation because he wants to imitate Zeus: just like the Asses of the Manger have been the assistants of the gods against the Giants, Typhon will create in heaven a new manger which will be by his side, because it will be shaped for Cadmus, in return for his charming music. Nevertheless, since we have no elements in the text to lean towards this hypothesis, I would be more inclined to subscribe the other one. At Dion. 1.460-464 Typhon comes to plan Cadmus’ own catasterism. Also in this case we trace the usual associative logic, given that he, as a herdsman (Dion. 1.460, βουκόλον), will be placed next to Bootes, the celestial herdsman,31 represented here with the typical rod of the herdsman (Dion. 1.461, καλαύροπα) and driving the “Bear’s Lycaonian wain” (Dion. 1.462, Λυκαονίης ἐλατὴρ Ἀρκτῷος Ἁμάξης). We can observe that Nonnus uses the word Βοώτης (Dion. 1.460) to refer to this constellation, as well as in Dion. 1.168, in the description of Typhon’s assault to the vault of heaven. Moreover, as in that other passage, Bootes is associated with the Great Bear, whose epithet “Lycaonian” clearly leads to the myth, narrated by Eratosthenes, of Callisto, Lycaon’s daughter abused by Zeus.32 Notwithstanding, in the passage mentioned above the reason of this association between Bootes and the Great Bear remains deliberately vague, while here it seems clearer. Indeed, the identification of the Bear as a “Wain” and the definition of Bootes as a “driver of the Wain” encourage to exclude an allusion to the myth considering him Callisto’s son, Arcas.33 Rather, it seems likely that this representation of Bootes is to be understood as a reference to an old tradition considering him not a herdsman, but a wain driver,34

τῶν Γιγάντων πλησίον ὄντες ὠγκήθησαν οἱ ὄνοι, οἱ δὲ Γίγαντες ἀκούσαντες τῆς φωνῆς ἔφυγον· διὸ ἐτιμήθησαν ἐν τῷ Καρκίνῳ εἶναι ἐπὶ δυσμάς “some of their stars are called Asses, that Dionysus led to the stars. They have also a Manger as distinguishing mark; this is their story: when the gods fought against the Giants, they say that Dionysus, Hephaestus and the Satyrs rode asses; while they still did not see the Giants, being close, the asses brayed, and the Giants, hearing that voice, ran away; for this reason they were honoured with a position (lit. ‘it was established that they were’) in the Cancer at sunset” – translation is mine. Hyginus does not name any Manger, but mentions, in the section devoted to the Cancer, only the Asses and reports two versions of the myth involving them (Hyg. Poet. astr. 2.23.2-3): the second version is the same related by Eratosthenes, but the first one recognizes in the two stars the asses allowing Dionysus to cross a swamp and then reach Zeus’ oracle in Dodona, where the god goes in order to ask how to chase the insanity instilled in him by Hera. 31 Observe the continuous opposition between the terrestrial herdsman/shepherd Cadmus (cf. βουκόλον, ποιμήν and ἐν χθονί) and the celestial one (cf. ἀστερόεις, ἀστραίην and ἐντὸς Ὀλύμπου). 32 Cf. Eratosth. Cat. 1. 33 Cf. Eratosth. Cat. 8. 34 Cf., e.g., Sch. in Arat. 92 (MARTIN 1974, Scholia in Aratum, p. 119), where we can find the rod held by Bootes, which is not, however, the typical rod of the shepherd (καλαῦροψ) as in the Nonnian passage under discussion: Βοώτην δὲ οἱονεὶ ἁμαξηλάτην, ἔχοντα ἐν τῇ δεξιᾷ ῥόπαλον. MAASS 19582, Commentariorum in Aratum does not report this scholium in his edition.

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maybe a ploughman.35 But we have also to notice that the mention of the Wain reminds us of Aratus, especially of the iunctura ἁμαξαίης … Ἄρκτου at Phaen. 93,36 in the section devoted to Bootes’ description. It seems that Nonnus wants to clarify a tradition that Aratus does not report explicitly, but which the word employed hint at, so much so that, as already pointed out in footnotes, the scholia refer to this tradition. It is true that this characterization of Bootes as a wain driver (or ploughman) clashes with the other one, as herdsman, which especially the καλαῦροψ leads to and is required by the narration, but it is also true that Nonnus seems not to care about this. His only concern in these two verses seems to consist in exhibiting his erudition and demonstrating his knowledge of another tradition about Bootes, always with an eye to the Aratean text. We could say that a double identification for this constellation is proposed. The first one is the identification of Bootes as a herdsman, which the καλαῦροψ and the name Βοώτης lead to and is functional to the narration because the herdsman Cadmus has to be placed beside another herdsman. The second one is the identification of the same constellation as a wain driver or ploughman, which can be assumed from Dion. 1.462. These two interpretations overlap. In my opinion, it would be highly misleading in the Nonnian perspective to label this duality as a contradiction. In short, Nonnus draws from the Aratean repertory the constellations considered useful and re-elaborates their features following different modes and traditions, but always trying to make sure that the model is recognizable in the text. The last reward promised to Cadmus in exchange for his music is the catasterism of his musical instrument, indicated by αὐλόν before and σύριγγα then, which would be paired in heaven with the Lyre (Dion. 1.465-467): the “starlit circle of heaven” where Cadmus’ instrument would be placed is the Tropic of Cancer, containing exactly the constellation37 which it would be paired to.38 We can suppose that Nonnus draws from Aratus this position of the Cf. BREITHAUPT 1915, De Parmenisco grammatico, pp. 44-46, especially p. 44: de veriloquio meditati et antiqui et recentes bubulcum intellexerunt. Ac primus quidem Aratus hanc interpretationem amplectitur (…). Poetae sententiam sequitur scholiasta. 36 This parallel, as far as I know, has not been noticed. GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 175 believes that the expression derives only from Callim. Hymn. 1.41. We can trace a memory of this Aratean iunctura also in Dion. 1.251. 37 Cf. VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 162, who rightly specifies that the Lyre is located beside this circle, while GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 175, thinks that the Lyre is located inside the Tropic of Cancer. FERABOLI 1984, Astrologica in Nonno, p. 52 excludes that this circle is Ariadne’s Crown, which is not accompanied by musical instruments, or the Austral Crown, which has still no name in Aratus and Hipparchus. The scholar believes that we have to look not at the sphaera graecanica, but at the sphaera barbarica (Egyptian and Chaldean) in order to identify it, but this seems unlikely. 38 The correspondence between Cadmus’ αὐλός and the constellation of the Lyre is not perfect, as in the cases analyzed above (Cadmus’ herd and Kids; Cadmus’ hut and Manger). The two elements are associated only because of their musical features. 35

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Lyre in relation to the Tropic,39 as in Phaen. 487-488, among the constellations which are located on this circle, the poet mentions “the Bird’s neck with the head at one extremity” (ὑπαύχενον Ὀρνίθειον | ἄκρῃ σὺν κεφαλῇ).40 In addition, we know from Phaen. 273-274 that the Bird (or the Swan) is placed next to the Lyre. It is worth noting the Nonnian employment of the word Φόρμιγξ, variation of the Aratean Λύρα, which we can find also at Dion. 1.257, accompanied by the adjective ἀστερόεσσα instead of οὐρανίῃ. By the way, we have to observe that the same Lyre which reacted to Typhon’s assault and preannounced Zeus’ victory is mentioned by the Giant now, in the speech where he promises Cadmus the last reward, i.e. the catasterism of his αὐλός, which would celebrate him. But Typhon boasts of a victory he has not obtained and will not obtain. 3. Conclusion In the light of what we have remarked, we can conclude that Nonnus uses Aratus’ poem as a hypotext,41 taking it as a point of reference, so that it can be recognized, but also varying and even subverting it. Indeed, Typhon questions Aratus’ configuration of the vault of heaven, which is characterized by a total rigidity, proposing the addition of new elements. After having turned heaven upside down, Typhon usurps, although only in words and not in reality, one of Zeus’ prerogatives, namely the catasterism,42 as a reward for a worthy deed.43 In this sense, it is also important to note that he employs the verb στηρίζω, frequently used in the descriptions of catasterisms,44 and attributes to himself an adjective normally reserved to gods (Dion. 1.463, οὐρανίου): the Giant acts like Zeus even from a linguistic point of view. In my opinion, we can also read the passage in a metaliterary perspective: behind Typhon we can see a challenge issued by the poet Nonnus to the poet Aratus in order to create something new, a sort of personal astronomy. A proof of this is Dion. 1.346-348, where the Giant says that he wants to create an

39

Eratosthenes does not mention this element in his work. Hyg. Poet. astr. 4.2.1 locates Swan’s head and a little part of its left wing on the Tropic of Cancer. 41 By “hypotext” we mean the earlier text underlying the text we are concerned with. 42 This act emerges particularly from the Aratean poem as a law established by Zeus: see, for example, Aratus Phaen. 10-13 (αὐτὸς γὰρ τά γε σήματ᾽ ἐν οὐρανῷ ἐστήριξεν, | ἄστρα διακρίνας, ἐσκέψατο δ᾽ εἰς ἐνιαυτόν | ἀστέρας οἵ κε μάλιστα τετυγμένα σημαίνοιεν | ἀνδράσιν ὡράων, ὄφρ᾽ ἔμπεδα πάντα φύωνται). 43 Cf. Dion. 1.465 μολπῆς δ᾽ ἄξια δῶρα. 44 In the Phaenomena this verb is recurring (see, e.g., Phaen. 10 and 230). Eratosthenes prefers the compound with κατά, together with other verbs, among which ἄγω/ἀνάγω, accompanied by εἰς τὰ ἄστρα, and τίθημι, associated with ἐν τοῖς ἄστροις: on this theme cf. BARTALUCCI 1989, Il lessico dei catasterismi, pp. 359-360. 40

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eighth sky, full of brighter stars, and the brightness of the stars is a feature particularly emphasized by Aratus.45 The associative logic, characterized by an attention to the similarities between constellations, as well as between constellations and reality, leads to a Neoplatonic theme, i.e. the relationship between original and copy.46 Nonnus seems willing to approximate more and more the constellations to reality, describing them as real creatures. We can thus say that the traditional astronomical genre is incorporated in the Dionysiaca especially through Aratus, alongside other genres, in a fundamentally Homeric framework, in line with Nonnus’ ποικιλία. But, at the same time, it is innovated in accordance with the philosophical background of Nonnus’ age. It is particularly significant that the last constellation described in the Dionysiaca, Ariadne’s Crown, is different from the other ones: its catasterism is claimed by Dionysus as his own act. In this sense, it can be considered a symbol of unity, which opposes to ποικιλία and to which ποικιλία has to return. Nevertheless, I think that appreciating this tension rather than trying to resolve it could be a good way to understand Nonnus’ changeling and constantly elusive poetry.

45 For a more detailed explanation of this interpretation, see my PhD dissertation, MAGNOLO 2018, Arato e Licofrone nelle Dionisiache, and also my book, MAGNOLO 2020, La poesia Nonniana. 46 On Neoplatonic themes in Nonnus see HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2014, Neoplatonic Form, pp. 229-250.

PART THREE: ROADS UNDER CONSTRUCTION. NONNIAN INNOVATIONS AND THEIR PRECEDENTS

VIII. NONNUS’ DIONYSIACA AND THE WRITTEN WORD1 Katerina CARVOUNIS and Sophia PAPAIOANNOU

With the exception of Glaucus’ possible reference to literacy in Iliad 6.168 (σήματα λυγρά),2 writing is generally absent from post-Homeric Greek epic poetry.3 Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, however, stands in stark contrast to this tradition: as Verhelst has recently noted, apart from verbs of singing (such as ἀείδω: Dion. 1.12, Dion. 25.6), the poet also uses “verbs that seem to refer to a writing activity” when he describes his own poetic undertaking (Dion. 25.10, χαράξω).4 Furthermore, the narrator in the Dionysiaca reports on several occasions within the course of the narrative text that has actually been written or inscribed on tombs (Dion. 17.313-314, 37.101-102), on prophetic tablets (Dion. 12.7089, Dion. 12.97-102, Dion. 12.110-113, Dion. 41.315-317, Dion. 41.389-398) and upon arrows (Dion. 7.117-128), as well as on flower petals or folded tablets to convey a brief message (Dion. 21.277, 48.619-620).5 The present contribution examines closely these instances in order to illustrate that writing is used in a pointed and innovative way within the Dionysiaca, as Nonnus draws on contemporary culture and shows possible influences from the Latin epic tradition. This latter point is linked to the broader question of Nonnus’ familiarity with Latin literature, which has received increasing attention in recent years but remains fraught with difficulties. Given that familiarity of later Greek-speaking poets with the Latin tradition is generally viewed with skepticism and that the possibility of a (now lost) common source for two belated poets can never be rejected with certainty, particularly interesting – and even convincing – parallels between the Dionysiaca and the Metamorphoses are not enough to prove the case conclusively to scholars reluctant to accept Nonnus’ engagement with Ovid.6 Nevertheless, it is important to bear in mind that the picture in the fifth 1 The text for the Dionysiaca is from the Budé edition (VIAN ET AL. 1976-2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques). All translations from the Greek are our own unless otherwise acknowledged. 2 See SCODEL 1992, Inscription, absence, and memory, p. 58 (cited in VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 164 n. 48); for the σήματα λυγρά see n. 14 below. 3 VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 164 n. 48: “To my knowledge, and probably in imitation of Homer as part of the conventions of the genre, there are likewise no references to writing or literacy in Apollonius or Quintus. In Nonnus, on the other hand, there is a remarkable density of references to writing, including references to the Iliad as a written text (…).” 4 VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 164 n. 48. 5 VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, pp. 25 n. 80 and 164 n. 48. 6 The present contribution follows closely after two previous studies on Nonnus’ engagement with Vergil and Ovid: CARVOUNIS – PAPAIOANNOU 2022, Rivalling song-contests and CARVOUNIS – PAPAIOANNOU 2021, Nonnus’ Dionysiaca and the Latin tradition.

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century AD is different from that in the early centuries of the empire, where there are considerably fewer direct references to Roman authors and their works. Moreover, bilingual papyri between the fourth and sixth centuries AD elucidating Vergil’s Aeneid form a body of contemporary evidence that shows that there was interest in Greek-speaking quarters in Egypt to understand Latin on the basis of Vergil’s work.7 At the turn of the fourth and fifth century AD Claudian stands out as one, at least, case of a poet originating from Alexandria who subsequently moved to Rome and was well versed in both the Greek and Latin literary traditions. It is also relevant to note that Ovid remained an important Roman author throughout the Late Antiquity and a model for Roman poets, such as Rutilius Namatianus and Dracontius, as well as a name familiar to a Greek readership aware of Latin auctores, according to John the Lydian in the early sixth century.8 There seems, then, to be no obvious reason to deny Nonnus’ familiarity with important Latin works such as Vergil’s Aeneid and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, either in translation or in the original; but the question remains whether or not he engaged with these Latin works in a meaningful way and how this engagement can cast further light on Nonnus’ own poetics. In examining the function of the written word in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, this contribution also argues for possible inspiration from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, drawing attention to similarities between particular scenes in Nonnus and Ovid that seem too striking to ignore and which relate to the use of writing in epic. 1. Two Messages and a Catalogue In the narrative of the Dionysiaca writing appears twice in places where it could potentially alter the course of events. Both occasions concern a written message directed to Dionysus himself: in Dionysiaca 21 Dionysus has dispatched a messenger to Deriades to convey to the Indians his order to accept the wine and pour libations to the gods without warfare (Dion. 21.233-235), adding that, if they refuse, he shall wage war; the messenger concludes with a request for an (oral) message to report back to Dionysus (Dion. 21.238-239, εἰπὲ καὶ αὐτός | εἰρομένῳ τινὰ μῦθον, ἵν᾽ ἀγγείλω Διονύσῳ).9 In his lengthy reply, Deriades belittles Dionysus, renounces the gods, and rejects the wine of Dionysus (Dion. 21.241-264); as he turns the messenger away, he includes a sarcastic exhortation to Dionysus to gather his troops and take up arms against See SCHUBERT 2013, L’apport des papyrus. These translations were intended more as a crib to help readers understand Latin rather than as a commentary allowing them to interpret or engage with the literary qualities of the poem itself. 8 FISHER 2011, Ovid metempsychosis, pp. 30-31 (although FISHER 2011, Ovid metempsychosis, p. 29, remains skeptical about Nonnus’ familiarity with Ovid). 9 “You, too, tell a word to me as I speak, that I may announce to Dionysus.” 7

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him (Dion. 21.267-269),10 before closing with a threat to the messenger himself (Dion. 21.266-273). He then inscribes a one-line message to Dionysus upon a tablet with two folding sides: Dion. 21.275-277, καὶ πίνακος [corr.: σάκεος] πτυκτοῖο μέσον κενεῶνα χαράξας | τοῖον ἔπος ταχύμυθος ἐπέγραφε δίζυγι δέλτῳ: | ‘Εἰ δύνασαι, Διόνυσε, κορύσσεο Δηριαδῇ’.11 This brief written message corresponds, as Hopkinson has put it,12 to the oral “ultimatum” that Dionysus had asked his herald to address to Deriades earlier in the narrative: Dion. 18.317-319, τοῦτο μολὼν ἄγγειλον ἀγήνορι Δηριαδῇ· | “κοίρανε, νόσφι μάχης ἢ δέχνυσο δῶρα Λυαίου, | ἢ Βρομίῳ πτολέμιζε καὶ ἔσσεαι ἶσος Ὀρόντῃ.”13 The diction describing how Deriades prepares the message for Dionysus recalls the single possible reference to written text in the Iliad, which is the message that Proetus had given to Bellerophon to bear, following the false accusations directed against the latter by Proetus’ wife: Il. 6.168-169, πόρεν δ᾽ ὅ γε σήματα λυγρά | γράψας ἐν πίνακι πτυκτῷ θυμοφθόρα πολλά.14 Yet whereas the written message in Iliad 6 was sufficient to incriminate Bellerophon and make him confront potentially mortal dangers (Il. 6.178-190), Dionysus’ messenger in Dionysiaca 21 both reports the arrogant tone of Deriades and delivers the tablet with the written message, which Dionysus then reads and takes into consideration: Dion. 21.301-302, “He told (ἐνέπων) of Deriades’ proud folly while carrying the double tablet (δίζυγα δέλτον) pregnant with war”; 21.304-305, “He recognised the signs inscribed on the witnessing tablet (μάρτυρι δέλτῳ).” The written word, then, at this point in the narrative has no separate bearing on the plot, but rather complements and reinforces the oral message. Another written message addressed to Dionysus occurs in the episode of Aura’s rape near the end of the epic. The huntress Aura has been tricked by Eros and Peitho into quenching her thirst with wine rather than water and she falls asleep on the ground; Eros notices her and descends from heaven to address Dionysus in direct speech: Dion. 48.616, ‘Ἀγρώσσεις, Διόνυσε; Μένει δέ σε παρθένος Αὔρη’.15 Eros departs towards Olympus, but not before he has inscribed on flower petals the following message, inviting Dionysus to consummate his union while the girl is still asleep: Dion. 48.619-620, ‘Νυμφίε, Dion. 21.267-269, ἐς ὑσμίνην δὲ κορύσσας | ἡμιτελεῖς σέο θῆρας ἀθωρήκτους τε γυναῖκας | Δηριάδῃ πολέμιζε. 11 “And, speaking fast, he carved this message in the middle vacant space of a folding tablet and inscribed upon the double tablet: ‘If you can, Dionysus, arm yourself against Deriades.’” 12 HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XX-XXIV), pp. 55-56. 13 “Go to proud Deriades and announce this: ‘Lord, either accept the gifts of Lyaeus without warfare or fight against Bromios and become like Orontes.’” 14 HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XX-XXIV), p. 222. For a good discussion of the meaning of σήματα λυγρά (and with further bibliography) see GRAZIOSI-HAUBOLD 2010, Homer, Iliad (VI), pp. 124-125. 15 “Are you hunting, Dionysus? The virginal Aura awaits you.” 10

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λέκτρα τέλεσσον, ἕως ἔτι παρθένος εὕδει· | σιγὴ ἐφ᾽ ἡμείων, μὴ παρθένον ὕπνος ἐάσσῃ’.16 In addition, then, to speaking one verse to convey advice to Dionysus, Eros leaves for him also a two-verse message in writing. Whereas the spoken message had simply sought to draw Dionysus’ attention to the virginal Aura waiting for him, the written message gives more explicit instructions about how the god should act at this point. Eros here twice underlines Aura’s virginal status (παρθένος) and exhorts Dionysus to consummate the union (λέκτρα τέλεσσον); he urges him to be silent, with a phrase that implies that the two are accomplices (σιγὴ ἐφ᾽ ἡμείων),17 and pointedly draws attention yet again to the fact that Aura is asleep (μὴ παρθένον ὕπνος ἐάσσῃ; cf. παρθένος εὕδει cited above). In this respect, then, the written word complements again the spoken message without making it clear whether Eros’ words or letter have an impact on Dionysus: the narrative does not mention the reaction of the god to either the spoken or the written message, only that he catches sight of Aura (Dion. 48.621, καί μιν ἰδὼν Ἰόβακχος) and rapes her in her sleep. This lack of direct communication between Dionysus and Eros finds parallel in the earlier lack of direct communication between Aura and Peitho within this same episode. When Aura reached a spring full of wine, Peitho removed the cloud that Eros had cast upon Aura’s eyes and addressed two verses to her, in which she invited the huntress to drink from that spring that will complete the marriage and to receive her husband in her embrace: Dion. 48.597-598, παρθενική, μόλε δεῦρο, τελεσσιγάμοιο δὲ πηγῆς | εἰς στόμα δέξο ῥέεθρα, καὶ εἰς σέο κόλπον ἀκοίτην.18 This exhortation reveals in no unambiguous terms what will happen if Aura drinks from the spring; yet the narrator states that 16 “Bridegroom, complete the union, while the virgin is still asleep; let there be silence upon our affairs, so that sleep may not abandon the virgin.” Elsewhere in the Dionysiaca, reference to writing on flowers is made with respect to the iris (ὑάκινθος), which is said to have the letters ΑΙ ΑΙ inscribed upon its petals, as Dionysus twice recalls when making a comparison between the posthumous fate of Ampelus and that of Hyacinthus: Dion. 12.225, αἴλινον ἀκλαύτοισι τεοῖς ἐχάραξε πετήλοις; Dion. 12.246, αἴλινα σοῖς πετάλοισι χαράσσεται. The same myth of Hyacinthus’ transformation into the homonymous plant bearing the inscription AI AI on its petal is recorded in Ovid Met. 10.215-216: ipse suos gemitos foliis inscribit, et AIAI | flos habet inscriptum. The transformation is recounted in detail in Met. 10.162-219. The same couplet is employed three books later to describe the metamorphosis of Ajax into a hyacinth, which likewise has the same inscription, AIAI, inscribed on its petals, which here identifies with the hero’s name in the vocative case and at the same time acknowledges its earlier significance as the sound for lamentation in the transformation of the boy Hyacinthus (Met. 13.397-398, littera communis mediis pueroque viroque | inscripta est foliis, haec nominis, illa querelae, “one inscription is in the middle of the petals, shared between the youth and the man: the latter being the one of his name, the former that of a lament”). On the passage, see PAPAIOANNOU 2007, Redesigning Achilles, pp. 163-164. It is plausible to argue that Nonnus is inspired by Ovid’s rendering of the inscription as potential common property (Met. 13.397, littera communis) across narratives and potentially textual boundaries, and ‘borrows’ it for Ampelus. 17 For this phrase cf. Dion. 8.263: Hera deceitfully to Semele; Dion. 22.112: a Hamadryad Nymph to Dionysus; Dion 29.361: a deceitful vision to Ares. 18 See CARVOUNIS 2014, Peitho, pp. 36-37.

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Aura saw (Dion. 48.599, κούρη δ᾽ ἄσμενος εἶδε), without adding anything further about what, if anything, she heard.19 Aura subsequently drinks from the fountain and is overcome by deep sleep. Eros then points out to Dionysus that she awaits him and, as we saw earlier, leaves his message on spring petals (Dion. 48.613-620). Peitho’s exhortation cannot have been heard by Aura, and it seems very likely that Dionysus, too, fails to notice Eros’ written message. The action on the human plane thus unravels in the narrative regardless of external factors that point, on both occasions, to the same direction; even if both written messages to Dionysus in Dionysiaca 21 and 48 are not instrumental for the plot, they interact with other parts of the epic and thus contribute to the shape of its structure. The written word appears yet again in connection with Eros within this epic to prepare for a future event that will be imminently covered by the narrative in Dionysiaca 7, where Eros arrives at the gates of primeval Chaos and brings a quiver containing twelve arrows that cause Zeus to desire mortal women. On the back of this quiver Eros has engraved with gold letters a verse sentence for each of the arrows, which refers to Zeus’ unions to Io, Europa, Pluto, Danae, Semele, Aegina, Antiope, Leda, Dia, Alcmena, Laodameia, and finally Olympias (7.117-128):20 Dion. 7.115-116, χρύσειον ἔπος μετρηδὸν ἑκάστῳ | ἔγραφεν εἰς μέσα νῶτα ποθοβλήτοιο φαρέτρης.21 The verbs used in each of these twelve sentences are in the present tense, which indicates that these arrows guarantee Zeus’ act of seduction as a consequence.22 After Eros observes and handles all arrows, he then puts them all back except for the fifth one, which he attaches to his bow in preparation for Zeus’ union with Semele. This lengthy and unusual catalogue23 of Zeus’ mortal lovers follows after the catalogue of his immortal lovers at the end of Dionysiaca 5, where Zeus, gazing 19 See CARVOUNIS 2014, Peitho, pp. 37-38 (with nn. 49-52, for reasons why Aura does not seem to hear Peitho’s warning). 20 For a discussion of this passage see MONTES CALA 2009, Poesía epigráfica, pp. 230-231. 21 Transl. ROUSE, 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca: “Right on the back of his quiver of lovebolts he had engraved with letters of gold a sentence in verse for each.” CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), p. 174, however, argues that μετρηδόν here cannot mean ‘in verse’ (pace ROUSE), pointing out that elsewhere in the poem this adverb has the meaning ‘à la suite, progressivement’ (cf. Dion. 22.271, Dion. 42.54, Dion. 48.340), not unlike στοιχηδόν (cf. Dion. 7.129: see below) or ἀμοιβαδίς. 22 Dion. 7.117, ἄγει … εἰς λέχος; Dion. 7.118, μνηστεύεται; Dion. 7.119, εἰς ὑμέναιον ἄγει; Dion. 7.120, καλέει … ἀκοίτην; Dion. 7.121, ἐπεντύνει … ὑμεναίους; Dion. 7.123, Ἀντιόπην Σατύρῳ … συνάπτει; Dion. 7.124, κύκνον ἄγει γυμνόχροϊ Λήδῃ; Dion. 7.125, λέκτρα φέρει; Dion. 7.126, θέλγεται … ἀκοίτης; Dion. 7.127, μεθέπει νυμφεύματα; Dion. 7.128, πόσιν ἕλκει. 23 Regarding the sources of this catalogue, it has been argued that Nonnus contaminated a catalogue of theogamies probably drawn from Pisander of Laranda (see CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), p. 75 n. 1, pointing to KEYDELL 1935, Die Dichter, pp. 301-311) and a generic scene where Eros shoots an arrow to inspire love, or that Nonnus may have consulted a mythographic manual, since the liaisons cited in this catalogue are included in other

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at Persephone’s body, desires her more than when he had desired Aphrodite and rejects his other well-known divine consorts, namely Hera, Dione, Deo, Themis, and Leto (Dion. 5.611-621).24 In a recent chapter on catalogues in the Dionysiaca where Miguélez Cavero introduces the sub-category of “long-span catalogues” that convey “the wider chronological frame of the poem”,25 she includes these two catalogues among other lists of Zeus’ lovers, which, she notes, are “built up on the model of the catalogue of Zeus’s lovers from the episode of the deception of Zeus” (Il. 14.315-327).26 It is important, however, to note that, apart from the present catalogue and the one in Dionysiaca 7 mentioned earlier, all other catalogues are given by characters rather than the narrator and that they consistently feature Semele, Europa, Danae, and (occasionally) Io as parallels or examples in rhetorical speeches: Hera in Dionysiaca 8 names some of the women (Danae, Europa, Io) for whose sake Zeus underwent transformation (Dion. 8.136-151), with Danae and Europa appearing again in Semele’s own speech to Zeus when she asks to see him in his Olympian shape (Dion. 8.290-302) and again (with Io) in Zeus’ reply to Semele (Dion. 8.362-365). The latter further compares herself favourably to other goddesses (Hera, Maia, Leto) who bore divine offspring to Zeus (Ares, Hermes, Apollo, Hephaestus), on the grounds that it was only for Dionysus that Zeus acted as both father and mother (Dion. 9.208-242). When Dionysus is in love with Nicaea in Dion. 16.51-68, he thinks that he too would like to undergo transformation just like his father when he pursued his own love affairs (as a bull for Europa, an eagle for Aegina, and as shower of gold for Danae). More elaborate catalogues are offered on three further occasions: in wondering why Hera looks so downcast, Aphrodite lists earlier transformations of Zeus (as shower, bull, Satyr, horse, lightning) when he had seduced other women (Dion. 31.212-227), and Zeus then tells Hera that he desires her more than when he had desired Taygete, Niobe, Io, and Aphrodite (Dion. 32.63-73); finally, in consoling Dionysus after Ariadne’s petrification, Hermes lists mortal lovers of Zeus who died or disappeared (Electra, Europa, Semele: Dion. 47.694-704). The present list inscribed on Eros’ arrows in Dionysiaca 7 offers an ecphrastic variation of Zeus’ own catalogue of female lovers which he relates to Hera accounts of Zeus’ love affairs, which may also derive from such a source (see ZUENELLI 2018, Mythographic lists, p. 74). 24 CHUVIN 1976, p. 194: “Le catalogue des six amours célestes de Zeus est peut-être à rapprocher de celui de ses douze amours terrestres (Dion 7.117-128).” 25 MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2018, Nonnus’ Catalogic Strategies, pp. 69, 71. 26 MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2018, Nonnus’ Catalogic Strategies, pp. 69, 71. In the relevant catalogues, MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2018, Nonnus’ Catalogic Strategies, pp. 69-71 (with n. 62), underlines the overwhelming presence of Semele, which she takes to indicate how “Nonnus makes use of the catalogic form to emphasize the importance of Dionysus’ family in the narrative of the poem and beyond.”

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in Iliad 14.315-328: he had listed there five mortal women – Ixion’s wife (Dia), Danae, Phoenix’ daughter (Europa), Semele, Alcmene – and the offspring they bore him (Peirithoos, Perseus, Minos and Rhadamanthys, Dionysus, Heracles) before including also three goddesses (Demeter, Leto, Hera herself) without offspring. What is distinctive, however, about this particular catalogue is that, as Chuvin has pointed out, the first part is closely connected to the action in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, whereas the latter part refers to a subsequent period in time.27 The first arrow in Eros’ quiver takes Zeus to the bed of ‘ox-faced Io’ (Dion. 7.117, βοώπιδος … Ἰοῦς), while the second one refers to Europa’s seduction by bull-formed Zeus (Dion. 7.118, ἅρπαγι ταύρῳ). Io is daughter of Inachus and great-grandmother of Europa, sister of Cadmus, with Europa as a great-aunt of Dionysus and an instrumental character in the early action of this epic. After Io, the next two arrows are reserved for Europa and Pluto, who feature in the narrative of Dionysiaca 1; it is because of the latter that Typhoeus was able to steal Zeus’ divine weapons and threaten the world (Dion. 1.145149), and because of the former that Cadmus was in the right part of the world to confront Typhoeus and help restore Zeus’ order (Dion. 1.321-361). The next two arrows are directed against Danae, mother of Perseus, who will be directly compared to Dionysus in Dion. 47.496-567, and Semele, mother of Dionysus himself, who closes this first part of the catalogue. Both Danae and Semele feature in Zeus’ own catalogue in Iliad 14, and it is the fact that he appeared to them in bright splendour that is underlined in the present catalogue (Dion. 7.120, χρύσειον ἀκοίτην; Dion. 7.121, φλογεροὺς ὑμεναίους). The second part of the catalogue of Zeus’ mortal lovers refers to a subsequent mythological period in time and evokes the Trojan war through Aegina (mother of Aeacus, who is, in turn, ancestor of Achilles and Ajax), Leda (mother of Helen, Clytaemnestra, and the Dioscouroi), Laodameia (mother of Sarpedon), and Dia (mother of Peirithoos), as well as the Theban Cycle through Antiope (mother of Amphion and Zethos) and Alcmene (mother of Heracles).28 The verses that correspond to the next four women draw attention to the different guises Zeus adopted in seducing them: before his transformation into a stallion to seduce Dia, who is also alluded to in Zeus’ Iliadic catalogue (cf. Il. 14.317318), Nonnus’ catalogue includes Zeus’ transformations into eagle, Satyr, and swan to seduce Aegina, Antiope, and Leda respectively. Finally, from the last three women in this catalogue only Alcmena is included in Zeus’ catalogue in Il. 14 (cf. 14.323-14.324); but emphasis is given for all three on his union with them (Dion. 7.126, τρισέληνος ἀκοίτης; Dion. 7.127, νυμφεύματα; Dion.

CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), pp. 72-73. CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), p. 73, where he takes the reference to Dia, mother of Peirithoos, as part of the legend of Theseus. 27 28

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7.128, τριέλικτον … πόσιν), and the catalogue closes with the single historical character to be included here, namely, Olympias, mother of Alexander.29 To the women whose stories are referred to in the course of the epic (especially Io and Danae, but also Aegina and Alcmene) are added in this catalogue women whose unions with Zeus have already featured (Europa and Pluto) or are about to feature (Semele) in the narrative of this same epic, as well as others, too, whose unions with the god will take place in a later period of universal history. As the only written catalogue in the Dionysiaca, this sequence of verses on Eros’ arrows offers an authoritative and comprehensive account of Zeus’ relationships, which elevates Semele (and Dionysus) by putting Zeus’ liaison with her on a par with other unions repeatedly mentioned as exempla throughout this epic. That the union with Semele will be described shortly in the narrative adds to this catalogue a meta-literary function and a prophetic tone (see section 3, below), for this union becomes here part of a larger mythological framework. In a broader sense then, the function of writing seems innovative in the Dionysiaca in a way that evokes the similarly ingenious introduction of writing in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. As Wheeler has pointed out, writing in the Metamorphoses is introduced in extraordinary circumstances where there is no place for the spoken word: Io, who has been turned into a cow, reveals her identity to her father Inachus by tracing the letters of her name in the sand (Met. 1.649650, littera pro verbis, quam pes in pulvere duxit, | corporis indicium mutati triste peregit); Philomela, whose tongue has been cut by her sister’s husband Tereus after he raped her, uses writing to inform her sister of this crime (6.577578, purpureasque notas filis intexuit albis, | indicium sceleris); and Byblis, who cannot bring herself to declare to her brother Caunus her incestuous passion for him, does so by writing in folded wax tablets (9.515-516).30 In all these three instances in the Metamorphoses, however, writing has a dramatic impact on the recipient of the message (Inachus, Procne, and Caunus respectively); in the Dionysiaca, by contrast, in both messages addressed to Dionysus as the action unravels, writing is used to vary, or add to, the spoken word, and, as we shall see later on, to commemorate the past and open up the future. Therefore, although characters in both the Metamorphoses and the Dionysiaca deploy

29 Nothing further is said about Alexander, but some correspondences with Dionysus emerge clearly, albeit implicitly, from a broader comparison between the two: see CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), pp. 73-74, who draws attention to correspondences in this catalogue between Alexander and other offspring of Zeus who were related to Alexander’s parents, such as Alcmene’s son Heracles, ancestor of Philip, and Aegina’s son Aeacus, ancestor of Olympias (see Plut. Alex. 2). 30 WHEELER 1999, A Discourse of Wonders, pp. 50-58. See also JENKINS 2000, The writing in (and of) Ovid.

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writing as a form of communication of aesthetic value, the impact of this communication within the narrative follows the flow of the narrative in each epic. 2. Commemorating the Past: Tomb Inscriptions The written text features in the Dionysiaca also in the context of inscriptions;31 in fact, Nonnus’ epic contains four inscriptions envisaged by a character (‘potential epigrams’), and two inscriptions engraved in stone (‘actual epigrams’), which contain the formulaic ἐνθάδε κεῖται.32 The inclusion of such funerary epigrams in epic is a novel move; there are examples in the Iliad that could be seen as models or antecedents to this practice – such examples include Hector’s words in Iliad 7.87-91 on what someone would say when sailing past the tomb of the man he will soon kill (‘oral epitaphs’), and Verhelst has indeed argued that ‘potential’ epigrams in the Dionysiaca are equivalent to the potential τις-speeches in the Homeric epics33 – but inscribed funerary epigrams of this sort remain unparalleled in Greek epic.34 In the Latin epic tradition, however, if epigrammatic formulations such as the narrator’s apostrophe to Palinurus in Aeneid 5,35 which has been described as “an actual funerary epigram”, are left aside,36 there are few striking examples 31 As VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 25, points out, quoted inscriptions “seem unique to Nonnus’ epic in both narrator text and character text.” 32 See VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 164 n. 48. 33 VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, pp. 164-165. 34 SCODEL 1992, Inscription, absence, and memory, pp. 60-61, has argued that it is less likely that the relevant Iliadic passages offered inspiration to epitaphs or that similarities between these Homeric passages and epitaphs are coincidental, but that epic must have been familiar with epitaphs. Scholars have pointed out early military epitaphs from the 7th and 6th centuries; see THOMAS 1998, Melodious tears, p. 206, who argues that Hector’s words form “a funerary epigram, embedded into a larger literary genre, to which it has been adjusted”, while Il. 7.87-91 has also been described as an early – or the earliest (DINTER 2005, Epic and epigram, p. 153) – example of a funerary epigram or even a ‘pre-epigram’, since it is formulated before the literary genre of epigrams and Hector’s opponent has not actually died yet: DINTER 2005, Epic and epigram, p. 154. See DE JONG 1987, The voice of anonymity, p. 77, on ‘oral epitaphs’ in Homer. In Iliad 20 after Achilles kills Iphition, he boasts over the corpse in what has been described as an ‘oral epitaph’: Il. 20.389-392 ‘κεῖσαι, Ὀτρυντεΐδη, πάντων ἐκπαγλότατ᾽ ἀνδρῶν·| ἐνθάδε τοι θάνατος, γενεὴ δέ τοί ἐστ᾽ ἐπὶ λίμνῃ | Γυγαίῃ, ὅθι τοι τέμενος πατρώιόν ἐστιν, | Ὕλλῳ ἐπ᾽ ἰχθυόεντι καὶ Ἕρμῳ δινήεντι.’ See DINTER 2009, Epic from epigram, pp. 534-535. 35 Verg. Aen. 5.870-871, o nimium caelo et pelago confise sereno, | nudus in ignota, Palinure, iacebis harena. 36 THOMAS 1998, Melodious tears, p. 217. See also the narrator’s apostrophe to Aeolus, who is killed by Turnus in Aen. 12. Here, the narrator’s voice adapts the final couplet of Achilles’ Homeric boast over Iphition (mentioned in n. 34 above) into an elegiac couplet, as THOMAS 1998, Melodious tears, p. 218, argues. Further examples include the beginning of Aeneid 7 on Caieta (Aen. 7.1-7) and the narrator’s apostrophe to Nisus and Euryalus at the end of Aeneid 9 (9.446449). For epigrammatic echoes in Apollonius’ Argonautica see KOUKOUZIKA 2016, Epigrams in epic. There is no indication, however, that these epigrammatic formulations are committed to writing in these contexts.

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of verse inscriptions reported in epic: Aeneas records with a verse inscription his dedication of his shield outside Apollo’s temple in Aen. 3.287, while such a one-line dedicatory inscription also exists in Ovid’s Met. 9.794, dona puer solvit quae femina voverat iphis. Ovid further includes two inscribed funerary epigrams: one is a first-person epigram on Aeneas’ nurse Caieta (Met. 14.443444), and the other, to which we shall return (see further below), is the epitaph for Phaethon (Met. 2.327-328), with the words hic situs est strikingly appearing only here in Ovid.37 Let us now turn to the two Nonnian ‘actual’ epigrams, both of which contain the formulaic words ἐνθάδε κεῖται in Dionysiaca 17 and 37. After Dionysus has defeated Deriades’ son-in-law, Orontes, the latter commits suicide; he is then buried and lamented by the Hamadryad Nymphs, who inscribe on his tomb the following epigram (Dion. 17.313-314): Βάκχον ἀτιμήσας στρατιῆς πρόμος ἐνθάδε κεῖται, αὐτοφόνῳ παλάμῃ δεδαϊγμένος Ἰνδὸς Ὀρόντης. The Indian Orontes lies here, leader of the army; he, who dishonoured Bacchus and killed himself with his own hand.

Later on in the narrative of the Dionysiaca, the Corybants engrave upon the tomb of Opheltes, companion of Dionysus, the following epigram (Dion. 37.101-102): Νεκρὸς Ἀρεστορίδης, μινυώριος ἐνθάδε κεῖται, Κνώσσιος, Ἰνδοφόνος, Βρομίου συνάεθλος, Ὀφέλτης. The short-lived dead son of Arestor lies here, Opheltes: a dweller of Cnossus, slayer of Indians, companion of Bromius.

The formulaic phrase ἐνθάδε κεῖται is, of course, widespread in tomb inscriptions, which may well have been Nonnus’ source of inspiration.38 Yet it is also worth comparing the inscription engraved for Ovid’s Phaethon in Met.

37 Lucan’s hic situs est Magnus (Luc. 8.793) for the tomb of Pompey the Great is a further instance of inscriptions in epic: see DINTER 2009, Epic from epigram, p. 537. See the opening words in Ennius’ epigram for Scipio Africanus: Hic est ille situs, cui nemo civis neque hostis | quit pro factis reddere opis pretium. See BÖMER 1969, Ovidius, Metamorphosen (I-III), pp. 324-325, for the phrase hic situs est. 38 For epigraphic parallels see SCHULZE 1974, Zu einigen literarischen Inschriften, p. 125 n. 4. For parallels in the A.P. see (e.g.) 7.60 (Simias), 7.222 (Philodemus), 7.403 (Marcus Argentarius), 7.690 (Christodorus), 7.474 (Libanius): MONTES CALA 2009, Poesía epigráfica, p. 228 n. 6. MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, p. 171 n. 420 states that Dion 17.313-314 and 37.101102, “belong to the type ἐνθάδε κεῖται, represented in PEEK 1955, nos. 342, 397, 412, 735;” she adds that they “can be paralleled with several epigrams from the Palatine Anthology (7.310, 356-360, 580-581), which exploit the topic of the victim buried by the killer, and also with the Corpus Bucolicum.”

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2.327-328, which, as it was pointed out earlier, contains – uniquely in this place in Ovid – the Latin formulaic equivalent hic situs est:39 hic situs est Phaethon currus auriga paterni quem si non tenuit magnis tamen excidit ausis Here lies Phaethon, driver of his father’s chariot, and, even if he did not succeed in this task (sc. governing the chariot), he did perform it with great daring.

Apart from the fact that both Phaethon and Orontes fall in a river (Eridanos and Orontes respectively) and that Nymphs then prepare the burials and two-verse tomb inscriptions that contain the formulaic phrase hic situs est / ἐνθάδε κεῖται, there are further echoes between the final scenes of Orontes’ life and Phaethon’s story. When Orontes addresses Helios before committing suicide, he refers to the latter’s love for Clymene (Dion. 17.280), consort of Helios, who has played an important part as Phaethon’s mother in Ovid’s version of that myth. After Orontes has taken his own life, he falls into the river, which is subsequently named after him, and his body is carried away by the water (Dion. 17.306-309); Dionysus draws attention to the fact that it lies in “unfamiliar waters” (Dion. 17.292, κεῖσο, νέκυς, ξείνοισιν ἐν ὕδασιν), while Orontes’ wife Protonoe will specifically lament later on the fact that her husband died among foreigners (Dion. 40.118, καὶ θάνεν ἐν ξείνοισιν). Although Ovid’s Phaethon likewise falls procul a patria diverso maximus orbe (Met. 2.323), Clymene becomes attached to the tomb of her son: for her, Phaethon’s body is associated with his monument and the tomb has become a petrified version of Phaethon himself.40 The text of the inscription is assigned the task to evoke – by means of recreating the physical experience of the human body – the reality of the dead and lost Phaethon. A similar physical attachment seems to materialize Protonoe’s wish that she could embrace her husband Orontes even in the streams of his namesake river (Dion. 40.134 and 40.137, τίς με λαβὼν κομίσειεν ἐς ἱερὰ τέμπεα Δάφνης, | ὄφρα περιπτύξαιμι καὶ ἐν προχοῇσιν Ὀρόντην;). Finally, just as Ovid’s Phaethon story ends by joining the mythical framework to the historical context with the mention of the precious amber – that is, the tears of the Heliades – carried by the river, “one day to be worn by the brides of Rome” (Met. 2.365-366, quae lucidus amnis | excipit et nuribus mittit gestanda Latinis), so too the point made by the narrator after Orontes’ fall into the river that 39 GERLAUD 1994, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XIV-XVII), p. 146: “Nonnos se souvient peut-être ici du Phaéthon d’Ovide.” See DIGGLE 1970, Euripides, Phaethon, p. 198, for further discussion and for the point that this ‘reminiscence’ between Nonnus and Ovid is “all the more striking because Nonnus has applied it to a different subject,” since this epigram inscribed by the Nymphs is absent from Nonnus’ own narrative of Phaethon’s story but forms part of Orontes’ story. As DIGGLE 1970, Euripides, Phaethon, p. 198 points out, this parallel is first adduced by KEYDELL 1935, Rev. of J. Braune, Nonnos und Ovid, p. 601 n. 2. 40 Ovid pointedly refers to Phaethon’s name as the object of Clymene’s devotions at Met. 2.338-339: nomenque in marmore lectum | perfudit lacrimis et aperto pectore fovit.

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he gave his name to that river (Dion. 17.289, καὶ ποταμῷ κεκύλιστο καὶ οὔνομα δῶκεν Ὀρόντῃ), and the reference to the tomb and epigram may perhaps further bring to mind the story preserved by Pausanias (8.29.4) about a human figure found in the old bed of the river.41 The similarities between Ovid’s Phaethon epigram and Nonnus’ Orontes epigram thus go beyond the widespread formula hic situs est / ἐνθάδε κεῖται and extend to the wider structure of that episode.42 If it seems, then, plausible that Nonnus was familiar with the narrative about Phaethon as it is related in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and that he has drawn inspiration from that narrative for his own depiction of the burial of Orontes, it would be interesting to examine how he varies the theme of funerary inscriptions within his epic by noting the contrast between the funerary epigrams for Orontes, enemy of Dionysus, and Opheltes, companion of Dionysus. Whereas Orontes is an Indian (Ἰνδός) who dishonoured Dionysus (Βάκχον ἀτιμήσας) and took his own life (αὐτοφόνῳ παλάμῃ), Opheltes was a killer of Indians (Ἰνδοφόνος)43 who toiled with Dionysus (Βρομίου συνάεθλος) and died all too young (μινυώριος). Both epigrams define the deceased through their different relationship to Dionysus; in fact, as Lasek has recently argued, the epigram for Orontes seems to be glorifying Dionysus, whose name appears first, rather than Orontes, who has dishonoured the god, according to the epigram inscribed on his tomb (cf. Dion. 17.248, θεημάχος … Ὀρόντης).44 By drawing, therefore, on contemporary culture and, possibly, the Latin epic tradition to introduce tomb inscriptions within the Dionysiaca, Nonnus shapes his narrative through two parallel scenes inviting readers to note correspondences and contrasts. 3. Revealing the Future: Inscribed Prophecies Let us now turn to two scenes in the Dionysiaca where the written word opens up the future to characters within the epic. These two scenes are part of a type of scenes in the Dionysiaca, where a deity asks another god about the future

41 LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, p. 77 n. 25. Lasek further argues (ibid., p. 78 n. 26) that the incongruity arising from the fact that the Indian Orontes is being given a burial according to Greek customs further strengthens the reader’s impression that this is, in fact, a real inscription. 42 It would be interesting to mention here also the poets’ playful experimentation with characters’ requests for tomb inscriptions: in Met. 11.706-707 Alcyone desires a funerary inscription that would join her name with that of her husband Ceyx, whereas in Dion. 5.531-532 the dead Actaeon specifically asks his grandfather Cadmus, to whom he appears in a dream, not to inscribe on his tomb the circumstances of his death. Yet later on, his mother Autonoe places an inscription on his tomb describing his fate (Dion. 5.550-551), although Nonnus refrains from including that inscription in his narrative: LASEK 2016, Nonnus and the play of genres, pp. 414-415. 43 For Ἰνδοφόνος used of Dionysus himself (e.g. Dion. 23.14 etc.) see LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, p. 79 (n. 28). 44 LASEK 2009, Nonnos’ Spiel, p. 78.

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and which Vian has labeled “préludes cosmiques”:45 in Dion. 6.15-108 Demeter consults Astraeus about the fate of her daughter, while in Dion. 7.7109 Aion asks Zeus about the fate of mortals, and the latter then reveals the joys that Dionysus will bring; yet in Dion. 12.64-117 and Dion. 41.360-398, on which this last part of the present contribution focuses, deities view and read inscribed text on prophetic tablets. In the scene in question in Dionysiaca 12 the season Autumn is in Helios’ palace and asks him when grapes will grow, adding that she alone is without honour (ἀγέραστος) (Dion. 12.23-28); Helios points to her the tablets of Harmonia, which contain oracles that the primordial god Phanes engraved for the world (Dion. 12.64-116). The first two of these tablets depict the birth of gods and men respectively (Dion. 12.42-55, 12.55-63); the third is a catalogue of various transformation stories (Argus, Harpalyce, Philomela, Niobe, Pyrrhus, Pyramus / Thisbe, Crocus / Smilax, Atalanta, Cissus, Calamus) culminating in the transformation of Ampelus (Dion. 12.70-102); and the fourth tablet concerns sacred plants (Dion. 12.110-113).46 This third tablet, which contains information about the future and discloses Ampelus’ imminent transformation later in the narrative of Dionysiaca 12, is specifically said to be engraved with letters: Autumn observes the oracles of the world “in letters of glowing colour engraved with the artist’s vermilion, all that elaborate story which the primeval mind had inscribed:”47 Dion. 12.66-68, μόρσιμα παπταίνουσα πολύτροπα θέσφατα κόσμου, | γράμματα φοινίσσοντα, σοφῇ κεχαραγμένα μίλτῳ, | ὁππόσα ποικιλόμυθος ἐπέγραφεν ἀρχέγονος Φρήν.48 The oracle on the fourth tablet also represents the text inscribed on this tablet (Dion. 12.107, χαρασσομένων ἐπέων), which lists the special plants that Zeus bestowed to some of the Olympians: the laurel to Phoebus, roses to Aphrodite, the olive to Athena, corn to Demeter, and the vine to Dionysus (Dion. 12.110-113). Autumn absorbs these tablets and leaves rejoicing (Dion. 12.114-115, τοῖα μὲν ἐν γραφίδεσσι φιλεύιος ἔδρακε κούρη· | τερπομένη δ᾽ ἤιξε). In the parallel scene in Dionysiaca 41, Aphrodite is anxious about her daughter Beroe and visits the palace of Harmonia, who shows her tablets with oracles of history engraved by Ophion and describing the fate of Beroe’s city (Beirut)

45 VIAN 1993, Préludes cosmiques; see LIGHTFOOT 2014, Oracles, p. 49, for subtle ‘interlinkages’ among the passages. 46 ZUENELLI 2018, Mythographic lists, pp. 81-84, has recently argued for Nonnus’ use of a mythographic list for the composition of this particular tablet. 47 Transl. ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca. 48 As VIAN 1995, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), p. 60, points out, the fact that verbs of seeing are used for the first two tablets (Dion. 12.43, ὄπωπεν; Dion. 12.54, ἔδρακεν; Dion. 12.55, δέρκετο) does not necessarily mean that those tablets contain no inscriptions, since the verb ἔδρακε also occurs for the last two tablets (Dion. 12.103, Dion. 12.114).

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(Dion. 41.339-399).49 As Vian has pointed out, whereas in the earlier scene the four tablets of Harmonia (Dion 12.32, κύρβιας Ἁρμονίης) are in Helios’ palace and have been engraved by Phanes, in the later scene the seven tablets (Dion. 41.341, πίνακες) are in Harmonia’s palace and have been engraved by Ophion (Dion. 41.351-352, τοῖς ἔνι ποικίλα πάντα μεμορμένα θέσφατα κόσμου | γράμματι φοινικόεντι γέρων ἐχάραξεν Ὀφίων).50 Both episodes contain catalogues of events set in the future: as we saw earlier, in Dion. 12.70-102 there is a catalogue of transformations, while Dion. 41.372-384 offers a catalogue of first inventors and their works. Aphrodite in Dionysiaca 41 focuses then on the written tablet in the middle of the circuit of the universe, where she found τοῖον ἔπος σοφὸν… πολύστιχον Ἑλλάδι Μούσῃ (Dion. 41.388) and which reveals the glory of the city of Beroe in the Roman Empire (Dion. 41.389-398): ‘Σκῆπτρον ὅλης Αὔγουστος ὅτε χθονὸς ἡνιοχεύσει, Ῥώμῃ μὲν ζαθέῃ δωρήσεται Αὐσόνιος Ζεύς (390) κοιρανίην, Βερόῃ δὲ χαρίζεται ἡνία θεσμῶν, ὁππότε θωρηχθεῖσα φερεσσακέων ἐπὶ νηῶν φύλοπιν ὑγρομόθοιο κατευνήσει Κλεοπάτρης· πρὶν γὰρ ἀτασθαλίη πτολιπόρθιος οὔ ποτε λήξει εἰρήνην κλονέουσα σαόπτολιν, ἄχρι δικάζει (395) Βηρυτὸς βιότοιο γαληναίοιο τιθήνη γαῖαν ὁμοῦ καὶ πόντον, ἀκαμπέι τείχεϊ θεσμῶν ἄστεα πυργώσασα, μία πτόλις ἄστεα κόσμου.’ When Augustus as charioteer shall guide the sceptre of the entire earth, Ausonian Zeus will give sovereignty to divine Rome, but he will grant to Beroe the reigns of laws, when armed with shielded ships she shall subdue the battle cry of Cleopatra, fighting in the water; for recklessness that sacks cities will never cease to shake peace that saves cities, until Berytos, the nurse of peaceful life, passes judgement on both land and sea, having fortified towns with a rigid wall of laws, one city for all towns of the globe.

As Vian notes, the concept that laws or prophecies are written and preserved in a sacred place is widespread in Antiquity,51 and he cites among other examples the laws of Atlantis engraved on a stele in Poseidon’s temple (Plat. Critias 119c) and a golden stele with “sacred letters” relating the deeds of the gods

49 See VIAN 1993, Préludes cosmiques, pp. 40-42, on Harmonia in the Dion. and, more generally, on doubles: “Nonnos se plait au jeu des hypostases qui incarnent le même principe, d’une façon successive ou simultanée.” (VIAN 1993, Préludes cosmiques, p. 40). 50 “Upon these, old Ophion has engraved in red writing all the various fated oracles of the world.” VIAN 1995, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), pp. 56-57, where he offers further discussion and earlier bibliography on the comparison between the two scenes. See also the important discussion in LIGHTFOOT 2014, Oracles, p. 49 who further notes that whereas in the earlier scene “where the basic question is ‘when’ (to which season will the grape belong?), the principle is time,” in the later scene, “where the basic question is ‘where’ (to which city will the principle of law be assigned?), the principle is that of place.” 51 VIAN 1995, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), p. 55 (with n. 1).

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after Uranus (Diod. Sic. 5.46.7).52 Lightfoot further investigates “antecedents and paralels”53 for individual aspects of the present scenes, such as the idea of personified cosmic forces living in remote parts of the cosmos and that of the Fates recording the pronouncements of Zeus. One of the most interesting parallels adduced by Lightfoot for Nonnus’ scenes with the tablets of Harmonia and Ophion in Dionysiaca 12 and 41 respectively is the monumental record of fate in the final book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses: when Venus is distraught, as she can foresee that Julius Caesar will be assassinated (Met. 15.761-780), Jupiter tells her that she cannot alone change fate, so he invites her to enter the house of the Fates and read what they have written about the future of her race (Met. 15.808-815); since he has read it himself, he reveals to her that Julius Caesar will be deified and avenged by his heir, who will conquer all habitable lands on earth and establish peace and justice (Met. 15.816-839). The reference to Augustus’ impact on peace and justice is worth citing in full (Met. 15.822-833): illius auspiciis obsessae moenia pacem victa petent Mutinae, Pharsalia sentiet illum, Emathiique iterum madefient caede Philippi, et magnum Siculis nomen superabitur undis, (825) Romanique ducis coniunx Aegyptia taedae non bene fisa cadet, frustraque erit illa minata servitura suo Capitolia nostra Canopo. quid tibi barbariam gentesque ab utroque iacentes Oceano numerem? quodcumque habitabile tellus (830) sustinet, huius erit; pontus quoque serviet illi. pace data terris animum ad civilia vertet iura suum legesque feret iustissimus auctor… Under his leadership, the conquered walls of besieged Mutina will seek peace, Pharsalia will know him and Emathian Philippi will again be drenched by slaughter, and a great name will be overcome among the Sicilian waves, and the Egyptian wife of a Roman leader, unwisely trusting in her marriage, will fall, and in vain will she have threatened that our Capitol will be a slave to her Canopus. Why should I enumerate for you barbarian lands and the races lying by both Oceans? Whatever habitable place the earth contains will be his; the sea too will serve him. When he has given peace to the lands, he will turn his mind to civil legislation and will most justly propose and carry through laws. Plat. Critias 119c: Ὡς ὁ νόμος αὐτοῖς παρέδωκεν καὶ γράμματα ὑπὸ τῶν πρώτων ἐν στήλῃ γεγραμμένα ὀρειχαλκίνῃ, ἣ κατὰ μέσην τὴν νῆσον ἔκειτ᾽ ἐν ἱερῷ Ποσειδῶνος, “as handed down to them by the law and by the records inscribed by the first princes on a pillar of orichalcum, which was placed within the temple of Poseidon in the centre of the island” (Transl. LAMB 1925, Plato in Twelve Volumes), Diod. Sic. 5.46.7: κατὰ μέσην δὲ τὴν κλίνην ἕστηκε στήλη χρυσῆ μεγάλη, γράμματα ἔχουσα τὰ παρ᾽ Αἰγυπτίοις ἱερὰ καλούμενα, δι᾽ ὧν ἦσαν αἱ πράξεις Οὐρανοῦ τε καὶ Διὸς ἀναγεγραμμέναι, καὶ μετὰ ταύτας αἱ Ἀρτέμιδος καὶ Ἀπόλλωνος ὑφ᾽ Ἑρμοῦ προσαναγεγραμμέναι, “and on the centre of the couch stands a large gold stele which carries letters which the Egyptians call sacred, and the inscription recounts the deeds both of Uranus and of Zeus; and to them there were added by Hermes the deeds also of Artemis and Apollo.” Transl. OLDFATHER 1939, Diodorus Siculus, vol. 3). 53 LIGHTFOOT 2014, Oracles, p. 50. 52

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Both Ovid and Nonnus depict an anxious goddess resorting to a god who has access to the future that has been committed to writing and eventually being reassured precisely by reading these records.54 Both these scenes, then, present a similar setting for an open reference to Rome and to Augustus as ruler of the world. Nonnus, however, develops his model further in a manner that is not unlike the way Ovid, too, had further developed his own model here, which was Jupiter’s speech to Venus early on in Vergil’s Aeneid.55 After the Vergilian Venus had anxiously asked Jupiter about her son Aeneas (Aen. 1.257-296), he had promised to speak and disclose her son’s future, “further unrolling the scroll of fate” (Aen. 1.261-262, fabor enim, quando haec te cura remordet, | longius et volvens fatorum arcana movebo). As Wheeler has argued, this participle volvens implies a metaphorical book, which Ovid’s Jupiter transforms “into the fantasy of an indestructible, monumental office of public records in which the documents of Fate are stored on imperishable adamant.”56 If Ovid developed the Vergilian scene between Jupiter and Venus by turning the metaphor of a book roll into the solid records of the Fates, Nonnus has built upon the Ovidian scene by adding readers for these solid records; in fact, as Peter Bing has noted, the written tablets in the Dionysiaca offer the earliest depiction in epic of someone pausing before an inscription to read.57 However, whereas the prophecy of Ovid’s Jupiter had opened with key military victories achieved by Augustus’ forefathers and allies (Met. 15.823-825) culminating in Octavian’s victory over Cleopatra and Mark Anthony, and had then lingered on Augustus’ subsequent supremacy over land and sea (Met. 15.823-831), Ophion’s tablets in Dionysiaca 41 take this supremacy as their starting point (Dion. 41.389, σκῆπτρον ὅλης Αὔγουστος ὅτε χθονὸς ἡνιοχεύσει). The tablets then allocate rule to Rome and justice to Beirut (Dion. 41.390391), and the victory over Cleopatra is mentioned as a landmark event linked not only to Augustus, but also to the emergence of Beirut as the city of justice, See LIGHTFOOT 2014, Oracles, pp. 50-51: although she acknowledges that Ovid “otherwise parallels Nonnus’ scene so impressively, with a deity consulting a repository of written wisdom,” she then draws attention to the fact that “there is still a significant difference in what is written down, its nature and its scope” (her emphasis). She later on (see LIGHTFOOT 2014, Oracles, p. 52) concludes that Nonnus seems to be the only ancient author to combine various individual elements of this scene and thus offer “a consultation scene where revelation is dispensed against a background of cosmic imagery, and which consists of written material of such scale and scope.” MONTES CALA 2009, Poesía epigráfica, p. 238, concludes that Nonnus had models from the earlier epic tradition as well as epigraphic material to bring to the foreground the apocalyptic aspect of Dionysiac theology. 55 See BÖMER 1986, Ovidius, Metamorphosen (XIV-XV), p. 473. 56 WHEELER 2000, Narrative Dynamics, p. 56. 57 BING 2002, The un-read Muse, pp. 41-42 (expanded in BING 2009, The Scroll and the Marble, pp. 143-146). See FABER 2016, Nonnus and the Poetry of Ekphrasis, p. 449: “Nonnus offers a novel treatment of the mechanics of inscription, the practice of writing, and the hermeneutics of epigrammatic prophecy.” 54

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the city of all cities (Dion. 41.393-398).58 Therefore, by contrast to Jupiter’s prophecy in Metamorphoses 15, which had closed with the elevation of Augustus, who rules over land and sea, and administers peace and justice, Ophion’s tablets in Dionysiaca 41 end with the elevation of Beirut, for there was no peace before that city which ensured the administration of justice on land and sea (Dion. 41.397, γαῖαν ὁμοῦ καὶ πόντον). The focus, then, has shifted from the achievements of Augustus to those of the city of Beroe.59 It could, therefore, be argued that, having drawn inspiration from Jupiter’s prophecy in Metamorphoses 15, which constitutes the “ultimate example of writing,” as Stephen Wheeler has put it, in Ovid’s work, Nonnus develops the context and content of that prophecy according to both the dramatic setting of Dionysiaca 41, where Aphrodite is anxiously consulting the tablets about the future of her daughter Beroe, namesake of the city of Beirut, and the historical context of the 5th c. AD, following the decline and fall of the city of Rome. It is, then, plausible that Nonnus found in Ovid’s Metamorphoses a point of inspiration for his use of the written word within epic, as an expression of artistry, commentary, commemoration, and prophecy; and that he subsequently developed this medium further following the shape of its own narrative and poetics.

58 HADJITTOFI 2007, Res romanae, pp. 375-376, discusses the timing of the foundation of Beirut as a Roman colony with respect to these verses and argues that “[e]ven the accomplishment for which the city is praised here, the Law School, is meant to be propagating Roman law and order.” (p. 376). 59 According to CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 26, Nonnus’ Rome stands for the Empire, not the city itself; Rome has been moved to the east and the Roman law is in Beirut. Moreover, HADJITTOFI 2007, Res romanae, pp. 376-377, argues that by the fifth century, the appropriation of Roman history, law, and institutions establishes for the Eastern part of the Empire a sense of continuity with the Roman Empire of Augustus’ time: “[T]he fall of Rome on the one hand, and the gradual evanescence of the Hellenocentric world-view on the other, made way for more ‘cosmopolitan’ cultural identities, which included a Roman element more pronounced than before. Romanitas became, of course, useful during this period as a political tool as well: by appropriating Roman history, law, and institutions, the Eastern half of the Empire was able to establish itself as the ‘New Roman Empire’ among other, ambitious successor-states.”

IX. THE FORMULAIC DICTION OF THE ORPHIC ARGONAUTICA IN CONTEXT: A COMPARISON WITH NONNUS’ DIONYSIACA Alexandra MADEŁA

When formulaic diction is discussed, it is usually in the context of archaic Greek poetry, since it appears to be so closely related to the tradition of oral poetry. Yet, if we define “formulaic diction” simply as words and phrases which are repeated across a poem, such an investigation can yield fruitful results also in later periods. In Late Antiquity, it has been especially Quintus of Smyrna’s Posthomerica and both works by Nonnus (but particularly the Dionysiaca) which have been the object of such studies.1 Nonnus, broadly speaking, strives for variety in language as much as in content, unlike the Homerizing Quintus. However, little attention has so far been paid to the socalled Orphic Argonautica. This poem is relatively short (1376 hexameter lines) and pretends to be a poetic autobiography by the mythical bard Orpheus, who relates his adventures with the Argonauts to his disciple Musaeus. The author is unknown, with no external evidence for him and his work until the 10th-century Suda.2 The style appears (at first glance at least) archaic, which led scholars of previous centuries to believe that the Orphic Argonautica belonged to the beginnings of Antiquity.3 Only a closer analysis revealed that numerous features of its language were later Greek, which made the German scholar Gottfried Hermann conclude that the author flourished at some point between Quintus and Nonnus.4 This has more or less remained the communis opinio, with some dissenting voices postulating a post-Nonnian date.5

E.g. Apollonius: FANTUZZI 2008, “Homeric” Formularity. Nonnus: D’IPPOLITO 2016, Nonnus’ Conventional Formulaic Style; HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnus and Homer, pp. 14-16; MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, pp. 106-190; WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, pp. 78-154; WÓJTOWICZ 1980, Studia nad Nonnosem, pp. 184-217. Quintus: BÄR 2009, Quintus Smyrnaeus’ “Posthomerica” 1, pp. 54-61; JAMES – LEE 2000, A Commentary on Quintus, pp. 21-30; VISSER 1987, Homerische Versifikationstechnik, pp. 266-289. 2 S.v. Ὀρφεύς Κροτωνιάτης. 3 On earlier scholarship on the Orphic Argonautica, see SÁNCHEZ ORTIZ DE LANDALUCE 2005, Argonáuticas Órficas, p. 24. 4 HERMANN 1805, Orphica, pp. 772-810. 5 KEYDELL 1942, Orphische Dichtung, p. 1333; VIAN 1987, Argonautiques Orphiques, p. 46. 1

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In the following, I present a series of brief case-studies to illustrate how the formulaic language of the Orphic Argonautica differs from, but also shows surprising similarities with, Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. I will first investigate traditional formulas inherited from archaic poetry, then progress to “late antique formulas” which are not found in this form in Homer and Hesiod, but are common in Late Antiquity. In the process, I hope to shed some light upon the usage of formulaic diction in Late Antiquity in general, as well as upon the obscure and much-disputed connection between Nonnus and the author of the Orphic Argonautica. First, I will delineate the different approaches to formulaic diction by the anonymous author and Nonnus through a discussion of οὐρανός and its epithets. This noun is reasonably frequently attested in poetry on many different topics, and therefore can be used to compare the styles of different authors quite well. Next, I will also briefly illustrate how Homeric language can connect the Orphic Argonautica to the Dionysiaca by exploring one example of Nonnus appropriating an Iliadic phrase, and I will show how repetitive, formulaic diction of a more “modern” kind can connect his Dionysiaca to the very different Orphic Argonautica. Finally, I will look at the broader picture of formulaic language in Late Antiquity and attempt to situate the Orphic Argonautica in it. 1. The Epithets of οὐρανός The Orphic Argonautica is mostly concerned with matters that take place on the ground, but even so, the word οὐρανός for “sky” appears nine times. Six times, it has no accompanying epithet.6 The other three times, it is followed by the adjective εὐρύς (“broad”), always in the accusative singular, but never by any other epithet (Orph. A. 48, Orph. A. 687, Orph. A. 1021). It is therefore fair to say that within the Orphic Argonautica, this noun-epithet combination is used in a formulaic fashion. Oὐρανὸς εὐρύς is also a very typical combination in archaic poetry – one finds it 44 times in Homer, Hesiod, and the Homeric Hymns.7 Ps-Orpheus is therefore using an element of formulaic archaic language in his own poem in a similarly repetitive way. He closely imitates Homer’s usage of οὐρανὸς εὐρύς even in minor details. Orpheus first speaks of the “broad sky” when he relates to Musaeus how the “terrible gadfly” of frenzied inspiration, which had prompted him to sing of mystical topics, had left him. This “stinging gadfly flew away, abandoning [his] body, into the broad sky” (ἀπέπτατο δήϊος οἶστρος, | ἡμέτερον δέμας 6

Orph. A. 18, 422, 557, 564, 776, 984. Il. 3.364, 5.867, 7.178, 7.201, 8.74, 15.192, 19.257, 20.299, 21.267, 21.272, 21.522; Od. 1.67, 4.378, 4.479, 5.169, 5.184, 5.303, 6.150, 6.243, 7.209, 8.74, 11.133, 12.73, 12.344, 13.55, 16.183, 16.200, 16.211, 19.40, 19.108, 22.39, 23.280; Hymn. Hom. Cer. 13; Hymn. Hom. Ap. 84, 325, 334; Hes. Theog. 45, 110, 373, 517, 679, 702, 746, 840. 7

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ἐκπρολιπὼν εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν) – the accusative noun-epithet combination is preceded by the preposition εἰς.8 The epithet “broad” of the sky in this passage of the Orphic Argonautica is little more than ornamental: not unfitting by any means, but also not adding much significance to the context. There are precedents for this specific three-word-combination in Homer’s Iliad. In these cases, it comes after a participle ending in -ών, resulting in either ἰὼν εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν (“going up into the broad sky”)9 or ἰδὼν εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν (“looking up into the broad sky”).10 The Orphic Argonautica retains this rule to a certain extent, as in this work εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν is preceded by ἐκπρολιπών – also a participle ending in -ών. In comparison Quintus of Smyrna, who also once incorporates a verse-final εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν into his poem, does not confirm to the Homeric precedent and instead puts a noun, κόνις (“dust”), before it.11 In his Posthomerica, we also find a version ἐς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν, with the preposition in its metrically short form.12 That, too, is never preceded by a participle.13 In this particular instance Ps-Orpheus is the more archaic and Homerizing of the two poets. The “broad sky” reappears again in the Orphic Argonautica when the heroes have to pass through the Clashing Rocks – a difficult endeavour, since they are constantly striking against each other, “and the roar reached over the ocean and into the broad sky” (δοῦπός τ’ ἂμ πέλαγός τε καὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἵκανεν, 687). Again, this is a case of an “ornamental” epithet, since the “broadness” of the sky has little bearing on the context. This combination of οὐρανὸν εὐρύν with a form of the verb ἱκάνω is attested four times in the Homeric epics as well, so the anonymous author is again following Homeric precedent.14 In this case, however, there is also a specific allusion to the passage describing the Clashing Rocks in the Odyssey, and the only reference to the Argo therein (Od. 12.71-73): καί νύ κε τὴν ἔνθ’ ὦκα βάλεν μεγάλας ποτὶ πέτρας, ἀλλ’ Ἥρη παρέπεμψεν, ἐπεὶ φίλος ἦεν Ἰήσων. οἱ δὲ δύω σκόπελοι ὁ μὲν οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἱκάνει And she would immediately have been struck there against the great rocks, but Hera escorted her through, because she was fond of Jason. Of the two cliffs one reaches the broad sky (…)

8

Orph. A. 47-8. All translations, unless otherwise indicated, are my own. Il. 5.867, 21.522. 10 Il. 3.364, 7.178, 7.201, 19.257, 21.272. 11 Quint. Smyrn. 8.54-55, κόνις δ’ εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν | πέπτατ’ ἀειρομένη, “the dust flew, rising up, into the broad sky.” 12 Quint. Smyrn. 2.470, 9.323, 12.191, 14.228. 13 The 4th Sibylline Oracle (about 1st century AD) has εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν preceded by ἀποστραφθεὶς, a participle which does not end in -ών (4.131). 14 Il. 21.522; Od. 8.74, 12.73, 19.108. 9

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The peak which reaches the broad sky in Homer does not actually belong to the Clashing Rocks, but it is the cliff which houses Scylla’s cave, described extensively in the following lines. Nevertheless, this verse follows immediately upon the passage describing the Argo’s voyage through the Clashing Rocks, which makes the reference virtually certain. In Homer, it is either smoke, a peak, or renown15 which reaches up to the heavens, but never a noise as in the Orphic Argonautica.16 Such is, however, also the case in Quintus’ Posthomerica: he describes how the gods fall upon each other in battle, and “their terrible shouts reached all the way to the broad sky, all the way to the void of high-spirited Hades” (Quint. Smyrn. 12.178-179, σμερδαλέη δ’ ἐνοπὴ μέχρις οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἵκανε, | μέχρις ἐπ’ Ἀιδονῆος ὑπερθύμοιο βέρεθρον). We reencounter the “broad sky” after the Argonauts finally succeed in gaining the Golden Fleece. In thanksgiving, they “raise up their hands to the immortals who inhabit the broad sky” (Orph. A. 1020-1021, ἂν δ’ ἄρα χεῖρας | ἀθανάτοις ἤειραν, οἳ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν). Oὐρανὸν εὐρύν is here employed in connection with the verb ἔχουσιν, for which there are numerous precedents from archaic poetry. One finds this combination 18 times in Homer alone, and like in the Orphic Argonautica, this line-end always refers to the gods.17 After the archaic period, however, the only author to use it (apart from the anonymous author) is Gregory of Nazianzus.18 Ps-Orpheus is again employing a typically archaic word-combination in his own late poem, and doing so in a manner typical of Homer. Ps-Orpheus’ approach to formulaic diction in the case of the word οὐρανός can thus be summarized as both traditional and archaic. The only epithet he chooses for this word is a traditionally Homeric one, and in every single instance he uses it in a way that conforms with Homeric custom almost perfectly. The noun-epithet combination which is repeated across archaic poetry is employed multiple times in the Orphic Argonautica as well. The “broadness” of the sky appears to be simply ornamental (acknowledging all the difficult implications of this designation) and seems not to add anything substantial to the context, apart from one intertextual allusion, and aside from the general impression of Antiquity which the use of this formulaic epithet conveys. 15 καπνός (Il. 21.522), σκόπελοι (Od. 12.73), κλέος (Od. 8.74, 19.108). One might perhaps make the case that κλέος (the way a person is talked about) is also a kind of noise. 16 In the 4th Sibylline Oracle (4.131), it is a firebrand (i.e. volcano) that “reaches the broad sky”. Cf. COLLINS 2000, Between Athens, pp. 166-167. 17 Il. 20.299, 21.267; Od. 1.67, 4.378, 4.479, 5.169, 6.150, 6.243, 7.209, 11.133, 12.344, 13.55, 16.183, 16.200, 16.211, 19.40, 22.39, 23.280. Also at Hymn. Hom. Ap. 325; Hes. Theog. 373. 18 Carmina Moralia 528.9; Carmina Dogmatica 451.10.

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While Ps-Orpheus’ treatment of οὐρανός is highly Homeric, Nonnus has chosen the opposite route in his Dionysiaca. There, the noun is used 60 times (not counting the combination οὐρανόθεν), 18 times with one or more epithets describing it. These epithets are various, but they have something in common: with the exception of one single word, Nonnus is the only extant author to use them in combination with the word οὐρανός. Despite the great variety in epithets, there is one which occurs with surprising frequency: the “seven-zoned” (ἑπτάζωνος) sky reappears a total of six times in the Dionysiaca, while all other epithets are re-used a maximum of two times.19 ἑπτάζωνος is known as a technical term in prose writings for the seven-part planetary system with its seven spheres containing the seven “planets” (which includes the sun and moon).20 The only other poet to employ it is Claudian (probably not the epic poet) in a Christian hymn likely post-dating Nonnus.21 He is thus making use of an original epithet of astronomical and astrological significance. There is, however another factor which seems to have prompted Nonnus’ choice of epithets in these specific instances, namely a play on the number seven. When we first hear of the “seven-zoned sky” in the context of Typhon’s assault on heaven, the seven Pleiades issue a war-cry against him, at which the seven planets also make clashing noises (Dion. 1.241).22 Similarly when the inexperienced Phaethon drives the Sun’s chariot through the sky, scaring the constellations, the seven Pleiades again cry out in reply to the seven-zoned heaven, which is answered by a noise from the seven planets (Dion. 38.381). Then, when Cadmus builds Thebes, he imitates the seven zones of the sky by building seven gates (Dion. 5.65). This theme recurs when Envy in the guise of Ares goads Hera with the fact that instead of the seven-zoned sky her husband Zeus prefers to be with Semele in seven-gated Thebes (Dion. 8.53), and is again taken up by Dionysus himself when he asks his cousin Pentheus if he considers seven-gated Thebes or the seven-zoned sky better (Dion. 46.67).23 The only time when the number seven is not explicitly significant in the context of the seven-zoned sky is a mention of Ares returning to heaven (Dion. 30.1), although one could argue that since Ares (Mars) is himself one of the planets, it is worth mentioning that the sky has seven zones, one of which belongs to him.

19

Dion. 1.241, 5.65, 8.53, 30.1, 38.381, 46.67. Cf. FOCANTI 2018, The Fragments, p. 155; VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), ad Dion. 2.349. 21 A.P. 1.19.9. AGOSTI 2019, Greek Epigram, p. 599 and FOCANTI 2016, The patria, p. 499, believe the author to be a different Claudian. 22 Dion. 1.241. Discussing sound effects, GIGLI PICCARDI 2016, Nonnus’ Poetics, p. 440, notes the anaphora ἑπτάζωνον/ ἑπτάστομος in 1.241-242. 23 Cf. SIMON 2004, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLIV-XLVI), ad Dion. 46. 20

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Nonnus also applies ἑπτάζωνος to other words of similar meaning to οὐρανός: πόλος (“vault of heaven”), αἰθέρος κενεῶνα (“heavenly hollow”), αἰθέρος ἴτυν (“rim of heaven”).24 This imbues the concept of the “seven-zoned sky” with yet more formulaic quality. Formulaic in this case does not mean Homeric or archaic, but it is “para-formulaic” in the sense that it fulfils the function of a repetitive element within the Dionysiaca itself.25 ἑπτάζωνος is unquestionably a very learned epithet, as it requires not only astronomical knowledge, but perhaps even refers to the philosophical use of this concept.26 Just as the seven zones of the sky, there is another characteristic of it that is frequently mentioned, namely the fact of its “starriness”. However, while the seven zones are expressed always through the same adjective ἑπτάζωνος, Nonnus appears to be exerting himself to say that the sky has stars in as many ways as possible. So it has a “starry back” (Dion. 2.335, ἀστερόνωτον), it is “adorned with stars” (Dion. 2.347, Dion. 8.111, ἄστρασι κεκασμένον, κεκασμένον ἄστροις), “engraved with the circle of stars” (Dion. 25.389, Dion. 38.311, χορῷ κεχαραγμένον ἄστρων), “engraved with the shape of stars” (Dion. 41.297, τύπῳ κεχαραγμένον ἄστρων), or “traversed by stars” (Dion. 44.173, Dion. 47.701, ἀστερόφοιτος). All of these designations could be summarized as “starry”, for which archaic poetry employs the simple adjective ἀστερόεις. Nonnus, however, appears to be consciously avoiding this Homeric adjective. Only one single time does he have the character of Hera express the fear that because of Dionysus and the vine she will have to call the sky “viny” (ἀμπελόεντα) instead of its traditional Homeric epithet “starry” (Dion. 31.242, ἀστερόεντα).27 In a metapoetic reading of this passage, it could be said that the traditional fixed epithet of the sky in Homer and Hesiod has become something obsolete in this new epic dedicated to Dionysus; it is set aside through the author’s poikilia in inventing and applying many synonymous epithets, and it is only mentioned once as a designation that is endangered through the advent of Dionysus – that is, the Dionysiaca itself. These constitute the bulk of the epithets for the word οὐρανός in the poem; the remaining ones are epithets only in the technical sense. When Typhon imagines Zeus lifting up the “Atlantean sky” (Dion. 2.315, οὐρανὸν Ἀτλάντειον), he means that the father of the gods is to carry the vault of heaven instead of the Titan. Similarly, when it is said that “Semele’s home was a desirable heaven for the son of Cronus” (Dion. 8.3-4, ἱμερόεις γὰρ | οὐρανὸς ἦν Κρονίδῃ Σεμέλης δόμος), it is not heaven itself that is meant, but the fact that Zeus enjoyed spending his time with the Theban princess. Then, the baby 24

Dion. 1.145, 40.250, 3.350, 38.115. This term is coined by FANTUZZI 2008, “Homeric” Formularity, p. 222, in his discussion of Apollonius’ language. 26 Such as Plato’s: cf. SISKO 2006, Cognitive Circuitry, p. 11. 27 Transl. ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca. 25

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Dionysus is looking up into the sky that is ἀντικέλευθος (Dion. 9.32), which simply means “opposite”, or, as in this case, “above”, and might as well have been expressed by an adverb. Nonnus, then, seeks great variety in his choice of epithets for the word οὐρανός. From a purely technical point of view, there is certainly a great amount of difference between the adjectives, which is the exact opposite of Ps-Orpheus’ strategy in this particular case. Nevertheless, all of the Dionysiaca’s epithets revolve around one unifying theme, which is astrology. Both the various epithets referring to heaven’s stars and the para-formulaic adjective “seven-zoned” are based upon certain astronomic features of the sky. One might say that Nonnus is paying homage to the repetitive style of Homer and other archaic poetry in different ways: first, by repeating his own adjective ἑπτάζωνος; and second, by obliquely referring to the common Homeric-Hesiodic “starry sky” by means of various synonymous epithets. If one compares the strategies of both authors under discussion, they all to a certain extent deserve the appellation “formulaic”. Ps-Orpheus is the one who confirms most to archaic tradition; Nonnus is highly innovative, disdaining previously used epithets, but is para-formulaic through the repetition of one particular adjective. As has been recognized by scholars studying the intricacies of Nonnus’ language, he only very rarely re-uses elements of Homer’s formulaic diction without changing them in some form.28 When he does so, it is a remarkable event that calls for closer scrutiny. The 24th book of the Iliad, following immediately after the funeral games for Patroclus, starts with the words λῦτο δ’ ἀγών (“and the contest was finished”). This phrase is not used in a formulaic way in Homer, but a hapax legomenon. The author of the Orphic Argonautica also incorporates this versebeginning into his poem, in a similar way: it signals the end of the funeral games for Cyzicus, another beloved hero who died young with his identity mistaken (Orph. A. 594). Patroclus, before being slain by Hector, put on Achilles’ armour, which made the Trojans believe that he was Achilles (Il. 16.278283); Cyzicus, the Argonauts’ friendly host, is accidentally shot by Heracles during a nighttime battle in which the heroes are attacked by wild mountainliving men (Orph. A. 523-524). Ps-Orpheus, then, is drawing a connection between Patroclus and Cyzicus (and the games held in their honour). Surprisingly, the only other extant author to (re-)use λῦτο δ’ ἀγών is Nonnus in his Dionysiaca – not only once, but five times. Four out of these five times, it initiates a new book, as in the Iliadic model.29 It concludes the two funeral games for Staphylus and Opheltes, the latter of whom is a very Patroclus-like 28 29

WÓJTOWICZ 1980, Studia nad Nonnosem, p. 184. BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems, pp. 485-486.

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figure, like Cyzicus (Dion. 20.1, Dion. 38.1)30 It also follows the battle with Typhon (Dion. 3.1), the athletic games of Dionysus and the satyrs (Dion. 11.1), which are not connected to a funeral, and even Cadmus’ conflicts with his neighbours before the founding of Thebes, midway through book 5 (Dion. 5.49). As he does on occasion, Nonnus has taken a Homeric hapax and turned it into a versatile formula which can be adapted to various circumstances. This new formulaic nature of λῦτο δ’ ἀγών does not, however, preclude its ability to act as a marker of an intertextual reference, specifically after the funeral games for Opheltes, who is to be compared to Patroclus.31 This one example illustrates quite well the different approaches to traditional and formulaic diction taken by Nonnus and the author of the Orphic Argonautica. Ps-Orpheus, on the whole, remains very faithful to his Homeric model while incorporating an intertextual allusion. What is a hapax in the Iliad he retains as a hapax as well. Nonnus, on the other hand, also alludes to Homer, but additionally he also elaborates upon his model by using repeatedly what Homer uses only once. One might almost say that in this particular instance, he is trying to outdo Homer in formulaic diction. He in his Dionysiaca employs an element of epic language in a formulaic fashion, while Homer does not.32 Finally, it appears noteworthy that this one archaic line-beginning – as far as we can tell – is only ever taken up by Nonnus and the author of the Orphic Argonautica. This might simply be coincidental; after all, Ps-Orpheus is known for incorporating various building-blocks from the Homeric epics, and since λῦτο δ’ ἀγών introduces the final book of the Iliad, it is easy to find it in the text and remember. On the other hand, this is just one of the many subtle connections between those two authors which have yet to be fully and satisfactorily explained. These short case-studies point towards a tendency by Nonnus to avoid formulaic combinations which are similar or identical to Homeric or archaic ones.33 This strategy tends to separate his works from the Orphic Argonautica, which, like Quintus of Smyrna, gladly borrows from the stock of available Homeric or pseudo-Homeric formulas. The Orphic Argonautica, however, is a hybrid work which does not confirm to the stereotype of a simply “archaizing” poem.34 It displays the influence of various trends, of which Homeric or Archaic language is only one.

30 SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, p. 81. A bit more cautiously VERHELST 2016, Minor Characters, pp. 158-159. 31 MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, p. 154. 32 KRÖLL 2013, Schwimmen mit Dionysos, p. 79, comes to a similar conclusion. 33 Cf. BANNERT – KRÖLL 2016, Nonnus and the Homeric Poems, pp. 484-487; HOPKINSON 1994, Nonnus and Homer, pp. 14-17. 34 BACON 1931, The Geography, p. 172, calls it “strangely patchy”.

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2. “Late Antique” Formulas In the second part of this contribution, I would like to highlight the presence of newer “late antique formulas” in the Orphic Argonautica. These are nounepithet sequences which do not have their origin in archaic poetry (as far as we can tell from the available evidence), but are only formed in later times. In Late Antiquity, we find them used repeatedly in a para-formulaic way, often by more than one author. When examining their use in the Orphic Argonautica, one notices parallels to Nonnus’ works (especially the Dionysiaca) the nature of which is not completely clear. Nonnus is not usually known to be fond of fixed epithets.35 When, therefore, one finds a certain noun-epithet combination more than once, this phenomenon deserves further investigation. An example of such a para-formulaic nounepithet combination is πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος (“Earthshaker from the sea”), referring to Poseidon, which the reader finds four times in the Dionysiaca.36 What makes πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος even more intriguing is the fact that it is not only employed in a para-formulaic way in the Dionysiaca, but also found once in the Orphic Argonautica, yet nowhere else. This situation is comparable to both authors’ use of the Homeric λῦτο δ’ ἀγών: they are the only ones (aside from Homer) to incorporate it into their poems; Ps-Orpheus does so once, Nonnus repeatedly. An investigation into this noun-epithet combination in both works might serve to throw some light upon the mysterious connection between them. The first time when Poseidon is called πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος in the Dionysiaca, it is in the context of the great flood that Zeus sends upon the earth. In this situation, Poseidon is out of his depth and throws away his trident in anger, since he does not see any possibility to heave up any land with it (Dion. 6.290291, πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος ἑὴν ἔρριψεν ἀκωκήν | ἀσχαλόων, τίνα γαῖαν ἀνοχλίσσειε τριαίνῃ). There is an undercurrent of anger at Zeus in this passage, who is encroaching upon Poseidon’s sphere of influence. He is not able to stay true to his epithet Earthshaker, because Zeus’ actions prevent him from doing so. Instead, the earth is shaken by “a stronger force alone, Zeus’ rain” (Dion. 6.288-289, ὑπὸ μείζονι παλμῷ | μοῦνον … Διὸς ὄμβρῳ), which implies Zeus’ superiority over Poseidon. When we next hear of πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος, it is again in the context of a cataclysm: Poseidon, led on by Rhea, is causing an earthquake in Arabia to punish the godless king Lycurgus. To do so, he again employs his trident (Dion. 21.95, τριόδοντι). Sometime later, during the Indian War, the reader again encounters Poseidon with the epithet πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος. The ruler of the 35 36

D’IPPOLITO 2016, Nonnus’ Conventional Formulaic Style, p. 375. Dion. 6.290; 21.92; 39.269; 42.519.

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sea is surveying Dionysus’ army of Cyclopes while leaning on his trident (Dion. 39.268-269, ἐρειδόμενος δὲ τριαίνῃ). Finally, he is given this epithet a last time during his competition with Dionysus for the hand of Beroe. Aphrodite, Beroe’s mother, is afraid that “if the Earthshaker from the sea should lose, he would destroy the land with the barb of his trident” (Dion. 42.519-20, πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος ἀτεμβόμενος περὶ νίκης | γαῖαν ἀιστώσειεν ἑῆς γλωχῖνι τριαίνης). One element which is always present in scenes calling Poseidon πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος is his trident. This instrument is the god’s ubiquitous attribute; yet it is still remarkable that attention is drawn to it in all the abovementioned scenes. Furthermore, that trident is used – or it is implied that it could be used – out of wrath in two scenes especially. Aphrodite fears that Poseidon might cause destruction out of anger that he did not win Beroe’s hand, and in the context of the great flood, Poseidon casts off his instrument out of dissatisfaction with the fact that he is unable to use it for destructive purposes. These two scenes, too, feature a conflict, or at least the possibility of a conflict, between Poseidon and another god. Poseidon and Dionysus openly contend for Beroe, but there is also a similar subtext in book 6. By turning the earth into a vast sea, Zeus has encroached upon Poseidon’s sphere of influence. The individual gods’ realms are very clearly delimited, and while Zeus may be the ruler of the gods, his sphere is the sky, whereas Poseidon’s is the sea.37 In the Orphic Argonautica, Poseidon as πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος appears in a song by Orpheus, composed to defeat the beautifully singing Sirens who are using their music to lure the Argonauts to their doom. He relates in this song how once “high-thundering Zeus and the Earthshaker from the sea fought with each other” over obscure “storm-footed horses” (Orph. A. 1277-1278, δήρισαν ἀελλοπόδων ὑπὲρ ἵππων | Ζεὺς ὑψιβρεμέτης καὶ πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος). Poseidon is angered at Zeus, which leads him to use his trident to break off a piece of land which becomes the three islands Sardinia, Euboea, and Cyprus (Orph. A. 1279-83). The exact reason for this quarrel is a mystery, but horses were generally associated with Poseidon, therefore it appears likely that here, too, Zeus has encroached upon Poseidon’s sphere.38 When surveying the use of πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος across both authors who use it, one notices certain features which they have in common. There is the motif of Poseidon’s trident, which is shared by all scenes. Some passages within the Dionysiaca and the one in the Orphic Argonautica contain the Cf. Dion. 10.129-136, on which see VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, p. 269. At Il. 15.185195 Poseidon relates how the three sons of Cronus cast lots to determine what parts of the world they would rule, and reproaches Zeus for overstepping his boundaries. Cf. JANKO 1992, Iliad, Commentary (13-16), ad loc. 38 Cf. SCHELSKE 2011, Orpheus in der Spätantike, p. 377; VIAN 1987, Argonautiques Orphiques, p. 194. 37

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element of a rivalry (implicit or explicit) between Poseidon and another god. Two times out of three, this other god is Zeus, and Poseidon is angered over some outrage committed by him. On the other hand, there are differences: while Nonnus consistently employs this noun-epithet combination at the beginning of the line, the author of the Orphic Argonautica places it in verse-final position. Furthermore, in the two Dionysiaca passages which imply or show Poseidon in competition with another god, it is only his ability to cause destruction which is mentioned, but such a disaster is avoided. In the Orphic Argonautica, that scenario plays out in full: Zeus’ and Poseidon’s quarrel is not just hinted at, but real, and Poseidon does use his instrument in a way which significantly changes the face of the earth. One might conclude that the similarities are strong enough to postulate a direct relationship between the two texts, especially between the two scenes showing a strained relationship between Zeus and Poseidon. This is a possibility that cannot be excluded, but one that is also very hard to prove. If there is some direct allusion from one author to another, it is also difficult to ascertain who is imitating and alluding to whom. It would perhaps be slightly more likely to say that Nonnus is imitating Ps-Orpheus, since Nonnus only hints at the possibility of a fight between Zeus and Poseidon, which actually plays out in the Orphic Argonautica. We could also assume some more indirect relationship, like a common source or an intermediary between the two texts, but due to the lack of further evidence, this must remain speculation. What can be said with certainty is that that there is a para-formulaic nounepithet combination in the Dionysiaca which is also found in the Orphic Argonautica. Since the authors are assumed to have lived in (very) roughly the same period, we can say that πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος fits the mould of a late antique formula, a combination current among hexameter poets in Late Antiquity. There is also the possibility that more poets made use of πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος in their works, maybe even in a formulaic way. Due to the incomplete transmission of texts from Antiquity it is conceivable that the two works which we have only show the remnants of what was once a popular building block in late epic poetry. 3. Speech Introductions So far, I have explored the connection between Nonnus’ and Ps-Orpheus’ formulaic language by discussing a noun-epithet combination only those two authors have in common. But, as D’Ippolito notes in his discussion of Nonnus’ formulaic language, it is in the field of speech-introductions that he truly develops a formulaic system of his own.39 To a lesser extent, the same is true for the 39

D’IPPOLITO 2016, Nonnus’ Conventional, pp. 376-377.

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Orphic Argonautica, as well. Among its variegated mishmash of speech-introducing verses, a particular line-ending stands out for its frequency: ἀνενείκατο φωνήν, literally meaning “he raised his voice”, but used simply in the sense of “spoke”. This verse-final ἀνενείκατο φωνήν is another “late antique formula” of the newer sort in that it does not originate in the archaic period and is used widely by a larger group of late antique Greek poets. Due to its repeated occurrence in both the Orphic Argonautica, the Dionysiaca, and other late antique works, an investigation of this speech introduction can illustrate both how formulaic language is used in the Orphic Argonautica itself, and how this work fits into the complex fabric that is the Greek poetry of Late Antiquity. On the basis of a unique speech-introduction line in Homer, μνησάμενος δ’ ἁδινῶς ἀνενείκατο φώνησέν τε (“remembering [Patroklos] he sighed much for him, and spoke aloud”), Apollonius created a unique speech-introduction line-end of his own for his character of Medea, ἀδινὴν δ’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (“brought forth a sorrowful voice”).40 One finds a different version of this verse, also ending in ἀνενείκατο φωνήν, once in Moschus’ Europa (Mosch. Eur. 134, ἀμφί ἑ παπτήνασα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν – “looking around herself, she said this much”). Apollonius is making a learned reference to a Homeric hapax, and Moschus appears to be alluding to Apollonius.41 None of them takes the decision to make this line-ending formulaic in their own works. This event appears to have occurred only sometime later, probably in Late Antiquity. In this period, we find speech-introductions ending in ἀνενείκατο φωνήν widely employed in a para-formulaic way: not only by Nonnus (exclusively in the Dionysiaca), but also by his imitators Colluthus and Musaeus, and even in the Orphic Argonautica. Each one of these authors repeats this line-end multiple times: the Orphic Argonautica four times, Nonnus seven times, Colluthus four and Musaeus two times. a) Nonnus, Dionysiaca42 οἷά περ αἰδομένη, δολίην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (4.76) said as in shame with deceitful tongue συνερπύζοντα δὲ λεύσσων Πύραμον ἱμερόεντα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (6.344-345) seeing Pyramos the lover moving by his side he cried out and said

40 Il. 19.314, Transl. LATTIMORE 1951, The Iliad; Ap. Rhod. 3.635, Transl. RACE 2008, Apollonius Rhodius; CECCHETTI 2015, Le Argonautiche; ad Orph. A. 76. D’IPPOLITO 2016, Nonnus’ Conventional, p. 376; HERMANN 1805, Orphica, p. 822. 41 CAMPBELL 1991, Moschus, ad v. 134. 42 Transl. ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca.

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καὶ νέκυν εἰσορόων κινυρὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (11.253) Dionysos uttered a voice of sorrow when he saw the body ἡ δὲ χολωομένη βριαρὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (16.146) But the maiden was angry and lifted up a strong voice οὐδέ μιν ἐπρήνιξε, χόλῳ δ’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (21.10) He did not overthrow her however, and he cried out in rage καὶ μόγις ἐκ στομάτων ἀνενείκατο πενθάδα φωνήν (24.146) but at last he let his sorrowful voice be heard καί οἱ ἐπεσσυμένῳ τρομερὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (37.403) as Phaunos galloped upon him, he called out in a trembling voice

b) Colluthus, Abduction of Helen χειρὶ δὲ μῆλον ἔχουσα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (170) holding the apple in her hand, she said this much ὀψὲ δὲ θαμβήσασα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (267) after a long time, in amazement, she said this much ὀψὲ δὲ θαμβήσασα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (307) after a long time, in amazement, she said this much ὀξύτατον βοόωσα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (331) crying at the top of her voice, she said this much

c) Musaeus, Hero and Leander οἷά περ οὐκ ἐθέλουσα, τόσην δ’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (121) as if she did not want to, and said this much ὀψὲ δὲ Λειάνδρῳ γλυκερὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (172) after a long time she raised her sweet voice to Leander

d) Orphic Argonautica μείλιχον ἐκ λασίων στέρνων ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (76) he brought up from his hairy chest a gentle voice ξυνὴν μὲν Μινύαισιν ἄδην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (769)43 he addressed all the Minyans together for a long while καί οἱ ἀπὸ στηθέων βριαρὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (818) and from his breast he brought forth a harsh voice ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ Μινύαισι τοίην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (843) finally he gave such a speech to the Minyans 43

On the textual difficulties of this line, see VIAN 1987, Argonautiques Orphiques, ad loc.

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Before I discuss how the Orphic Argonautica fits into this picture, I will explore how Nonnus, Colluthus and Musaeus make use of this particular speechpreceding phrase. In Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, the remainder of the line from the beginning up to the hepthemimeral caesura is usually occupied by information further designating the character of the direct speech which it precedes. Five times out of seven, immediately before ἀνενείκατο φωνήν comes an adjective formally qualifying φωνήν, but in fact the speech itself, such as δολίην (“deceiving”), or κινυρήν (“grieving”).44 Once, for metrical reasons, the adjective stands between ἀνενείκατο and φωνήν (ἀνενείκατο πενθάδα φωνήν, “gave a mournful speech”), and once a dative (χόλῳ, “in anger”) fulfils the function of the adjective. The further circumstances of the speech are frequently more extensively described by a circumstantial participle which refers either to the speaker or (only once) to the addressee.45 Sometimes the participial construction exceeds the confines of the one speech-introducing verse, starting in the previous line (Dion. 6.344b345, συνερπύζοντα δὲ λεύσσων | Πύραμον ἱμερόεντα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν). Occasionally, the first part of the line contains more information on where the voice or speech originates from without the use of participles (καὶ μόγις ἐκ στομάτων, “and barely from his mouth”), or another clause (οὐδέ μιν ἐπρήνιξε). In Colluthus, the formation of this particular kind of line has become very regularized. The “voice” is always qualified as τόσην (“so great/loud”), and the first part of the verse is occupied by a participial clause designating the speaker. There is even an instance of full line-repetition: both of Helen’s speeches are preceded by ὀψὲ δὲ θαμβήσασα τόσην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (Abduction of Helen 267, 307). In the Abduction of Helen, all speakers whose utterances are introduced by ἀνενείκατο φωνήν are women.46 Musaeus also has one “Colluthus-style” line (Hero and Leander 121, οἷά περ οὐκ ἐθέλουσα, τόσην δ’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν), with a participial clause modifying the (female) speaker and τόσην qualifying φωνήν. As regards the relative dating of Colluthus and Musaeus’ Hero and Leander, the scholarly opinion tends strongly towards a prior date for Musaeus.47 Colluthus, then, with his regularized speech-introductions, may well be influenced not only by Moschus, but also by this one verse by Musaeus, which exhibits the same pattern.

44

Dion. 4.76, 6.345, 11.253, 16.146, 37.403. Referring to speaker: Dion. 4.76, οἷά περ αἰδομένη; Dion. 11.252, καὶ νέκυν εἰσορόων, Dion. 16.146, ἡ δὲ χολωομένη. Referring to addressee: Dion. 37.403, καί οἱ ἐπεσσυμένῳ. 46 Colluthus Abduction of Helen 170 to Aphrodite, 267, 307 to Helen, 331 to Hermione. 47 CADAU 2015, Studies in Colluthus’ Abduction, p. 7. MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, p. 25. 45

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Musaeus’ other verse (Hero and Leander 171) consists of information about the addressee (ὀψὲ δὲ Λειάνδρῳ), an adjective formally qualifying φωνήν (γλυκερήν), and the verse-final ἀνενείκατο φωνήν itself. In this poem, too, ἀνενείκατο φωνήν always introduces speeches by a female character (in this case Hero). A further connection to Colluthus is the fact that both poets occasionally begin their ἀνενείκατο φωνήν-lines with ὀψὲ δέ (“finally”). τόσην, which sometimes describes φωνήν in both Nonnus, Colluthus and Musaeus, appears due to the influence of Moschus and his verse introducing a speech by Europa. He, too, qualifies φωνήν with τόσην, preceded by a circumstantial participle clause describing Europa (Mosch. Eur. 134, ἀμφί ἑ παπτήνασα, “looking round herself”). Colluthus especially among the three poets generalized this particular format which he inherited ultimately from Moschus. Musaeus shows some similarities to the later Colluthus in this respect, but he also imitates Nonnus. For example, his half-line οἷά περ οὐκ ἐθέλουσα (Hero and Leander 121), of Hero’s insincere reluctance to follow Leander, is modelled on a scene from the Dionysiaca, where the disguised Aphrodite pretends to be ashamed to address Harmonia (Dion. 4.76, οἷά περ αἰδομένη). The Orphic Argonautica stands somewhat apart from the Dionysiaca, the Abduction of Helen and Hero and Leander, but also shows significant similarities, which situate it securely in the same literary environment as the other three works. In the four times that ἀνενείκατο φωνήν introduces a speech in the Orphic Argonautica, it is always a speech by a man, either Jason or the king of Colchis, Aietes.48 The only other author (Hellenistic or otherwise) who ever has ἀνενείκατο φωνὴν introduce a speech by a man is Nonnus.49 Only in the Orphic Argonautica can ἀνενείκατο φωνὴν introduce not only direct speeches, but also an indirect one, addressed by Jason to his companions (Orph. A. 769). In two verses from the Orphic Argonautica (Orph. A. 76; Orph. A. 769), we find a unique verse-structure which consists of (1) an adjective qualifying φωνὴν at the beginning of the verse, (2) additional information about the speech, and (3) ἀνενείκατο φωνήν; but there is also the more familiar format of (1) additional information, (2) adjective agreeing with φωνήν, and (3) ἀνενείκατο φωνήν, which we know from Nonnus, Colluthus and Musaeus (and Apollonius and Moschus [Orph. A. 818, 843]). There are also some closer links between certain lines in the Orphic Argonautica and particular lines in other poets. One such line is ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ Μινύαισι τοίην ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (Orph. A. 843 “finally he gave such a speech to the Minyans”), said of Aietes addressing the Argonauts. Aside from the verse-final ἀνενείκατο φωνήν, which this 48

Jason (Orph. A. 76, Orph. A. 769); Aietes (Orph. A. 818, Orph. A. 843). Alpheus (Dion. 6.345), Dionysus (Dion. 11.253), Lycurgus (Dion. 21.10), Thureus (Dion. 24.146), Phaunus (Dion. 37.403). 49

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line shares with all verses under discussion, the beginning ὀψὲ δέ is also found in some of Colluthus’ and Musaeus’ lines.50 Its closest counterpart is ὀψὲ δὲ Λειάνδρῳ γλυκερὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν (172) from Hero and Leander, since it features the same beginning of the verse (ὀψὲ δέ), followed by the addressee’s name in the dative (Λειάνδρῳ as opposed to Μινύαισι), and an adjective describing φωνήν (γλυκερήν instead of τοίην). The context, though, is vastly different: both Colluthus and Musaeus are describing a dialogue between a man and a woman, eventually to become lovers, in which the woman speaks after a period of silence. The Orphic Argonautica shows a hostile exchange between king Aietes and the Argonauts, represented by Jason. There are no warm feelings between them, and instead of flirtatious words they exchange boasts and threats. This particular verse of the Orphic Argonautica has τοίην describing the word for “voice”, which is very similar to τόσην that we find modifying φωνήν in lines by Moschus, Nonnus, Musaeus and Colluthus.51 It must be noted, however, that some manuscripts for Moschus and all for Musaeus in fact have τοίην, as do the Orphic Argonautica.52 Τοίην presents a slight difficulty in that for the line to scan properly, the first diphthong has to be shortened by word-internal correption, which prompts the choice for τόσην in most editions.53 Whatever the correct reading may be in each case, the fluctuation between τοίην and τόσην shows that some closer connection between this line in the Orphic Argonautica and similar lines in Colluthus and especially Musaeus is possible. On occasion, the author of the Orphic Argonautica specifies that the “voice” comes from a particular direction, namely the chest of the speaker (ἐκ στέρνων, ἀπὸ στηθέων). This is perhaps due to the influence of Apollonius, who also mentions that Medea could barely gather her wits in her breast as she spoke (Ap. Rhod. 3.634-635, μόλις δ’ ἐσαγείρατο θυμόν | ὡς πάρος ἐν στέρνοις, ἀδινὴν δ’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν). Musaeus and Colluthus have nothing comparable, but Nonnus once expresses the similar notion that a speaker’s voice comes out of his mouth (ἐκ στομάτων, 24.146). Some of Nonnus’ ἀνενείκατο φωνήν lines begin with an initial emphatic καί (Dion. 11.253; Dion. 24.146; Dion. 37.403). None of the other poets ever adopts this, but the Orphic Argonautica has one verse beginning with καί as well (Orph. A. 818, καί οἱ ἀπὸ στηθέων βριαρὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν). The 50

Colluth. 267, 307; Musae. 172. Mosch. Eur. 134, Dion. 6.345, Musae. 121, Colluth. 170, 267, 307, 331. 52 PLATT 1899, Orphica, p. 7. Cf. VIAN 1987, Argonautiques Orphiques, ad Orph. A. 843 on the textual problems in the Orphic Argonautica, Europa and Hero and Leander. 53 For examples of this phenomenon in the Orphic Argonautica and other texts, see VIAN 1987, Argonautiques Orphiques, ad loc. 51

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verse has the typical “Nonnian” structure of information about circumstances, adjective and ἀνενείκατο φωνήν. It also contains a slight grammatical peculiarity, the reflexive οἱ which in this case should be read as a somewhat awkward dative of possession, best translated with “his”. This οἱ is ubiquitous in the Orphic Argonautica, and it can elsewhere in this work refer not only to the 3rd person singular, but to all persons in both the singular and the plural.54 Nonnus also starts one of his speech-introducing verses with καί οἱ, but in this case the οἱ refers to the addressee, not the speaker himself (Dion. 37.403, καί οἱ ἐπεσσυμένῳ τρομερὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν). A direct connection by way of allusion between the two lines beginning with καί οἱ seems unlikely, since one is a threatening warning by Aietes to the Argonauts to respect him and his people, whereas the other is mockery of a fellow competitor at a horse race. Nevertheless, there remains the connection between the Dionysiaca and the Orphic Argonautica. At the very least, they both share the common element of the initial emphatic καί, just as the Orphic Argonautica share the beginning ὀψὲ δέ with Colluthus and Musaeus. This particular line of the Orphic Argonautica contains another element that is of interest to the scholar studying connections between this poem and Nonnus. In all the times that ἀνενείκατο φωνήν is used to introduce a speech in Greek epic poetry, the adjective qualifying φωνήν is never the same, with one exception. Aietes’ voice, which is “strong” (Orph. A. 818, βριαρήν) is the same as Nicaea’s in the Dionysiaca, which is said to have the same quality (Dion. 16.146, βριαρὴν ἀνενείκατο φωνήν). In fact, during the whole of Antiquity no one else applies the adjective βριαρός to φωνή except for Nonnus (also once in the Par. 13.30) and the author of the Orphic Argonautica. The adjective is very fitting in both locations. Aietes is putting on a show of strength to intimidate the foreign Argonauts who are encroaching upon his dominion. In such a situation it is natural for an individual to speak in a “strong voice”. Nicaea is in a somewhat similar situation to Aietes: she is annoyed at the insistent Dionysus who is pursuing her. She is also consistently characterized as a “strong” woman: in the two-line summary of book 15, the poet announces that he will sing of “strong Nicaea” (βριαρὴν Νίκαιαν ἀείδω), and in her own speech, introduced by a “strong” voice, her character refers to herself as again “strong Nicaea” (Dion. 16.150, βριαρὴν Νίκαιαν). If the girl’s quintessential quality is “strength”, it is natural for her voice to be of the same sort. The concurrence between the speech-introductions in the two poems is thought-provoking, but as in the case of the combination πόντιος Ἐννοσίγαιος, it is difficult, or perhaps even impossible, to determine whether there is any direct relationship between the two texts. None of the two passages 54 On the peculiar use of οἱ in the Orphic Argonautica, see HERMANN 1805, Orphica, pp. 773-811.

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contains an obvious allusion, and the context is quite different as well. Yet, this similarity between the speech-introductions is a further piece of evidence in the broader picture. The Orphic Argonautica is not quite as isolated in its language as is often assumed. Both as regards vocabulary and verse-structure, this short epic shows significant parallels not only with Nonnus’ enormous Dionysiaca, but also with the smaller epyllia by Musaeus and Colluthus. 4. Conclusion In conclusion, formulaic diction still is a significant feature of the poetic language of Late Antiquity, but not the same kind of formulaic diction as at the beginning of the epic tradition. One does find echoes of the conventional archaic formulas even in Late Antiquity. Apart from formulaic elements inherited from the archaic period in one way or another, there are “late antique formulas” which originated at a later point and are used by more than one author in this period. These can be noun-epithet combinations, but formulaic speechintroductions became particularly well developed in Late Antiquity. Examples of all these formulas can be found in the Orphic Argonautica. It is a hybrid work, sharing its fondness for archaic and archaic-based language with Quintus of Smyrna and some of its “late antique formulas” with Nonnus. Certain lexical correspondences between the Dionysiaca and the Orphic Argonautica are close enough to prompt the question whether there is any direct intertextual relationship between them, which cannot be answered unequivocally either positively or negatively. The resemblances are certainly close enough to assume some sort of shared poetical environment, and this is corroborated by the fact that there are observable parallels also between the Orphic Argonautica and the so-called “Nonnians” Musaeus and Colluthus. The Orphic Argonautica is not usually included in what used to be referred to as the “school of Nonnus”, the poetical milieu of which Nonnus is the principal proponent (but which can include pre-Nonnian poets like Triphiodorus), due to its very un-Nonnian metrics and somewhat archaic diction.55 Perhaps, however, this superficial distinction is in fact misleading, and the links between this work and Nonnus and the “Nonnians” in fact go much deeper than previously acknowledged. Whatever their exact nature may be – whether it is direct influence of Nonnus’ works on the Orphic Argonautica, influence of the Orphic Argonautica on Nonnus, or the similarities are the product of the authors’ similar education – they deserve extensive further investigation.

55 On the metre of this work, see SÁNCHEZ ORTIZ DE LANDALUCE 1992-1993, Estudio métrico (1) and 1993, Estudio métrico (2).

X. BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS Tim WHITMARSH

1. Big Dionysiaca The Dionysiaca is Antiquity’s longest epic, weighing in at 48 books and over 127,000 words.1 The poem’s scope is cosmic, and the geographical region it describes immense;2 in temporal terms too it spans the cosmogonic age and Nonnus’ own contemporary world, often deploying complex prolepses and anachronisms.3 Big, too, are the questions it mobilises about the relationship between Christianity and ‘pagan’ culture in Late Antiquity (particularly when it is paired with the Paraphrase).4 It is also big news in contemporary scholarship: I count 116 studies in total published in the last 10 years, of which 8 are books, making him arguably the most intensively studied postclassical Greek poet.5 This work has itself been built on the sizeable platform created by editors (for both the Budé and BUR series) whose labours were achieved in the 2000s. In the same 10-year period, the publisher Brill alone has generated nearly 2000 pages on the Dionysiaca. Bigness can be intimidating, but it can also create opportunities. In this contribution I consider what techniques drawn from big data (BD) studies can tell us. The central difference between BD and conventional statistical analysis is that in BD, a sample is not shaped, manipulated, or delimited by experimentation or modelling: it simply is what it is, and there is assumed to be enough of it for broad patterns to be significant in their own right. A qualification is necessary: for all the Dionysiaca’s bigness relative to other ancient texts, it comes nowhere near providing BD in the modern sense (which can be measured in zettabytes, i.e. units of 10007 bytes, i.e. one trillion gigabytes, and which often outruns the processing power of conventional computers). The data that I consider in this contribution is not ‘big’ in this sense; indeed, in terms 1

The Iliad, the nearest competitor, has just under 112,000. ‘Les Dionysiaques ont en effet une ambition à la mésure de leur longeur: montrer la toutepuissance de Dionysos. Celui-çi conquiert le monde’ (CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 316). Chuvin also demonstrates how inconsistent Nonnus’ informed knowledge is of places outside the Mediterranean. 3 GOLDHILL 2015, Preposterous Poetics; GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, pp. 88-91. 4 See especially SHORROCK 2011, The Myth of Paganism, esp. pp. 79-115. 5 Apollonius of Rhodes, the nearest competitor, has by my count 144 publications in total but only 4 dedicated books. I have not counted, either for Nonnus or for Apollonius, texts, commentaries or translations. 2

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of formal statistics, it would not even pass a chi-square test (used by mathematical statisticians to rule out fluke results). Nevertheless, the Dionysiaca gives us bigger data than any other ancient poem; and when the Paraphrase is taken into account too we have a good control on Nonnian style (i.e. we can see effectively what is distinctive to the Dionysiaca and what to Nonnus as an author). And when analysis of data is integrated with more conventional interpretations of literary poetics, we can begin to explain and interpret aspects of Nonnian style more powerfully. The point about BD is to change the angle of vision. The aim is not to provide evidence to reinforce what people think they already know; it is to surprise them, by allowing the data to talk for itself, so as to expose patterns that would otherwise have been obscure. To replicate this BD process using the (relatively) smaller dataset offered by the Dionysiaca, I have chosen to proceed by what I call oblique slicing: this involves ‘reading’ the text in a non-linear way, by extracting a certain class of data from the text – just as, for example, a BD analyst might, for example, select the WhatsApp metadata from a server – and analysing it from a number of different angles. This smaller dataset is ‘arbitrary’ in terms of its relationship to the larger dataset (hence the slice is ‘oblique’). For the analyst, by contrast, the nature of this particular slice is of course non-arbitrary (i.e. it will tell us something). The slices I have chosen are two sets of compound adjectives: poly- and auto- compounds. My non-arbitrary reasons for this slice are several. For a start, compounding is a distinctive feature of high poetic, and indeed specifically of Nonnian, style.6 It is well established that in particular the coinage of new compound adjectives was a means of displaying poetic creativity in late Greek poetics.7 We also know that poly-compounds have a marked poetic heritage, linking back specifically to the Odyssey (where πολύτροπος appears in the first line, followed by 3 uses of polus in the poem’s opening lines). One of the best-known aspects of Nonnian poetics is, of course, his emphasis upon ποικιλία,8 ‘variety’ or ‘multifariousness’, a quality that can also be expressed by a number of poly-compounds. Auto- compounds, on the other hand, are at first sight rather more mysterious: these originate primarily in technical philosophy, and enter the poetic lexicon later. They might initially seem to have a more ‘modernist’ flavour to them. So we may expect these two corpora to tell rather different stories; and it is reasonable to hope that looking at them in

6 Generally on Nonnian style see STRING 1966, Untersuchungen zum Stil. On the well-known correlation between compounding and high poetic style see e.g. GRIFFITH 1977, The Authenticity, pp. 149-50. 7 JAMES 1970, Studies in the Language, pp. 257-266. 8 GIGLI PICCARDI 2016, Nonnus’ Poetics; VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, pp. 7, 13-14.

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combination may give us a varied picture of Nonnian poetics and its relationship to the earlier tradition.9 My dataset includes only adjectives, the largest class of these compounds. Compound adjectives are particularly poetically significant. Adjectives, by virtue of their evaluative content, present carefully focalised judgements about the nature of the material being described, and thus (particularly in the narrator’s mouth) tend towards the metapoetic. They tell us how the narrator (/‘poet’) sees the world.10 In some cases, as we shall see, Nonnus uses the same adjective in a slightly different form in different places: I have counted these sometimes together, as variants of each other, and sometimes separately, depending upon whether morphology is a salient factor. Certainly, it might be objected that to treat adjectives in isolation risks distorting the picture: for example, the Nonnian adjective πολύπαις is rare in pre-imperial texts, but the noun πολυπαιδία is much more frequent. To conclude that Nonnus’ use of the adjective signals his adoption of post-Hellenistic lexis is therefore risky. But again these cases are rare, and statistically insignificant. The aim of the exercise is to treat the oblique slice, insofar as possible, as an integral object of analysis, without initially boring down into individual cases. Two final caveats. First, most of my tables are sub-ordered alphabetically (e.g. when different words appear the same number of times as each other). Alphabetical enumeration is of course entirely arbitrary, and in itself tells us nothing; but it can occasionally be useful to have an arbitrary but consistent system, which allows you to compare different bodies of material. I shall come back to this point. Second, and crucially: at no point in the following discussion shall I discuss the words contextually within the poems themselves. I do not of course mean to imply that that kind of analysis is unnecessary; merely that this is not the aim of this particular exercise. This project offers a perspective that is different from (and, it is hoped, complementary to) conventional literary analysis – not an attempt to replace it.

9 As Agosti in particular has emphasised (see AGOSTI 2015, Per una fenomenologia; AGOSTI 2016, Epigrafia metrica), the late antique poetic vocabulary is not just intertextually aligned with the prior literary tradition, but also shared ‘horizontally’ with contemporary epigraphic and no doubt oral texts. This does not, however, fundamentally affect my point. 10 In some cases there is a slight ambiguity: for example, is πουλύπους (‘many-legged’, i.e. ‘octopus’ – with ellipsis of the noun) an adjective or a noun? But these instances are so infrequent that the larger patterns are unaffected either way. I have stripped out adjectives used as proper names: including all instances of ‘Polydectes’ or ‘Automedon’, for example, would give a misleading impression that these compounds are common.

172

T. WHITMARSH

2. Epic Polymers Table 1: Frequency of poly-compounds by epics Text Dionysiaca Paraphrase Iliad Odyssey Argonautica Nicander (all) Phaenomena Halieutica Cynegetica Posthomerica

Length (words)

Poly-compounds

%

127745 22761 111927

364 62 164

.28 .27 .15

87226 38853 11971 7718 22751 13483 60333

239 38 43 8 34 46 93

.27 .10 .36 .10 .15 .34 .15

Table 1 gives you the incidence of poly-compounds in a number of ancient texts.11 The raw numbers in the third column give every single use of a polycompound adjective in the text, including repetitions of the same word (for example, the word πολύμητις, used 68 times in the Odyssey, counts for 68 for these purposes). What interests us for now is the right-hand column, which gives the percentages of instances in each text (reached by dividing the figures in the third column by those in the second). The following initial observations may be made: – The Odyssey has, predictably, a much higher incidence (just under twice as many) than the Iliad. Poly-compounds can be assumed to be distinctively Odyssean. In fact, the situation is a little more complex than this, since just two words, polumētis and polutlas, account for over 100 of the Odyssey’s usages. This does not matter, however, for our purpose: what matters is simply that the Odyssey is (at least for archaic poetics) the benchmark. – The Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase are practically identical in their incidences: a preference for poly- compounds can therefore be considered a feature of Nonnian (rather than e.g. Dionysiac) style. – Nicander and Ps.-Oppian are very high in incidence, exceeding the Odyssey. Quintus’ Posthomerica and Oppian’s Halieutica, meanwhile, are exactly level with the Iliad – which we might take as a sign of their allegiance to the military ethos of the Iliad (there is a surprising amount of combat in the 11 I have focused primarily on longer epics, because there is less risk of arbitrary distortion. Shorter ones, however, remain within these broad parameters: e.g. the incidence of poly- compounds for Hesiod’s Theogony and Works and Days comes out at .2%.

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Halieutica).12 The Argonautica and the Phaenomena, meanwhile, show little interest in poly-compounds. The incidences in fact divide the texts neatly into 4 groups (I have scaled the percentages up to permyriads, i.e. out of 10,000, for ease). Table 2: Frequency of poly-compounds (grouped) Incidence (permyriad) 34-6‱ 27-8‱ 15‱ 10‱

Nicander (36), Cynegetica (34) Odyssey (27), Dionysiaca (28), Paraphrase (27) Iliad (15), Posthomerica (15), Halieutica (15) Argonautica (10), Phaenomena (10)

At the top we have two didactic poets, Nicander and Ps.-Oppian. In the next tranche we have the Odyssey and the two Nonnian poems. On this (admittedly one-dimensional) measure, Nonnus proves to be the most Odyssean of narrative epic poets within this sample. We then have the Iliadic tranche: the Iliad itself, the Posthomerica and the Halieutica (confirming, incidentally, that by this measure Quintus is more Iliadic than Odyssean – again as we might perhaps expect).13 In the final position we have two Hellenistic poems, where the results may indicate a strategic movement away from Homeric (particularly Odyssean) norms. The prominence of Nicander and ps.-Oppian should give us pause. There are, I think, two important considerations here for our Nonnian studies. The first is that Nonnus’ neologistic compounds, as we shall see, draw from a wide range of sources, including technical and religious literature. Didactic poetry is, as we shall see, a rich source: Nonnus takes much from Nicander and ps.Oppian – and indeed from Oppian himself.14 Nonnus’ distinctive style does not emerge out of nowhere: rather, it marks a stage in the long (and non-linear) evolution of epic style. The most important evolutionary leap, in terms of the data here, is provided by ps.-Oppian’s Cynegetica – a point that has been made in more general terms by Mary Whitby.15 Whitby also notes that Nonnus manifests restraint vis-à-vis ps.-Oppian: we see this too reflected in our statistics (i.e. while Nonnus follows ps.-Oppian’s love of poly-compounds, he does not indulge this passion to the same extent; indeed, he reins himself back to Odyssean levels). KNEEBONE 2008, Fish in Battle. Adjectives represent a crucial part of Quintus’ Homeric repertoire (VIAN 1959, Recherches, pp. 182-192). 14 JAMES 1970, Studies in the Language, pp. 257-266. 15 WHITBY 1994, From Moschus to Nonnus, pp. 111-114. 12 13

174

T. WHITMARSH

3. Dionysiac Polymers Which particular poly-compounds are prevalent in which Nonnian texts? Table 3 (below) compares the Dionysiaca, the Paraphrase and the Nonnian corpus as a whole in terms of their favourite poly-compounds (i.e. in terms of frequency of incidence). The left-hand columns give the favourite instances across the Nonnian corpus as a whole (adding the incidences in the Dionysiaca to the scaled-up incidences in the Paraphrase: see below), the middle colums those in the Dionysiaca, and the right-hand columns those in the Paraphrase. Since the Dionysiaca is 5.6 times longer than the Paraphrase, I have also given for the latter, in brackets, the appropriately scaled-up figures.16 (By a strange coincidence, the scaled-up figure for the Paraphrase’ s favourite word πολύτροπος is 39, which is exactly the same as for the Dionysiaca’s πολυσπερής.) Table 3: Favourite poly-compounds Dionysiaca + Paraphrase

Dionysiaca

Paraphrase

Rank Word

Freq.

1 2 3 4

πολυσπερής πολύτροπος πολυχανδής πολυπλανής πολύπλανος

73 60 42 34 +5 = 39

5 6

πολύφλοισβος πολυδαίδαλος

30 28

7 8

πολύμορφος πολύστρεπτος πολυστροφάς πολυστρό-φαλιγξ πολύστροφος πολυκλήιστος

9

16

Word

Freq.

Word

Freq (scaled) 7 (39) 6 (34) 6 (34) 5 (28)

23 20

πολυσπερής 39 πολύτροπος πολυδαίδαλος 22 πολυσπερής πολύτροπος 21 πολυχανδής πολύστρεπτος 5+1 πολυπλανής πολυστροφάς +4 πολυστρόφα-λιγξ + 4 πολύστροφος = 14 πολύφημος 12 πολύφλοισβος πολυπλανής 6 + 5 πολυκλήιστος πολύπλανος = 11 πολυκαμπής 10 πολύμορφος πολύφλοισβος 8 πολύγλωσσος

19

πολυσχιδής

2 (11)

8

πολυειδής

4 (22) 3 (19) 3 (19) 2 (11)

This scaling is admittedly a crude instrument. It does a job at the top end of the chart, but it risks misleading when it comes to the smaller raw numbers. It is of course unlikely that every word that is used once in the 22,000-word Paraphrase would have been used exactly 6 times in a hypothetical 127,000-word version of the same text. In such cases, a more reasonable guess would be that each of these words would be used somewhere between 1 and 6 times (and indeed other new words would be used just once).

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Dionysiaca + Paraphrase

Dionysiaca

Paraphrase

Rank Word

Freq.

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

πολυειδής πολυκαμπής πολύγλωσσος πολυσχιδής πολύιδρις πολύτρητος πολύφημος πολύλλιτος πολύευκτος πολυθαμβής πολύθρηνος πολυμεμφής πολύπλεκτος πολυρραφής πολυφεγγής πολύστομος πολυσφρήγιστος πολύγναμπτος

18 16 15 14 13 13 12 11 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 8 8 7

πολυχανδής πολύγναμπτος πολυειδής πολύπηχυς πολύτρητος πουλυέλικτος πολύμορφος πολύδωρος πολύπιδαξ πολύπλοκος πολύσκαρθμος πολύτεκνος πολύγλωσσος πολυμήχανος πολύστιχος πολύχροος πολύευκτος πολυδειράς πολύδειρος

28 29

πολύθροος πολύκνισος

7 7

30 31 32

πολυλήιος πολύπηχυς πολυδειράς πολύδειρος πολύανδρος πολυκλήις πολύπτορθος πολυωπός πουλυέλικτος πολύδωρος πολύπιδαξ πολύπλοκος

7 7 7

πολυδέκτης πολυδινής πολύδινος πολυγλώχιν πολυθαμβής πολύθρηνος

6 6 6 6 6 5 5 5

πολύιδρις πολύκροτος πουλυόδους πολυμεμφής πολύπαις πολύπλεκτος (πούλυπος) πολυπτοίητος

33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Word

Freq. 8 7 7 7 7 6 6 5 5 5 5 5 4 4 4 4 4 3

3 2+1 =3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

Word πολύιδρις πολύλλιτος πολύανδρος πολυδαίδαλος πουλυέτηρος πολύευκτος πολυθαμβής πολύθρηνος πολύθροος πολυκαμπής πολυκλήις πολύκνισος πολυλήιος πολυμεμφής πολύπλεκτος πολύπτορθος πολυρραφής πολύστομος πολύστροφος πολυσφρήγισ-τος

Freq (scaled) 2 (11) 2 (11) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6) 0+0 +0+1 = 1 (6) 1 (6) 1 (6)

πολυσχιδής πολύτρητος πολυφεγγής

1 (6) 1 (6)

πολυωπός πολυαλφής πολυαύχενος πολυβλέφαρος πολύβρωτος πουλύγαμος πολυγλαγής πολύγληνος

1 (6) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

176

T. WHITMARSH

Dionysiaca + Paraphrase

Dionysiaca

Paraphrase

Rank Word

Freq.

Word

Freq.

41 42 43 44 45

πολύσκαρθμος πολύτεκνος πολυμήχανος πολύστιχος πολύχροος

5 5 4 4 4

πολυρραφής πολυφεγγής πολυώνυμος πολύγληνος πολυγλυφής

3 3 3 2 2

46 47 48 49 50

πολυγλώχιν πολυδέκτης πολύκροτος πολύπαις (πουλύπους)

3 3 3 3 3

πολύδακρυς πολύδεσμος πολυκλήιστος πολύκλυστος πολύκυκλος

2 2 2 2 2

51 52 53

πολυπτοίητος πολυώνυμος πολυδινής πολύδινος πουλυόδους πολύγληνος πολυγλυφής πολύδακρυς πολύδεσμος πουλυέτηρος

3 3 3

πολύμητις πολύολβος πολύπτυχος

2 2 2

3 2 2 2 2 2

πολύκλυστος πολύκυκλος πολύμητις πολύολβος πολύπτυχος πολυρράθαμιγξ πολυσφάραγος πουλυτόκος πολυφράδμων πολύφραστος πολυχρόνιος πολύχρυσος

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

Word

Freq (scaled)

πολυγλυφής πολυγλώχιν πολύγναμπτος πολύδακρυς πολυδειράς πολύδειρος πολυδέκτης πολύδενδρος πολύδεσμος πολυδευκής πολυδινής πολύδινος πολυδίψιος πολύδωρος πουλυέλικτος

0 0 0 0 0

πολυθαλπής πολυθλιβής πολύθρονος πουλυκάρηνος πολύκλαυτος πολύκλυστος

0 0 0 0 0 0

2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2

πολυρράθαμιγξ 2 πολύστομος 2 πολυσφάραγος 2 πολυσφρή-γιστος 2 πουλυτόκος 2 πολυφράδμων 1+1 πολύφραστος =2 πολυχρόνιος 2 πολύχρυσος 2 πολυψάμαθος 2 πολυαλφής 1 πολυαύχενος 1 πολυβλέφαρος 1 πολύβρωτος 1 πουλύγαμος 1 πολυγλαγής 1

πολύκμητος πολύκροταλος πολύκροτος πολύκυκλος πολύμηλος πολύμητις (D2) πολυμήχανος πολύμνηστος πολύμοχθος

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

2 2

πολύδενδρος πολυδευκής

πουλυόδους πολύολβος

0 0

1 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Dionysiaca + Paraphrase

Dionysiaca

Paraphrase

Rank Word

Freq.

Word

Freq.

71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98

πολυψάμαθος πολυαλφής πολυαύχενος πολυβλέφαρος πολύβρωτος πουλύγαμος πολυγλαγής πολύδενδρος πολυδευκής πολυδίψιος πολυθαλπής πολυθλιβής πολύθρονος πουλυκάρηνος πολύκλαυτος πολύκμητος πολύκροταλος πολύμηλος πολύμνηστος πολύμοχθος πολύπλαγκτος πολυπλεκής πολυσκύλακος πολυσπείρητος πολυστάφυλος πολυταρβής πολυτερπής πολύτλητος

2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

πολυδίψιος πουλυέτηρος πολυθαλπής πολυθλιβής πολύθρονος πολύθροος πουλυκάρηνος πολύκλαυτος πολύκμητος πολύκνισος πολύκροταλος πολυλήιος πολύμηλος πολύμνηστος πολύμοχθος πολύπλαγκτος πολυπλεκής πολυσκύλακος πολυσπείρητος πολυστάφυλος πολυταρβής πολυτερπής πολύτλητος πολυτρεφής πολύτριπτος πολύυμνος πολυφάρμακος πολυφερβής

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

99 100 101 102 103

πολυτρεφής πολύτριπτος πολύυμνος πολυφάρμακος πολυφερβής

1 1 1 1 1

πολύανδρος πολυκλήις πολύλλιτος πολύπτορθος πολυωπός

0 0 0 0 0

Word πολύπαις πολύπηχυς πολύπιδαξ πολύπλαγκτος πολυπλεκής πολύπλοκος (πούλυπος) πολυπτοίητος πολύπτυχος πολυρράθαμιγξ πολύσκαρθμος πολυσκύλακος πολυσπείρητος πολυστάφυλος πολύστιχος πολυσφάραγος πολυταρβής πολύτεκνος πολυτερπής πολύτλητος πουλυτόκος πολυτρεφής πολύτριπτος πολύυμνος πολυφάρμακος πολυφερβής πολύφημος πολυφράδμων πολύφραστος πολυχρόνιος πολύχροος πολύχρυσος πολυψάμαθος πολυώνυμος

Freq (scaled) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

178

T. WHITMARSH

This table allows us to compare usages in the individual poems with usages overall, so that we can see whether the prominent use of a word within a poem is specific to that poem, or whether it is characteristic of Nonnus generally. Thus, for example, we can quickly see that the Dionysiaca’s favourite word πολυσπερής is also Nonnus’ favourite word (and number 2 in the Paraphrase); whereas the πολύστρεπτος cluster, number 4 in the Dionysiaca, appears only once (in the form πολύστροφος) in the Paraphrase. Since it is the Dionysiaca that interests us, let consider words that appear repeatedly in the poem, since repetition can reasonably be taken as a proxy for ‘thematic importance’. There are 16 words used more than 6 times in the Dionysiaca. (6 is an arbitrary number, but useful since it is the lowest scaled-up Paraphrase figure). By comparing the uses in the Dionysiaca to the scaled-up figures in the Paraphrase, we can now position the top 23 Dionysiac words on a scale stretching from the Nonnian (i.e. where frequency in the Dionysiaca is more or less matched by that in the Paraphrase) to the Dionysiac (where the Dionysiaca uses the word significantly more. In other words, we can work out which words Nonnus has chosen to be bearers of particularly Dionysiac thematic significance. We can then produce a Dionysiac ranking for individual words by following a two-stage process: – First we strike out and ignore any words that are used more in the Paraphrase than in the Dionysiaca. – This leaves us with 9 words, which we can then class into three categories of ‘Dionysiac rating’: high (where the Dionysiaca scores more than twice the Paraphrase), medium (more than 1.5 times but less than twice) and low (less than 1.5 times). Table 4: Dionysiac rankings Dionysiac word

Incidence in Dion. (vs. scaled Par.)

Dionysiac rating

πολυσπερής πολυδαίδαλος πολύτροπος πολύστρεπτος πολυστροφάς πολυστρόφαλιγξ πολύστροφος πολύφημος πολυκαμπής πολύφλοισβος

39 (34) 22 (6) 21 (39)

Low High n/a

5+1+4+4 = 14 (6)

High

12 (0) 10 (6) 8 (22)

High Medium n/a

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Dionysiac word

Incidence in Dion. (vs. scaled Par.)

Dionysiac rating

8 (6) 8 (34) 7 (0) 7 (11) 7 (0) 7 (6) 6 (0) 6 (19) 6 (28)

Low n/a High n/a High Low High n/a n/a

πολυσχιδής πολυχανδής πολύγναμπτος πολυειδής πολύπηχυς πολύτρητος πουλυέλικτος πολύμορφος πολυπλανής

To generate the Dionysiac ranking, we place the three rating categories – high, medium and low – in order, then we rank internally by absolute frequency of use in the Dionysiaca. This produces the following table: Table 5: Dionysiac ratings Dionysiac ranking 1. πολυδαίδαλος 2. πολύστρεπτος (etc.) 3. πολύφημος 4. πολύγναμπτος 5. πουλυέλικτος 6. πολυκαμπής 7. πολυσπερής 8. πολυσχιδής 9. πολύτρητος

Dionysiac rating High High High High High High Medium Low Low

We can expect these terms to be particularly important bearers of Dionysiac meaning. There are two obviously metapoetic words high up here: πολυδαίδαλος (‘richly crafted’) and πολύφημος (‘multivocal’). But what is particularly striking otherwise is the emphasis upon curving, arching and bending: four of the nine Dionysiac poly-adjectives fall into this category (πολύστρεπτος etc; πολύγναμπτος; πουλυέλικτος; πολυκαμπής). By contrast, in the whole of the Paraphrase there is only a single word of this type, πολυκαμπής. Any reader of the Dionysiaca will know of the thematic centrality of snakes; I think we can now be confident that this sinuous, serpentine quality is also built into the text’s poetics, with a particular privileging of this kind of term.

180

T. WHITMARSH

4. Sources We should not, however, downplay the importance of the vocabulary shared between the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase, particularly at the top end of Table 4. The high incidences of πολύτροπος (21 times in the Dionysiaca) and πολύφλοισβος (8 times) are not especially surprising, given their obvious Homeric pedigree. Other words, however, stand out. Πολυσπερής, as we have noted, is both the Dionysiaca’s favourite word (39 times) and Nonnus’. This word occurs only once in the Iliad and once in the Odyssey. Striking too is πολυχανδής (8 times in the Dionysiaca), which does not appear before Theocritus. Prima facie there seems to be a story to tell also about where particular words originate, and what kind of intertextual resonance they have. Table 6 gives the sources of Nonnus’ poly-adjectives. For completeness’ sake, this table reproduces column one from Table 3 (i.e. it gives all of Nonnus’ poly-adjectives, not just those of the Dionysiaca; and it gives them in terms of their frequency in both poems, using the scaled-up Paraphrase numbers). The numbers in brackets after the words in the left-hand column give the rough Nonnian frequencies, but for this section we don’t need the precise numbers for each word: all we need is a way of ranking them in terms of relative popularity across the corpus. Table 6: ‘Origins’ of Nonnus’ favourite poly-compounds17 Frequency

Word

First appears in

70+

πολυσπερής

Homer

60+ 40+ 30+

πολύτροπος πολυχανδής πολυπλανής etc. πολύφλοισβος πολυδαίδαλος πολύμορφος πολυκλήιστος πολυειδής

Homer Theocritus Euripides Homer Homer Aristotle Nonnus Thucydides

πολυκαμπής πολύγλωσσος

Democritus? Sophocles (× 4)

20+ 10+

Notes 1 × Il., 1 × Od.; v. prominent in Opp. (Hal. 1.1) Also Nicand., Opp., Triph. (× 2) But mostly 2nd AD onwards

Mostly technical Only in Nonnus Also Nicand., Opp.; and in Philo Otherwise Plut. and Nonnus Lycophon (× 1), otherwise AD prose (and Triph.)

17 In this table I have elected to treat ‘clustered’ terms (i.e. those that are alternative formations from the same roots, such as πολυδινής and πολύδινος) separately, on the grounds that variants can have different intertextual flavours. These are marked with †.

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Frequency

Word πολυσχιδής

9

πολύιδρις πολύτρητος πολύφημος πολύλλιτος πολύευκτος πολυθαμβής πολύθρηνος πολυμεμφής

8

7

πολύπλεκτος πολυρραφής πολυφεγγής πολύστομος πολυσφρήγιστος πολύγναμπτος πολύθροος πολύκνισος πολυλήιος πολύπηχυς πολυδειράς πολύδειρος

6

πολύανδρος πολυκλήις πολύπτορθος πολυωπός πο(υ)λυέλικτος

5

πολύδωρος πολύπιδαξ πολύπλανος πολύπλοκος πολύσκαρθμος

First appears in Nicander

Notes

Also Opp. (× 2); Philo, Plutarch, Galen Homer Common Homer Relatively common Homer Common Callimachus Also Orphic Herodotus (in oracle) Relatively common Nonnus Only in Nonnus Aeschylus Also Nicand., Sib. Or., Christian Nonnus Only in Nonnus (1 × in Eustathius) Nicander Otherwise not before Nonnus Trag. adesp. Otherwise not before Nonnus Dorotheus Also Euseb.; then Nonnus Nicander Otherwise medical and Christian Nonnus Only in Nonnus Pindar (× 1) Theocr. (× 1), Dion. Per. (× 1) Aeschylus (× 1) Otherwise Opp., Triph. Apollonius Rh. Otherwise only in Triph. before Nonnus Homer (× 1) Favourite of Apollonius’ (× 5) Plotinus Otherwise first in Nonnus Homer Nonnus Otherwise only 1 × in magical papyrus Aeschylus Relatively common Homer Relatively common Nonnus Otherwise only 1x in Paul. Sil. Homer Nicand. (× 2), Opp., Triph. Euripides (× 1) Otherwise only in Galen before Nonn. Homer Homer Aeschylus Also Opp. (2 ×) Theognis Homer Also Callim., Nic.

182 Frequency 4

3

T. WHITMARSH

Word πολύτεκνος πολυμήχανος πολύστιχος πολύχροος πολυγλώχιν πολυδέκτης πολύκροτος πολύπαις (πούλυπος) πολυπτοίητος πολυώνυμος πουλυόδους

2

πολύγληνος πολυγλυφής πολύδακρυς πολύδεσμος πουλυέτηρος πολύκλυστος πολύκυκλος πολύμητις πολύολβος πολύπτυχος πολυρράθαμιγξ πολυσφάραγος πουλυτόκος πολυφράδμων

First appears in

Notes

Aeschylus Homer Praxiphanes (4-3 BC) Rare prose word Bacchylides But mostly Arist., Plut.; also ps.-Opp. (2 ×) Nicander Otherwise only Dion. Per. and App. before N. Hom. Hymn. Dem. Very rare Cat. of Women Rare-ish, but Σ variant for πολύτροπος (Eustath.) Septuagint Mostly Judaeo-Christian (esp. Philo) Theognis Used as a n. for ‘octopus’. Comedy + Opp. Diodorus, Otherwise first in Nonnus (and (?Augustan) v. rare) epigrammatist Hesiod Common Nicander Otherwise only in Nonnus (and Σ) Oppian Also gloss on Homeric τρίγληνα (Il. 14.183, Od. 18.298): see Ap. Soph. Nonnus Only in Nonnus Homer Common Homer 2 × in Od., otherwise not until Nonnus Nonnus Otherwise 1 × in Paul. Sil. Homer Common Nonnus Otherwise 1 × in Paul. Sil. Homer Common Sappho Common (esp. in Orphic & oracular) Homer Common Nonnus Only in Nonnus Oppian Otherwise only in Nonnus Aristotle Common in prose Apollonius Rh. 1 × Ap. Rh., 1 × Opp., 1 × Triph. (+ orac./Christ.)

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Frequency

1

Word

First appears in

πολύφραστος πολυχρόνιος πολύχρυσος πολυψάμαθος

Parmenides Homeric Hymns Homer Oppian

πολυαλφής πολυαύχενος πολυβλέφαρος πολύβρωτος πο(υ)λύγαμος πολυγλαγής

Nonnus Nonnus (?) Nonnus Nonnus Claudius Ptolemy Aratus

πολύδενδρος πολυδευκής πολυδινής† πολύδινος† πολυδίψιος πολυθαλπής πολυθλιβής πολύθρονος

Homer Homer (hapax) Oppian Nonnus Homer (hapax) Nonnus Nonnus Callimachus

πουλυκάρηνος πολύκλαυτος πολύκμητος πολύκροταλος πολύμηλος πολύμνηστος πολύμοχθος πολύπλαγκτος πολυπλεκής πολυσκύλακος πολυσπείρητος πολυστάφυλος πολύστρεπτος† πολυστροφάς† πολυστρόφαλιγξ†

Nonnus (?) Euripides Homer Nonnus Homer Homer Euripides Homer Nonnus Nonnus Nonnus Homer Nicander Nonnus Nonnus

Notes Otherwise ps.-Opp. Common Common Opp. × 2, ps.-Opp. × 1; otherwise only Nonnus Hapax Otherwise only 1 × A.P. Hapax Hapax Common in late prose Otherwise only in Nonnus (and 1 × Π) Common Otherwise Nicander (2 ×) Otherwise rare outside Nonnus Otherwise only 1 × in Σ Aesch. Otherwise ps.-Oppian (1 ×) Hapax Otherwise 1 × Π Otherwise 1 × Andromachus, 1 × Galen Otherwise 1 × A.P. Relatively common Relatively common Hapax Relatively common Not common Common Common Hapax Hapax Hapax (but cf. πολυσπερής) Relatively common Also Orphic. Arg. Only in Nonnus Other than in Nonnus only once in Musaeus

184

T. WHITMARSH

Frequency

Word

First appears in

πολύστροφος† πολυταρβής πολυτερπής πολύτλητος

Pindar Nonnus Sibylline Oracles Homer

πολυτρεφής πολύτριπτος πολύυμνος πολυφάρμακος πολυφερβής

Nonnus Nicander Homeric Hymn Homer Nonnus

Notes Also Nicand. Otherwise rare. Otherwise 1 × A.P. Oracular/Christian Rare early but QS uses for πολύτλας Otherwise 1 × Dioscurus Also Oppian Relatively common Common Hapax

What we are after now is the intertextual ‘flavour’ of these words, i.e. what kind of poetic ancestry they are likely to have suggested to Nonnus and his audience (just as in English the word ‘coxcomb’ might suggest Shakespeare and ‘graven’ the King James Bible). The second column indicates where the word (or a close relative) is first attested. This is a good proxy for intertextual flavour: whether a word is Homeric, for example, or a Hellenistic neologism is a rough guide to the way in which it resonates. The notes in the right-hand columne, however, provide more granularity: πολυχανδής, for example, is first found in Theocritus, but for Nonnus’ readers is (I think) more likely to have suggested Nicander/Oppian/Triphiodorus. We were considering above πολυσπερής, Nonnus’ favourite poly-adjective both in the Dionysiaca and overall. Although it is a Homeric word, it also appears prominently in the first line of Oppian’s Halieutica, where it qualifies the ‘phalanxes’ of fish that the poet promises to describe. Emily Kneebone has written about the significance of the word in that context, and in particular its use to introduce the theme of anthropomorphism (since in both Homeric instances it qualifies the noun ἄνθρωπος).18 The word thus has a double resonance: it is both a Homeric term (with a pleasingly recondite rarity) and a ‘modernist’ term reappropriated in the imperial period by one of the star poets of the era. Nonnus has taken a word that is prominent by position in Oppian, and turned it into a word that is prominent by frequency in his own writing. The term – glossed by the Homeric scholia as ‘scattered over many parts of the world, of many origins, multi-ethnic’ – 19 may be thought particularly thematically central to the cosmopolitan Dionysiaca; but it is also interesting to speculate that Nonnus was inspired by the very meaning of the word to scatter this rare but pregnant word far and wide across his text. 18 19

KNEEBONE 2020, Oppian’s Halieutica, pp. 90, 257. ἐπὶ πολλὰ μέρη τῆς γῆς διεσπαρμένων, πολυγενῶν ἢ πολυεθνῶν, Σ Hom. Il. 2.804.

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

πολυχανδής too tells an interesting story. This is a resolutely ‘late’ word. Apart from the one early use in Theocritus, it is first found in Nicander, and then in Oppian. But it is also used very frequently in Quintus of Smyrna (8 ×), and even twice in Triphiodorus. When Nonnus uses it, then, it seems to be a strong marker of affiliation to late-Greek epic, rooted in Nicander (and Theocritus), but mediated through Oppian (and the Trojan poets, Quintus and Triphiodorus). The Nicander-Oppian route is one that we shall see working again. This is, I think, quite an unusual poly-word: one that points to participation in a shared late-Greek project, rather than to anchorage in a deep tradition. Let us try to mould the data in Table 6 into a more manageable shape. Table 7 gives the source texts (i.e. the texts where a word is first mentioned) in the columns, against the Nonnian frequency in the rows. I have banded the frequencies together into 10+, 7-9, 3-6, 2 and 1. I have chosen these bands because, as can be seen from the ‘total’ column on the right, they make for roughly comparable numbers (except in the case of the 1s: there is nothing much that we can do about these). To maximise the data set, I have drawn these figures are for the whole Nonnian corpus (using the scaled-up Paraphrase numbers).20 Table 7: Sources of Nonnus’ favourite poly-compounds Frequency in Nonnus

Homeric source

Other source

10+ 7-9 3-6 2 1 TOTAL

7 (44%) 2 (13%) 6 (27%) 6 (33%) 10 (26%) 29%

7 (44%) 8 (50%) 13 (59%) 5 (28%) 8 (21%) 40%

Nic./Opp. [max.] source

Nonnian coinage

Total

1 (6%) [2 (13%)] 1 (6%) 2 (13%) [3 (19%)] 4 (25%) 2 (9%) [4 (18%)] 1 (5%) 3 (17%) [4 (22%)] 4 (22%) 3 (8%) [6 (16%)] 17 (45%) 11% [18%] 21%

16 16 22 18 38

The rows here tell us where, within each frequency band, Nonnus is most likely to have derived his word. I have rolled together the two didactic poets Nicander and Oppian to optimise the data cluster, and because Oppian’s vocabulary is both based upon and developed from Nicander’s; so it is plausible that the two poets may have ‘felt’ similar to Nonnus and his readers. In this case I have included a raw figure and in square brackets a maximised (‘max.’) one, which includes cases where even though a word appears beforehand it seems at least plausible that Nonnus’ attention may have been drawn to a word thanks to its

20

Because of rounding, not all of the figures along the rows add up to exactly 100%.

186

T. WHITMARSH

prominence in either Nicander or Oppian. The difference is in fact striking: on the minimalist reading, around 10% of Nonnus’ compounds come from this source; on a maximalist one, approaching twice that. What does the separation by frequency tell us? When we look at the Nicander/Oppian columns, not all that much: there is no discernible pattern in the distribution of his poly-compounds across the five bands. The Homer column, however, is interesting: in the 10+ group (i.e. the words that he repeats thematically), Nonnus gets almost half (44%) of his terms from Homer. As we now know, these terms range from the clichéd (πολύτροπος etc.) to the obscure (πολυσπερής). But still, the point stands: a significantly higher proportion of his high-use terms are Homeric. This suggests that Nonnus’ blazon words – his Schlagwörte – are often chosen so as to be richly intertextual with the fount of the Greek tradition. Striking too is the variation in the ‘Nonnus’ column, i.e. those words that are new coinages. This shows that of the high-use words, a very low proportion indeed are his own: in fact only πολυκλήϊστος, i.e. ‘with many fastenings’ (from κλῄζω, an Ionic version of κλείω). But even this may be a punning riff on the Homeric epithet πολυκλήϊς (‘with many benches’, used of ships). At the other end of the scale, in the 1s, we the figure is even more impressive: Nonnian coinages have risen to 45%. In other words, around half of the words Nonnus uses only once are words of his own invention. This suggests a significant finding about his poetic method: the ‘load-bearing’ words that he uses in heavy rotation to indicate thematic centrality are words tend to be derived from the tradition, and especially Homer. His creativity, in such cases, lies in innovation within an existing framework. His own verbal innovations, work differently: he has a markedly restless tendency, often discarding his coinages before they go stale. 5. Autocatalysis Let us turn now to auto-compounds, where we can be quicker, since the methodology to be applied is identical. Table 8 gives the incidence of these in the major Greek epics, with the addition of the Sibylline Oracles, where there are some interesting references principally to God as ‘self-created’ and similar (I have also taken out poets who do not use this kind of formation to any meaningful extent.) Table 9 gives these percentage figures scaled up so as to be out of 100,000.

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Table 8: Incidences of auto-compounds in major Greek epics Text Dionysiaca Paraphrase Iliad Odyssey Argonautica Halieutica Cynegetica Posthomerica Sibylline Oracles

Length (words)

Auto-compounds

%

127745 22761 111927 87226 38853 22751 13483 60333 29220

279 50 5 2 9 15 14 1 14

.220 % .220 % .004 % .002 % .002 % .007 % .100 % .002 % .005 %

Table 9: Incidences of auto-compounds per 100,000 words Incidence per 100,000 words 220 100 7 5 4 2

Dionysiaca, Paraphrase Cynegetica Halieutica Sibylline Oracles Iliad Odyssey, Argonautica, Posthomerica

Auto-compounding is, it seems, an almost entirely imperial-Greek phenomenon, and overwhelmingly Nonnian. The incidence is identical in the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase. As with the poly-compounds, Nonnus has followed where ps.-Oppian has led; but this time rather than reining in ps.-Oppianic exuberance, he has doubled the incidence. But ps.-Oppian already has an incidence over 10 times higher than Oppian, and 20 times higher than the Sibyllines. Let us turn now to individual words, using the Dionysiac ratings and ranking, derived (it will be recalled), by comparing a word’s incidence in the Dionysiaca with the scaled-up incidence in the Paraphrase (and scoring out those words more popular in the latter than in the former).

188

T. WHITMARSH

Table 10: Dionysiac ratings for auto-compounds Dionysiac word

Incidence (Par., scaled up)

Dionysiac rating

αὐτόματος αὐτοκύλιστος αὐτοέλικτος αὐτοτέλεστος αὐτόχυτος αὐτογόνος αὐτοκέλευστος αὐτόσσυτος αὐτοτελής αὐτοφυής αὐτοβόητος αὐτοδίδακτος αὐτολόχευτος αὐτοφόνος αὐτόχθων αὐτοπαγής

44 (62) 42 (11) 28 (11) 21 (6) 15 (6) 14 (11) 12 (50) 11 (11) 8 (0) 8 (6) 7 (11) 7 (28) 7 (0) 7 (6) 7 (0) 6 (0)

n/a High High High High Low n/a n/a High Low n/a n/a High Low High High

Table 11: Dionysiac ranking for auto-compounds Dionysiac ranking 1. αὐτοκύλιστος 2. αὐτοέλικτος 3. αὐτοτέλεστος 4. αὐτόχυτος 5. αὐτοτελής 6. αὐτολόχευτος 7. αὐτόχθων 8. αὐτοπαγής 9. αὐτογόνος 10. αὐτοφυής 11. αὐτοφόνος

Dionysiac rating High High High High High High High High Low Low Low

The most popular auto-compound both in Nonnus and in the Dionysiaca is αὐτόματος, a relatively colourless adjective already found in Homer. Only slightly behind, however, is αὐτοκύλιστος, a much more interesting word:

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

once in Oppian, once in ps.-Oppian and then 42 times in the Dionysiaca. Something is going on here. In fact, if we consider Table 12, three distinct classes of adjectives stand out. At the top are the mobile, sinous group (compare the popularity of πολύστρεπτος and cognates, πολύγναμπτος, πουλυέλικτος and πολυκαμπής): alongside the Oppianic αὐτοκύλιστος we find αὐτοέλικτος (‘self-twisting’: cf. πουλυέλικτος, no. 5 in the poly-compound ranking) and αὐτόχυτος (‘self-poured’, a distinctly Dionysiac word). This indicates once again a poetic concern with dynamic movement: with edges, corners, with sudden changes of direction. Next we have a small cluster of two telos words, which might have been treated together: αὐτοτέλεστος and αὐτοτελής (‘self-completing’), words that suggest both philosophical teleology and religious initiation. Finally, we have a cluster of words to do with self-generation: αὐτολόχευτος, αὐτογόνος and αὐτοφυής. This points again towards a more religious-philosophical direction, which suggests magical, Jewish and Christian discourse. Αὐτολόχευτος, for example, is first found in the 4th century AD, and elsewhere used only in oracular, Christian and magical contexts (usually of God or Christ). This focus on self-begetting is in fact the obverse of the previous category we considered, the ‘self-completing’, telos-words (αὐτοτέλεστος and αὐτοτελής). The auto-words in the Dionysiac ranking seem significantly more conceptually adventurous than the poly-words: they point towards complex ideas of divinity as exceeding the human cycle of reproduction and mortality. Similar ideas show up in the Paraphrase, where we also find αὐτογόνος (twice) and αὐτοφυής (once), but the numbers are small. The auto-compounds allow the Nonnus of the Dionysiaca to connect with a different world from the polycompounds: they point towards contemporary philosophical and theological experimention. Let us finish by considering the sources (with the same caveats as above) of this class of words: Table 12: Sources of Nonnus’ auto-compounds Frequency (Dionysiaca + scaled-up Paraphrase)

Word

First appears in

100+ 60+

αὐτόματος Homer αὐτοκέλευστος Xenophon

50 +

αὐτοκύλιστος

Oppian

Note

Common 1 × Xen., 28 × Philo. Prose only before Late Antiquity Only Opp. and Nonn.

190

T. WHITMARSH

Frequency (Dionysiaca + scaled-up Paraphrase) 30+

Word αὐτοέλικτος αὐτογένεθλος αὐτοδίδακτος

20+

αὐτοτέλεστος αὐτογόνος (/ αὐτόγονος) αὐτόσσυτος αὐτόχυτος

10+

αὐτοβόητος αὐτόρριζος αὐτοφόνος αὐτοκέλευθος αὐτόπρεμνος

9

αὐτόφυτος

8

αὐτοτελής αὐτοφυής

7

αὐτολόχευτος αὐτόχθων

6

4

αὐτοθέμεθλος αὐτόθροος αὐτοπαγής αὐτοδάικτος αὐτόσπορος

First appears in

Note

Nonnus Magic / oracles / From ?4th AD Christian Homer A famous, prominent usage in Homer Oppian Only in Opp. And Nonn. (1 × A.P.) Iamblichus Only Neo-Pythagorean/Hermetic before Nonnus Aeschylus 1 × Aesch. (poss. 1 × Soph.), Synesius then Nonn. Catalogue of 1 × ps.-Hesiod, 2 × Aelius women Aristides then Nonn. Nonnus Euripides Not uncommon Aeschylus 2 × Aesch. (1 Trag. Adesp.), Opp., Triph. Apollonius 1 × Ap. Soph. 1 × Triph. Sophista Aeschylus Not uncommon in poetry + Jewish/Christian Pindar A couple of scientific uses then Nonn. Thucydides A couple of early prose uses; common in Plut./Gal. Euripides Twice in 5th-c. lit. then common in imp. prose Magic / oracles / From ?4th AD Christian Eur./Hdt. Very common from Classical times onwards Nonnus Nonnian hapax Nonnus Nonnian hapax Ephorus Rare before Nonnus Aeschylus Only in Aesch. and Opp. before Nonnus Aeschylus Only in one fr. of Aesch. before Nonnus

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BIG DATA AND DIONYSIAC POETICS

Frequency (Dionysiaca + scaled-up Paraphrase)

Word

First appears in

αὐτοτόκος

Aeschylus

3 2

αὐτόπορος αὐτόροφος

1

αὐτοβαφής αὐτόγαμος αὐτομέλαθρος αὐτοπαθής

Nonnus Dionysius of Halicarnassus Nonnus Nonnus Nonnus Nonnus

αὐτοφόρητος αὐτοχάρακτος αὐτοχόωνος

Nonnus Nonnus Homer

Note

Only in one fr. of Aesch. before Nonnus Only twice before Opp., who uses it twice Only in Nonnus Only in Nonnus (Excluding the grammatical meaning ‘reflexive’) Only in Nonnus Homeric hapax (otherwise only in Homeric commentators before Nonnus)

Table 13: Sources of Nonnus’ auto-compounds tabulated Homer

Other

10+

2 (13%)

9 (60%)

2-9 1

0% 1 (14%)

10 (77%) 0%

Nicand./Opp. [maximised] 2 (13%) [3 (20%)] [2 (15%)] 0%

Nonnus

Total

2 (13%)

15

3 (23%) 6 (86%)

13 7

The numbers are small here, and hard to do much with, but we can confirm two things. One is the continuing significance of the Nicander/Oppian axis, which rumbles along at the same 10-20% level as with the poly-compounds. If Homer is Nonnus’ ‘father’, Nonnus also has a sibling rivalry – or is it camaraderie? – with his older brother Oppian (and, indeed, with pseudo-Oppian). The other pattern to draw out is in the ‘Nonnus’ column, i.e. those adjectives that were apparently coined by our author. As with the poly-compounds (see Table 7), we see a mark rise in incidence as the frequency of repetition drops: until, finally, we reach the words used only once, of which 86% are Nonnian innovations. Now, the numbers are relatively small here; but when these are placed alongside Table 7, we see the same pattern clarified and amplified.

192

T. WHITMARSH

Nonnian coinages are often there to be one-offs, i.e. to display inventiveness rather than to carry thematic weight through repetition. More could and should be said at the level of the individual words about the specifically Nonnian, and specifically Dionysiac, properties of poly- and autocompounds; but that would be a different contribution. I hope to have shown that this corpus is big enough that ‘oblique slicing’ can tell interesting stories that enrich our understanding of Nonnian poetics. In particular, analysing Nonnus’ compounding strategies in this way helps us to understand his relationship to the poetic tradition, and to map out those subtle calibrations of allegiance and heresy that form a poetic identity. The very act of compounding is, after all, a distillation of the creative process: every compound is a hybrid of existing elements (as the Aristophanes of Frogs already recognised),21 and every use of a compound is either a new hybridisation or a repetition of someone else’s.

21

Ar. Ran. 928-935.

PART FOUR: ROAD JUNCTIONS (1). A DIONYSIAC ROAD TO INDIA

XI. SPICING NONNUS UP: COMMERCIAL AND RELIGIOUS CROSSROADS AND NONNUS’ REPRESENTATION OF THE EAST1 Luise Marion FRENKEL “L’absence de la Mésopotamie et de l’Iran dans le trajet de Dionysos constitue sans aucun doute une des aberrations géographiques les plus frappantes des Dionysiaques.”2

In the fifty pages which sufficed Pierre Chuvin to point out the literary merits of Nonnus’ representation of regions beyond the Roman frontiers, the quotation above, which opens the section on the route to India, seems at first little promising. Nevertheless, in this contribution I will analyse the flow of people, goods and information between the Roman Empire and India, and show the challenges posed by Mesopotamia and Iran to local and imperial interests in these routes, suggesting that Nonnus’ choice of the land route to India and omission of significant legs of the journey indicate the imperial dimension of his epic poetry. 1. Maritime Routes and Roman ‘Decadence’ In dialogue with the rich scholarship about the evidence of the late antique regular Indo-Roman trade, this contribution addresses its relevance for some regions of the Roman Empire and its consequences for the direct contact with Indian ideas in Egypt, especially in Alexandria. It also focuses on the flow of people, goods and information over land routes. The fall-off in idea exchange is compared in both patterns to show that Nonnus’ poetry was, for its lateantique audiences and readers, a literary means by which their urban identity

1 I thank St. Edmund’s College Cambridge which has made possible the research and writing of this contribution. Its approach was spurred by the questions raised during a graduate course I taught at the Universidade de São Paulo, and honed during discussions at the Max Weber Centre for Advanced Cultural and Social Studies (Erfurt), within the framework of the research group ‘Religious individualisation in historical perspective’ (supported by resources of the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, DFG). I am grateful for the comments offered by Geoffrey Greatrex and Rebecca Darley. 2 CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 281.

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was construed and expressed, endowing their religious competition with imperial significance.3 Nonnus’ representation of India does not represent accurately how it mattered for the people in the Roman Empire, especially in the Eastern provinces. Goods whose provenance was associated with the region were present in the day-to-day of people of all extractions.4 Roman and Byzantine interest in Persian and Indian realia, such as landscapes, monuments, and objects, was embedded in cultural and political conflicts that ranged from competing claims about civic genealogies to petty scholarly rivalries. Classicists mostly focus on the literary, epigraphic, and numismatic evidence for these debates, but have only recently recognised and investigated their broader material dimensions.5 The study of the material evidence of such engagements shows that the people who took part in discussions about Asian material culture spanned the entire social spectrum, even though literary evidence privileges elite opinions.6 In the last decades, this literature has come again into focus, yielding important insights on texts prior to Nonnus, some of which are likely to have been available in full or parts to Nonnus’ audience.7 Unique finds have often been considered the corroboration of narratives and discourses found in classical literature and epigraphy.8 Although they remain 3 Cf. SMITH 2014, The Martyrdom and History, p. XXI. The focus on Nonnus’ context circumscribes the information about Egypt, Iran and India being discussed in this contribution and it should be noted that although the specialised literature is increasingly showing the significant connectivity and reciprocal influence of these regions, which have encouraged associations with the concept of globalisation, it has also warned that attempts to describe the global history of Nonnus’ time should be avoided because it would largely depend on ‘far-flung connections’, cf. POWER 2012, The Red Sea, pp. 54-55 but pace pp. 56-59. 4 See for the last centuries before Nonnus SÁNCHEZ HERNÁNDEZ 2019, The Impact of the Indian Ocean Trade. Further, see DEL RÍO ALDA 2014, One Elephant and Two Giraffes. 5 E.g. respectively CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie; Frangoulis 2010, Les Indiens dans les Dionysiaques; Seland 2013, Networks and social cohesion and Fitzpatrick 2011, Provincializing Rome. 6 See HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2014, Poetry and Philosophy; Cf. ROJAS – SERGUEENKOVA 2014, Traces of Tarhuntas. 7 See now SÁNCHEZ HERNÁNDEZ 2019, The Impact of the Indian Ocean Trade. See also STONEMAN 2017, How the Hoopoe Got His Crest and KOULAKIOTIS 2017, Plutarch’s Alexander. 8 Most reference works and still a significant number of literary, historical and even archaeological studies rely considerably on the historicity of ancient texts of a historiographical or documentary nature, from Herodotus to the Tabula Peutingeriana, through Strabo, the Periplus Maris Erythraei, Pliny the Elder, Ptolemy and Cosmas Indicopleutes. See for example OLSHAUSEN 2009, From the Mediterranean to India and DREXHAGE 2005, India, trade with. SIDEBOTHAM 2015, Roman Ports on the Red Sea conflates the historical and literary information about the contacts of Roman ports on the Red Sea, and SPEIDEL 2015, Wars, Trade and Treaties presents the wider textual evidence of relations with India, on which see COBB 2015, The Chronology of Roman Trade, pp. 367-368. The connections generally extended to Sri Lanka, on which see WEERAKKODY 1997, Taprobanê and BOPEARACHCHI 1998, Changing Patterns. On the systems of knowledge that lie behind the historical and geographic idiosyncrasies, see now SCHNEIDER 2016, The So-called Confusion between India and Ethiopia.

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197

exceptions, they suggest how extraordinary claims could seem plausible. For example, Pliny’s derisive remarks in Natural History 37, about the negative impact on the Roman economy of the trade via Egypt with India9 can to some extent be corroborated by the hefty sums mentioned in an early imperial papyrus which suggests that in the second century a loan of some 7 million sesterces or 9 million Egyptian drachmae could have been unexceptional. With suboptimal grammar and codicology, the formulaic content of the so-called Muziris Papyrus is a loan agreement for a commercial sea journey from Alexandria to Muziris in India, with a detailed list of goods and prices: … six parcels loaded aboard the vessel Hermapollon I will weigh and give to your cameleer another twenty talents for loading up for the road inland to Koptos, and I will convey [sc. the goods] inland through the desert under guard and under security to the public warehouse for receiving revenues at Koptos, and I will place [them] under your ownership and seal, or of your agents or whoever of them is present, until loading [them] aboard at the river, and I will load [them] aboard at the required time on the river on a boat that is sound, and I will convey [them] downstream to the warehouse that receives the duty of one-fourth at Alexandria and I will similarly place [them] under your ownership and seal or of your agents, assuming all expenditures for the future from now to the payment of one-fourth – the charges for the conveyance through the desert and the charges of the boatmen and for my part of the other expenses.10

Treatises on agriculture of the same period suggest that agricultural investments would usually be a twentieth of the total worth of the load described in this often mentioned papyrus. These amounts and values, however, were not typical.11 Generalising them is incompatible with estimates of Roman GDP derived as much as possible from archaeological evidence. The papyrus shows that such shipments existed, but also indicates that most were loaded with smaller and/ or less valuable cargo.12

9

For an assessment of the relation to contemporary practice and the influence of Pliny’s works see PARKER 2002, Ex oriente luxuria. 10 P. Vindob G 40822 Verso = Muziris Payrus. – GURUKKAL 2016, Rethinking Classical IndoRoman Trade, p. 43; CASSON 1990, New Light on Maritime Loans, p. 200; and RATHBONE 2007, The Muziris papyrus (SB XVIII). 11 On the microhistory of Indian trade see TERPSTRA 2017, Communication and MANNING 2017, Cross-Cultural Communication. Paradigmatic volumes are discussed by COBB 2018, Black Pepper Consumption, p. 527 and EVERS 2017, Worlds Apart Trading Together, pp. 99-109, a study which encourages reflecting on the possibility of a micro-historical approach to trade in Late Antiquity, as in SIMMONS 2018, Review of Worlds apart trading together. See also TEMIN 2004, Financial Intermediation and HARPER 2016, People, Plagues, and Prices. 12 See COBB 2013, The Reception and Consumption and COBB 2015, Balancing the Trade, p. 186: “the Muziris Papyrus (mid-second century AD) records on its verso a cargo of imported ivory, cloth and nard (other goods missing from our fragmentary document were, no doubt, imported alongside these) valued at 1,154 Egyptian talents and 2,852 drachmae (almost seven million sesterces). The cargo (which we know about) weighed around 3.18 metric tonnes.”

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Pliny’s chronology of the discovery of the maritime route to India and the ensuing changes in commercial dynamics is quite accurate, but gives no hint of the actual exchange of technology by both sides.13 Romans began using cotton reinforcements on their sails and in later centuries the term, if not also the technique, of caulking, and Indian sturdily stitched timber boats became suitable for direct sailing across the ocean.14 Not only in Pliny is trade with India proverbial. It takes the full brunt of the prejudices to the East in writers of the late Republic, Principate and early Empire. They cast it as a major drain of Roman money, not to mention the negative effect of the luxury goods on the ethics, moral and physical strength of the Roman uir.15 Allegedly, the trade never recovered after the crisis of the third century. Trade has also seemed unfeasible after the mid-fourth-century edict banning the export of money, when this is anachronistically regarded as part of an effective legal system.16 Instead, archaeology and history, which confirm the relevance of the trade of pepper in volume, value and cultural impact, also show clearly that it could but was not always a luxury item.17 As with wine, the elite could spend much to have selected grains, but it was widely used for food production and religious rituals. In the port of Berenike, 7.5 kg of peppercorns were found in a large dolium,18 but also in trash dumps. Had it rotten or been found wanting? Market control? Petty crime or malice?

13

Trade with India had been quickly gaining pace once human and technological resources made it possible to use regularly two routes across the ocean driven by seasonal winds. See COBB 2015, Balancing the Trade; COBB 2018, Rome and the Indian Ocean trade, pp. 209-212 and MCLAUGHLIN 2014, The Roman Empire and the Indian Ocean, pp. 88-95. SCHEIDEL 2011, Scale and productivity; CARAHER – PETTEGREW 2016, Imperial Surplus and Local Tastes, p. 179 and MCLAUGHLIN 2010, Rome and the distant East, pp. 164-168 on the economic impact and dimensions of Roman maritime trade and also the positive effect of trade of luxury goods in the Roman Empire. Note that many of these studies analyse only from the first century BC until the beginning of the fourth, implicitly accepting the literary narrative of decline. BAGNALL 2005, Evidence and Models for the Economy of Roman Egypt, pp. 199-200 discusses the high yield of local production and the efficiency of the Nile as transportation route. 14 See POMEY 2011, Sewn Boats; POMEY 2011, Les consequences de revolution; DELL’AMICO 2011, Innovazioni in ambito navale; REES 2014, Colonial discourse and BASCH 2015, Le calfatage, p. 232. Sails are further discussed by WHITEWRIGHT 2011, Efficiency or economics? 15 See MCLAUGHLIN 2016, The Roman Empire and the Silk Routes, pp. 65-73, 102-108 on the economic and military history of Han China during the early Roman Empire, its influence on India, Parthia, its relevance on Roman trade and its cultural and political contact with Rome. See also GRAF 2018, The Silk Road. 16 Cod. Theod. 9.23.1, AD 356 or 352. Cf. DREXHAGE 2005, India, trade with. 17 See data and references for pepper in COBB 2018, Black Pepper Consumption and MALEKANDATHIL 2015, Muziris and the trajectories, pp. 354-355. 18 See TOMBER 2008, Indo-Roman trade: from pots, p. 76: the storage jar, of Indian origin, was found in situ in a first-century AD courtyard immediately north of the Serapis temple. In the area were retrieved c. 3,000 loose peppercorns, and c. 80% were charred, apparently from use in religious rituals. Archaeological remains, especially of fauna and flora indicate that alimentary habits from the middle of the fourth century AD on closely resemble the Ptolemaic corpus and

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If ‘India trade’ can be said to have peaked in the fourth century,19 it is not clear if the ongoing high volume and wealth at stake in Nonnus’ century is likely to have been perceived positively or if the first symptoms of its diminution would not have been particularly felt. Initially, Egypt had been central to the importance in the Roman world of pepper, widely known to be a produce of India. This had, however, changed from the fourth century onwards with the foundation of Constantinople, whereby ways through Syria were more efficient, and the inconstancy of commercial links with the west, where Germanic kingdoms were a market that sometimes had the means to acquire products from the trade, but where moments of political fragmentation also created volatile scenarios. Egypt was also losing access to several routes which Sasanian Persians and their allies came to monopolise, as discussed below. Other products literarily associated with India were actually not brought from there, at least not via Egypt. It is the case of several gems and agricultural products. Some are not attested in the digs in Egypt and the Red Sea, others have shown to be coming from other regions. For example, neither turquoise and lapis lazuli are sufficiently attested, suggesting that the Sinai quarries covered Rome’s market of turquoise, and the lapis lazuli mined in Afghanistan went by land rather than by sea.20 Cotton came increasingly from Arabia. Rather a luxury textile in Antiquity, new cultivars suited to the climate were allowing Arabian cotton to be increasingly present in Roman markets. However, the ware from India, which supplied also other markets, seems to have been more prestigious still.21 Egyptian contacts with ports in India were not evely distributed. Some ports held a monopoly or were part of a cartel for certain goods. The miscellanea of foreign botanical products, many of which clearly being imported from India without becoming local cultivars include several species not mentioned in literary sources. Often used as proof of stable presence of Indians in Egypt, they may as well have been transported for acquired taste, as travel-essentials, scientific plunder or exotic curiosities.22 Sailing with one Monsoon Wind,

do not have the characteristics of the early Roman period, which can be linked to the customs of groups from the Mediterrranean, especially the Roman military. See SIDEBOTHAM 2002, Late Roman Berenike, p. 234. 19 See POWER 2012, The Red Sea, p. 21. 20 It was apparently exported from Barbarikon, a port in northern India, which during Late Antiquity seems to have traded only with Persia, as can be seen on SELAND 2013, Networks and social cohesion, p. 372. 21 See BOUCHAUD ET AL. 2011, Cotton cultivation and textile production and RAMSAY – PARKER 2016, A Diachronic Look. Coins at the spots where Mesopotamian ceramic was found indicate that after a decline in the second and third century, Mesopotamian presence in the Indian Ocean increased from the fourth century onwards, and was not noticeably affected by the Arabic expansion. See also CANEPA 2017, Cross-Cultural Communication, p. 271. 22 On turquoise, lapis lazuli and botanic produce see WENDRICH ET AL. 2003, Berenike Crossroads. On the early fourth-century Christian Aksumite inscription in Berenike, see HAAS 2008,

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returning with the other six months later,23 required having in the meantime agents or contacts, or finding local intermediaries and sources of safety.24 But neither Romans nor Indians managed to establish stable and secure outposts. Despite the numbers of ships and crews, and their prolonged stay at the foreign harbour, a ‘Roman India’ or an ‘Indian Rome’ never developed in either continent.25 Extensive exploration of the coast of India and its coastal line by Indian archaeologists points to ‘an exchange of serious imbalance quite natural to the transactions between an Empire and a region of chiefdoms’, rather than an ‘Indo-Roman’ trade.26 The context of finds which do not seem to have been intended for retail does not point to settled individuals or groups who kept their identity. Merchant communities were a later development.27 In South India, the Indian Ocean trade influenced quite clearly the development of urbanism in the Western Deccan: the sites which became cultural and economically more prominent were on the few routes through the Western Ghats mountains which could reach the main ports on the Konkan coastline, in natural harbours adjacent to which another important concentration of settlements was developing. A significant part of the manufactured goods were for distant ocean markets and the trade seems to have happened primarily on the coast, where significant hoards of Roman coins and cargo of goods were found. Nevertheless, trade can at best be described as a ‘marker’, rather than singled out as a cause of the urban development.28 The third- to sixth-century changes had a significant impact on local sociogeography. They contributed to the establishment of centres of trade diasporas in the Indian Ocean in the next centuries, the time of Nonnus’ readers.

Mountain Constantines, p. 113 and, on the Christianisation of Aksum, see, among others, RUBIN 2012, Greek and Ge῾ez. 23 From June to September the monsoon winds blow steadily from the south-west in the Arabian Sea, and then from November to April/May, from the north-east. See SELAND 2013, Networks and social cohesion, p. 373. On the impact of the seasons see MARZANO 2011, Snails, wine, p. 179. 24 REES 2014, Colonial discourse, p. 20. 25 This differs significantly from the maritime trade between the same regions during the seventh century, with substantial numbers of merchants from the Arab-Persian Gulf settling along the southern Chinese coast and in some coastal centers in India, on which see GEORGE 2015, Direct Sea Trade. 26 GURUKKAL 2013, Classical Indo-Roman Trade, p. 201. This can be a sensitive issue for a number of scholars, because a blooming economy or technology has often been mentioned in descriptions of noteworthy past power or identity. For example, apart from the timing of the opening of the route and its relevance, almost everything in Classical Graeco-Roman works or mentioned by the Tamil poets of Cankam literature has to be nuanced. 27 This differs significantly from the maritime trade between the same regions during the seventh century, with substantial numbers of merchants form the Arab-Persian Gulf settling along the southern Chinese coast and in some coastal centerns in India, on which see GEORGE 2015, Direct Sea Trade. 28 REES 2014, Colonial discourse, p. 26.

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Earlier influence of Greek culture following Alexander’s expedition and the Macedonian conquest of vast areas also facilitated the Roman contact and aesthetic, political, scientific and religious exchange with India, both direct or mediated by Persia.29 Greek and Macedonian influenced concepts, practices and iconographies had become a stable part of local identity, inextricable of elements which people from the Roman empire would recognise as Persian, Indian or Asian.30 The monetisation intrinsic to commercial interaction with India and Sri Lanka was also largely due to the influence of Greek culture following Alexander’s expedition and the Macedonian conquest of vast areas.31 In spite of increasing indigenisation, the coinage still bore significant visual and practical similarities to Western usage. Changes such as the orientation of the axes as well as the consistent iconography, which have sometimes been described as stereotypical repetition, actually reflect greater mastery of mint techniques.32 A few centuries had elapsed since the social, political and cultural flourishing of Indo-Greek and Bactrian Greeks, and much of what is archaeological evidence of Hellenic input, such as the Surkh Kotal shrine, was derelict, invisible or part of a culture which had not memorialised it but had since the late second century BC been under increasing influence of other Indian, Asian and Persian identities, some of which themselves used overlapping markers as their own. It is therefore untenable to claim categorically that “the art of Gandhara and its adjacent cities are purely Graeco-Bactrian and not Roman”, and that “therefore, ‘Hellenistic’ art and content influence on Chinese Central Asia is to be credited to Hellenistic and Gandhara influences.”33

See DIHLE 1964, Indische Philosophen, pp. 60-65 and 70, n. 40 on Clement of Alexandria and other second-century works. Eusebius of Caesarea unverifiably accounts for Clement’s knowledge stating that his teacher, Pantainos, had travelled to India (HE 5, 10). The best attested and most studied case of Patristic literature which contains independent information about India is the reception of works by the Edessan Bardaiṣan. On his interest in Indian culture and their reception in litterature of the Roman Empire, both direct and through Porphyry, especially in Origen, see POSSEKEL 2018, Bardaisan’s Influence, pp. 99-101. See TANASEANU-DÖBLER 2015, Bemerkungen zu Porphyrios, p. 39 on the possible influence on Achilles Tatius. The works of Bardaiṣan stand for an important school of thought and religious culture that continued to exist in Mesopotamia and Iran. See CRONE 2012, The Nativist Prophets, pp. 199-202 as well as CANEPA 2009, The two eyes of the Earth, pp. 34-50 and KAIZER 2016, Lucian on the temple at Heliopolis. 30 On identity and cultural interaction in the Greco-Bactrian and Indo-Greek kingdoms see now WALLACE 2016, Greek Culture in Afghanistan and India; FILIGENZI 2016, Dionysos et son double and FRANCFORT 2020, Sur quelques vestiges. 31 On coinage found in archaological finds in India and Sri Lanka see BURNETT 1998, Roman coins, pp. 179-190; THIERRY 1998, Chinese coins, pp. 191-198; WEERAKKODY 1997, Taprobanê. 32 See VANAJA 1985, The Emblems, pp. 69-70 and PICARD 2016, La pénétration de la monnaie grecque. 33 Pace NEHRU 1985, The Arrested Moment, p. 118. See further KARTTUNEN 1997, India and the Hellenistic World. 29

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2. Urbanisation The influence of trade on Roman urbanisation can be seen in a number of cities in Egypt of little importance but in the Red Sea or Roman-Indian trade. Often remote or isolated, they were nevertheless provided with praefecti and some administrative structures, not least for taxation.34 At one point, imported goods were taxed 25%. Receipts on ostraka from Berenike also indicate the involvement of members of imperial familia in the trade as attested in Egypt by inscriptions and papyri which name a praefectus Ferresani portus(?) et Ponti Herculis or a praefectus montis Berenikidis.35 These ‘outposts’ of GraecoRoman elite remained connected with cultural trends by the exchange of information, travel, mobility, migration and the education of part of the youth in centres of erudition and administration such as Pannopolis and Alexandria. They were potential audiences for Nonnus who would be aware that his ‘India’ and ‘preferred routes’ were not factual unless properly interpreted, as discussed below. Projecting Roman rule to the East, Greek and Latin literature refers also to bonds of amicitia having been established with Indian leaderships, which should secure for traders and travellers some legal safeties and security measures along the routes. These narratives seem to have been more relevant for traders and travellers to deal with Roman values and institutions and use in formal or informal dispute resolution than abroad, not least because of the socio-political conditions of the various regions grouped together under India.36 Nevertheless, it was conceivable that on select occasions the Indian ‘diplomats’ would have played a part in the commemoration of outstanding feats and people during the Empire. Late antique representations of similar sumptuous gift-giving, such as in Eusebius of Caesarea’s Life of Constantine,37 and RATHBONE 2007, Merchant Networks, p. 312. See in SPEIDEL 2016, Fernhandel und Freundschaft, p. 158 the references to the praefectus insularum Baliarum and other regions. See also BROEKAERT 2012, Commercial Partnerships. 36 See SPEIDEL 2016, Fernhandel und Freundschaft, but pace SPEIDEL 2016, Augustus-Tempel in Indien und im Partherreich? See BABUSIAUX 2016, Legal Writing on the relevance of the narrative parts in Roman legal documents and MANTOVANI 2016, More than Codes, p. 24 on the shared rhetorical repertoire on which the authors of introductory constitutions and literary anthologies drew. For some examples of trade receipts and agreements, see NANTET 2014, Combien pouvait-il transporter. On members of imperial familia involved in the trade, see TOMBER 2018, Egypt and Eastern Commerce but also GONIS 2003, Ship-Owners and Skippers. 37 Eusebius VC I, 8 (transl. CAMERON – HALL 1999, p. 70): “and once he had also extended his Empire in the extreme south as far as the Blemmyes and Aethiopians, he did not treat the acquisition of what lay in the orient as beyond his scope, but illuminating with beams of the light of true religion the ends of the whole inhabited earth, as far as the outermost inhabitants of India and those who live round the rim of the whole dial of earth, he held in subjection all the toparchs, ethnarchs, satraps and kings of barbarian nations of every kind. These spontaneously saluted and greeted him, and sent their embassies with gifts and presents, and set such store by his acquaintance and friendship, that they honoured him at home with pictures of him and dedications of 34 35

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the Latin panegyrics38 show the importance of the narratives for the expression of Roman identity.39 The sociological impact of India on the capitals of the Roman Empire, and foremost on Alexandria,40 is likely to have been similar to Egypt’s on the classical reception of the Nile in Italy by virtue of its contribution to the grain supply of Rome.41 Once the changes in shipbuilding and carriage are factored in, the archaeological evidence shows that trade in the Mediterranean remained in Late Antiquity as it had been since the Principate.42 Roman-India contact linked to the maritime route was volatile and vulnerable to the markets. Trade of exotica was an important element of self-identification in the cities and beyond. Vast numbers of ostraka found in dumps specify the quantity of goods brought from the Nile Valley by caravans for loading aboard ships. The small quantities suggest that receipts were written for each camel

statues, and alone of emperors Constantine was recognized and acclaimed by them all. For his part he used imperial addresses to announce his own God openly and boldly even to the people of those lands.” Eusebius VC IV, 50 (transl. CAMERON – HALL 1999, p. 172): [During the course of his thirtieth year of reign he celebrated the marriage of his second son, … ] “On that occasion embassies from the Indians, who live near the rising sun, presented themselves, bringing gifts. These were all sorts of sparkling jewels, and animals of breeds differing from those known among us. These they brought to the Emperor showing that his power extended as far as the Ocean itself, and also how the rulers of the land of India, by honouring him with painted pictures and the dedication of statues, recognized and confessed him as Sovereign and Emperor. So when he began his reign the first to be subjected to him were the Britons near where the sun sets in the Ocean, and now it was the Indians, whose land lies near the sunrise.” 38 On Claudius Mamertinus, Panegyrici Latini 10.10.6-7, for example, see LOZOVSKY 2008, Maps and Panegyrics and TRAINA 2018, Central Asia in the Late Roman Mental Map, p. 129. 39 Cf. respectively PARKER 2008, The making of Roman India and BLÖMER 2017, Revival or Reinvention? Eusebius’ inclusion of India among the people who pay homage to Constantine reflects that episodes of official gift-giving are presented as assuring the visibility of a local identity, but do so conveying a strongly standardised expression of locality. 40 At the height of the sailing season, ships would have made the journey in a ten to twentyday trip according to CASSON 1971, Ships and seamanship, pp. 282-291. HAAS 1997, Alexandria in late antiquity, p. 42 estimates that 32 grain ships per week made the trip between March and mid-November. See also WATTS 2011, John Rufus, p. 105. 41 See MERRILLS 2017, Roman Geographies of the Nile, pp. 208-209 with BLOUIN 2018, Review of Roman Geographies and also SIDEBOTHAM 2011, Berenike and the ancient maritime spice route and VASUNIA 2001, The gift of the Nile. 42 See RIETH 2015, Pour une approche nilotique, pp. 214-221 and also NANTET 2016, Phortia, p. 156. The ports in Egypt had supply and demand to meet, since need/interest in exotic/necessary goods remained high and the means to acquire them seem to have been (or have been made) available. Archaeological evidence on the use and technological maintenance of ports yields a complex picture. For example, the flourishing economy of Palestine did not prevent the most important artificial ports to become derelict, as discussed in KINGSLEY 2001, ‘Decline’ in the Ports of Palestine, pp. 69-87. For Alexandria, see BERGMANN – HEINZELMANN 2007, Schedia, Alexandrias Hafen am Kanopischen Nil, pp. 75-76.

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driver, one of the sectors of the Roman population which are seldom mentioned in texts, especially in Graeco-Roman literature.43 2.1. Promotional Narratives In the Roman-India exchange of ideas, travels of merchants and missionaries come out as as a slow and sporadic means to see visual and narrative concepts disseminating, vulnerable to individual arbitrariness.44 It left room for a steep fall-off in idea exchange. Traders and retailers seem to have actively promoted it to boost the status and value of the commodities (ideas and goods). Without access to the oral merchandising that led to the transportation and acquisition it is not possible to reconstruct the meaning which the Roman owners of objects such as the so-called ‘Pompeii Lakshmi’ statuette associated with them.45 It is likely that quotations and allusions to verses and prose about India were used and this visibility may, even when connected to luxury items, have been detrimental for its literary status.46 The presence in daily lives of goods whose provenance was associated with India, and which had particular value if the authenticity of their provenance had extra guarantees affected the authority attached to discourses about India. The archaeological evidence in Berenike, where plenty of objects survived in situ provides good evidence also of religious and burial practices.47 In the fourth and fifth century, ‘the Christian ecclesiastical facility and at least three of the cult centres (Northern Shrine, Shrine of the Palmyrenes, and the Late Roman Harbor Temple) were operating simultaneously.’ Except perhaps the Northern Shrine, these centres as well as the so-called Serapis Temple seem to have housed multiple cults, including South Arabian and pre-Christian Aksumite rituals. Towards the West and Southwest, many hundreds of ring-cairn and donut-type graves, probably fourth-sixth-century, which resemble contemporary evidence from Sudan, such as found in Ballana and Qustul, seem to have 43 The textual invisibility of this larger part of the population is also a caveat against the populational studies relying on papyri and epigraphy, in particular on the spectrum and proportion of religious identities. A case in point is the onomastic data analysed by BAGNALL 1993, Egypt in late antiquity, p. 281 which nevertheless does not offer a full picture of the religious landscape, as POWER 2012, The Red Sea, p. 25 wants. 44 On the transfer of visual content and the discourses associated with it, see CANEPA 2010, Distant Displays of Power, p. 143 and FYNES 1993, Isis and Pattini. 45 On the statuette see STONEMAN in this volume, p. 156, with further references. 46 See EVERS 2017, Worlds Apart Trading Together. Compare with MAZUREK 2016, Material and textual narratives; EVANS 2003, Searching for Paradise and JAEGER 2015, Why Is There No Cheese? 47 SIDEBOTHAM 2014, Religion and Burial, p. 629. On the expression of cultural, religious and ethnic belongings in burial practices see SLANE 2012, Remaining Roman in death and HOSKINS WALBANK 2014, Remaining Roman. Further see TOMBER 2000, Indo-Roman trade: the ceramic and SELAND 2014, Archaeology of Trade in the Western Indian Ocean.

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been the burial place for the various indigenous desert dwellers or others who were not Romans, Greeks, or Egyptians from the Nile Valley. However, “no recognizable evidence for cultic or funerary activities associated with any of the major religions of South Asia contemporary with the Roman period in Egypt including Jainism, Hinduism, Buddhism, or Brahmanism” was found in Berenike.48 The evidence of Roman presence in India is likewise fuzzy and disparate, especially in what concerns religious practices. Traders were as likely to be from a number of ethnicities, including Egyptians from the Nile, Greeks, Romans, Jews, and their religious identity could be primarily Ptolemaic, Roman, Jewish or Christian. Linking the exchange of ideas to trade routes seems corroborated in legendary stories of the missionary in the ‘habit of a merchant’, such as the Doctrina Addai. Plotting the networks derived from texts about the Christianisation of India yields a polycentric model with claims of exclusive identity. It resembles the networks constructed from Classical literature rather than from archaeology, reflecting that literature about Christian matters was part and parcel of the same production of texts in Greek or Latin from which originated the classicising texts.49 The stories about Christianisation of India are as likely to be historical or factual as Dionysus’ journey in Nonnus or Cosmas Indicopleutes’ account. These are increasingly moot topics, especially with the growing cultural tensions in India, Pakistan and Iran. However, the literary works, including Nonnus’ Dionysiaca were factual insofar as they reflected that diplomatic, mercantile, missionary and pilgrimaging exchanges played a part along all trade routes. The encounter of material and visual cultures was gaining pace in Nonnus’ time and is particularly evident in Justinian’s reign, a century later.50 It remained mostly sporadic, coexisting with the late antique Graeco-Roman reception of Hellenistic and laterepublican/early-imperial invective agains Persia and the East. In Persia, however, some cultural and religious groups with a Roman background developed into stable social and cultural entities. This was to be decisive for the settlement of Roman people and notions in India.

48 See TOMBER 2008, Indo-Roman trade: from pots to pepper, p. 74 on graffiti and ostraka in Indian scripts and languages found in Roman ports not yielding any information on the location in which they were written or incised. 49 The patterns suggested by SELAND 2013, Networks and social cohesion, pp. 378 and 387 represent visually what is accounted for primarily in Christian polemical literature and classical travel accounts. This is hardly if at all corroborated archaeologically or by epigraphic material such as found in Palmyra, which reveal thoroughly the networking around the Arab Peninsula and the Indian Ocean. See also ANDRADE 2018, The journey of Christianity, pp. 102-104. 50 CANEPA 2014, Textiles and Elite Tastes, p. 4.

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3. Land Routes, Expertise and Roman ‘Defeats’ In the course of the third to sixth century, Persia was becoming an archipelagos of territorialised infrastructures within a frontier which the Sasanian court was gradually managing to control, due to innovative campaigning, sometimes for years at a time.51 The changes from infrastructures of persuasion to coercion in the political landscape of the imperial space in Persia was displayed monumentally in large-scale complexes.52 New urban centres were devised as centres of administration and industrial production which would supply internal and external trade, and also provide for the military, which was controlled by the Sasanians. People who could contribute to the high-value production were targeted for capture and deportation during the campaigns, and also welcomed as immigrants.53 They quickly became part of the urban societies, yet retained some markers of their original identities. The resettled populations had significant religious freedom, and were not constrained by Roman imperial interest in religion and ritual.54 They flourished economically and socially, and some gained prominence at the Sasanian courts. While the substantial fourth-century deportations left an indelible political and cultural stain in the Roman imperial and general perception of Persia as a threat, for Nonnus’ skilled public, his omitted geographical topic was a relevant crossroad of migrations.55 Roman See BÖRM 2016, A Threat or a Blessing, p. 628. In Nonnus’ time only some of them were already functioning at least partially and most projects that would be emblematic of sixth- and seventh-century Persia were underway, their conclusion in no way guaranteed. After all, the new order which stood behind and made them feasible was internally fragile, as discussed by HOWARD-JOHNSTON 2008, The Destruction, pp. 81-82. 53 PAYNE 2017, Territorializing, p. 188. The cities contributed to exploit internal resources, discipline the elites, and to unify geographically disparate lands within well-defined frontiers. Deportations did not target populations on religious or ethnic criteria. If at all, these factors may have influenced the profile of people from the Roman Empire who remained and settled in Persia, and did not keep expecting or attempting to return. See especially MORONY 2004, Population Transfers; MOSIG-WALBURG 2010, Deportationen römischer Christen and GREATREX 2014, L’influence byzantine, p. 165. 54 See BECKER 2010, The Comparative Study and also MCDONOUGH 2016, The “Warrior of the Lords”; MOSIG-WALBURG 2010, Deportationen römischer Christen. These and other recent studies take into account a wider evidence which affects the historicity of narrative elements which seem to suggest that faith follows trade as implied for example by the title of the recent article SELAND 2012, Trade and Christianity and stated in analyses such as JULLIEN – JULLIEN 2002, Aux frontières de l’iranité on which much specialised literature still relies, e.g. SMITH 2016, Constantine and the captive Christians, pp. 129-131. Those narratives and the accounts describing several instances of sufferings and their perpetrators (see WOOD 2013, The Chronicle of Seert and WOOD 2016, The Christian Reception of the Xwaday-Namag on their reduced historical accuracy) are, however, relevant to several religious identities, and some are still employed proactively by some groups. 55 On Persia in Heliodorus’ Ethiopica, see CRACCO RUGGINI 2004, La Persia e il mondo tardoellenistico. On the depictions of Roman-Sasanian conflict in the third century as narrative tools to name and address severe problems within the Roman Empire, see HAVENER 2017, Metus Persicus? The omission also silences the rival tradition of Dionysiac iconography and literature, on 51 52

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stereotypical invective against Persia does not seem to have deterred emigration, sometimes to join those already settled. Persian capitals continued to attract by demand skilled workers and qualified intellectuals. Their cultural and religious belongings often led them to stay connected or to reach out to similarly minded or antagonising religious and intellectual centres. Thus, the development of Christianities, Judaisms and other systems of belief in Persia was linked to the Roman Empire and in particular to that other cultural hotspot which was Egypt. However, the system of belief for which Nonnus’ Dionysus is representative had no place in Persia, where the imperial and elite identity had to be Persian and Zoroastrian, however much other linguae francae, such as Syriac and Sogdian, and religions were tolerated, as long as they did not contest the righteousness and divinity of Sasanian leadership and ideology.56 The poetics of Nonnus’ Dionysiaca could not express Persian imperial identity within its ‘Dionysiac’ imperial geography. It was a blackhole and is duly omitted from Nonnus’ epic cosmography, that is, a representation of the world where a Greek epic poem could be understood as expressing its imperial identity. The Sasanians succeeded in bolstering a Persianistic culture to the extent that it rivalled and finally largely displaced Hellenistic culture, not only in the Caucasus but in Central Asia as well.57 It involved objects and activities, such as polo, chess and backgammon. More subtly, elements which in Persia would be inextricably linked to its Iranian identity, such as ornaments, spread both East and West. Iranian here comes from the designation used by Sasanid elites for “the mythical-geographical entity that was the re-instantiation of the cosmically apposite political order that had pertained at the origins of a once-unified world during the era of Zoroaster.”58 The traffic of ideas, goods and people between the Roman Empire and India, along the routes through Mesopotamia, Iran and South Asia was therefore exposed to at least two stages of negotiation and translation, at the Iranian frontiers. Commerce was organised by detailed regulations which allowed for the risks of long-distance trade, rules of compensation in case of bankruptcy,

which see CALLIERI 2008, ‘Dionysiac’ Iconographic Themes. Like coinage and some political notions, the iconography and mythology of Dionysos and Hercules were some of the elements which remained in Sasanid culture, developing on under the influence of some contact with Roman art from their use during the Parthian dynasty, when especially the court showed interest for Hellenic values. See KOUHPAR – TAYLOR 2008, A Metamorphosis in Sasanian Silverwork. 56 On the chronology of Christian persecution in Iran see for example SMITH 2016, Constantine and the captive Christians of Persia. On other traditions see REED 2009, Beyond the Land of Nod; CANEPA 2011, The Art and Ritual; DUCOEUR 2010, Le Buddha à l’École and POLLARD 2013, Indian Spices. 57 See CANEPA 2017, Rival Images. 58 PAYNE 2017, Territorializing, p. 179.

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collective ownership of merchandise and so forth.59 The longest leg was mostly performed by Sasanians or acculturated foreigners. Mesopotamia and Iran seem to have held the fiscal and commercial fidelity also of the non-Iranian inhabitants in their lands and abroad. They competed directly for the Indian market with Rome. This can be seen in the distribution of amphorae and torpedo- or Spitzfuß jars.60 The identification of the alkaline glaze of ceramics as the turquoise typical of regions such as Basra at the head of the Gulf showed their provenance from Mesopotamia. This revealed that in the 31, out of c. 50 potential spots, where imported amphorae had been found, ten contained only Mesopotamian sherds and five contained both. This evidence points to a fragmentation of travel and transport within the Indian Ocean, respecting political boundaries in regions where cultural identity was strong. Iran seems to have gained monopoly of ports that could cater their more specialised needs, while Romans roamed various harbours to bring back a wide range of foreign goods. The textual references to Sasanian viniculture indicate that torpedo jars were their ‘amphorae’. Thus, it seems that Rome faced the competition of Mesopotamia in supplying the Indian market with wine.61 Competition with Sasanid Persia fragmented the trade and some land routes were the more obvious priorities to supply Western markets, with maritime trade being done by the Persians, but some emperors such as Justin and Justinian made significant efforts to revitalise the direct trade more to the south.62 The plausible picture of the commercial crossroads through which Nonnus’ audience allegedly had access to India, is essentially an attempt to place them in modern systems of cultural classification of ancient cultures.63 Any coin or sherd, or thorough review can offset the balance between entrepreneurship, urban agency, legal frameworks, urban networks and religious identities. A case in point is the relevance of the Sub- and Trans-Saharan trade for Alexandria and the ports of the Red Sea. Literary and scholarly prejudices have focused on Roman-Indian trade, but the evidence of stable commercial dealings across the Sahara and overseas to

59 DE LA VAISSIÈRE 2005, Sogdian traders, p. 171. Other regulations included the distribution of the shares in case of a separation of the partners and fixed the rates of interest for merchants providing themselves with credit and counting on the profits from sales for their reimbursement. See also SMITH 2016, Toward a ‘Text-Market’ Approach. 60 See TOMBER 2008, Indo-Roman trade: from pots, pp. 39-54, 160. 61 TOMBER 2007, Rome and Mesopotamia, p. 976; WENDRICH ET AL. 2003, Berenike Crossroads, p. 79. Most of the amphora-borne commodities were destined for export but at least some sectors of the Berenike population had access to them, as seen from the finds in domestic contexts. For changing patterns and ongoing trade, see TAXEL – FANTALKIN 2011, Egyptian Coarse Ware. 62 MALEKANDATHIL 2015, Muziris and the Trajectories, pp. 358-392. 63 See RIBEIRO 2016, Against object agency; LEE 2012, Colophons, p. 93 and WILDER 2008, The Case for an External Spectator, p. 264.

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the South is growing, showing not only its role in the establishment of ports like Berenike, but also for their growth and stability.64 4. Locations and Crossroads India mattered for the average inhabitant of the West, especially of Egypt, or the Near East. Urban planning, mosaics, textiles, sculptures, games were showing the rise and spread of an Iranian koine mediating the cultural exchange between China, India and Rome. Engagement with Asian realia could involve connoisseurship. The works and reputation of specialists, such as skilled workers and thinkers, who were intimately familiar with the objects and ideas of India, reached the same audience which could also engage with the earlier literary culture about Indika and works such as Nonnus’ epics which reflect his connoisseurship of the information and agency in the developments of the epic poetic form.65 Mighty powers were competing with Rome for access and control of minds and commodities, not least in matters of Christian faith and allegiance. The worldpicture of works such as Cosmas’, Philoponus’ and Nonnus’ combined a master narrative of coming to be, such as Genesis or Dionysius’, with the philosophy and natural science of their day. Nonnus’ Cyrillian and Chalcedonian account contrasts with Cosmas’ Nestorian cosmology in the Topographia Christiana, which was then answered from the Miaphysite point of view by Philoponus.66 Nonnnus’ omission of Mesopotamia and Iran competed directly with their publicisation. They were the main agents in the cross-cultural interactions which were changing dramatically the visual cultures of the Mediterranean, Western, Central and East Asian. Motifs found in their material and conceptual culture, no longer needed to be viewed as ‘foreign’ when they were integrated locally. Indeed, evidence of the coexistence of different codes should not be taken as indicative of conflict, nor the assimilation of foreign elements as passive consequence of a cultural defeat.67 The way of life largely developed beyond imperial control. Still, transactions of goods, people and ideas with India defined the urbanisation of wide regions. India mattered for imperial identity on an epic scale.68 A conquest of India was very much in the interest 64 RAMSAY – PARKER 2016, A Diachronic Look, pp. 105, 116 and HORTON ET AL. 2017, Ships of the Desert. Further evidence is analysed in GUÉRIN 2013, Forgotten Routes? and SIDEBOTHAM 2014, Religion and Burial. On the economic and social impact of alternative routes which are invisible in the literary sources, see, for example, COOPER 2011, No easy option, pp. 189-191. 65 Cf. ELSNER 2007, Roman eyes, pp. 49-66. 66 MACCOULL 2006, The historical Context of John Philoponus’ De Opificio Mundi, pp. 402407 and EDMONDS 2009, A Curious Concoction. 67 Cf. CANEPA 2014, Textiles and Elite Tastes, p. 11. 68 The figure of Dionysus had foremost a political significance in its imperial and late antique literary and visual representation and the reception of monuments, practices and discourses. This

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of the identity and economy of its major urban centres. It resonated with Nonnus’ public. He projected the religious and political victories epically, deeply rooted in Greco-Roman knowledge of India. Nonnus’ ‘confusion’ about India does not reflect a presumed Western ignorance or neglect about the Far East, or an increasing deterioration of GrecoRoman geographical knowledge in Late Antiquity,69 but its deep roots in Greco-Roman knowledge. Presenting plenty of geographic details, revealed by P. Chuvin’s magisterial study, mixed with blurred information, Nonnus inserted Egyptian classical culture in imperial interests, without identifying any political, military, legal or fiscal imperial centre. Nonnus acted as a cultural expert, revealing the place of India in he continuous network of roads of the Roman Empire, from the Eastern to the Western oceans, and also approaching often contradictory narratives about local antiquity which did not become canonical works but can at times be perceived in the wider textual and material evidence.70 To conclude, Nonnus’ well-educated late antique and Byzantine public, wellversed in Graeco-Roman and Patristic literature, found in his poetry an accumulation of data about various places on both sides of Persia, peoples and their worldviews, values and social models, and narratives about individual actors and their routes with which they could develop a mental map of the Roman world dominion that countered the growing Sasanian Persianist discourse.71 The poem was thus the epic historiography which also would have been depicted in maps on floors, walls, ceilings and portable materials of which the Tabula Peutingeriana may bear witness.72 The late antique and Byzantine draughtsmen found pictorial solutions to place the major urban centres, whether near or distant, in a taxis that made them part of the extended Roman world, can also be seen in Horace’s generic enrichment in the representation in Odes 2.19 of a Julius Caesarian appropriation of the political and poetical tradition on Bacchus to cast the ‘young’ leader as a giant-killers whom people underestimated at their peril, as shown in HARRISON 2017, Horace’s hymn to Bacchus. 69 Depictions of the eastern and southern parts of the oikoumene which included India could, for late antique audiences, seem organised and coherent thanks to the accumulation of information which privileged resemblance over differences, as was already the case in the reports of Alexander’s companions, as discussed by SCHNEIDER 2016, The So-called Confusion between India and Ethiopia, pp. 191, 193. Moreover, on the Monsoon sea routes, Egypt and India were the next port of one of the legs, and thus as good as contiguous. 70 Cf. ROJAS – SERGUEENKOVA 2014, Traces of Tarhuntas. 71 On cognitive models and their relation to narratives, see KITCHIN – FREUNDSCHUH 2000, Cognitive Mapping, pp. 25, 96. Compare with ROLLINGER 2016, Megasthenes, mental maps. 72 Since 2017, C. Jones’ searchable digital edition is available at http://piggin.net/svg/Peutinger Piggin.svg http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC13945113 with links to the online resources of TALBERT 2010, Rome’s World. See also ALBU 2005, Imperial Geography. Insufficient comparative data makes the argumentation for an ancient, late antique or medieval dating of the visual information contained in the current copy equally persuasive. See also RATHMANN 2016, Tabula Peutingeriana and ALBU 2014, The medieval Peutinger map.

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within its area of influence and control.73 They endowed with a templum Augusti Muziris, for which they had the evidence of sources such as Pliny and the Periplus, corroborated by the authority of their authors. Needless to say, archaeologists are still looking for it… and we are reading Nonnus.

73 The global political and economic scenario changed considerably especially in the next two centuries and this contribution does not address the context of Byzantine, medieval or modern readers of Nonnus with which they would have made their ‘mental maps’. On the Byzantine maritime trade see BRANDES 1989, Die Städte Kleinasiens, pp. 153-158.

XII. NYMPHS AND ELEPHANTS. NONNUS’ DEPICTION OF INDIA Richard STONEMAN

In 1964, Albrecht Dihle argued in a classic article that Greek and Roman writers were entirely dependent for their information about India on Megasthenes. Megasthenes’ book, Indica, written in the last decades of the fourth century BC, had become a classic, and no author saw the need to go any further for news about India. He writes India as represented in the literary text of pagan origin is, in fact, the country known to the Greeks 400 or 500 years previously… Every author likely to have had stylistic ambitions avoided any allusion to contemporary or late Hellenistic India.1

Clearly there were later accounts of India than Megasthenes’, not least those of Artemidorus, and Apollodorus of Artemita, both cited by Strabo. Pliny’s long account of the tribes of India clearly depends on a later source in addition to Megasthenes, perhaps Artemidorus. But Dihle did not extend his purview to Late Antiquity. It is the purpose of this contribution to consider whether his generalisation holds good for Nonnus, whose poem is the most extensive work featuring India to survive from Antiquity. Was Nonnus in a position (or did he wish) to make use of more recent information about India and its art and culture that had become available during the first centuries of the Roman Empire? I shall focus on three sets of material: (1) the people and places of India mentioned in Nonnus; (2) the elephant (and some other titbits of natural history); (3) nymphs, especially tree-nymphs. 1. The Peoples of India (Nonn. Dion. 26.49-339) In the list of troops that joined Dionysus’ opponent Deriades Nonnus lists some forty names, including tribal names, city names and a few rivers. Many of these are unknown from any other source. Our main sources of information for Indian geography are the Alexander historians, Ptolemy the geographer (7.1-2), Pliny’s Natural History (6.64-79), and the poet Dionysius, whose Bassarica, written perhaps in the second century AD, was an account of Dionysus’

1

DIHLE 1964, The conception of India, pp. 17, 20.

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campaign in eighteen or more books (but probably no more than 24).2 In addition there is some information in Herodotus, derived from the account of Scylax of Caryanda in the early fifth century BC, and Ctesias’ Indica. It is uncertain how much geographical or topographical information appeared in Megasthenes: his nineteenth century editor, Eugen Schwanbeck, accepted the long section of Pliny mentioned above as deriving from Megasthenes, but Felix Jacoby excluded it from his Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, along with many other passages that were accepted by Schwanbeck, because it, like these, does not explicitly name Megasthenes as its source. Pliny surely used both the Alexander historians and Megasthenes, but he also explicitly names the geographer Artemidorus (ca 150-100 BC: Plin NH 6.70), whose eleven books of Geographoumena are lost.3 The latter’s itinerary, if we may extrapolate from Pliny, was rather strange: he travelled down the Ganges, around the coast, and then successively down and up the Indus to the borders of the subcontinent at Kabul. Dionysius Periegetes devotes a few colourful lines to India (1107-1165) but apart from rivers and mountains the only names he offers are those of the Sabai (Sibae?), Toxiloi (Taxileis?), Scodroi (Sudrae?), Peukaleis (of Peucalaotis/ Pushkalavati), and the Gargaridae (presumably the Gangaridae of the Middle Ganges).4 All these are familiar from the Alexander historians. Table 1. Indian Peoples: Nonn. Dion. 26.49-339 Nonnus Cyra Baidion R. Ombelos Paropamisos Sesindia Gazos Dardae Prasioi Salangoi Zabioi

Alex Historians

Ptolemy

Pliny

Dionysius

other

X

X X X X X

X X X X

Aeschylus (Gabioi)

BENAISSA 2018, Dionysius, p. 15. On Artemidorus see GGM I. 566.31 and esp. 574ff., Strabo 14.1.26; SETTIS 2008, Artemidoro, pp. 54-63. 4 On the Gangaridae, see LIGHTFOOT 2014, Dionysius Periegetes, ad loc., 1144, and SIRCAR 1971, Studies in the Geography, pp. 231-224, also pp. 172-173. 2 3

NYMPHS AND ELEPHANTS. NONNUS’ DEPICTION OF INDIA

Nonnus Aithre, city of the Sun Anthene Orycie Nesaia Melainai Patalene Dyssaioi Sabeiroi Ouatakoitai (Ear-sleepers) Borlinges Arachotes Dersaioi Xouthoi Arienoi (i.e. Ariane) Zoares7 Eares Caspeiroi Arbiai

Alex Historians

Ptolemy

X X (Malli?) X X (Dosareis) X (Abeiroi)5

X (Boranga) X X (Darsania) X X

X

7 8 9

x X (presumably Oxydracae/ Sudracae)

X (Suari) X X X (Arbis)

X (Kashmir) X

(Koureour)

6

X6 Scylax, Ctesias, Megasthenes

Cyraioi (divers)8 Areizanteia9 Sibai

5

other

X

X (Ouarsa)

Carmina (city) 300 islands at mouth of Indus Pylai

Dionysius

Iambulus, Mela

Arsanie

Hydarcai

Pliny

215

X (Zoara) Herodotus

X (Arsagalitae)

x x X

CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 300. Uberae: MCCRINDLE 1927/2000, Ancient India, p. 173 identifies with the Suari. In Persia: CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 303. An island in the Persian Gulf according to CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 305. Persian according to CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 306: see Hdt. 1.101.

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Nonnus Eucolla (?= Peucelaotis) Goryandis

R. STONEMAN

Alex Historians

Ptolemy

Pliny

Dionysius

other

X X (Korounda)10

Oita Eristobareia Derbices12 Ethiopians Sacae Bactrians Blemyes

X (Aristobathra)

Panini (Arichtapoura)11

X

The table lists the peoples and other locations named by Nonnus, and indicates in which other sources these names occur.13 As can readily be seen, his list offers a great many names that are not known from elsewhere, though he also omits a number of names that one would have expected to find, for example the Calingae of modern Odisha (who are in Pliny). A good many of his names appeared before him in Dionysius, many of them nowhere else. The surviving fragments of Dionysius’ Bassarica also offer us the Mal(l)oi, a people wellknown from Alexander’s campaign onwards; the Pandai (the name occurs in Arrian’s story about Heracles and his daughter Pandaea,14 but also belongs to a north-western people, the Pandavas of the Mahabharata);15 Kassitera (which is surprising, since tin is not much found in India);16 and the Gandroi (presumably the Gandaridae of Gandhara or the Gangaridae of the Middle Ganges). Nonnus’ names are a mixed bag. They appear in no order that relates clearly to Indian geography, and many of them, it seems, are not even in India. Chuvin finds a number of identifications with locations in Persia and elsewhere. The last four in the list all lie well outside the confines of India, the Sacae or Scythians in Central Asia and the Ethiopians and Blemyes in Africa. Within India, the Indus Valley is well represented. There are a few fabulous races, notably the Ear-sleepers and perhaps the Blemyes, who were sometimes conceived as MCCRINDLE 1927/2000, Ancient India, p. 263 regards this as a place near Merv. CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 308. 12 In the region of the Oxus according to MCCRINDLE 1927/2000, Ancient India, p. 263. 13 CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 294-312 has some valuable pages on the identifications of Nonnus’ ethnonyms. 14 Arr. Ind. 8.4-10. 15 Plin 6.94; CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 307 n. 88. 16 BENAISSA 2018, Dionysius, ad fr. 27. 10 11

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having faces in their chests. The names that appear nowhere else – which are rather few – might be evidence of his acquaintance with a map or account more thorough than any that has survived for us, or they might be inventions. I prefer the former alternative;17 but, even if Nonnus’ familiarity with some work of Indian geography is thus proved, it does not suggest that he had used it as more than a quarry for exotic names. It does, however, suggest that Indian geographical knowledge had advanced beyond Megasthenes. 2. The Elephant (and Some Other Creatures) One of Nonnus’ fine set pieces is his description of the elephant (26.295-328), which is associated with the troops who come from Oita, one of the locations that is unique to Nonnus and defies identification. By Nonnus’ time elephants had become quite familiar in the classical world, both as instruments of war in the armies of the Hellenistic kings, and of Hannibal, and as exhibits or performers in the circus. Pliny (NH 8.1-13) had devoted a long passage to the elephant, based on accounts of its behaviour in the wild, and its admirable moral qualities, as well as their skill in circus tricks such as spelling out Greek words, to which Aelian (HA 2.11) adds dancing and tightrope-walking.18 Although elephants were used in war and in ferocious combats in the arena, they still evoked feelings of affection, which were sometimes mutual, as Plutarch relates of the elephant in Alexandria which was a rival in love to Aristophanes the grammarian: it used to bring the beloved flower-seller fruit and caress her breasts, inside her garments, with his trunk. Though such anecdotes verge on tall stories, and the elephant is certainly prone to inspire flights of anthropomorphic fancy, there was quite a lot of scientific information available as well. It has often been supposed that Alexander deliberately provided material for Aristotle’s researches into the elephant. The story is so appealing that it was even developed into a novel, An Elephant for Aristotle, by L. Sprague du Camp, which charts the travails of the beast on its long journey from India to Macedon to become the object of scientific experiments.19 One need not fall for the nonsense retailed by Pseudo-Plutarch, On Rivers 1.4, about Alexander’s encounter with a talking elephant near the River Hydaspes – which the author presumably invented, along with the author he cites 20 – to believe that

17 H.J. Rose in his notes to the Loeb Nonnus (ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca (II), p. 296 n. b) also favours an unknown source on ‘the wonders of the east’. Cosmas Indicopleustes, writing in the century after Nonnus (ca 567) has far less credible information about India than the poet. 18 SCULLARD 1974, The Elephant, pp. 208-218 on Pliny, 222-230 and 253 on Aelian. 19 Travelling elephants have inspired more than one novelist, Jose Saramago being another example. 20 And most of the other sources in his book: see the edition by CALDERON DORDA ET AL. 2003, Plutarco. Fiumi e monti.

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Alexander was particularly struck by the elephant. Indeed, there is plenty of evidence for his fascination with the beasts. But the story that he sent one back to Macedon, as he did the oxen of Arigaeum, may be too good to be true. James Romm has argued that the whole story of Alexander’s scientific patronage is a myth.21 He points out that there is very little in Aristotle’s works about the wildlife of India other than his information on the elephant, and that, even though he knew there were differences between the African and Indian elephants, the specimen he examined was actually an African. (Athenaeus 8.47-9 is an extended attack on the inaccuracy of much of Aristotle’s biological information, though the elephant does not feature here). J.M. Bigwood extended the argument, insisting that most of Aristotle’s information is drawn from authors earlier than Alexander, notably Ctesias: anything in Aristotle that resembles something we know of from Nearchus or Onesicritus was probably already in Ctesias. Furthermore, there is no evidence that, as is sometimes stated, Aristotle actually dissected an elephant, though Galen, 500 years later, certainly did. Even making allowance for a tendency in Bigwood to see Ctesias at the root of everything, the cumulative argument is strong. Megasthenes had written mainly about the method of capture of elephants, about which he is well informed, describing the process in terms close to those of later Sanskrit treatises such as that of Nilakantha. Some other details in Aelian may be drawn from Megasthenes, regarding their love of music and of perfumes, the method of treating their wounds and the mutual love of a trainer and an elephant calf.22 Nonnus concentrates on the anatomy of the elephant – its tusks, trunk and large ears, as well as, apparently, the military custom of attaching sickles to its tusks (Dion. 26.318-319). ξείνην καρχαρόδοντα φέρων ἑτερόστομον ἅρπην, δινεύων ἑκάτερθε γενειάδος ἔμφυτον αἰχμήν. striking with the borrowed sharptoothed sickle on each side of his mouthc and swinging natural spears on both cheeks.23

No Indian source refers to attaching blades to the tusks, and the Arthaśāstra for example (10.4.14, 10.5.54) makes clear that their main function is for battering fortifications and for breaking through enemy formations; nor are elephants depicted with such weaponry in Roman art, so this may be an overinterpretation by Rouse of the word ξείνην, which could mean no more than ‘alien’. At 27.137 Nonnus refers to elephants wearing armour, which is certainly ROMM 1989, Aristotle’s elephant; BIGWOOD 1993, Aristotle and the Elephant again. Ael. HA 12,44 = F 37B Schw, HA 13.7 = F38 Schw, HA 12.8 = F 52 Schw, HA 3.46 = F53 Schw. Achilles Tatius (4.4) also gives some colourful details. For Nilakantha’s treatise, see the translation by F. EDGERTON 1931, The Elephant-lore of the Hindus. 23 Text and translation of Nonnus: ROUSE 1940, Nonnos. Dionysiaca. 21 22

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known from the Mughal period, though this is not mentioned in ancient Indian or classical texts. Nonnus also says that the elephant lives for 200 years, and in this he is in agreement with other writers such as Philostratus, who describes his hero Apollonius encountering in Taxila an elephant that had known Alexander. In fact the elephant lives for around sixty years, and those who managed herds for the army as well as for the arena must have known this perfectly well. He also states that elephants have no joints in their legs,24 a fable that was given currency by Agatharchides: he stated that elephants like to sleep leaning against a tree because their knees do not bend, so that hunters find they can easily capture elephants by sawing down the tree, after which the elephant cannot rise.25 Though Aristotle had known this to be false,26 and though plenty of Roman works of art clearly depict elephants with jointed legs,27 it continued to be believed well into the Middle Ages. John Donne writes that ‘nature hath given him no knees to bend’.28 Apart from these points, Nonnus’ description of the elephant’s appearance is tolerably accurate, and it is quite likely that he had seen one in the flesh, or at least in works of Roman art. The erroneous information he gives is part of the common stock and is not due to Megasthenes. But it does not suggest that he was concerned first and foremost to present a scientifically accurate picture of the elephant: his aim is to present a vivid portrayal of a conventional theme. Some other items of natural history show Nonnus similarly dependent on earlier literary sources. At Dion. 26.201-211 there is a highly pictorial description of two birds previously described by Cleitarchus, the orion and the catreus.29 There that sweet bird the orion, like a rational swan, sings on the honey-dripping branches; he does not strike up in harmony with the Zephyr by putting forth the warble of his hymn – creating wings, but sings his lay with an understanding beak, like a man strumming a wedding hymn on the lute that draws his bride. There the catreus, yellow of hue and sweet of tone, prophesies the coming downpour of rain; from his eyelids flashes a glitter as striking as the morning shafts of dawn. Often as he twitters from his windy branch he weaves his song in harmony with the orion, whom he excels with his scarlet wings. You would say, if you should hear the catreus singing his salute to the dawn, that it is a nightingale unfolding a morning revel from her shining throat.30

Dion. 28.72, cf. Dion. 26.304 ποσσὶ τανυκνήμοισιν, and Dion. 43.337. Agatharchides 56; TRAUTMANN 2015, Elephants and Kings, pp. 239-240. 26 De incessu animalium 9.709a10: “this was the old though erroneous account of the movement of elephants”; HAnim 2.1, 498a3f; SCULLARD 1974, The Elephant, pp. 39-40. 27 E.g. SCULLARD 1974, The Elephant, pl. XX a, b, and pl. XVII. 28 Progress of the Soul 39. 29 Compare Ael. HA 17.22 and 23 with Str. 15.1.69. 30 Unless mentioned otherwise, all translations are by the author. 24 25

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The orion is said by Cleitarchus/Aelian to be the size of a heron with red legs but dark blue eyes, while the catreus, according to H.J. Rose is “probably the monal pheasant”; but, he adds grumpily, “no pheasant can sing a note”.31 The orion which can use language sounds to me like a mynah bird, while the brilliantly coloured catreus sounds like a macaw; but parrots at least were familiar enough in the classical world, and anyway it does not matter much what these fabulous birds are. The image of their singing in counterpoint to welcome the dawn is thoroughly poetic, and Nonnus has adapted the information about them for his own pictorial effect. A further aspect of natural history that interests Nonnus is the precious and/ or magical stones of India. He mentions stones with aphrodisiac properties (32.20ff), a “stone from the Indian sea” (presumably a pearl) as a prize (37.752), jewels as booty (40.255), gems and pearls (42.239), pearls again (“the Indian stone”, 45.123), and amethysts (12.381). Pearls were mentioned by the Alexander historians Androsthenes and Chares,32 but they remained unfamiliar in the early Hellenistic world, since Theophrastus can refer to “what is known as the oyster”,33 and Megasthenes can get away with a wonderful tall story about pearl-fishing:34 apparently oysters, like bees, have a king, and if you can capture the king, the rest of the oysters will follow along obediently, just like the ones in Lewis Carroll’s story of the Walrus and the Carpenter. Other Indian gems became treasured in the Hellenistic world, as we can see from a Seleucid period statuette of Ishtar from Babylon (in the Louvre) with a ruby in her navel, which can only have come from India (Illus. 12.1). Seleucus himself received a gift of aphrodisiacs (and antaphrodisiacs) from the Maurya king Bindusara, though these may have been herbs (since Theophrastus is the informant) rather than stones.35 The flow of gems and spices from India to the Roman capital enraged Pliny, who saw in it a mark of moral decline, but in Nonnus the gems are simply markers of local colour. In the case of the aphrodisiac stones, they are part of the adornments used by Hera when she sets out to seduce Zeus on Mt Olympus, and thus have a significant part to play in the creation of atmosphere. 3. Nymphs The number of nymphs in Nonnus’ poem is quite remarkable, and far exceeds the range that occurred in any previous poem. There are Mimallones (43.133), In: ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca, ad loc. Athen. 3.45-46, 93C. 33 De lapidibus 6.36: ὁ μαργαρίτης καλούμενος. 34 F13 J = Arr. Ind. 8.11-13. 35 Phylarchus ap. Athen. 1.32; MEHL 1986, Seleukos Nikator, pp. 187-188. Aśoka’s second Rock Edict also speaks of sending useful drugs to the Greeks. 31 32

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Bassarids, Nereids, Graces (33.1ff), Naiads (42.100), Thyiades, Hadryads and Hamadryads. Individual nymphs also abound, including Nesaia, Ariadne, Nicaia, and Aura, the victim of a shocking date-rape in the final book. The habitat of the nymphs is evoked in terms that are sometimes, to my eye, quite Miltonic (Dion. 39.251-253): Leucothea, the nurse of Lyaeus, cried out for joy, raising her neck proudly, and the nymph crowned her hair with flowers of seaweed in celebration of the Indian victory.

reminds me of the address to the nymph of the River Severn in Comus: Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

Illustration 12.1: 3rd century BC ivory statuette of Ishtar from Babylon; Louvre Museum. Ref.: AO 20127; © R.M.N. / P. Bernard.

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Nonnus, like Milton, is a poet steeped in classics and the classical tradition, but one for whom, though it is intensely felt, it is a pictorial and ornamental stratagem. Like the art of the later empire, as seen on mosaics, sarcophagi and even in the few remaining manuscript illustrations that belong to the same tradition, nymphs and satyrs cluster around the god, entwined with vines and other foliage, to fill every inch of the decorative space.36 The following passage (Dion. 48.188-198) could easily be an ekphrasis of such a mosaic or relief: Silens chanted in the never-silent bridal chamber, Bacchants danced, and drunken satyrs wove a hymn to the Erotes, in celebration of alliance that came from this victorious hymeneal. Companies of Nereids under the foothills of the neighbouring isthmus encircled Dionysus with their wedding dances and broke out in song; beside the Thracian sea danced aged Nereus, who once had received Bromius as a guest; Galatea skipped over the wedding-sea and trilled for Pallene joined with Dionysus; even Thetis capered, although untouched by Eros.

The abundance of nymphs, especially of the rivers and seas, is quite appropriate to Dionysus if, as Walter Otto persuasively argued, Dionysus is in one aspect the god of the life-giving waters. He can even, like another god, turn water into wine (27.176-180, 48.575-577) – not, however, to enhance the celebration of a marriage but to abet his own scheme of raping Aura. The nymphs, as Otto puts it, are “the daughters of moisture”, who “nourish and care for the newly born”.37 He mentions Aristotle for the belief that moisture is the nature of all that lives. But it is a tree-nymph rather than a water-nymph who particularly interests me in this context. When Dionysus is about to enter India he receives some encouragement from an unexpected source (Dion. 22.84-100). From a wind-tossed branch a Hamadryad Nymph bent low, emerging womanly from her leafy flanks. Thyrsus in hand, she looked just like a Bacchant … and whispered in the ear of grape-draped Dionysus: “God of Wine, lord gardener of the fruits … I am a Hamadryad of the beautiful leaves; and here, where fierce warriors lie in wait for you, I will reject my fatherland and save your army from death. I offer loyalty to your satyrs, although I am Indian, and I take the part of Dionysus instead of Deriades. I owe thanks to you , and will pay it, because your father Zeus the great god of rain always aids the rivers to bring their floods to birth, and always causes the trees to increase with his showers of rain.”

The Hamadryad here might be quoting Walter Otto,38 or rather Pindar (F. 153), who writes Let ever-laughing Dionysus increase the habit of the trees, the reverend gleam of autumnal fruit.

36 37 38

E.g. WEITZMANN 1984, Greek Mythology in Byzantine Art. OTTO 1965, Dionysus, p. 161. OTTO 1965, Dionysus, p. 157.

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Illustration 12.2: A śalabhañjikā from the gateway of Stupa 1 Sanchi, M.P., India.

(This is not the only echo in Nonnus of Pindar, another poet for whom splendour of language is important). But I want to reflect on another aspect of this Hamadryad, as she leans down from her tree to greet the alien god, and to suggest a direct connection with Indian art. Pre-Brahmanical India was heavily populated with nature spirits of various kinds. Strabo writes (probably from Megasthenes) that “the Indians worship Zeus the Bringer of Rain, the Ganges river, and various local divinities”.39 Such local divinities included yakṣas (grotesque dwarf like creatures), yakṣis (female nature divinities), and prominently among the latter, śalabhañjikās. The name means ‘branch-benders’, and they are omnipresent in 39

Str. 15.1 69.

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Indian sculpture, including architectural sculpture, from its origins in the third century BC (Illus. 12.2 and 3). The valuable survey by U.N. Roy traces their history from the third century BC to the fifth century AD.40 A magisterial work by Mary Slusser shows how the tradition was maintained in wood carving up until the sixteenth century.41 Buddhist art adopted them as it accommodated all local and folk divinities, while Brahmanism in its drive to extirpate Buddhism insisted on the primacy of the now-emerging Brahmanical gods. The best surviving monument of Buddhist architecture, the third–first century BC stupa at Sanchi, has numbers of them adorning the four gateways that surround it. The roughly contemporary stupa at Bharhut, reconstructed in the Indian Museum in Kolkata, also has plentiful examples. The sculptural art of Mathura, which also begins in the third century BC, is likewise rich in examples. Greek influence on the sculptures at Sanchi and Mathura has often been supposed42 and as often denied,43 but that is not my concern here. There is a beautiful evocation of a śālabhañjikā in the Mahabharata (III (Vanaparvan) 249.1-5).44 Who art thou that, clasping the branch of the kadamba tree, shinest all alone in the hermitage, glittering like a flame of fire in the night gently bent by the breeze? Oh! Thou of fair brows! Endowed with superb charm thou art and yet fearest not in the dreadful forest! Art thou a Devi, a Yakṣi, a demoness, a charming Apsarā or a fair Daita damsel or the princess-incarnate of a Nāga king or a Vanecharī (a woman forester) or a female fiend or spouse of king Varuṇa or wife of Yama, Soma or of Kubera?

Such figures were produced in many materials, and a fine ivory one was found at Pompeii (Illus. 12.4). The motif was, then, in some degree familiar in the Roman empire. The posture of the nymph dangling from a branch does not seem to appear in later Roman art, but the Pompeii piece cannot have been the only example that made its way from India. The direct trade route between India and the Red Sea coast of Egypt might suggest the possibility that such works of art, in perishable materials, were more widely known in Egypt, Nonnus’ home, than in other parts of the empire. It seems to me a distinct possibility that Nonnus, in composing the address of the Hamadryad to Dionysus as she emerges from the ROY 1979, Śālabhañjikā in Art. SLUSSER 2010, The Antiquity of Nepalese Wood Carving. 42 ROY 1979, Śālabhañjikā in Art, p. 45. 43 QUINTANILLA 2007, History of Early Stone Sculpture. See the discussion in STONEMAN 2019, The Greek Experience of India, chapter 15. 44 The reference is to A.B. van BUITENEN’s 1975 translation, The Mahabharata, p. 707. The passage as I quote it is from ROY 1979, Śālabhañjikā in Art, p. vii, who gives a different reference, to chapter 265. 40 41

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branches, had in mind a sculpture of this kind and used it to accentuate the Indian colour of his narrative. 4. Conclusion In all three of the cases we have looked at, Nonnus gives his own distinctive take on his Indian subject matter. In the list of peoples and places that compose the followers of Deriades, he is dependent on earlier sources from later periods

Illustration 12.3: A śālabhañjikā from Mathurä, Government Museum, Mathura, U.P., India.

Illustration 12.4: Ivory figure of a śālabhañjikā found at Pompeii in 1938. Probably first century AD. Originally identified as Lakshmi, it more probably represents a tree-goddess, or yakshi. Museo Segreto, National Archaeological Museum, Naples.

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than Megasthenes – probably Artemidorus, if he was Pliny’s source; certainly Dionysius; and apparently an unknown source, unless the few otherwise unidentified names are purely his own invention, which seems unlikely. In his account of the elephant he follows the commonly available lore about the elephant, inaccurate as it was, without refining it by actual observation, for example of the elephant’s legs. Megasthenes did have good information on the elephant but he was by no means the only source, since Pliny, Plutarch and Aelian (who was often using Cleitarchus) all provide a good deal besides. Nonnus was in no way original on the elephant and, like the disordered collection of tribal names, the description is merely to add local colour. The nymphs, too, are profoundly decorative in their deployment, as they are in Milton. And Megasthenes does not come into question as a source in this case. Nonetheless, the Hamadryad, like other nymphs (notably Aura in the last book) has an important if minor part to play in the narrative. Dionysus is a god who is characteristically surrounded by female devotees, and the fact that even an Indian nymph comes across to his side is significant of his universal power. Nonnus’ very visual imagination may have been stimulated by the discovery that Indian artists were as keen on portraying nymphs as classical artists. Thus, to evoke an image of India, a nymph is as effective as an elephant.

XIII. NONNUS’ INDIANS BETWEEN CONVERSION AND ACCULTURATION * Fotini HADJITTOFI

1. Nonnus’ Indians A question mark hangs over the central event of the Dionysiaca, Dionysus’ defeat of the Indians: is this a political allegory, with Dionysus and his army standing in for the Byzantine empire and the Indians for Sassanian Persia, as Pierre Chuvin has argued,1 or is it, rather, a religious allegory, with the Indians representing the nations uninstructed in the “true” religion (that of Dionysus/ Christ), who are then led from their spiritual darkness into the light – a reading that was put forward most recently by Anna Lefteratou?2 Or could these two models be working in tandem? Before examining in more detail what happens to the Indians after they are defeated, it is important to take a brief look at Nonnus’ representation of Dionysus’ arch-enemies. While there has been some important research on this topic, the sheer complexity in the Indians’ characterization has not been fully appreciated. On the one hand, Nonnus’ insistence on the Indians’ black skin and woolly hair is consistent with an increasingly racist view of blackness in Late Antiquity. Nonnus’ attitude is certainly compatible with the evidence presented in John Morgan’s seminal article (including references to the Greek novels and to Perpetua’s vision in which she defeats a black Egyptian)3 and in Gay Byron’s more detailed study of symbolic blackness in early Christianity.4 To this rich material we can add, for example, the fifth-century hexameter rendition of the crossing of the Red Sea by Avitus of Vienne, who draws a correlation between the Egyptians’ dark skin and their evil nature,5 or, geographically closer to Nonnus, the dialogue (recorded in Coptic) between * I gratefully acknowledge the financial support of FCT (Fundação para a Ciência e a Tecnologia), Portugal, through the project PTDC/LLTLES/30930/2017 (national funds). 1 See CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 23-26. 2 See LEFTERATOU 2016, Dionysus’ “Catabasis” to India. Cf. SHORROCK 2011, Myth of Paganism, pp. 109-112. 3 See MORGAN 2005, Le blanc et le noir. 4 BYRON 2006, Symbolic Blackness analyses symbolic usages of Egyptians and Ethiopians in early Christianity; e.g. the Ethiopian woman as a symbol of dangerous sexuality; blackness as a symbol of intra-Christian opponents or external persecutors. For the symbolic blackness of Ethiopians in Cyril of Alexandria see LEFTERATOU 2016, Dionysus’ “Catabasis” to India. 5 See Avitus, De Spiritalis Historiae Gestis 5.517-518, with comments in ROBERTS 1983, Rhetoric and Poetic Imitation, pp. 50-54.

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Theophilus of Alexandria and a desert monk, where the Archbishop doubts whether a black Ethiopian or a leper can possibly preserve the image of God.6 In addition to their blackness, some of Nonnus’ Indians, especially the chieftains, are presented as gigantic creatures, resembling Typhoeus and uttering similarly theomachic insults against Dionysus.7 A host of negative adjectives characterise the Indians, individually or collectively, as “senseless”,8 “unjust”,9 “ignorant of piety”,10 or “ignorant of justice”.11 On the other hand, however, and as Hélène Frangoulis has pointed out,12 the Indians’ moral behaviour is not all that different from that of Dionysus and his troops. Just as the pitiable lamentations of Indian women echo those of nonIndian characters, Dionysus is as licentious as (if not more so) the Indian men who want to rape his Bacchants.13 The fact that Nonnus transfers the myth of a daughter’s paradoxical breastfeeding of her own father, to prevent him from dying of starvation in prison, from the Roman Pero (or Perus) to the Indian Eerie is also indicative of a willingness to see exemplary filial piety among Dionysus’ enemies.14 At the same time, the collective characterisation of the Indians through negative adjectives can be called into question by anti-Dionysus speakers, who evoke a more traditional, utopian stereotype of India by calling its people “pious”, “just”, and “blameless”.15 While such declarations are far less frequent than the pro-Dionysus line, they may suggest that the collective portrayal of a whole nation in such stark terms can only be a matter of perspective. See the hagiographic Life of Aphou 10, translated in VIVIAN – GREER 2004, Four Desert Fathers, p. 185. While the monk’s opinion that all humans bear the image of God prevails at the end, it is important that for Theophilus black skin and leprosy function as equivalent, visible markers of sin. 7 See Dion. 34.180-183 for Morrheus, Dion. 47.626 for Orontes and Dion. 22.140-141 for Thureus. Gigantic stature, however, is also to be found in many of Dionysus’ allies. On the overall difficulty in distinguishing Dionysus’ allies from his enemies based on their attributes see HADJITTOFI 2016, Major Themes, pp. 139-143. 8 Dion. 14.274, ἄφρονες Ἰνδοί. 9 Dion. 34.221, ἄναξ ἀθέμιστος (of Morrheus). 10 Dion. 13.20, εὐσεβίης ἀδίδακτον … γένος Ἰνδῶν. 11 Dion. 13.3, δίκης ἀδίδακτον ὑπερφιάλων γένος Ἰνδῶν. For a fuller list of such adjectives and their attestations see FRANGOULIS 2009, Les Indiens chez Nonnos, nn. 7-21. 12 See FRANGOULIS 2009, Les Indiens chez Nonnos; cf. FRANGOULIS 2010, Les Indiens dans les Dionysiaques. 13 The adjective γυναιμανής is applied equally to both; see FRANGOULIS 2009, Les Indiens chez Nonnos, n. 51; nn. 63-69 on the universality of the lamentations. 14 Nonnus’ story of Tectaphus and Eerie is told in Dion. 26.110-138. See DEONNA 1955, Deux études, pp. 5-50 for the Roman legend of the noble daughter Pero or Perus, who similarly saved her mother or father from starvation. 15 At Dion. 23.318 Oceanus calls the Indians φῶτας ἀμεμφέας. For Hera the Indians are both “mild” and “blameless” (Dion. 31.86, Ἰνδοὺς μειλιχίους καὶ ἀμεμφέας); later in the same speech she characterises them as pious and just (Dion. 31.93-94, εὐσεβίῃ δὲ μεμηλότας ἔκτανεν Ἰνδούς, | οὓς τάχα πασιμέλουσα Θέμις μαιώσατο μαζῷ). For India as a utopia in general and the justice of its people in particular see the detailed discussion of STONEMAN 2019, The Greek Experience of India, pp. 238-253. 6

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A more remarkable, and less noticed, feature in Nonnus’ representation of Indian characters is that they are often compared to the famous Achaeans of the Iliad and the Trojan Cycle in general. It must be significant that such comparisons consistently equate Indians with Achaean characters and not Trojans. In Book 28, the Indian Phlegius is wounded and seeks shelter underneath his brother’s shield. Immediately he is compared to Teucer, who takes refuge under Ajax’ shield in Iliad 8.266 (Dion. 28.55-60):16 Ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ μόθος ὦρτο πολύθροος. Ἀκρότατον δέ (55) Δεξίοχος Φλογίοιο μεσόφρυον ἔξυσε χαλκῷ, πλήξας ἄκρα μέτωπα διχαζομένης τρυφαλείης. Αὐτὰρ ὁ ταρβήσας, ὀλίγον γόνυ γουνὸς ἀμείβων, μηκεδανῇ κεκάλυπτο κασιγνήτοιο βοείῃ, (59) Δαρδανίης ἅτε Τεῦκρον ὀιστευτῆρα γενέθλης (61) εἰς σάκος ἑπταβόειον ἐδέχνυτο σύγγονος Αἴας, (62) πατρῴῃ συνάεθλον ἀδελφεὸν ἀσπίδι κεύθων. (60) Dexiochus grazed the forehead of Phlogius, and his blade cleft the helmet and cut the brow: the wounded man, startled, moved back step by step and took shelter behind his brother’s great shield, as Ajax used to receive his kinsman Teucer, that shooter of arrows against the Dardanian nation, under his seven-hide shield, and sheltered his brother and comrade under his father’s targe.17

A newly wedded Indian woman lamenting her husband’s death is said to be “another Laodameia” mourning her Protesilaus (Dion. 24.190-195): Βαρυτλήτων δὲ γυναικῶν (190) ἡ μὲν ἑὸν στενάχιζεν ἀδελφεόν, ἡ δὲ τοκῆα· ἄλλη ποικιλόδακρυς ἀνεστεναχίζετο νύμφη νυμφίον ἀρτιχόρευτον ἐοικότα Πρωτεσιλάῳ, ἄλλη Λαοδάμεια· νεοζεύκτοιο δὲ νύμφης ἄπλοκος ἀκρήδεμνος ἐτίλλετο βότρυς ἐθείρης. (195) Women in heavy affliction mourned one her brother, and one her father; there was a bride bathed in tears lamenting her bridegroom lately wedded with dancing, another Laodameia with her Protesilaus: the new bride unveiled, unkempt, tore the clusters of her hair.

A proud Indian who sees his companions killed and cannot bear the sight commits suicide. Even though he is explicitly “born of barbarian blood and bred in 16 For the text of the Dionysiaca I use the Budé edition (VIAN ET AL. 1976-2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques). Translations are taken and occasionally adapted from the Loeb (ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca). 17 GEISZ 2018, A Study of the Narrator, pp. 220-221 briefly discusses this passage and points out that the narrator does not reserve Iliadic comparisons for the Dionysiac army. The other simile she adduces in this context, however, the comparison of a quick runner to the Iliadic Iphiclus (Dion. 28.284-287 ~ Il. 23.636) does not seem to me to belong in the same category, since the one who is compared to Iphiclus is not the anonymous Indian, as Geisz claims, but rather the Dionysiac fighter Ocythous, as Dion. 28.288 makes clear.

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barbarian manners”, after slaying himself by the sword he becomes “another Menoiceus” and shows himself a new Ajax, but one that is notably sane (Dion. 23.52-75): Καί τις ἑοὺς ἑτάρους δεδοκημένος Ἰνδὸς ἀγήνωρ τοὺς μὲν κτεινομένους δολιχῷ δορί, τοὺς δὲ μαχαίρῃ, ἄλλον ὀιστευθέντα χαραδρήεντι βελέμνῳ, τὸν δὲ πολυπλέκτῳ δεδαϊγμένον ὀξέι θύρσῳ, (55) Θουρέι νεκρὸν ὅμιλον ἐδείκνυεν. Ἀχνύμενος δέ τίλλε κόμην, φλογερῷ δὲ χόλου βακχεύετο πυρσῷ, σφίγγων καρχαρόδοντι μεμυκότα χείλεα δεσμῷ. Καὶ ταχὺς αὐτοφόνον μιμούμενος Ἰνδὸν Ὀρόντην, βάρβαρον αἷμα φέρων καὶ βάρβαρον ἦθος ἀέξων, (60) ἆορ ἑὸν γύμνωσεν, ἀπορρίψας δὲ χιτῶνα, ἄρεος ἀρραγὲς ἕρκος, ἀλεξητῆρα βελέμνων, καὶ ξίφος ἀπτοίητος ἑῷ κενεῶνι πελάσσας ὑστατίην ταχύποτμος ἀγήνορα ῥήξατο φωνήν· […] Ἔννεπε κυανέης κατὰ γαστέρος ἆορ ἐρείσας (70) τολμηραῖς παλάμῃσιν, ἅτε ξένον ἄνδρα δαΐζων, καὶ θάνεν αὐτοδάικτος ἐν ἀντιβίοισι Μενοικεύς, αἰδόμενος μετὰ δῆριν ἰδεῖν ἔτι Δηριαδῆα· ὄμμασι δ’ ἀκλαύτοισι θελήμονι κάτθανε πότμῳ, καὶ μανίης ἀπάνευθεν ἐφαίνετο χάλκεος Αἴας. (75) Some proud Indian seeing his companions killed by long spear or sword, struck by a missile rock, pierced by the sharp leaf-wrapt thyrsus-wand, pointed out to Thureus the heaps of corpses – then in anguish tore his hair, bit his lips deep and was dumb, wild with blazing indignation. Born of barbarian blood and bred in barbarian manners, he quickly followed the example of Indian Orontes and killed himself. Baring his sword, he stript off the corselet, that impregnable defence in battle which kept off the missiles, and undismayed set the blade to his flank, as he uttered a last proud speech before the quick stroke of death […] As he spoke, he thrust the sword down into his dark-skinned belly with resolute hands, as if he were piercing a stranger, and died self-slain, another Menoiceus among his foes, ashamed to look again upon Deriades after this battle; died a willing death with tearless eyes, and showed himself a brazen Ajax but that he was not mad.

Finally, the anonymous Indian who is struck by desire for a fallen Bacchant is explicitly just like Achilles (ὥς περ Ἀχιλλεύς) seeing “another Penthesileia” (Dion. 35.27-30): Καί νύ κε νεκρὸν ἔχων πόθον ἄπνοον, ὥς περ Ἀχιλλεύς, ἄλλην Πενθεσίλειαν ὑπὲρ δαπέδοιο δοκεύων ψυχρὰ κονιομένης προσπτύξατο χείλεα νύμφης, εἰ μὴ Δηριαδῆος ἐδείδιεν ὄγκον ἀπειλῆς. (30) Then he would have felt desire for a lifeless corpse, as Achilles did – seeing a new Penthesileia on the ground, he would have kissed the cold lips of the girl, prostrate in the dust, had he not feared the weight of the threat of Deriades.

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This striking use of antonomasia brings to the fore what Simon Goldhill has recently termed Nonnus’ “preposterous poetics”, that is, the “typological” way in which the epic alludes to events which within its own chronology have not yet happened.18 At the same time, however, and in these particular cases, this trope has the effect of placing in the same position inconsequential or even anonymous Indian characters with the most noteworthy Greek heroes, going so far as to imply that the Indians are sometimes superior. Thus, whereas Ajax commits suicide after he has gone mad and brought shame onto himself, his Indian counterpart is distraught because of what has happened to his companions. By comparison to the Indian, the Greek Ajax seems rather self-obsessed. Remarkably, then, Nonnus’ representation of Indian characters oscillates between two mutually exclusive discourses: one which marginalises and dehumanises them as the symbolically black manifestations of impiety and another which can recognise in them exemplary piety (Eerie as the Roman Pero) or which sees in them the paradoxically original iterations of famous Achaeans’ deeds (in the cases of antonomasia outlined above). The only safe conclusion regarding Nonnus’ India is that this is no longer a land infested with strange creatures and natural wonders,19 and any reference to Indian races of hybrid monsters – an integral part of the ethnographic tradition on India for many centuries – has been expunged from the main narrative.20 As Pierre Chuvin points out, even the description of the country’s mythical wealth in precious stones is very much restrained.21 Nonnus’ India is, in fact, more like that of the Christian and near-contemporary Cosmas Indicopleustes. As Grant Parker says,22 it suited Cosmas’ cosmological purposes to present an India that was still exotic, but not extraordinary in the way the ethnographers had portrayed

See GOLDHILL 2015, Preposterous Poetics. In this respect the Dionysiaca can be differentiated from earlier works like Heliodorus’ Aethiopica and Philostratus’ Life of Apollonius of Tyana, which are important in advancing the late antique trend of cultural pluralism, but still present Ethiopia and India as (more or less) fantasylands. See, e.g., the presence of the miraculous pantarbe stone in both works; Heliod. Aeth. 8.11, and Philostr. V A 3.9. ELSNER 1997, Hagiographic Geography, p. 36 notes on Philostratus, “the relevance of India and Egypt (indeed of philosophy and holiness themselves) are only to be measured in terms of their effect on Graeco-Roman religion at its twin centres – the hallowed sanctuaries and festivals of Greece, and the city of Rome.” On the markedly different geography of the Dionysiaca see HADJITTOFI 2007, Res Romanae and HADJITTOFI 2011, Nonnus’ Unclassical Epic, esp. pp. 40-41 on Greece as a land of criminals and monsters. On Nonnus’ (hardly unexpected) references to the Indian elephant, an animal which long inhabited the Roman visual imaginary, see MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2014, Natural Histories, pp. 265-277. 20 On such stereotypes in ethnographical descriptions of India see ROMM 1992, The Edges of the Earth, pp. 82-120; CAMPBELL 2006, Strange Creatures, pp. 112-132; STONEMAN 2019, The Greek Experience of India, pp. 254-285. On Strabo’s description of India see CLARKE 1999, Between Geography and History, pp. 305 and 326-328. 21 CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 291. 22 See PARKER 2008, The Making of Roman India, p. 142. 18

19

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it.23 Cosmas’ sixth-century Christian Topography describes a land which is within the limits of normality,24 and of course within the reach of the Christian missionaries, whose work Cosmas seems to endorse. Nonnus’ inclusion of miraculous elements is similarly limited to a bare minimum and mostly confined within the catalogue of Indian troops in Book 26.25 A catalogue of enemy forces, however, is precisely where poets would be expected to insert some wondrous ethnography anyway. It is useful to compare Nonnus’ catalogue of Indian troops with Silius’ catalogue of Carthaginians and their allies in the Punica (3.223-405) – a historical epic, describing welldocumented events and a geographical area familiar to the Romans. In Silius, then, we find an enemy leader of gigantic stature (3.262-264); a strange form of mining (3.265-267: Ethiopians digging up iron by placing magnet next to it); and a nation of snake-charmers (3.301-303). Silius also speaks of races that eat strange foods: in 3.310-311 the Autololes eat the lotus plant; in 3.360-361 the Massagetae bleed their horses to feed themselves. Similarly, Nonnus mentions Areizanteia, where people drink honey from the honey-dripping tree (26.183-200). Finally, Silius describes lands where customs are reversed: in 3.340-343 the Celts think it honourable to be eaten by vultures instead of being buried; in 3.344-356 Galician women do all the ploughing and agricultural work while their men stay indoors.26 It is only slightly more paradoxical to find in Nonnus’ catalogue that in the island of the Graiai some men breastfeed their children (26.52-54). Given the wildly unrealistic descriptions that were current in ethnographical writings on India, Nonnus’ catalogue seems positively tame. Perhaps the only significant exception here is Nonnus’ inclusion of the Ouatokoitai, a race of men who sleep lying on their long ears (Dion. 26.94-97): Τοῖσι συνεστρατόωντο καὶ ἀνέρες Οὐατοκοῖται, οἷσι θέμις δολιχοῖσιν ἐπ’ οὔασιν ὕπνον ἰαύειν. (95) 23 On the differences between ethnographical descriptions in secular and Christian texts see also KÖNIG 2009, Novelistic and Anti-novelistic, who points out that the Apostles in the Apocryhal Acts are not interested in ethnographic description: as ethnography reinforces the dominant Graeco-Roman civilisation, to which the Apostles are indifferent (if not hostile), they cannot themselves participate in providing ethnographic commentary on the lands they visit. 24 Book 11 of the Topography is a treatise on the plants and animals of India. The only ones he mentions that do not live there in reality are the hippopotamus and the unicorn, but Cosmas admits that he has not seen them. Nonnus also mistakenly claims that the hippopotamus lives in the Indian river Hydaspes (26.235-244), because he considers the Nile and the Hydaspes two branches of the same river. This was, in fact, a common misconception in the ancient world. See MAYERSON 1993, A Confusion of Indias; GIGLI PICCARDI 1998, Nonno e l’Egitto, p. 76; and ROMM 2008, Travel, pp. 119-120. 25 On Nonnus’ Indian catalogue and its possible sources see MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, pp. 275-276; FRANGOULIS 2010, Les Indiens dans les Dionysiaques. 26 For Silius’ reliance on ethnographic sources on the Iberian Peninsula and his predilection for indigenous town names with an exotic ring see MAYORGAS RODRÍGUEZ 2017, Reimagining Hispania. On the Roman avoidance of extreme polarity cf. CLARKE 1999, Between Geography and History, p. 215: “the barbarian enemy had to be capable of becoming a Roman citizen, and even a Senator in the future.”

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Τοὺς μὲν Φρίγγος ἵκανε καὶ Ἄσπετος εἰς μόθον ἕλκων αὐχήεις τε Δάνυκλος ὁμόστολος … With them marched the Ouatocoitai, the Ear-sleepers, men whose way it is to sleep lying upon their long ears. These were led to the war by Phringus and Aspetus and haughty Danyclus.

This race of Ear-sleepers shows up frequently in classical descriptions of India.27 In the Dionysiaca they only appear here, in the context of the catalogue, never to be heard of again. It should also be noted that this people’s oddly long ears, while extraordinary, are not threatening to their status as humans, unlike other characteristics that made India’s traditional “strange creatures” lack ontological security. The legendary Indian Cynocephali or Dog-heads, whom Nonnus does not mention, are sometimes referred to as men, and sometimes as animals due to their lack of human speech.28 In the fifth century AD, Augustine still wonders: “What shall I say of the Cynocephali, whose dog-like head and barking proclaim them beasts rather than men?” (City of God 16.8). The persistence of the tradition regarding the existence of these creatures is indeed astonishing, but it is important to highlight the new concerns and attitudes that take root in the fifth century. In the passage from the City of God quoted above, Augustine goes on to say: “But whoever is anywhere born a man, that is, a rational, mortal animal, no matter what unusual appearance he presents in colour, movement, sound, nor how peculiar he is in some power, part, or quality of his nature, no Christian can doubt that he springs from that one protoplast.”29 In precisely the same period the legend of St. Christopher begins to circulate in the Eastern Mediterranean: St. Christopher was said to belong to the tribe of Cynocephali; he was converted to Christianity, and later became a martyr.30 It seems that at the time of Nonnus and Augustine, Christian authority, taking on the role and ambitions of the Roman Empire, sought to stretch itself to the edges of the world,31 thus making everybody, even dog-headed men, a possible target for conversion. Although, as we have seen, Nonnus does not include in his epic any Indian races that would not comfortably fit within the category of “human”, it would also be possible to detect this new ideology of Christian imperialism in the Dionysiaca, if we chose to read the poem and its central event, the Indian war, as a poetic and fantastical version of the

27

See Ctesias’ Indica 50, and Plin. HN 7.2. Plin. HN 7.2 refers to them as men; Ael. NA 4.46 as animals. See CAMPBELL 2006, Strange creatures, pp. 114 and 118. 29 Translation taken from NPNF 1-02 (SHAFF 1887). 30 On the legend of St. Christopher see RACINE 2006, Geography, Identity. 31 See MERRILLS 2005, History and Geography, pp. 26-28. On the gradual spread of Christianity to the lands beyond Persia see now ANDRADE 2018, The Journey of Christianity. On the development of a Christianised imperialism, starting in the late-fourth century, and the lingering Christian ambivalence towards Roman imperialism itself see POLLMANN 2011, Unending Sway. 28

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attempt to spread the “true” religion into the furthest reaches of the world.32 But is such a reading warranted by the text? 2. Conversion or Acculturation? There is very little in the Dionysiaca to indicate conversion, or, at least, conversion as a modern audience would recognise it.33 Dionysus does not preach his “Gospel” to the Indians – or anybody else for that matter. Even though Zeus proclaims in Book 13 that his son’s mission will be to “teach all nations the rites danced by night and the wine-dark fruit of vintage” (13.6-7, καὶ ἔθνεα πάντα διδάξῃ | ὄργια νυκτιχόρευτα καὶ οἴνοπα καρπὸν ὀπώρης),34 and Dionysus echoes this plan when he says later on that the captive Indian should “learn Dionysus’ rites danced by night” (Dion. 27.214, ὄργια νυκτιχόρευτα διδασκέσθω Διονύσου), nowhere is such “teaching” actually portrayed. The Indians are not explicitly instructed; they neither “see the light” nor “find Dionysus”, like some modern Christian converts “find Jesus”. Collective conversions appear even in the earliest Christian texts, where many among the apostles’ audiences are said to have “heard, believed, and been baptized”.35 Such a development, however briefly described, would have been part of the horizon of expectations of Nonnus’ audience, and yet it is entirely absent. Even if earlier, Classical Antiquity did not have a notion of conversion as a sweeping “reorientation of the soul”,36 such a paradigm was already in place by the fifth century,37 and Nonnus could have chosen to portray the Indians receiving 32 See STROUMSA 2009, The End of Sacrifice, pp. 100-105, with further bibliography on the process by which Christianity’s universalism leads to a dynamic of proselytism and intolerance towards those who do not accept its message. 33 More on ancient notions of conversion below. 34 For emphasis on this command in relation to Mat. 28.19-20, πορευθέντες οὖν μαθητεύσατε πάντα τὰ ἔθνη; see LEFTERATOU 2016, Dionysus’ “Catabasis” to India, n. 55; also KAUFFMAN 2016, Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, p. 748. The latter also draws connections with Eusebius’ portrayal of Constantine as “the emperor chosen by God to conquer and convert the world” (p. 745), and points out (pp. 767-769) that when Iris delivers Zeus’ message to Dionysus, she does not mention rites and teachings, but only violence and annihilation (Dion. 13.19-20, τεὸς γενέτης σε κελεύει | εὐσεβίης ἀδίδακτον ἀιστῶσαι γένος Ἰνδῶν). Dionysus might only receive these genocidal instructions, but he is also doubtlessly aware of his “civilising” and “converting” mission, as Dion. 27.204-215 (among other passages) suggests. 35 E.g., Acts 18.8, καὶ πολλοὶ τῶν Κορινθίων ἀκούοντες ἐπίστευον καὶ ἐβαπτίζοντο. 36 This is the argument of the classic work by NOCK 1933, Conversion; quote from p. 7. Note, however, that from the Hellenistic period onwards some philosophical schools stipulated a “protocol of conversion”, which involved conscious deliberation, contrition, and true change in worldview; see ATHANASSIADI 2015, Christians and Others, pp. 25-28. The novelistic Joseph and Aseneth also portrays the heroine’s conversion to Judaism in a way that clearly entails a “reorientation” of her soul, but the date of this text is much debated. 37 Even scholars who argue that the idea of conversion needs to be “retired” for the early Christian period acknowledge that by the fifth century (as Augustine’s example shows) “conversion” can be used in the same way we understand it today; see FREDRIKSEN 2006, Mandatory Retirement, p. 233.

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Dionysus’ message, or learning from him and changing their ways, or modifying their customs to suit their new religious identity.38 Instead, the defeat of Nonnus’ Indians leads directly to a kind of Romanstyle acculturation. One of the Indian chieftains (paradoxically, the most bloodthirsty one)39 is appointed governor, and there follows a feast where the two former enemy armies take part (Dion. 40.234-238): Παυσάμενος δὲ γόοιο, καὶ ὕδατι γυῖα καθήρας, ὤπασε λισσομένοισι θεουδέα κοίρανον Ἰνδοῖς, (235) κρινάμενος Μωδαῖον· ἐπὶ ξυνῷ δὲ κυπέλλῳ Βάκχοις δαινυμένοισι μιῆς ἥψαντο τραπέζης ξανθὸν ὕδωρ πίνοντες ἀπ’ οἰνοπόρου ποταμοῖο. Now resting from his grief, he cleansed his body with water, and assigned a governor for the Indians, choosing the god-fearing Modaeus; they now pacified touched one table with banqueting Bacchoi over a common bowl and drank the yellow water from the wine-breeding river.

If the point here is that even the bloodthirsty Modaeus has been converted to the religion of Dionysus and has miraculously become “god-fearing” from one moment to the next, it is a point that remains surprisingly understated.40 Scholars have sometimes noted how striking it is that the end of Dionysus’ campaign in India omits any clear markers of religious conversion.41 Bernardette Simon rightly points out that only a hundred lines earlier Protonoe, the daughter of Deriades and wife of Orontes, fears that she will have to perform Dionysus’ mysteries (Dion. 40.152) – no such performance or initiation into Dionysiac mysteries ever materialises.42 Again, the ethnographic tradition on Dionysus’ conquest of India offered a host of possibilities, which Nonnus conspicuously refuses to take up. Arrian’s Indian History presents a Dionysus who is true to his mission of conversion: he teaches the Indians how to venerate the gods (and especially himself) and how to perform his dances and rituals.43 Nonnus’ 38 This last option would have been especially appropriate for such a collective “conversion” on a massive scale. See MCLYNN 2003, Seeing and Believing, pp. 251-252 on Procopius’ references to the conversion of entire populations or towns under Justinian: the new converts are always said to change their êthê (“a cluster of specific practices”). 39 SHORROCK 2007, Nonnus, Quintus, pp. 386-387 notes that he appears only once more in the epic (at 32.165-167), “where he is described as a fierce warrior who enjoys bloodshed more than anyone else and prefers fighting to feasting.” 40 More on miraculous conversions below. 41 VIAN 1988, Les cultes païens, p. 405 speaks of a “desacralization” of Dionysus’ campaign, as the god acts more like a general. 42 See SIMON 1999, Nonnos de Panopolis, pp. 128-129 with further bibliography. 43 Notice the recurrence of the verb διδάσκω in relation to Dionysus in Historia Indica 7.8-9, καὶ θεοὺς σέβειν ὅτι ἐδίδαξε Διόνυσος ἄλλους τε καὶ μάλιστα δὴ ἑωυτὸν κυμβαλίζοντας καὶ τυμπανίζοντας· καὶ ὄρχησιν δὲ ἐκδιδάξαι τὴν σατυρικήν, τὸν κόρδακα παρ’ Ἕλλησι καλούμενον, καὶ κομᾶν [Ἰνδοὺς] τῷ θεῷ μιτρηφορέειν τε ἀναδεῖξαι καὶ μύρων ἀλοιφὰς ἐκδιδάξαι. In Anabasis 6.3.5 Arrian describes the Indians as particularly “fond of the dance” (φιλορχήμονες) as a result of Dionysus’ campaign there.

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Dionysus is anything but a teacher. On the other hand, Arrian has Dionysus install one of his own companions, “the most Bacchic one” (8.1, τὸν βακχωδέστατον), as king of India. Nonnus’ elevation of a local Indian to the rank of king or governor seems, by comparison, to evoke a more contemporary Roman mindset of military and political assimilation.44 Even before we get to the Indians’ defeat, we already have an example regarding the fate, and exceptional mobility, of one particular Indian after the end of the war. In the catalogue of Indian troops, we are informed that after his victory Dionysus will take an extraordinarily pious Indian chieftain with him, and re-settle him in Thebes (Dion. 26.66-71):45 Παλθάνωρ πρόμος ἦεν, ὃς ἔστυγε Δηριαδῆα ἤθεσιν εὐσεβέεσσιν ὁμοφρονέων Διονύσῳ. Tὸν μὲν ἄναξ Διόνυσος ἄγων μετὰ φύλοπιν Ἰνδῶν ἀλλοδαπὸν ναετῆρα λυροδμήτῳ πόρε Θήβῃ· καὶ Δίρκῃ παρέμιμνε λιπὼν πατρῷον Ὑδάσπην, (70) Ἀονίου ποταμοῖο πιὼν Ἰσμήνιον ὕδωρ. Their leader was Palthanor, a man of god-fearing ways, who hated Deriades and was of one mind with Dionysus. After the war, Dionysus took this man with him and settled him as a foreign dweller in lyre-built Thebes; there he remained beside Dirce, and drank the Ismenian water of the Aonian river, having left his native Hydaspes.

Whatever the reasons behind Palthanor’s relocation (was it a mark of honour or meant to strengthen Dionysus’ position in Thebes?),46 it is clear that this Indian chief is not converted by Dionysus and then resettled. He is rewarded, if his resettlement is indeed a reward, for the piety he always possessed: at the beginning of the war Palthanor already hated his Indian king. In other words, there is no fundamental change in his behaviour or beliefs, which, on the little information we have, rather seem to remain constant. Three Books after the end of the war we find some Indians fighting on the side of Dionysus against Poseidon for the hand of Beroe. This Indian contingent is placed under the command of Dionysus’ ally Proteus (Dion. 43.227229): Ἀμφὶ δέ μιν στεφανηδὸν ἐπέρρεον αἴθοπες Ἰνδοί Βάκχου κεκλομένοιο, καὶ οὐλοκόμων στίχες ἀνδρῶν φωκάων πολύμορφον ἐπηχύναντο νομῆα.

Cf. CLARKE 1999, Between Geography and History, p. 215. For the after-war migrations of two chieftains from Dionysus’ army, Cretan Asterius (13.241-252) and Phrygian Priasus (13.520-545), and how these subvert classical distinctions between centre and periphery see HADJITTOFI 2011, Nonnus’ Unclassical Epic, pp. 32-34. 46 For strategic relocations of whole populations by the Byzantine state see CAMERON 2006, The Byzantines, p. 9. 44

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Round him in a ring rushed the swarthy Indians at the summons of Bacchus, and crowds of the woolly-headed men embraced the shepherd of the seals in his various forms.

Again, this seems to indicate acculturation or, at any rate, political and military submission, rather than conversion. A defeated nation is expected to provide soldiers and fight at the pleasure of its conqueror. What is rather more surprising is that some 150 lines before this passage, in the brief catalogue of Dionysus’ troops, the Indian contingent is furnished with its own, local leader (Dion. 43.62-66): πέμπτης δ’ ἡγεμόνευε Μελάνθιος, ὄρχαμος Ίνδῶν, ὃν τέκεν Οἰνώνη Κισσηιάς· ἀμφὶ δὲ κούρῳ φυταλιῆς πλέξασα θυώδεος ἄκρα πετήλων σπάργανα βοτρυόεντα πέριξ εἱλίξατο μήτηρ, (65) υἱέα χυτλώσασα μέθης ἐγκύμονι ληνῷ. Melanthius was captain of the fifth, an Indian chief and the son of Oenone the Ivy-one/the one from Cissa: his mother had wrapt her boy in leafy tips of the sweet-smelling vine for swaddlings, and bathed her son in the winepress teeming with strong drink.

This Melanthius is a veritable enigma. First of all, it makes all the difference that the manuscript reading ὄρχαμος Ίνδῶν is maintained in 43.62. In his edition Friedrich Graefe had emended Ἰνδῶν to ἀνδρῶν, a correction that among other editions is only adopted in Domenico Accorinti’s BUR text. Had we not read the later passage about the unambiguously Indian troops (“swarthy” and “woolly-headed”) fighting for Dionysus (in 43.227-229), the inclusion of Indians in the Dionysiac catalogue might have looked suspicious. As it is, Melanthius needs to remain “chief of the Indians” and not emended to a generic “chief of men”. His very name, “the black flower”, is, after all, supremely appropriate for Nonnus’ persistently dark-skinned Indians.47 What is strange about Melanthius is his background story. We are told that his mother had swaddled him in vine leaves when he was a baby and bathed him “in the winepress teeming with strong drink”. There is no indication that a whole generation has passed between Dionysus’ conquest of India and his war against Poseidon. The events are narrated as if they take place one very soon after the other. It is also repeatedly highlighted throughout the poem that the Indians do not know wine and Dionysus will be the first one to introduce it in this country. So, how is it possible that an Indian character recently or not long ago recruited by Dionysus already has an exemplary Dionysiac ancestry and infancy? In what follows I will consider two possible answers, one centring 47 There is an Indian chieftain called Melaneus in Dion. 26.257. Paretymologically, the Indian Morrheus’ name could also mean “dark”; see LEFTERATOU 2016, Dionysus’ “Catabasis” to India, n. 39, with further bibliography.

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on the name of Melanthius’ mother and one on his own name. Neither of the two, however, will be entirely satisfactory and, ultimately, a further re-evaluation of Nonnus’ attitude towards the question of conversion will be necessary. Melanthius’ mother is called Oenone, the “Wine-dark-one”. Her name is obviously Dionysiac and would hardly be fitting for an Indian character. The only other female name in the poem to have οἶνος in its etymology is the Oenanthe who appears as one of the nurses of Dionysus at Dion. 14.225 and later as one of his warrior-Bacchants at Dion. 29.253. Oenone is further qualified as Κισσηιάς. This epithet could mean a number of things: “the one of the ivy” is a possibility that builds on her name’s association with wine, and might indicate that this woman is not a mere mortal but a tree nymph.48 At Dion. 22.84-113 Nonnus had presented an Indian Hamadryad who gave precious information and instructions to Dionysus against the army of her own country.49 As a tree nymph, an Indian Oenone would always have had access to superior, Dionysiac knowledge, and would not be bound by the rules of her land. But Κισσηιάς could also mean “the one from Cissa”. Τhe Homeric epithet Κισσηίς (used for the Trojan Theano at Il. 6.299), although usually glossed as “the daughter of Cisseus”,50 was later adapted by Aeschylus, who gave it the meaning of “Persian”, with “Cissa” now denoting the region of Susa.51 Through the epithet Κισσηιάς Nonnus could be signalling that Melanthius’ mother was not a native Indian, but an immigrant. A possible explanation for Melanthius’ paradoxically Dionysiac infancy, then, is that his mother possessed Bacchic knowledge, either because of her privileged link with nature as a tree nymph or because she came to India from a more “civilised” part of the world.52 In any case, the narrator’s insistent claim that all Indians were entirely ignorant of Dionysus is undermined: if we decide to read Melanthius’ family background this way, we will have to admit that the narrator constructed a “hard border” around the Indians in order to conceal such cases of hybridity (how can we

48 This is the interpretation favoured in Rouse’s 1940 Loeb translation, which renders Κισσηιάς as “the Ivy-nymph”. A νύμφη Κισσηίς scourges Lycurgus, appropriately enough using ivy (κισσῷ), at Dion. 21.88-89. 49 On this Indian nymph and representations of tree nymphs in Indian art see STONEMAN 2019, The Greek Experience of India, pp. 91-95. 50 See the D Scholia’s definition: Κισσηΐς: Κισσέως θυγάτηρ Θεανώ. The Suda and Hesychius (s.v.) transmit the exact same definition. Later authors also call Hecuba Κισσηίς; see, e.g., Nicander Fr. 62. 51 Aeschylus’ fragmentary Memnon presented its protagonist, who in every other version of the myth is Ethiopian, as a Persian, and his mother as a native of Susa. See Strabo 15.3.2, λέγονται δὲ καὶ Κίσσιοι οἱ Σούσιοι· φησὶ δὲ καὶ Αἰσχύλος τὴν μητέρα Μέμνονος Κισσίαν. 52 On the eminently civilised reception of wine in the areas of Asia Minor and Syria, as opposed to the violence and resistance that characterise the Hellenic “centre”, see HADJITTOFI 2011, Nonnus’ Unclassical Epic, pp. 37-38.

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know if Melanthius is the only exception?),53 and to champion his god’s (and by extension his own) originality on false, or at least very questionable, premises.54 Melanthius’ own name opens the door to another possible interpretation. The similarity with the name of the Odyssean goatherd Μελανθεύς does not seem to be significant in any way.55 A more meaningful connection can be made with the Μέλανθος or Μελάνθιος who is the protagonist of the Athenian myth that provides the aetiology of the Apatouria festival.56 In the fuller version of the story,57 this hero, who will be called here simply Melanthus, came from Pylos and was a descendant of Nestor. Having been expelled from his native land by the Heraclids, Melanthus settled in Athens, where a war was raging against Boeotia for the possession of a territory called Οἰνόη. At some point it was agreed that the war would be decided in a duel between the Athenian and Boeotian kings. As the Athenian king, Thymoites, was too afraid (or too old) to face off the Boeotian Xanthus (“Blonde”), he offered the kingship to whomever would take his place in the duel. The “black flower” Melanthus thus entered the duel representing the Athenian side and, at the end, defeated Xanthus, but not entirely through his own valour. The legend says that, as he approached the Boeotian king, he shouted that his opponent was not playing by the rules because he had brought along an assistant who was standing behind him. Surprised, Xanthus turned around to see if anybody was indeed behind him, at which point Melanthus stroke and killed him. In some sources Melanthus’ cry was simply a ruse meant to distract his opponent; in others he cried out because he had really seen somebody behind Xanthus – either a ghost or Dionysus carrying a black shield.58 In any case, Melanthus’ victory gives rise to the festival of the Apatouria (paretymologically connected with the ἀπάτη in the duel) and the foundation of a shrine for Dionysus Melanaegis (“of the black shield”) or Melanthides. 53 Concealing hybridity is, of course, one of the main functions of all borders; see, e.g., BOYARIN 2004, Border Lines. 54 On this reading, the fact that Dionysus brings to India knowledge that is already there is reminiscent of Pantaenus’ zealous mission to preach Christianity in India: according to Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. 5.10.3), when he arrives, Pantaenus finds that Bartholomew had already brought the Gospel to the Indians and taught it to them in Hebrew. 55 Hom. Od. 17.212; for the connection see ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), ad loc. 56 For an overview of the sources and an attempt to reconstruct the earliest version see HALLIDAY 1926, Xanthos-Melanthos. For a more recent reading of the myth in an initiatory context see BEDNAREK 2014, Mélange of Melanaegis and Leukaspis, who also draws a connection with the duel between Hector and Achilles in Iliad 22. 57 The Augustan-era mythographer Conon; see FGrH 26 F 39, preserved in Phot. Bibl. 186.138b. 58 Conon (see n. above) mentions a ghost (φάσμα τι). The Suda (s.v. Ἀπατούρια), the Etymologicum Genuinum (alpha 1576), and the Scholia in Aristophanes’ Peace (Sch. Pac. 893a) mention Dionysus bearing a black shield. Other sources claim Melanthus lied.

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Strikingly, this myth is also alluded to in the Dionysiaca, in 27.301-305, where Zeus exhorts Athena to help her brother “of the black shield”, the “Apatourian” son of Thyone, who one day will save Athens by chasing away the Boeotian chieftain.59 The Athenian Melanthus or Melanthius, who was, therefore, known to Nonnus and his audience, presents an intriguing nexus of associations with his Indian namesake: they are both linked with Dionysus, and both so in a military context; both have connections with feminine names which have οἶνος in their etymology; finally, the blackness suggested by their shared name is significant in both cases: for the Indian Melanthius because it supposedly evokes the colour of his skin; for the Athenian because it creates a starker opposition to the “blonde” Xanthus. Yet, the two figures cannot be one and the same man. The connections, intriguing as they might be, are not enough to suggest identification, and Zeus’ prophecy in Book 27 clearly places Dionysus’ intervention in the Athenian war against Boeotia in a future (27.303, ῥύσεται) that will never be narrated within the epic.60 The fact that the poem creates an Indian character using elements that evoke a future Athenian hero is typical of its destabilisation of the categories of centre and periphery and of past and future, but still leaves the Indian Melanthius’ Dionysiac background largely unexplained within the few verses dedicated to him in Book 43. The elliptical narrative concerning Melanthius is, I suggest, indicative of how Nonnus’ Indians can be “converted” at the exact same time as they are absorbed into Dionysus’ “empire”; that is, they become exemplars of their new “religion” the very moment their allegiance shifts from one leader to the other.61 Conversion and acculturation turn out to be two sides of the same coin. Just as the bloodthirsty Modaeus miraculously became a god-fearing governor carrying out Dionysus’ wishes immediately as the war ended – and with no proselytising or lengthy process of acculturation having been portrayed –, the “converted” Melanthius miraculously acquires a background story that suggests he is, and always has been, a copy of Dionysus, even when he did not in fact know Dionysus. The late antique Christian narratives which present conversion as a miraculous event are illustrative of a mindset for which Christian conversion can also be a sort of mystery that bypasses knowledge and Dion. 27.301-305, αἰγίδα σεῖο τίνασσε προασπίζουσα Λυαίου, | σεῖο κασιγνήτου μελαναίγιδος, ὃς σέο πάτρην | ῥύσεται ἐξελάσας Βοιώτιον ἡγεμονῆα· | καὶ μέλος ἀείσει ζωάγριον ἀστὸς Ἐλευθοῦς | πιστὸν ἀνευάζων Ἀπατούριον υἷα Θυώνης. 60 It might be possible to imagine this Indian Melanthius as the paradoxically original iteration of his more famous Athenian namesake, in the manner of the Indians who prefigure Achaean warriors (see above), but this is not explicitly stated in the poem, and the main feat for which the Athenian is known, the duel, is patently lacking here. 61 In the same period correct religion gradually becomes interwoven with allegiance to the emperor and empire and, conversely, unauthorised religion is equated with treason; see the sorcery trials of 371-372 AD in Antioch, under the reign of Valentinian and Valens, described by Ammianus Marcellinus in Res Gestae 29.1.4-29.2.28. 59

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intentionality,62 even while a highly more “interiorised” and intentional model of conversion had already been established.63 Such a late antique narrative is the martyrology of St. Philemon, dating from the fourth century, which tells a story allegedly taking place in the third century, during the persecutions of Diocletian, in the Egyptian city of Antinoopolis.64 Philemon was a former mime actor turned flute player,65 beloved by the people, and a pagan. As Diocletian’s decrees commanded that all of the emperor’s subjects sacrificed to the gods, Philemon was bribed to don the outfit of a Christian deacon named Apollonius and perform the sacrifice in his place. Apollonius, the deacon who was too fearful of martyrdom, puts on Philemon’s clothes and keeps his flutes. Philemon appears before the judge disguised and with his face covered, but while preparing for the sacrifice through which he would pledge his allegiance to the emperor and his gods, he all of a sudden becomes a true Christian and refuses to sacrifice. Philemon’s disguise results in a near comedy of errors, as the judge struggles to establish the culprit’s identity. After determining that he is, in reality, the famous flute player, the judge becomes convinced that his charade is a joke, and informs Philemon that he will be tortured and killed if he is serious. Philemon is, of course, entirely serious and wants to die a martyr. At this point, the exasperated judge informs Philemon that, even if he is tortured and killed, he will not be a martyr, because technically he is not a Christian – he has not yet been baptised. Philemon was apparently unaware of this bureaucratic detail. He asks for a Christian to step forward and baptise him, but of course nobody does so. Philemon then prays; a cloud descends, rains upon him, and he declares himself baptised. Turning down the judge’s pleas for him to think of his popularity and success and reconsider his decision, Philemon denounces his past and asks God to burn his flutes. Indeed, a second cloud, this time of fire, descends from the heavens and burns the flutes in the very hands of Apollonius, who now repents and also wants to die a martyr. A heroic death awaits both the flute player and the deacon.

62 See, e.g., the late ancient martyrologies in which mime actors pretending to be Christian catechumens being baptised on stage truly become Christians when they are dipped in the water. For an overview of this type of story see LIM 2003, Converting the Un-Christianizable. For emphasis on the lack of intentionality in these conversions see ELM 2003, Marking the Self. 63 For the emergence of this intentional model in Late Antiquity see above, esp. n. 37. 64 The text can be found in Acta Sanctorum 7 (March, vol. I), pp. 751-753 in Latin, and pp. 887-891 in Greek. According to ATHANASSIADI 2015, Christians and Others, pp. 29-30 the third-century edict of Decius set up religion as a pre-requisite of patriotism, and created “a new social and political order which prescribes, and eventually imposes, conformity with the state ideology.” 65 For a discussion of Philemon’s martyrdom with emphasis on his professions and especially his role as a buffoon (stupidus) in theatrical mimes see HADJITTOFI – SIVAN (2020), Staging Rachel, pp. 321-323.

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This story of miraculous conversion, and others like it,66 demonstrate that late antique Christian conversion is not necessarily a process of conscious and intentional realignment of the self.67 Although the most famous late antique Christian convert, Augustine, undergoes a transformation from within, not all conversions (real or imagined) stem from the self. As the story of Philemon suggests, it was still possible for a late antique audience to imagine a genuine conversion in which the new Christian was “recruited” almost against his will and ignored the very basics of Christianity. What these stories of conversion perform is a dramatic social and/or political relocation.68 Philemon becomes an enemy of the emperor the exact moment he joins the ranks of Christ. He condemns his former life as an actor and flute player by asking for his flutes to be burnt on the spot. Just as the socially marginal actor or flute player becomes re-centralised as a Christian martyr (that is, a copy of Christ) from one moment to the next, the geographically marginal Indians are instantaneously transformed into Dionysus’ followers and alter egos; in both cases the radical relocation bypasses the converts’ own agency and comprehension. This miraculous type of late antique conversion, which starts from the divinity rather than the self, could be part of the reason why Nonnus does not need to present Dionysus as a teacher and the Indians as initiates to his mysteries. The increasingly strong link between “correct” religion and patriotism or loyalty to the “right” emperor means that the very moment Nonnus’ Indians follow Dionysus and not Deriades, their change of political allegiance also indicates a change of religious allegiance, irrespective of how much they actually know of or have been “enlightened” by Dionysus. This is, after all, the age when the “seal of baptism” and the emperor’s seal become conceptually interchangeable.69 66 ELM 2003, Marking the Self, pp. 56-61 considers the story of St Pelagia the mime actress and prostitute, who quit her profession to become the hermit Pelagios the moment she was instantaneously, and almost miraculously, converted by Nonnus the bishop. See also JACOBS 2016, Epiphanius of Cyprus, p. 89 for the “several not-quite conversions” of a Jewish man called Joseph who “was deemed worthy of holy baptism” when some Jews threw him into a river to drown after they found him reading borrowed copies of the Gospels. If being thrown into the river is considered to be his definitive conversion, it certainly was forced upon him. 67 In any case, ancient people (and in many parts of the world modern ones too) had limited freedom to choose their religion; see CAMERON 2015, Christian Conversion, p. 14. Even Church Fathers, however, saw the catechumens’ active participation in their conversion as secondary to the divinity’s powerful intervention; see ELM 2003, Marking the Self, pp. 63-68 on Gregory of Nazianzus’ views on baptism. 68 On the impact of social and political power on the religious landscape and how this intertwining can result in false conversions (which are not, however, my concern here) see, e.g., ANDO 1996, Pagan Apologetics, pp. 199-205. For conversion as a “fundamental political realignment” see MCLYNN 2003, Seeing and Believing, p. 252; as a “political flashpoint” that turns the convert into a hybrid (following postcolonial criticism) see NASRALLAH 2006, The Rhetoric of Conversion, p. 467, with further bibliography. 69 See ELM 2003, Marking the Self, p. 65. HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2020, A Dionysian μετάνοια appeared too late for me to engage with it meaningfully.

PART FIVE: ROAD JUNCTIONS (2). EPIC AND CHRISTIAN IMAGERY IN THE PARAPHRASE

XIV. AT A LONG LEAFY TABLE. METAPHORS IN NONNUS’ PARAPHRASE OF THE GOSPEL OF JOHN Emilie VAN OPSTALL

For a long time, the communis opinio held that Nonnus of Panopolis wrote his Dionysiaca and his Paraphrase simultaneously: as Robert Calasso elegantly puts it, “With one hand he sketched the adventures of Dionysus, with the other he evoked the trial of Jesus. His mind was moved by both divinities. And maybe he did not even feel the need to believe in both of them, because he wrote them.”1 Today, however, the Paraphrase is believed to have been finished first. Regardless of their chronology, it is notable that while both poems are written in epic hexameters and as the protagonist feature a ‘divine man’ whose symbol is the vine, they are, nonetheless, quite dissimilar. The Dionysiaca is a freestanding creative work, a whirling epic on a pagan deity. Its exuberant style is often characterised as baroque: indeed, it was an important source of inspiration for the epic poem Adonis by the Italian Baroque poet, Marino.2 The Paraphrase of the Gospel of John, meanwhile, is an amplification and exegesis of a Christian text. Its hexameters offer a stylistic upgrade and a creative elaboration of the Greek koinè prose, but its well-wrought style is much more restrained than that of the Dionysiaca. It seems that the baroque spirit that is so typical of the Dionysiaca is tempered by the rules of the paraphrase and by the nature of the source text, the Gospel of John.3 Where, then, do the text of the Gospel and the creative vein of the poet Nonnus meet? In this article, I will try to answer this question by focusing on a specific poetic phenomenon, omnipresent in the Gospel of John and dear to Nonnus, too: metaphors. After two introductory sections, one on the practice of paraphrasing and the other on metaphors, I will discuss metaphors in the Gospel of John and Nonnus’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John. 1 “Con una mano disegnava le avventure di Dioniso, con l’altra evocava il processo di Gesù. La sua mente era commossa da entrambi quegli esseri divini. E forse non aveva neppure bisogno di chiedersi se credeva in entrambi, perché li scriveva” (CALASSO 1988, Le nozze, p. 369). Unless mentioned otherwise, all translations in this chapter are my own. For a recent overview on the status quo in research on Nonnus, see CHUVIN 2018, Nonnus from Our Times to His (esp. regarding the Dionysiaca); ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis and HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2018, The Quest for Nonnus’ Life (both on Nonnus’ biography). 2 See VAN OPSTALL 2014, The Golden Flower. 3 Enrico Livrea calls the style of the Paraphrase “uno stile baroccamente raffinato” (LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B), p. 55).

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1. Paraphrasing: Restrictions and Possibilities During antiquity, paraphrasing was a standard rhetorical exercise; its techniques are described in two Progymnasmata as well as by Quintilian.4 Its definition departs from the idea that things can be said in more than one way. The authors of paraphrases can use any text written by themselves or by others as a source text. They may rephrase this text, without changing its content, although they have the liberty to change its verbal expression through various means, such as, among others, substitution, addition, and subtraction. According to Quintilian, “the real sign of high quality is the capacity to expand what is by nature brief, amplify the insignificant, vary the monotonous, lend charm to what has been already set out, and speak well and at length on a limited subject.”5 As other earlier and contemporary biblical paraphrases in Greek and Latin show, the word of God or an apostle of Jesus could ostensibly be the object of a paraphrase as much as any other text. From this perspective, then, Nonnus’ choice of paraphrasing the Gospel of John is nothing out of the ordinary.6 In accordance with the rules of the paraphrase, he did not change its content and followed the straightforward narrative structure of his source text. He did not use the non-linear and centrifugal narrative of his Dionysiaca; rather, he rephrased the 21 chapters of the Gospel from the early public actions of Christ up to his death. However, what Nonnus could do, and did, is alter the source text’s verbal expression thoroughly. The most obvious change is the substitution of the humble Greek koinè prose with high-brow hexameters. Nonnus likely aimed at the more refined taste of an educated Christian or pagan readership, that, on the one hand, was attracted by the Gospel of John, especially because of its image of the Logos – a familiar Hellenic philosophical concept – but that, on the other hand, preferred a more rhetorically elaborated text in the classical tradition, using epic language. The second most salient difference is amplification. Nonnus has extended the Gospel of John by one-third, i.e., according to the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae, the Gospel of John contains 15,635 words (based on the edition of NestleAland from 1968) while Nonnus’ Paraphrase contains 22,761 words (based on

4

Theon Prog. 15, an anonymous rhetorical exercise in Armenian (Prog. 62.10 in Spengel’s edition, which I consulted in the English translation in KENNEDY 2003, Progymnasmata), Quint. 1.9.2 and 10.5.4-11. See MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Greek Poetry, pp. 309-310 and ROBERTS 1985, Biblical Epic. For details on Nonnus’ paraphrasing technique, see the various commentaries on his Paraphrase, the most extended being AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (5), pp. 149-174 and several contributions on specific passages or phenomena in the recently edited volumes: SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus of Panopolis in Context; ACCORINTI 2016, Brill’s Companion to Nonnus of Panopolis and BANNERT – KRÖLL 2018, Nonnus in Context II. 5 Quint. 10.5.11, translation RUSSELL 2002, Quintilian, The Orator’s Education (vol. 4). 6 See, for example, ROBERTS 1985, Biblical Epic; AGOSTI 2001, L’epica biblica; WHITBY 2007, The Bible Hellenized and WHITBY 2016, Nonnus and Biblical Epic.

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the edition of Scheindler from 1881, without calculating the lacunae). Many passages are significantly longer than their model. This is, for example, the case with various scenes concerning Christ’s death. John 19.18 (15 words) on the crucifixion of Christ is rephrased in 9.5 lines (Par. 19.91-100, 51 words); John 19.24 (37 words) on the soldiers playing dice for Christ’s robe is rephrased in 11 lines (Par. 19.122-132, 65 words), and John 19.38 (38 words) on Joseph asking for Christ’s body is rephrased in 12 lines (Par. 19.192-203, 75 words). A few passages strike me as not only particularly long but also extremely free, such as John 9.6-7 on the miracle of the healing of the blind man. These two verses (38 words) are presented in 20 lines (126 words), in which Nonnus narrates how Christ traced complete eyeballs and pupils with mud on the blind man’s face, suggesting an imitation of the Creation (Par. 9.25-44, briefly repeated in lines 56-65 and 73-77).7 Nonnus often shows a real taste for storytelling. He “fleshes out” the narrative of the Gospel in space and time for the sake of narration. He dramatises the actions of characters, not by extending their direct speech, but by enlarging their gestures, emphasising emotions and intensifying movement (walking: describing speed or specifying the type of step), sound (talking: describing the volume and specifying the type of expression) and smell. To illustrate this procedure, which is visible in many places, two short examples will suffice here. In book 18, Nonnus turns a simple movement of Christ (John 18.1) into a lush description of Christ wandering through a beautiful and dramatic landscape that could easily be labelled “romantic avant la lettre” (Par. 18.1-7). In book 21, he applies a similar procedure to Simon swimming towards Christ (John 21.7). Simon becomes a “plumber of the salty deeps”, dressing himself in dripping rags, leaping into the river, paddling with his hands and kicking his feet in the water (Par. 21.35-48). Amplification not only expands the universe of the Gospel but also serves an exegetical purpose, actualising the theological debate. Nonnus explains the Gospel in the context of the theological ideas expressed in the commentary by his contemporary Cyril of Alexandria, and in concordance with the dogmas of several councils: the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed of the relationship between the Father and the Son, which considers them as ‘consubstantial’ (ὁμοούσιος), and the Marian doctrine of the Council of Ephesus, which defines Mary as ‘mother of God’ (Θεοτόκος).8 From the very beginning, Nonnus 7 This passage will be discussed in more detail below. Interestingly, in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, Jesus, when still an infant, forms clay birds and brings them to life. I thank the members of New Testament group at the Vrije Universiteit for this reference. 8 However, Nonnus’ adherence was not monolithic: see recently Hadjittofi 2018, ποικιλόνωτος ἀνήρ on Paraphrase 19.21-25, 19.118-132 and 20.81-82: “the poem’s ambivalence in the employment of clothing metaphors indicates an attitude that is less strictly Alexandrian/Orthodox and more polyphonic than has so far been assumed.”

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elaborates on the ontological status of the Word by adding a series of explicative appositions to the almost hymnic introduction of John, in which the end of every statement corresponds to the beginning of the next:9 John 1.1 Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος.10 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Par. 1.1-7 Ἄχρονος ἦν, ἀκίχητος, ἐν ἀρρήτῳ λόγος ἀρχῇ, ἰσοφυὴς γενετῆρος ὁμήλικος υἱὸς ἀμήτωρ, καὶ λόγος αὐτοφύτοιο θεοῦ φάος, ἐκ φάεος φῶς· πατρὸς ἔην ἀμέριστος, ἀτέρμονι σύνθρονος ἕδρῃ· καὶ θεὸς ὑψιγένεθλος ἔην λόγος. οὗτος ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς (5) ἀενάῳ συνέλαμπε θεῷ, τεχνήμονι κόσμου, πρεσβύτερος κόσμοιο11 “Timeless, unattainable, in the ineffable beginning was the Word, Son equal in nature to his Father of the same age, without mother, and the Word was light of a self-engendered God, light from light; he was inseparable from his Father, sitting together on a boundless throne; and the Word was God high-born. From the beginning, he shone together with God eternal, the artificer of the universe, older than the universe.”

It is difficult to capture the nature of these descriptions and many interpretations have been proposed. Is the “Word” to be considered as a metaphor or as a real, corporeal entity? This is a complicated theological question which I cannot answer here and must leave to specialists in the field.12 2. Metaphors in the Gospel of John Stylistically, the prose of the Gospel of John is simple and its narrative structure linear, but its content is highly symbolic. The nature of Jesus is one of its EHRMAN 1997, The New Testament, p. 143. Edition NESTLE – ALAND 2012, Novum Testamentum. Translation NIV 2011, passim in this chapter. 11 Edition DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I). 12 The discussion is already present in ancient commentaries, for example Origen’s Commentarii in evangelium Joannis I, 125-192 who equates the ‘Word’ with ‘Wisdom’. For modern theological discussions, see, among others, ZIMMERMANN 2000, Bildersprache verstehen and FREY – VAN DER WATT – ZIMMERMANN 2006, Imagery in John. For Nonnus’ interpretation of John 1.1, see DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 14-21 and pp. 103-111. For Nonnus’ exegetical practice, see also GRECO 2004, Nonno, Parafrasi (XIII); YPSILANTI 2014, Image-Making; FRANCHI 2016, Approaching the Spiritual Gospel; SIMELIDIS 2016, Nonnus and Christian Literature and SIEBER 2016, Nonnus’ Christology. 9

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key themes. Imagery plays a powerful role but is also an extremely complicated element within the narrative. After the introduction (John 1.1-1.18), Jesus tries to express his own nature using language from this world and by performing miracles. He presents himself through the use of several metaphors – the socalled ‘I am metaphors’ – intertwining the divine and the human, such as: “I am the bread of life” (John 6.35 and 6.48); “I am the bread that came down from heaven” (John 6.41 and 51); “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8.12); “I am the gate for the sheep” (John 10.7 and 10.9); “I am the good shepherd” (John 10.11 and 10.14); “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11.25); “I am the way and the truth and the life;13 No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14.6); “I am the true vine, and my father is the gardener” (John 15.1).

The ‘Protean’ nature – their ever-changing form, adapting to the circumstances – of these metaphors might have particularly appealed to Nonnus. Besides the ‘I am metaphors’, other prominent metaphors appear in John, such as the persisting metaphor of the Father and the Son, based on blood-ties, as well as the following well-known examples: “Look, the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1.29, spoken by John the Baptist); “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days” (John 2.19); “God would have given you living water” (John 4.10); “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” (John 6.53).

Many approaches to the imagery of the Gospel of John have been proposed, but, as Zimmermann admits: “No single theory has managed to explain the origin, the literary form and treatment, or the theological significance and function of these images in a way all can agree upon.”14 Metaphorical language in the Gospel of John is usually discussed in relation to parables.15 For the purpose of the present paper, I will limit myself to a linguistic analysis of metaphors. In terms of linguistic expression, the metaphors cited above can be called either metaphors in praesentia or metaphors in absentia. Some of them, furthermore, are part of a fully developed allegory,16 as is the case with the metaphors of the shepherd and the gate. Before analysing these metaphors more thoroughly, I will first recapitulate some basic linguistic possibilities with which to express 13 On this particular metaphor and related imagery in John and Nonnus regarding routes, ways and journeys, see Benchickh-Lehocine and Cusset in the present volume. 14 ZIMMERMANN 2006, Imagery in John, p. 1. See also VAN DER WATT 2000, Family of the King; I have not had the possibility to consult LEE 2016, Imagery. 15 For a recent discussion of the various approaches to parables (historical, literary and readeroriented), see ZIMMERMANN 2015, Puzzling the Parables. See also HERMANS 1990, Wie werdet Ihr die Gleichnisse verstehen and JÜNGEL – GISEL – RICOEUR 1974, Metapher. 16 ‘Allegory’, or ‘parable’, or ‘example story’, depending on the definition one prefers. Contrary to the synoptic Gospels, the Gospel of John does not contain the word παραβολή. Jesus uses the word παροιμία to refer to his own figurative language (John 10.6 and 16.25-29).

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metaphors. In doing so, I will use the four simple, but useful, formulas proposed by Pasini in an article from 1972.17 In these formulas, the explicitness which characterises the comparison or simile gradually decreases to eventually become the pure metaphor. The most extended form, the comparison, contains four elements: a tenor (t), a vehicle (v), a ground or tertium comparationis (g), and an indicator (i), whilst the most succinct form, the metaphor in absentia, retains only one of these elements, namely the vehicle (v), as can be seen below: 1. Comparison His cheeks (t) are fresh (g) like (i) roses (v) 2. Metaphorical comparison (without ground) His cheeks (t) are like (i) roses (v) 3. Metaphor in praesentia (without indicator and ground) 3a. His cheeks (t) are (the so-called est d’équivalance) roses (v) 3b. The roses (v) of his cheeks (t) 4. Metaphor in absentia (without tenor, indicator and ground) On his face, two roses (v)

Pasini’s types 3 and 4 can also be described using the terminology ‘source domain’ and ‘target domain’ from Lakoff’s conceptual metaphor theory.18 The source domain is the domain from which the vehicle is taken (in this case ‘flower’); the target domain is the domain to which the tenor belongs (in this case ‘human body’). In type 3, the metaphor in praesentia, the reader has to conceptualise and combine the domains behind the cheeks (t) and the roses (v) (‘human body’ and ‘flower’), and find their common ground in particular characteristics (‘freshness’ or ‘pink colour’ or ‘soft skin’). In type 4, the metaphor in absentia – being the most ‘open’ type of metaphor – the reader is faced with a bigger conceptual challenge: on the basis of the vehicle, i.e. ‘two roses’ (from the source domain ‘flower’) located ‘on his face’, the tenor ‘cheeks’ (from the target domain ‘human body’) as well as their common ground have to be inferred by one’s imagination. The use of Pasini’s formulas and Lakoff’s concepts enables us not only to analyse metaphors on the word or sentence level but also to show that metaphors function as part of larger ‘networks’. There are only a few instances of comparisons of type 1 and 2 in the Gospel of John. However, as indicated above, we find many metaphors in praesentia of type 3a: “I (t) am the gate for the sheep” (v), as well as metaphors in absentia of type 4: “Destroy this temple” (v). Strikingly, whenever Jesus uses figurative language, he is misunderstood by his audience; even his disciples only understand the meaning of his words much later, a long time after they have PASINI 1972, Dalla comparazione alla metafora. LAKOFF – JOHNSON 1980, Metaphors We Live By and LAKOFF – TURNER 1989, More Than Cool Reason. See also KÖVECSES 2002, Metaphor. 17 18

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been uttered. On several occasions, this confusion is explicitly referred to by the author of the Gospel.19 Firstly, in John 2.19, when Jesus says “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days”, the external narrator explains this metaphor in absentia to his external audience with the following authorial comment: “But the temple he had spoken about was his body” (John 2.21). The narrator then continues by revealing the events that are due to happen and announcing that the disciples will understand the words of their master afterwards. This authorial flashforward refers to John 16.25 when at the end of his life, Jesus speaks again about his death and resurrection. He tells his disciples that, although he has been speaking figuratively (ἐν παροιμίαις) to them, he will soon speak plainly (παρρησίᾳ) about the Father. His disciples confirm this with the following words: Ἴδε νῦν ἐν παρρησίᾳ λαλεῖς, καὶ παροιμίαν οὐδεμίαν λέγεις (John 16.29-30, “Now you are speaking plainly and without figures of speech”). Thus, his disciples finally understand and believe that he has come from God.20 Secondly, in John 7.37-39, the external narrator explains the metaphorical language of Christ to his external audience: “‘Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.’ By this he meant the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were later to receive.”21 Finally, in John 10.1-5, there is confusion when Jesus talks to the Pharisees in figurative language and recounts the story about the thieves who enter the sheep pen by climbing over the fence, and about the shepherd and sheep who enter through the gate. Jesus uses metaphors in absentia and his audience does not understand him (John 10.6, ταυτὴν τὴν παροιμίαν). He subsequently tells them another version of the same story, again using figures of speech. This time, however, he uses metaphors in praesentia, ‘I am metaphors’, such as 19 While in the Gospel of John Jesus’ παροιμίαι create confusion among everybody, whether disciples or not, in the Gospel of Mark (4.10-12, a passage containing the so-called ‘parabletheory’), Jesus tells the private gathering of his disciples that the secret of the Kingdom of Heaven is revealed exclusively to them and that his parables are meant to hide this secret from the other people who are not supposed to partake in it: Ὑμῖν τὸ μυστήριον δέδοται τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ· ἐκείνοις δὲ τοῖς ἔξω ἐν παραβολαῖς τὰ πάντα γίνεται, ἵνα βλέποντες βλέπωσιν καὶ μὴ ἴδωσιν, καὶ ἀκούοντες ἀκούωσιν καὶ μὴ συνιῶσιν, μήποτε ἐπιστρέψωσιν καὶ ἀφεθῇ αὐτοῖς. He then continues by explaining his parable exclusively to his disciples. 20 Nonnus maintains and even emphasises this element of confusion, as we will see below. John 2.19 is picked up in Par. 2.95-96 and John 2.21-22 in Par. 2.102-110. For John 16.25 see Par. 16.92 and 95-96: νῦν σκολιοῖς ἐπέεσσι παραβλήδην ἀγορεύω … ἵξομαι ἀγγέλλων ἑτερότροπα λευκάδι φωνῇ | μύθων ὀρθὰ κέλευθα καὶ οὐκέτι δόχμιον ὀμφήν, “I now speak with indirect words by way of parable … but I will return announcing different things with a clear voice, | straight paths of words and no longer an ambiguous message” and for John 16.29-30 see Par. 16.111-112: ἀμφαδὰ νῦν λαλέεις, οὐ φθέγγεαι ὄργια μύθων | λοξὰ παρατροπέων ἑτέρης ἐπιδευέα φωνῆς, “You now speak openly and you no longer utter mysteries of words, | leading us astray with ambiguities in need of another discourse.” 21 See Nonnus Par. 7.143-153.

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“I am the gate for the sheep” and, “I am the good shepherd” (John 10.7-16). As a result, many think he is mad, but some believe that he is not. Somewhat later, the Jews are still impatient: “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly” (John 10.24, εἰπὲ ἡμῖν παρρησίᾳ).22 What makes Jesus’ metaphorical language so confusing? It is clear from the two passages discussed above that his (internal) audiences prefer plain speech (παρρησία) over metaphors (παροιμίαι). It is also obvious that metaphors are more difficult to understand than comparisons and that, among metaphors, those in absentia are more difficult to understand than those in praesentia. Nevertheless, I do not think that the main problem of these metaphors lies in the obscurity of their linguistic expression, such as the absence of an ‘indicator’ (‘like’) or a ‘ground’ (tertium comparationis). I do not, moreover, believe that the problem is caused by the nature of the vehicles or source domains since they all correspond to the known world: word, water, wine, temple, sheep, shepherd, etc. The problem here is, rather, the nature of the target domain, which is difficult to understand. Let us analyse the metaphor ‘I (t) am the gate for the sheep (v)’ to examine this notion further. ‘The gate for the sheep’, the vehicle of this metaphor in praesentia, belongs to the source domain ‘the pastoral world’. This does not cause any problem. But how do we interpret the target, the ‘I’? To what extent can a man be a ‘gate for the sheep’? What common ground do they have? Only when one understands that the nature of this man is not human but divine and that the target domain is not worldly and mortal, but spiritual and eternal, can one begin to understand what Jesus truly means with this metaphor.23 The metaphor ties in with other spatial metaphors: 22 Here, again, Nonnus emphasises the element of confusion. The narrator of the Paraphrase describes the first version of the parable of the sheep, the gate and the shepherd (John 10.1-6 in Par. 10.1-22) as a “misleading account” (ἔπος παράτροπον, Par. 10.20) and “unintelligible inspired language” (Par. 10.22, ἀσημάντῳ … θέσπιδι φωνῇ) (N.B. there is an interesting play on words here with μήλοισιν ἀσημάντοισιν, “flocks without shepherd” from Il. 10.485). The second version of the parable (John 10.7-16 in Par. 10.24-58) is explained “with a plain discourse” (Par. 10.23, ἀριζήλῳ τινὶ μύθῳ). The words of the impatient Pharisees of John 10.24 are rephrased in Par. 10.87-89 as ἡμείων τέο μέχρις ὑποκλέπτεις φρένα μύθοις; | εἰ σὺ Χριστὸς ἵκανες ἐτήτυμος, ἀμφαδὸν ἡμῖν | ἀγρομένοις ἀγόρευε· τί καὶ τεὸν οὔνομα κεύθεις; “Until when will you beguile our mind with your tales? | If you are truly Christ, then tell us | who are asking you: why is it that you keep your name hidden?” 23 JÜNGEL 1974, Metaphorische Wahrheit, presents a similar analysis, but comes to a different conclusion. In Jesus’ “I am the Bread” metaphor, for example, the bread does not need explaining, but the question of who Jesus is does. Jüngel argues that the audience knows who Jesus is by his deeds: “Jesus muss als derjenige, der Nahrung gibt, schon bekannt sein, die Brotvermehrung muss erzählt worden sein, bevor Jesus sich als Brot des Lebens bezeichnet” (p. 125). According to Jüngel, the metaphor recapitulates and condenses a story that is already known. See also PETERSON 2006, Die Ich-bin-Worte als Metaphern. In my opinion, the metaphors and the miracle (the actual miracle or the reported miracle) are indeed related to each other, but not in a chronological sequence, the second building upon the first. I think metaphors and miracles function independently, both pointing towards the divine but each in a different way, the one with words, and the other with deeds, thus supplementing each other. See below on what Scott Fitzgerald Johnson calls ‘unfolding analysis’ (2016, Nonnus’ Paraphrastic Technique, p. 271).

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if you visualise God in a house with rooms (John 14.2), it is easier to imagine Jesus as a divine man with the function of a sheep gate, as a portal from Earth towards Heaven, or as a shepherd, who leads his flock to their spiritual home. Jesus tries to explain his divine nature with figurative speech, using earthly images and extending his metaphors into longer narratives (“I am the gate for the sheep”, becomes the parable of the good shepherd). In order to be fully understood, he demonstrates his divine nature through both his words and his deeds, by performing miracles. In fact, Jesus continuously doubts that people will understand him when he speaks directly about the divine world. He thinks that his tales about earthly (visible) things are already difficult enough to believe and fears that his tales about heavenly (invisible) matters will be even more so (John 3.12, τὰ ἐπίγεια vs. τὰ ἐπουράνια, cf. Par. 3.60-64). By using worldly metaphors, Christ wants to simplify his message, although he does not completely succeed. His actions, meanwhile, do not require any words, since they speak for themselves (John 5.36), “with the loquacious trumpet of silence”24 as Nonnus puts it paradoxically (Par. 5.143, cf. Par. 10.92-94). However, even after having heard and seen, people do not believe – or at least not all of them (John 5.37-40 and Par. 5.149-159, as well as John 10.25-27 and Par. 10.94-97). 3. Metaphors in Nonnus’ Paraphrase I can imagine that an Italian Baroque poet such as Marino would have delighted in the metaphors used to describe the Christ of the Gospel and that he would have been inspired to create even more dazzling distances between tenors and vehicles. Indeed, what better opportunity could a baroque poet have to show the maraviglie of the Creation? This leads me to Nonnus’ creative vein: what does he do with the metaphors of the Gospel of John? In his metaphors in the Dionysiaca, the distance between tenors and vehicles is not extreme and the baroque character of that epic does not reside in their linguistic expression:25 in this work, the impression of baroque is created, rather, by the fact that metaphors abound and melt together with the ever-changing context of metamorphoses. In the Paraphrase, Nonnus shows a somewhat different approach to metaphors. While his linguistic strategies for metaphors are largely similar, the metaphors are fewer in number than in the Dionysiaca and they have a different relationship to their context. The main difference is, of course, due to the presence of a guiding model, the Gospel of John.

24 25

On these and other metaphors for silence, see also Franco in the present volume. See VAN OPSTALL 2014, The Golden Flower, on baroque metaphors in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca.

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3.1. Existing Metaphors Let me turn now to the metaphors of the Gospel of John discussed above. Not surprisingly, Nonnus keeps them in his Paraphrase; he does not, however, complicate them further. He even emphasises the fact that Jesus’ metaphorical language is judged ‘confusing’ by his listeners (i.e. his internal audience, see especially notes 20 and 22), as mentioned above. On several occasions, the external narrator of the Paraphrase expands upon a simple statement from the Gospel of John, such as “Jesus answered”, by adding qualifications about a lack of clarity. For example, Nonnus describes Jesus’ discourse to Nicodemus on baptism as a second birth as “unintelligible discourse” (Par. 3.15, ἀσημάντῳ τινὶ μύθῳ, not in John 3.3). In fact, in John 3.9-10 and Par. 3.48-51, Nicodemus does not understand Jesus’ words and questions him about their meaning, whereupon Jesus explains himself again, telling him that he chooses his language carefully (Par. 3.55 χείλεσιν ἀπλανέεσσι, “with unerring lips” and 57 ἴδμονι φωνῇ, “with knowledgeable speech”, not in John 3.11).26 Furthermore, Nonnus tries to explain the metaphors from the Gospel to his own contemporary (external) audience. This exegetical tendency manifests itself in various ways. Nonnus expands existing metaphors for Christ, augmenting them with supplementary information in apposition. We have seen, for instance, how Nonnus applies this procedure to the opening verses of the Gospel of John. Another method of exegesis is to show how such metaphors actually function. In the Gospel of John, both Jesus’ words and his deeds aim to reveal who he is. His metaphors are linked directly to his miracles since they both serve the same purpose. Nonnus exploits this link for his ‘unfolding analysis’, to use the terminology of Scott Fitzgerald Johnson.27 I will demonstrate the technique of unfolding analysis with a brief discussion of the metaphor of the light: the light that is present in the prologue of the Gospel (John 1.4-5), as an ‘I am metaphor’ for Christ, and in the healing of the man who was born blind (John 9).28 In John 9.5, Jesus says: ὅταν ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ ὦ, φῶς εἰμι τοῦ κόσμου. “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

26 The same kind of additions by Nonnus that are not present in John (the examples in note 20 and 22 were also present in John) can be found in other chapters, for example ἀσημάντῳ τινὶ μύθῳ in Par. 4.42, where Jesus talks to the Samaritan woman about the life-giving water (not in John 4.10); ἀσημάντῳ τινὶ μύθῳ in Par. 7.124 to servants of jealous priests, about the Way (not in John 7.33); ἀσημάντῳ σέο μύθῳ and ἀγνώστῳ τινὶ θεσμῷ in Par. 12.132 and 136 spoken to Jesus by a crowd of Greeks questioning him on the ascent to heaven (not in John 12.34). 27 JOHNSON 2016, Nonnus’ Paraphrastic Technique, p. 271. 28 For a thorough discussion of the lexical and theological expansion of this episode in its broader context, see JOHNSON 2016, Nonnus’ Paraphrastic Technique, esp. pp. 273-275 on the light/dark metaphor. See also YPSILANTI 2014, Image-Making.

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These words are rendered by Nonnus in the following way in Par. 9.23-24, where he links Jesus’ words (the ‘I am metaphor’ of the light) more explicitly to Jesus’ deeds (the healing miracle of the blind man) and pointedly opposes light to darkness: ῥέξω δ’, εἰσόκεν ἦμαρ ἀέξεται· εἰμὶ δὲ κόσμου φέγγος ἐγὼ ζοφόεντος, ἕως ἔτι κόσμον ὁδεύω. “While day increases, I will act. For I am the light of a world full of darkness, as long as I travel the world.”

In John 9.6-7, Jesus puts some mud on the eyes of the blind man and tells him to wash his face, whereupon the narrator briefly concludes: ἀπῆλθεν οὖν καὶ ἐνίψατο, καὶ ἦλθεν βλέπων “So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.”

In the Paraphrase, Nonnus continues to insist on the sudden presence of light for the man who had never seen light before, “who lived in a haze” (Par. 9.7, ὀμίχλη) and in “eyeless darkness” (Par. 9.14, ἀλαώπιδι ὄρφνῃ), describing Jesus as drawing eyeballs and pupils of “light-bringing clay” (Par. 9.28, πηλὸν φαεσφόρον) on the “face deprived of light” (Par. 9.29, λιποφεγγέι ὀπωπῇ, cf. 9.4, ἀφωτίστοιο προσώπου). In Par. 9.38-43, Nonnus concludes: Χριστὸς ἔφη, καὶ τυφλὸς ἐπείγετο καὶ παρὰ πηγῇ χερσὶ βαθυνομένῃσι φαεσφόρον ἤφυσεν ὕδωρ, ὕδασι πηγαίοισι λιπόσκια φάεα νίπτων. (40) σμήξας δ’ ἀρτιτύπου τροχοειδέα κύκλον ὀπωπῆς ἐξαπίνης φάος ἔσχε, τὸ μὴ φύσις οἶδεν ὀπάσσαι, ἀθρήσας φαέθοντος ἀήθεος ὄψιμον αἴγλην. “Thus spoke Christ, and the blind man hurried away and at the source drew with his hollowed hands the light-bringing water, cleansing with spring water his eyes, that cast away the shadow. After he had washed the circular sphere of his newly formed sight, he suddenly obtained light, which nature had not been able to give him, with eyes unused to the sun he saw, late in life, its splendour.”

The “light” (9.42, φάος) and the “splendour of the sun” (9.43, φαέθοντος αἴγλην) link the physical sight of the world to the spiritual insight provided by the Light, Jesus (9.24, φέγγος). Light thus represents insight and enlightenment. In the passage describing the Samaritan woman at the well, which will be discussed in further detail below, the same idea is present. There, Nonnus also emphasises the existing equation of light and teaching versus darkness and ignorance. He adds the following words to introduce Jesus’ words: “So Jesus taught the woman who questioned him, | drawing her from a haze into light” (Par. 4.60-61, … ἀνεγρομένην δὲ γυναῖκα | Ἰησοῦς ἐδίδαξεν ἀπ’ ἀχλύος εἰς φάος ἕλκων).

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3.2. Added Metaphors In his Paraphrase, Nonnus adds many metaphors of his own. The different typologies he uses will be discussed below. They are more varied than Pasini’s types 3a-b (metaphors in praesentia) and 4 (metaphors in absentia) cited above. Although the exact statistics for each type vary, a rough survey of the circa hundred metaphors in the 21 books of the Paraphrase shows that they are similar to the ones Nonnus uses in the Dionysiaca.29 The metaphors contain mainly nouns and adjectives as well as, to a lesser degree, verbs and adverbs. The following metaphors in praesentia are common: – ‘Noun A (tenor) = noun B (vehicle)’ with ‘est d’équivalence’ (Pasini type 3a) is especially used for the ‘I am-metaphors’: “I (t) am the Good Shepherd (v)”, “I (t) am the Light of the world (v)”; – ‘Noun A (tenor), noun B (vehicle)’, a metaphor in apposition: “a searunning ship (t), chariot (v) of the ocean” (Par. 6.64, νῆα ἁλίδρομον, ἅρμα θαλάσσης, cf. Dion. 4.230); – ‘Noun B (vehicle) of noun A (tenor)’: everything is hidden “beneath an unheralded cloak of silence” (Par. 2.120, ἀκηρύκτῳ φαρεϊ σιγῆς). Frequently, the following metaphors in absentia can also be found: – ‘Metaphorical noun B (vehicle) accompanied by adjective X’, whereby X does not coincide with the tenor but reveals its nature because it belongs to the same source domain: • the picnic for the 5,000 followers of Jesus reclining in a row “at the long leafy table (v)” (Par. 6.35-36, ἐπ’ εὐπετάλοιο X τραπέζης B | μηκεδανῆς), • “the citizens gathering together to bury you [Jesus] in a rocky tunic (v)” (Par. 10.117-118, ἀολλίζοντο πολῖται, | ὄφρα σε πετρήεντι X κατακρύψωσι χιτῶνι B) • “my [Jesus’] word carried away unheeded by oblivious breezes (v)” (Par. 14.95-96, ἐμὸν … ληθαίαις X ἀκόμιστον ἔπος πεφορημένον αὔραις B). – The reverse procedure also occurs, i.e. a ‘metaphorical adjective B (vehicle) specifying noun X’. Among these are many instances of hypallage (transferred epithet), i.e. adjectives for animate beings combined with inanimate nouns. Personification is certainly a very strong and persistent figure of speech in the Paraphrase:

29 The various types of metaphors in the Dionysiaca have been dealt with extensively by GIGLI PICCARDi 1985, Metafora e poetica. For their role in Nonnus’ general poetics, see GIGLI PICCARDI 2016, Nonnus’ Poetics. I thank my student, Sanne van den Berg (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam), who has assisted me in undertaking a survey of metaphors in the Paraphrase.

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• “from never-silent books” (Par. 6.218, ἀσιγήτων B ἀπὸ βίβλων X);30 • “the murderous hour” (Par. 7.114, φοίνιος B ὥρη X and Par. 12.30, φοίνιος B ἐπιτύμβιος B ὥρη X). – Verbs and adverbs are often used metaphorically, for example: • “they were flogged by silence” (Par. 13.102, ἐμαστίζοντο B σιγῇ, said of the disciples who are tormented because they do not understand and do not dare to speak, cf. Par. 3.172 where God’s rage flogs foolishness and Par. 4.213 where a loving father is tormented by the same fire as his son who is ill); • “all the citizens gather speedily together like clouds” (Par. 3.135, συμμιγέες νεφεληδὸν B ὅλοι σπεύδουσι πολῖται, cf. Par. 4.147 and 11.174). – Sometimes, other elements in the context of a metaphor make it easier to understand its nature. For example: • “for he knew who they were, all of them who had entrusted their roving faith to the sea-wandering storm winds” (Par. 6.198-199, ᾔδεε γάρ, τίνες ἦσαν, ὅσοι νόον εἶχον ἀλήτην | πίστιν ἁλιπλανέεσσιν X ἐπιτρέψαντες ἀέλλαις B), where the metaphor of the roving mind (source domain: journeys > wandering) prepares for the metaphor of faith abandoned to the sea-wandering storm winds (source domain: atmospheric phenomena > wandering over sea). Several of Nonnus’ metaphors are ‘worn’ or ‘dead’ metaphors, containing imagery that has become part of common language and shapes perceptions without being noticed any longer. Lakoff classifies this type of metaphor more positively as ‘metaphors one lives by’. Such metaphors are, however, less interesting for an analysis of the particularities of Nonnus’ literary practice.31 It should be noted that Nonnus uses various techniques to direct our attention to his metaphors. He uses rare or typically ‘Nonnian’ words such as ‘blackcapped fog’ (Par. 6.67, μελαγκρήδεμνος ὀμίχλη), the adjective μελαγκρήδεμνος used only twice by other authors (John of Gaza and Paul the Silentiary), while the common ὀμίχλη figures 10 times in the Paraphrase and 19 times in the Dionysiaca, always at the end of the hexameters, and sometimes in a metaphorical sense. Moreover, Nonnus favours complicated descriptions reviving The metaphor is, at the same time, linked to the practice of reading aloud. See AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (5), p. 144: “il libro e la sua voce”. 31 These ‘common’ metaphors, whose metaphorical use is attested in many other writers (see LSJ s.v.), include expressions like “the flowing of words” (see below, χέω, ῥέω), “bring beneath the yoke of faith” (Par. 4.248, πίστιος ἀκλινέεσσιν ὑπεζεύγνυντο λεπάδνοις); “towering wave” (Par. 6.71, ἀγχινεφὴς ἐπίκυρτος ἐπυργώθη ῥόος ἅλμης); “pouring out one’s voice” (Par. 7.142, ἰάχησε χέων πανθελγέα φωνήν); “gaping mouth” for an entrance (Par. 11.136, χάσματι τύμβου); “bond of love” (Par. 15.39, δεσμὸν ἐμῆς φιλότητος; with lexical variants such as Par. 14.111, ἀκλινέας φιλίους θεσμούς; Par. 21.106, ἀτίνακτον ἐμῆς φιλότητος ὀχῆα); “seethe with fiery passion” (Par. 13.96, Χριστὸς ἀσιγήτοιο νόου κυμαίνετο πυρσῷ); “honeyed words” (Par. 13.146, μειλιχίοις ὀάροισι), etc. 30

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worn metaphors, preferring, for example, “they cut off the utmost covering of the shame that generates birth” rather than “they circumcised him” (Par. 7.78, ἄκρον ἀποτμήγουσι τελεσσιγόνου σκέπας [‘covering’, i.e. foreskin] αἰδοῦς [αἰδώς, ‘shame’, instead of the more regular τὰ αἰδοῖα, pudenda, ‘private parts’]). The rare τελεσσίγονος (‘generating birth’) in this expression is used three times in the Paraphrase and 14 times in the Dionysiaca (always in the genitive singular) and four times in other texts from Late Antiquity. Nonnus also piles up metaphors: “the honey-flowing streams of words of ever-flowing life” (Par. 6.217, ζωῆς ἀενάοιο μελίρρυτα χεύματα μύθων), using no less than three different roots – νάω, ῥέω and χέ(υ)ω – to express the metaphorical stream of life and words in one single line. The single elements of the expression can be found elsewhere: ζωῆς ἀενάοιο also occurs in Par. 4.69 and in several Christian contexts (notably in John Chrysostom’s In Sanctum Joannem precursorem 88 PG 50.802.35: σοῦ δὲ ἐν τῷ στόματι ζωῆς ἀεννάου βρύουσι πηγαί), while the combination μελίρρυτα χεύματα is used by Nonnus himself in the same metrical sedes in Dion. 14.414 and 47.81. 3.3. Source Domains and Target Domains Nonnus’ metaphors are drawn from many different source domains, and only a few of them are linked to particularities belonging to the author’s contemporary world. Unlike in the Dionysiaca, in the Paraphrase, there is the influence of neither Coptic weaving nor juridical or diplomatic language, but there are some instances of imagery coming from horse-racing and medicine. The passing of time is a conspicuous example, being dramatised by metaphors inspired by races in the hippodrome. For example, Jesus’ disciples leave him alone when they “see the lunch hour galloping through the sky close to the central turning point of noon” (Par. 4.30-31, μεσάτῃ παρὰ νύσσῃ | οὐρανὸν ἱππεύουσαν ἰδὼν ἐπιδόρπιον ὥρην), and Jesus warns the unfaithful that he will be judged “when the final race of dawn arrives” (Par. 12.192, ὀψιτέλεστος ὅτε δρόμος ἔσχατος ἠοῦς).32 Elsewhere, Jesus compares himself to a “doctor without a scalpel, applying an intelligent drug with my healing word” (Par. 12.161-162, ἐμῷ παιήονι μύθῳ ἰητὴρ ἀσίδηρος ἐχέφρονα φάρμακα πάσσων). Most of Nonnus’ source domains are a-temporal. Among them is a group of dominant source domains that recur throughout the 21 books of the Paraphrase, creating Leitmotifs. Unsurprisingly, this group is related to the metaphors concerning the nature of Christ. We have already seen how light and darkness are exploited, forming part of the ‘I am metaphor’ for Christ as well

32

GIGLI-PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 180-181.

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as appearing ubiquitously in the description of the miraculous healing of the blind man. Likewise, whilst the vine and wine are already present in the Gospel of John as an ‘I am metaphor’ for Christ (John 15.1) and in the description of the miracle of Canaan (John 2),33 Nonnus heavily emphasises the wine motif in his Paraphrase by adding rare metaphorical adjectives such as οἰνοσσόος (a hapax legomenon) and οἰνωπός (occurring twice in the Paraphrase and five times in Dionysiaca): in Par. 2.30, Christ raises his “wine-saving voice” (οἰνοσσόον ἴαχε φωνήν) and in Par. 2.39 he utters his orders with a “commanding wine-like voice” (οἰνωπῇ σημάντορι φωνῇ). Nonnus also adds the wine motif to other parts of his narrative, even while it is not present in the Gospel. One example is the depiction of Passover. In the Gospel, Christ predicts his betrayal by dipping his bread in his dish and giving it to Judas (John 13.26). In the Paraphrase, Nonnus’ Jesus “dips bread drenched in a drop of wine” (Par. 13.109-110, βάψας | οἰνωπῇ ῥαθάμιγγι δεδευμένον ἄρτον) and offers it to Judas. Thus, the bread -metaphor (“I am the bread of life”, John 6.35, 41, 48, 51) and the wine -metaphor (“I am the true vine”, John 15.1) come together, as it were, as the ‘props’ of the narrative (although this narratological term might sound somewhat disrespectful in the present context).34 They also seem to remind the reader of the Eucharist. A similar expansion of the Gospel of John is visible in the encounter with the Samaritan woman in John 4.35 Here, Nonnus extends the water motif (a metaphor for the living water and referring to the worldly water from the well) by introducing new metaphors and insisting on thirst. The time of day is ‘thirsty’ (Par. 4.2, ἕκτη δὲ πτερόεσσα διέτρεχε δίψιος ὥρη, “the sixth winged hour passed by thirsty”), as is Jesus himself and Jesus is thirsty as well (4.29, δός μοι δίψαν ἔχοντι πιεῖν ξεινήιον ὕδωρ “give me, being thirsty water to drink as a gift” and 4.45 δός μοι δίψαν ἔχοντι πιεῖν μινυώριον ὕδωρ “give me, being thirsty, short-lived water to drink”), despite his appellation as the “Lord of the waters” (4.27, ἄναξ ὑδάτων36). The water itself is characteriszed by a variety of expressions: “eternal, living water” and “a wise drink” (2.4647, αἰώνιον … ζωὸν ὕδωρ and σοφὸν ποτόν); “life-giving water” (2.48 φυσίζοον ὕδωρ); “wandering water” (1.52, μετανάστιον ὕδωρ); “life-giving and strange water” (l.54, ζείδωρον … ξένον ὕδωρ). The water motif and its metaphorical use are not restricted to the passage concerning the Samaritan woman. In fact, everywhere in the Paraphrase, See LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B). For objects in stories as ‘props’ see DE JONG 2014, Narratology and the Classics, p. 105. 35 See CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (VI) and FRANCHI 2018, Flumina. See also Lefteratou in the present volume. 36 The terminology is similar to Par. 3.130 ἀλεξικάκων ὑδάτων πρωτόθροε κῆρυξ and thus brings to mind Jesus’ relationship with baptismal water. 33 34

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words, crowds, and light stream or pour down (χέω, ἐπιρρέω, χεῦμα, ὄμβρος, νιφετός, ῥόος). Examples of salient metaphorical combinations with water include the “cleansing bath of the self-engendered spirit” (Par. 3.34-35, καθαροῖο λοετροῦ πνεύματος), “with limbs washed in spiritual fire” (Par. 17.62, πνευματικῶι πυρὶ γυῖα λελουμένοι); the “watery roots of the well” (Par. 4.18, ὑγρὰ θέμεθλα); the “unquenchable uproar of the people” (Par. 19.82, λαοῖο βοὴν ἄσβεστον); and “a swimming divine perfume” (Par. 12.16, νηχομένη ἔνθεος ὀδμή). In this manner, Nonnus turns metaphors from dominant source domains into recurring literary motifs, weaving continuous threads of theological meaning through his narrative. Another group of source domains is related to nature: for example, nature’s engendering capacity (pregnancy, parenthood, feeding, growing) and, more specifically, to atmospheric phenomena (wind, rain and clouds). The latter are mainly used to enhance the idea of (human) motion or lack of movement. Motionless invisibility is expressed by the image of fog, while, a deed can be hidden “in a secret fog of silence” (Par. 7.17, ἀθηήτῳ ἀχλύι σιγῆς, see also the metaphorical “mist of ignorance” in Par. 4.61 and 12.183). A forceful impact or attack is associated with storms and hurricanes: the world’s “usual storm of rage” (Par. 7.26, ἐθήμονι λαίλαπι λύσσης λαίλαπι λύσσης), Jesus speaking “with the unarmed hurricane of his voice” (Par. 18.38, ἀτευχέι λαίλαπι φωνῆς, cf. Par. 12.115), and the attack on Jesus “with the rocky edges of a hailstorm of stones thrown” (Par. 8.190, τρηχαλέῃ γλωχῖνι λιθοβλήτου νιφετοῖο). Falling down and pouring forth are visualised as snowstorms or rainstorms: the manna descends from heaven as a “sweet rain of divine bread” (Par. 19.155-56, μελισταγέος νιφετοῖο ἄρτου) and Mary Magdalen is described as “pouring forth a hot rain of lament from her face” (Par. 20.49, θερμὸν ἀναβλύζουσα γοήμονος ὄμβρον ὀπωπῆς, cf. 11.120, cf. of voice Par. 3.162 and 8.10). The only instance of ὄμβρος as an actual ‘flood’ in the Paraphrase can be found in 18.3 when Jesus walks through the Kedron valley. Dynamic movement (i.e. removal or change) is characterised by various types of winds, from a light breeze to a stormy blow: Jesus walks “on airy foot” (Par. 20.119, ἀνεμώδεϊ ταρσῷ, cf. Par. 19.178) and Mary “had a stormy course” (Par. 11.97, ἀελλόπον εἶχε πορείην). The gathering together of people is compared to clouds and a quick return to a whirlwind (Par. 3.135, νεφεληδὸν ὅλοι σπεύδουσι πολῖται, cf. Par. 4.147 and 11.174; Par. 14.109, παλινδίνητος and in six other places of the Paraphrase).37 Together, the vehicles from the source domain of atmospheric phenomena and the tenors from 37 It is interesting to see that many of the words cited here occur frequently in the Dionysiaca, for example ὄμβρος 50 × D, 5 × P; νήχω 42 × D, 1 × P; παλινδίνητος 28 × D, 7 × P; νίφετος 25 × D, 2 × P; νεφεληδόν 6 × D, 3 × P. For the opposition ‘immobility – movement’ in the Paraphrase as symbolising the more generally meaningful connection ‘liberation – guilt’, see AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (5), pp. 121-126.

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the target domain of mankind in the Paraphrase strongly suggest a constant merging of natural phenomena and the human world, all participating in the animated creation. 4. Conclusion With the techniques of paraphrasing, the metaphors in the Gospel of John and the metaphors in the Paraphrase in our minds, can we answer our initial question of where the text of the Gospel and the creative vein of the poet Nonnus meet? Firstly, the metaphors for Christ in the Gospel reveal Nonnus’ exegetical potential rather than his poetical potential. He does not complicate the metaphors further; rather, he overtly explains their obscure meanings. Secondly, Nonnus’ creative spirit as we know it from the Dionysiaca manifests itself: he adds many metaphors of his own to the narrative of the Gospel. Moreover, he uses a rich variety of metaphors, utilising nouns, adjectives, verbs and adverbs, whether single or in concatenation, often emphasised by the use of rare (typically Nonnian) words or presented in unexpected combinations with an element of personification (hypallage). Using metaphors from particular source domains, often in opposition, Nonnus creates a sort of basso continuo, which runs throughout his narrative and enhances the coherence on the levels of the message and the style. Nonnus’ metaphors, combined with his temporal and spatial elaboration and various other rhetorical techniques, turn the sober setting of the Gospel into an animated and God-inspired world. According to Dodd, in the Gospel of John, “the whole world is bound together by an intricate network of symbolism, and represents a world in which phenomena – things and events – are a living and moving image of the eternal, and not a veil of illusion to hide it, a world in which the Word is made flesh.”38 I can imagine that Nonnus would have agreed with this characterisation. Indeed, he seems to capture precisely this cosmic spirit of the Gospel of John, on the one hand explaining the new religion to an educated audience and, on the other hand, expressing its nature through his abundant style that suited the taste of readers of Late Antiquity. In his Dionysiaca, Nonnus was free to verbalise the myth of Dionysus. With his own ‘baroque’ style, he showed how the metamorphoses of this ‘pagan’ narrative mingled with the surrounding world. The fact that in his Paraphrase, Nonnus was restricted by his model, caused his ‘baroque’ style to be more restrained; however, he clearly aimed at a similar intertwining of the Christian message and the Creation.

38

DODD 1953, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, p. 143.

XV. THE SOUND OF SILENCE. METAPHORS OF SILENT ELOQUENCE IN NONNUS’ POETRY1 Laura FRANCO

As it is well known, Nonnus’ reworking of St John’s Gospel in the Paraphrase is predominantly based on the rhetorical technique of amplificatio, which results in the expansion of his model, mostly obtained by the insertion of an extremely rich variety of metaphorical expressions.2 Nonnus’ wide range of metaphorical images was extensively studied by Daria Gigli Piccardi in her seminal monograph3 as well as in a more recent study by Emilie van Opstall.4 In her introduction, Gigli Piccardi observed that the poet has a predilection for allusions, often expressed cryptically, to such an extent that they can be almost confusing. Nonnus’ partiality for metaphor might provide us with an explanation for a specific aspect of his poetry, namely that in both his works, the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase, metaphors serve a more significant expressive function than similes and they occur more often (notwithstanding the predominant role of similes in the epic tradition).5 1 This contribution resulted from a research programme on the function of rhetoric in Nonnus’ Paraphrase, funded by the University of Cyprus and directed by Maria Ypsilanti. I would like to express my deep gratitude to Gianfranco Agosti, Anne Alwis, Fabrizio Conca, Charalambos Dendrinos, Brian Jensen, Edi Minguzzi and Maria Ypsilanti for reading these pages. I also thank Fotini Hadjittofi who kindly provided me with her forthcoming English translation of the Paraphrase (HADJITTOFI 2020, Nonnus, Paraphrase). Translations of biblical passages are from the New International Version (NIV) and for Book Sirach from the Common English Bible (CEB). Unless mentioned otherwise all translations are mine. I am responsible, of course, for any mistakes or inaccuracies. 2 For the definition of metaphor as an abridged comparison (as in Quint. 8.6.8: “brevior est similitudo”), see LAUSBERG 1990, Handbuch, par. 558 (pp. 285-286). On the history of the metaphor from the point of view of structural linguistics, see PASINI 1968, Lo studio delle metafore, pp. 71-89. On the distinction between comparison and metaphor, see PASINI 1972, Dalla comparazione alla metafora, pp. 441-469. 3 GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica. 4 VAN OPSTALL 2013, The golden flower, pp. 1-25. 5 GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, p. 11: “Di fronte a questa esuberanza metaforica, la similitudine, che pure in base alla tradizione dovrebbe essere preponderante in un poema epico riveste decisamente un’importanza secondaria: il suo carattere più razionale, sillogistico e analitico non si confà alla sensibilità nonniana che ama alludere e confondere piuttosto che esprimere con ordine e chiarezza”. On Nonnus’ predilection for enigmatic metaphors see also AVERINCEV 1988, L’anima, especially pp. 192-196 (Italian edition). On Homer’s use of metaphors see STANFORD 1972, Greek metaphor, p. 118: “It has often been observed by commentators on Homer how little and how unemphatically in contrast with the later Greek poets he uses metaphors, allegory and myth. Simile, on the contrary, he employs with masterly and brilliant effect.”

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The use and the meaning of Nonnian metaphors should always be analyzed in their frame of reference, as Gigli Piccardi did in her study, where she explored a wide range of metaphorical images, mainly from the Dionysiaca. As Gigli Piccardi pointed out,6 at that point, Scheindler’s edition was the only critical text for the Paraphrase. Today, in the light of the more recent editions and commentaries that we have at our disposal, there is a new basis for further discussion. The aim of this contribution is to examine a group of metaphorical images of silence that recur in the Paraphrase in the light of corresponding images in the different context of the Dionysiaca, taking into account the literary tradition they may echo. In some instances, these metaphorical images may exceed a strict categorization; for instance the metaphors of the whip and of the seal are also analysed when they are related to silence. 1. Images of Silence in Nonnus’ Poetry Two terms are employed in Greek to express the idea of silence, σιγή and σιωπή, with the corresponding verbs, σιγάω and σιωπάω. In some cases these carry a semantic difference similar to that between the Latin sileo and taceo, indicating absence of sound and absence of human speech, respectively, although this is not a clear-cut distinction as the two meanings often overlap.7 Moreover, σιγάω may indicate silence but also a very low voice, for example in Homer, where the verb refers to uttered prayers,8 and it still carries the same meaning in Modern Greek. In Nonnus’ poetry σιγή and σιωπή are consistently connected to adjectives indicating wisdom and eloquence. The idea of an ‘eloquent’ silence is recurrent and, as a consequence, these terms are often related to metaphorical images referring to the voice.9 The oxymoronic juxtaposition of voice and silence is very much in tune with Nonnus’ predilection for paradox and sharp contrasts, traceable in the rhetorical tradition as well as in many proverbial expressions.10 However, it is also rooted in the Christian fondness for elements that are only seemingly irreconcilable with each other.

GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, p. 17. On the semantic differences between σιγάω and σιοπάω, see MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, pp. 11-13. See also CHANTRAINE 1980, Dictionnaire, σιγάω and σιοπάω, sub voce. 8 E.g. Hom. Il. 7.195, quoted by MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, p. 13. 9 The most common meaning of the term εὐφημία is “religious silence” (see e.g. MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, p. 16). In Nonnus the verb and adjective related to it seldom occur (only three times throughout the corpus), and they rather indicate exclamations of joy. 10 See below pp. 274-275. 6 7

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2. Cadmus’ Silent Invention of the Alphabet In both Nonnian poems, images of sound and silence are often dialectically joined together. In order to illustrate this link between silence and word and silence and voice, a few passages from the Dionysiaca seem to be particularly significant in the light of analogous images occurring in the Paraphrase. In recounting Cadmus’ invention of the alphabet, Nonnus introduces the paradoxical expression of a ‘never silent’ silence, joined with the image of a craftsman perfecting the letters with a lathe: γραπτὸν ἀσιγήτοιο τύπον τορνώσατο σιγῆς.11 It is significant that the image of silence is chosen to illustrate the letters of the alphabet, something that by definition is connected with words and speech. Moreover, the noun σιγή is preceded by the adjective ἀσίγητος, which negates and strengthens the concept at the same time.12 This deep connection between silence and sound is underlined by the collocation of the adjective and the noun, which form a hyperbaton, as well as by their metrical position. In the next line of same passage concerning the invention of the alphabet (Dion. 4.264), the art (τέχνη) of writing is related to the sphere of mysteries: πάτρια θεσπεσίης δεδαημένος ὄργια τέχνης.13 The concept is further highlighted by the expression καὶ ζαθέων ἄρρητον ἀμελγόμενος γάλα βίβλων, “He pressed out the ineffable milk of the holy books,” occurring a few lines below (4.267).14 Here the adjective ineffable (ἄρρητον) is related to ‘milk’ and refers, in turn, to written books containing mystical words.15 In the Nonnian verses we find the idea of signs that are endowed with the ability to speak, despite being voiceless. Even though a direct relation between these lines and Euripides cannot be postulated, a juxtaposition of similar concepts, referring to the speaking silence of the written word, can be traced at least in two different passages from his tragedies.

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Dion. 4.263, “so he rounded off a graven [written] model of speaking silence”. The English translation of all the quoted passages of the Dionysiaca is by ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca. On this passage see AGOSTI 2010, Saxa loquuntur?, p. 168 n. 37 and AGOSTI 2006, La voce dei libri, p. 58. 12 The adjective comes from Callim. Del., 286 the prophetic cauldron (λέβης) of Dodona is called ἀσίγητος, see GONNELLI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (XIII-XXIV), p. 78. On Dion. 4.263 see also GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), ad loc. 13 Although the term ὄργια is here metaphorical. See GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 650, commentary to book 9, line 113. 14 Which finds a parallel in Procl. Hym. 4.5-6: ζαθέων δ’ ἀπὸ βίβλων, see CHUVIN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (III-IV), p. 69 n. 3 (but also Procl. Hym, 4.4 ὕμνων ἀρρήτοισι καθηραμένας τελετῇσι). See also GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 110-111 (Orph. fr. 32, Pap Gr. Mag. I 20). 15 On books in Late Antiquity see G. AGOSTI 2010, Libro della poesia, pp. 11-26. The adjective ἀσίγητος is utilized in a similar way also in Par. 6.218, where it is referred to the oracular character of the books of the Old Testament, cfr. FRANCHI 2013, Parafrasi (6), ad loc. (p. 499).

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In the Iphigenia in Tauris the protagonist refers to a tablet, which, despite being silent, shall tell what is written:16 αὐτὴ φράσει σιγῶσα τἀγγεγραμμένα.17 In the Hippolytus Phaedra is silent for most of the play. However, her accusation against Hippolytus is made in written form,18 by a letter: (Theseus) βοᾶι βοᾶι δέλτος ἄλαστα· πᾶι φύγω | βάρος κακῶν; ἀπὸ γὰρ ὀλόμενος οἴχομαι,| οἷον οἷον εἶδον μέλος ἐν γραφαῖς | φθεγγόμενον τλάμων;19 Similar images can also be traced in Christian authors. For example in the poetry of Gregory of Nazianzus, with whom Nonnus was certainly familiar,20 it is the pen of the silent poet that has to write (and speak) silently, observing silence during fasting: Ἴσχεο, γλῶσσα φίλη· σὺ δέ μοι, γραφίς, ἔγγραφε σιγῆς | Ῥήματα, καὶ φθέγγου ὄμμασι τὰ κραδίης.21 Likewise, the silent graphè (which may indicate both writing and painting) speaks from mural paintings in Gregory of Nyssa’s speech devoted to the martyr Theodore, οἶδε γὰρ γραφὴ σιωπῶσα ἐν τοίχῳ λαλεῖν,22 and the virgins of Christ are compared to a living painting silently revealing their inner thoughts in Gregory of Nazianzus: Πίναξ ἔμψυχος, σιγῶν κατήγορος τῶν ἔνδον.23 From these few examples, it is clear that the theme of a mute written sign having the capacity to speak aloud was a theme present in the poetry and prose of Christian authors representative of Nonnus’ cultural background. 3. Silent Philomela and the Talking Fabric Another passage from the Dionysiaca where silence is dramatically placed in relation to the voice, occurs when Nonnus recounts the myth of Philomela and Procne. Five allusions24 to this myth are introduced in different sections of the

16

As in the case of an anonymous epigram referring to a mute/speaking tablet, A.P. 15.60. Eur. IT 763, “all by itself it will silently communicate what it contains” (transl. KOVACS 1999). 18 On this passage, see IERANÒ 2015, Rompere il silenzio, p. 35. 19 Eur. Hipp. 877-879, “The tablet cries aloud, it cries aloud of horror! How shall I escape from the weight of my misfortunes? I am utterly undone, such is the song I in my wretchedness have seen whose tune sounds in the writing!” (transl. by KOVACS 1995). 20 See SIMELIDIS 2016, Nonnus and Christian literature, pp. 298-307. 21 Gregory of Nazianzus, Carmina de se ipso (2.1.34.1, P.G. 37.1307.2), “Hold still, dear tongue. You, my pen, write down the words of silence and tell to the eyes the matters of my heart,” transl. WHITE 1996, Gregory of Nazianzus, p. 165. 22 P.G. 46.757D, “The silent painting knows how to talk from the wall,” quoted by BALDWIN 1982, The Language and Style, p. 13. The theme is also present in epigraphic poetry, for instance an epigram from Halai, of Imperial or late antique period, where a voiceless stone asks the bypasser to accept its living word (κφῆς ἐκ πέτρης λόγον ἔμπνουν δέξαι ὁδῖτ[α]), quoted by AGOSTI 2010, Saxa loquuntur?, p. 166). 23 Gregory of Nazianzus, Carmina moralia 1.2.3.58, P.G. 37.637.7, “Animated painting, silently announcing what is inside.” 24 Dion. 2.134; 4.319-330; 12.75-78; 44.265-269; 47.30-33. 17

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poem, so that the reader/audience, who is presumably familiar with the story, can gradually reconstruct it.25 In Dion. 2.130-136 a hamadryad nymph, who fears that Pan will rape her (Dion. 2.99), evokes the metamorphosis of Philomela (Dion. 2.130) and Procne (Dion. 2.136), saying that she wishes to be transformed into a swallow (Dion. 2.133) like Philomela after her tongue is mutilated. Procne is then mentioned and described as a λάλος ὄρνις, a loquacious bird, for she reveals all her sufferings, suggesting, perhaps, that the loquacious nightingale also speaks on behalf of the mute Philomela.26 Later in the narrative,27 the same adjective, λάλος, is used to describe the fabric woven by the silent Philomela: ἀκούω | σιγαλέης λάλον εἷμα δυσηλακάτου Φιλομήλης (“I hear of the dumb woespinner Philomela and the talking dress”). The action of spinning (or weaving) enables her to speak her misfortunes (εἷμα and δυσηλάκατος). In a sequence of paradoxes Echo responds to her with “voiceless” tears δάκρυσι μιμηλοῖσι λιπόθροος ἔστενεν Ἠχώ (“voiceless Echo copied her tears and groaned too”).28 Thus a deity whose characteristic is normally that of producing sounds appears as deprived of voice (λιπόθροος), mirroring, and putting further emphasis on the condition of Philomela, who is devoid of the ability to speak.29 A similar theme, which seems to be connected with the definition of the alphabet (quoted above)30 as a “never silent” silence, recurs in Dion. 12.75-78, where Philomela cries out (βοόωσα) her testimony by means of silence, after she has been deprived of her tongue: καὶ ἱστοπόνος Φιλομήλη (75) ἔσσεται αἰολόδειρος ὑποτρύζουσα χελιδών, μαρτυρίην βοόωσα λιπογλώσσοιο σιωπῆς, δαίδαλα φωνήεντα σοφῷ γράψασα χιτῶνι Philomela, the busy weaver shall be a twittering swallow with tuneful throat and cry abroad the witness of her tongueless silence, which once she skilfully inscribed like talking words upon a robe.31

GEISZ 2016, Narrative and Digressions, p. 178. Dion. 2.132-133, καὶ ῥόδον ἀγγέλλουσα καὶ ἀνθεμόεσσαν ἐέρσην | ἔσσομαι εἰαρινοῖο φίλη Ζεφύροιο χελιδών, | φθεγγομένη λάλος ὄρνις ὑπωροφίης μέλος ἠχοῦς, “I will be the swallow dear to Zephiros in spring-time harbinger of roses and flowery drew, prattling bird that sings a sweet song under the tiles.” 27 Dion. 4.32. 28 Dion. 4.327. 29 On the motive of Echo, speaking and being silent cfr. A.P. 9.27, attributed to Archia or Parmenion. 30 See above p. 265. 31 GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), p. 824 observes that, since Sophocle’s Tereus, the myth of Philomela is connected with the figure of Dionysus. 25 26

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The theme of weaving (ἱστοπόνος) occurs in this passage too, and it explicitly refers to the activity of writing (γράψασα). In this context it is worth mentioning that the verb ὑφαίνω is possibly one of the most common metaphorical verbs employed in Greek literature to describe the action of composing a text.32 For example in Pindar, Nemean 4.44, where it is referred to poetry, namely to the lyre, which is invited to weave a chant in Lydian harmony: ἐξύφαινε, γλυκεῖα, καὶ τόδ’ αὐτίκα, φόρμιγξ or in Callimachus, Aitia, where ὑφαίνω is employed to describe the poetic word as the outcome of the act of weaving: καὶ τὸν ἐπᡪὶ ῥάβδῳ μῦθον ὑφαινόμενον (Callim. Aet. 26.5).33 The same verb is employed by Achilles Tatius (the most important novelistic referent for Nonnus’ work)34 in the narration of the same myth. After the ekphrastic description of a painting representing the rape of Philomela (Ach. Tat. 5.3.4) the story is explained (by Clytophon) by employing very similar associations of words and images (Ach. Tat. 5.5.5): ἡ γάρ Φιλομήλας τέχνη σιωπῶσαν εὕρεηκε φωνήν. Ὑφαίνει γὰρ πέπλον ἄγγελον καὶ τὸ δρᾶμα πλέκει ταῖς κρόκαις, καὶ μιμεῖται τὴν γλῶτταν ἡ χείρ, καὶ Πρόκνης τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς τὰ τῶν ὤτων μηνύει καὶ πρὸς αὐτὴν ἃ πέπονθε τῇ κερκίδι λαλεῖ. ἡ Πρόκνη τὴν βίαν ἀκούει παρὰ τοῦ πέπλου.35 The myth of Philomela visually illustrates (in accordance with the rhetorical principle of enargeia)36 the relation between silence and voice, silence and testimony, and eventually the possibility for this ‘speaking silence’ to become a talking image and tell a story, woven into a fabric (σοφῷ γράψασα χιτῶνι).37 In this instance as well, as in the previous passage about Cadmus’ alphabet, it is possible to speculate that we find a reminiscence of tragic literature:

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This figure of speech is so common that, eventually, it has partially lost its metaphorical implications for it could also be understood as ‘to do’, ‘to make’, see AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), pp. 420-421, who mentions an epigram of the Great Church of Antiochia at the age of Constans where a similar expression with ἔργον ὑφαίνω means ‘to build an edifice’. 33 According to traditional iconography the epic poet used to recite his poetry leaning on a rhabdon, and since the archaic period the term ‘rhapsode’ is connected with the verb ῥάπτω (to sow). To this traditional image Callimachus has added the other archaic metaphor of the act of weaving as a figure of the poetical creation, see D’ALESSIO 1996, Callimaco, p. 409 n. 91. 34 See, e.g., MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2016, Nonnus and the Novel, pp. 549-573. 35 “Philomela’s art provided her with a silent voice. She weaves a tell-tale tapestry, working her story into the threads; her hand takes the place of her tongue and sets out for Procne’s eyes what Procne should have learned by her ears – she tells her sister of her sufferings by means of her shuttle” (transl. GASELEE 1969). 36 On enargeia see ZANKER 1981, Enargeia in the Ancient Criticism, pp. 297-311, and PLETT 2012, Enargeia. 37 Dion. 12.78, “written on a wise mantle”.

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Cassandra’s silence38 pervades a considerable section of Aeschylus’ Agamemnon.39 After her initial stubborn and proud refusal to respond to Clytemnestra’s words, Cassandra finally cries out her prophecies, the chorus calls her ‘a nightingale’,40 thus evoking the myth of Procne and Philomela.41 The fact that Cassandra speaks after a long silence is an effective way to emphasise her words, enacting a dialectic relation between silence and logos. This theatrical mechanism was familiar to the audience of Greek theatre42 to the extent that Aristophanes parodies Aeschylean silences in the Frogs.43 Besides Greek tragedy we can also conjecture a Biblical echo behind the idea of a person deprived of the tongue, who accuses in silence. For example, the paradoxical image also occurs in the Maccabees, where the martyrdom of the seven brothers is described. After Antiochus orders the tongue of the fourth brother to be cut off, the martyr asserts that God listens to those who are silent: ὁ δὲ ἔφη: Κἂν ἀφέλῃς τὸ τῆς φωνῆς ὄργανον, καὶ σιωπώντων ἀκούει ὁ θεός.44 In this instance too, the violence of an impious act is denounced by a powerful silence that becomes an accusation. 4. Ineffable Logos and Wise Silence These few examples of metaphorical images of silence taken from the Dionysiaca were selected as they seem to be particularly effective in showing how analogous expressions and concepts also occur within the Christian context of the Paraphrase. These metaphors convey the concept of the ineffability of the Logos and the idea of a wisdom that is expressed by silence.45

On this theme see TAPLIN 1972, Aeschylean Silence, pp. 57-97, and especially pp. 77-78. Aeschyean silence is particularly referred to the figure of Niobe (pp. 59-60); it is worth noting that in at least two different passages of the Dionysiaca where Niobe is mentioned (Dion. 15.273 and 15.283; 48.430-431) silence is placed in a dialect relation with her voice. On silences in Aeschylus see also MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, pp. 313-316; IERANÒ 2015, Rompere il silenzio, pp. 39-40. On Cassandra’s silence, cfr. FRAENKEL 1950, Agamemnon, pp. 484-485. 39 Aesch. Ag. 783-1071. 40 Aesch. Ag. 1145. 41 FRAENKEL 1950, Agamemnon, p. 522. 42 Cfr. TAPLIN 1972, Aeschylean Silence, pp. 58-72. Also IERANÒ 2015, Rompere il silenzio, especially pp. 37-39. 43 Ar. Frogs 923-926, cf. DOVER 1993, Aristophanes Frogs, ad loc. (p. 307). 44 Macc. 4.10.18, “but he said: Even if you cut off my instrument of speech, God hears even those who are silent”, transl. DE SILVA 2006, 4 Maccabees. 45 On the theme of elequent silence in the Paraphrase see ROTONDO 2012, Il silenzio eloquente nella Parafrasi. 38

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In the first verse of the first book of the Paraphrase: Ἄχρονος ἦν, ἀκίχητος, ἐν ἀρρήτῳ λόγος ἀρχῇ46 the adjective ἄρρητος (unspeakable)47 is employed to describe the beginning (or the principle, ἀρχή)48 of Logos. Even though it is grammatically referring to ἀρχή, it is eventually related to Logos. In expanding the Johannine ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, Nonnus introduces the theme of the ineffability of the Logos, which is not stated in the Gospel (at least not explicitly). The concept of a word that cannot be pronounced and that should be surrounded by silence may be considered as a sort of oxymoron. It is part of a wider definition of the Logos, suggested by the two adjectives related to it, ἄχρονος (non-temporal) and ἀκίχητος (unattainable). The attempt of defining God is made by means of three adjectives with alpha privative, which present the concept in negative form. This sequence of adjectives seems to echo the principles of apophatic, or negative, theology49 whereas in the following verses divinity is described positively.50 Ἄρρητος can also have a negative connotation, designating something too horrible to be said, such as a crime or an ignoble action,51 but in Nonnus’ work, where it occurs three times,52 it only has a ‘mystical’ connotation. The theme of silence also appears in the last verses of the final book of the Paraphrase. It is tempting to suggest that images of silence play a role in the architecture of the poem, as they occur at the beginning (ἐν ἀρρήτῳ ἀρχῇ) and at the end. In fact, in the closing verses of the Paraphrase,53 which render the first section of John 21.25, Nonnus introduces the image of wise silence and utilizes a long alliteration with σ, combined with the metaphor of the seal (σφραγίς/σφραγίζω), in the second hemistich, after the caesura. This is particularly significant as it occurs in the concluding lines of the work and it seems to ‘seal’ the poem: ἄλλα δὲ θαύματα πολλὰ σοφῇ σφρηγίσσατο σιγῇ.54

46 “In the ineffable beginning was the Word, timeless, unattainable.” On the prologue of the Par. see DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 14-21. 47 Ἀρρητος is used by Clem., Chrys. and Dion. Ar. (Lampe, sub voce). It is also employed by Damascius to indicate the unknowable, see DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 105. The adjective occurs in Cyrils’ comment, relative to the first evangelic verse (P.G. 73.29C), where it defines the ἀρχή, which is also described as προαιώνιος, preceding the time. 48 According to DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 103, Nonnus does not accept Cyril’s interpretation of ἀρχή as first principle, but opts for the meaning of “beginning” in Gen. 1.1. 49 The principles of apophatic theology were incorporated into the thought of the Early Christian Apologists and the Fathers of the Church through Middle Platonism, see, e.g., CARABINE 1995, The Unknown God, esp. pp. 223, 226, 231, 236. 50 DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), p. 103. 51 See MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, pp. 37-38. 52 Οnce in Dion. (4.267) and twice in Par. (1.1 and 1.40). 53 Par. 21.139-140. 54 Par. 21.139, “But many other miracles the witness of truth sealed shut in wise silence”, paraphrasing John 21.25 Ἔστιν δὲ καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ ἃ ἐποίησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἅτινα ἐὰν γράφηται καθ’ ἕν, οὐδ’ αὐτὸν οἶμαι τὸν κόσμον χωρῆσαι τὰ γραφόμενα βιβλία, “Jesus did many other

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As observed by Gigli Piccardi with reference to another Nonnian passage from Dionysiaca Book 26,55 the recurrent56 theme of silence as a seal occurs in the Biblical tradition, for example in Sirach: Τίς δώσει ἐπὶ στόμα μου φυλακὴν καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν χειλέων μου σφραγίδα πανοῦργον.57 Moreover, in the same Biblical book the faithful are also encouraged to be “wise and silent”: γίνου ὡς γινώσκων καὶ ἅμα σιωπῶν.58 The last lines of the Paraphrase seem to echo and mirror the last verses of the previous book (20), which also refer to Christ’s miracles that have not been included in the Gospel: ὃς τάδε πάντα χάραξε, θελήμονι κάλλιπε σιγῇ.59 In this instance the emphasis is on the willingness of silence rather than on its wisdom.60 The line renders the second part of John 20.30 containing a statement similar to the Evangelic verse quoted above:61 Πολλὰ μὲν οὖν καὶ ἄλλα σημεῖα ἐποίησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐνώπιον τῶν μαθητῶν [αὐτοῦ], ἃ οὐκ ἔστιν γεγραμμένα ἐν τῷ βιβλίῳ τούτῳ.62 These passages illustrate how, in Nonnus’ imagery, silence may perform the function of bringing the faithful closer to the divine, in a mystical way. Silence, paradoxically, expresses the inexpressible, and its wisdom consists in the fact that it does not attempt to define the unknowable. 5. Silent Eloquence and Wise Silence as ‘μάρτυς’ of Truth Throughout the Paraphrase it is possible to detect analogous associations of eloquence and wisdom in relation to silence, occurring in different contexts. This topic has been discussed by Mariangela Caprara in her edition of the fourth book of the Paraphrase,63 where the image of eloquent silence is placed things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.” 55 GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 108-109, referring to Dion. 26.261-262 and 288ff. 56 See FAYANT 2000, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XVII), p. 156, comment to 47.218, quoting a number of examples occurring in the Dion. 57 Sir. 22.27, “Who will put a guard on my mouth and an effective seal upon my lips.” 58 Sir. 32.8, “Be like one who knows but who can keep silent.” 59 Par. 20.139, “he who inscribed all these things left those out in voluntary silence” (ὃς = the witness of truth). The verb χαράσσω in association with the Sacred Book (in the previous line, Par. 21.138 θέσπιδι βίβλῳ), is utilized in the same way in the lines paraphrasing the very last evangelic verse (Par. 21.138 θέσπιδι βίβλῳ and 21.141 χαράξῃ). In both passages also the notion of witness recurs: 21.140 μάρτυς ἐτητυμίης, 20.138 μάρτυς ἀληθείης. On the close of the Paraphrasis and on the iconic connotations of the ancient book, see AGOSTI 2004 [2013], Nonno, Dionisiache (XXV-XXXIX), p. 18. 60 On this ‘intentional’ silence, see ACCORINTI 1996, Nonno, Parafrasi (XX), pp. 45 and 230. 61 See above, n. 53. 62 “(Jesus) performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book.” 63 See CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), comments ad loca, pp. 251-252 and 313 and Introduction, esp. pp. 29-33

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in relation to a number of descriptions of silent gestures in the Dionysiaca64 (especially in a passage describing the pantomimic dances).65 In the fourth book of the Paraphrase there are two passages concerning the theme of wise (or eloquent) silence. The first is: (…) κινυμένης δέ | χειρὸς ἀφωνήτοιο νοήμονι μάρτυρι σιγῇ,66 rephrasing the concise statement of John 4.32 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς in the context of Christ’s speech addressed to the Apostles, where the parable of the harvesting is introduced.67 The second passage is: υἱὸν ἑὸν ζώοντα σοφῇ γίνωσκε σιωπῇ,68 which is a small amplification of the corresponding evangelic verse (John 4.51), for in the description of the encounter between the royal official and his servants, where the latter announce him that his ill son has been cured, the Evangelist does not mention any moment of silence. In both Nonnian verses silence is depicted as ‘wise’ or ‘thoughtful’, full of meaning, and, in this sense, it pertains to the sphere of eloquence. In the first instance it is also combined with the idea of testimony, which further strengthens the concept69 and mirrors the opposite image of the witnessing speech, that often recurs in both poems. The noun μάρτυς, a particularly significant term in Nonnus’ poetry, has been analysed by Francis Vian,70 who showed that in the Paraphrase it corresponds to the evangelic concept of ‘witness of truth’. Nonnus later ‘re-used’ this term differently in the different context of the Dionysiaca, and, as Vian demonstrated, it recurs in a paraformulaic way in both works. In both poems μάρτυς is often joined to the terms μῦθος or φωνή, expressing the concept that the word or the voice should be a μάρτυς of faith. Nevertheless, μάρτυς, associated with σιγή, eventually, expresses the same concept, albeit negatively, as CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), pp. 30-32. See CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), p. 29: “La peculiarità dei due passi di Δ consiste nel ricorso al tema del silenzio parlante, vero e proprio Letmotiv nelle descrizioni della danza pantomimica nelle Dionisiache.” Cf. also an anonymous epigram on the Muses A.P. 9.505.17-18 referring to Polymnia: Σιγῶ, φθεγγομένη παλάμης θελξίφρονα παλμόν, | νεύματι φωνήεσσαν ἀπαγγέλλουσα σιωπήν. On the descriptions of pantomimic dances in the Dionysiaca, see GIANOTTI 1996, Forme di consumo teatrale, especially pp. 282-286. 66 Par. 4.149-150, “But moving His voiceless hand in intelligent, testifying silence.” 67 As Caprara points out νοήμων is an adjective pertaining to Neoplatonic language. See also GOLEGA 1930, Studien über die Evangeliendichtung, p. 55. Similarly, silence is described as νοερός, “clever”, in Dion. 22.119-120 εἶπεν ἑοῖς προμάχοισιν ἐς οὔατα μῦθον ἑκάστου | νεύμασι δενδίλλων, νοερῇ δ’ ἐκέλευε σιωπῇ. 68 Par. 4.233, “(from their faces) in wise silence, he perceived that his son was alive.” 69 The combination of the two images also occurs in Dionysiaca 3.123, ὣς φαμένη σφρήγισσε λάλον στόμα μάρτυρι σιγῇ; 36.380, καὶ παλάμην ὤρεξεν ἀναυδέα, μάρτυρι σιγῇ; 16.214, παρθένον αἴ κεν ἴδῃς, ταχὺς ἔρχεο, μάρτυρι σιγῇ; 33.107, νόσφι μολεῖν, καὶ Ἔρωτος ἐς οὔατα μάρτυρι σιγῇ. 70 VIAN 1997, ΜΑΡΤΥΣ chez Nonnos, pp. 143-160; p. 149: “un silence éloquent, qui atteste une parole en se substituent a elle”. On the same theme also FRANGOULIS – GERLAUD 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXV-XXXVI), p. 159. 64 65

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a witnessing silence is equally as eloquent as voice and word, as in the case of Philomela quoted above: μαρτυρίην βοόωσα λιπογλώσσοιο σιωπῆς.71 The theme of wise silence, combined with the Leitmotiv of testimony, is also employed in the episode of the dedication of the Temple, in the context of the dialogue that takes place between Christ and the Jews, who still doubt his word: μάρτυρα ταῦτα πέλει καὶ φθέγγεται ἔμφρονι σιγῇ | θηητὸν μερόπεσσι λάλον τύπον (…),72 corresponding to John 10.25 τὰ ἔργα ἃ ἐγὼ ποιῶ ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι τοῦ πατρός μου ταῦτα μαρτυρεῖ περὶ ἐμοῦ.73 Here the image of wise silence is employed in relation to the concept of witness. In turn, it is strengthened by the adjective θηητός (admirable), incorporating the concept of sight. This further enriches the metaphorical image, which is ‘mirrored’ in the expression λάλον τύπον (speaking image/model). It is worth noting that the expression ἔμφρονι σιγῇ in line 93 seems to echo, by opposition, a previous verse of the same book, a few lines above, namely line 85, where the Jews are described as surrounding Christ and talking to him with unwise words: Χριστὸν ἐκυκλώσαντο καὶ ἔννεπον ἄφρονι μύθῳ74 the foot closes the hexameter, after the bucolic dieresis, in a prosodical position which is perfectly symmetrical to ἔμφρονι σιγῇ, so that, as a result, it seems to anticipate the concept by contrast. In Nonnus’ poetry, the contraposition of antithesis, often resulting in paradoxes, is a very significant feature,75 and it is well illustrated by the dialectic relationship between the concept of τύπος and ἀντίτυπος, as observed by Gigli Piccardi.76 In this passage λάλος τύπος, represents a speaking image (or model) of wise silence. This correspondence between τύπος and ἀντίτυπος is particularly evident in a passage of the Dionysiaca, in a scene where Persephone is described as looking at her beauty reflected in a mirror (κάλλεος ἀντιτύποιο δικασπόλον), whose image (τύπον) is entrusted to a silent herald (σιγαλέῳ κήρυκι).77 In this case the image is not ‘speaking’ but it is announced by silence (Dion. 5.594-598):

71

See above, p. 267. Par. 10.93-94, “these are witnesses, and speak in sensible silence a visible, speaking image for mortal men.” 73 “The works I do in my Father’s name, testify about me.” 74 Rendering the evangelic verse John 10.24, το ἐκύκλωσαν οὖν αὐτὸν οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι καὶ ἔλεγον αὐτῷ. 75 See, for example, AGOSTI 2001, L’epica biblica, p. 100, about the fundamental function of paradox in Nonnus’ poetical programme, “centrato sulla valorizzazione di uno degli elementi base del linguaggio cristiano, la retorica del paradosso.” 76 GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, p. 236 observes: “anche in Proclo le immagini e i simboli vanno intepretati (…) per imitazione e opposizione (In Remp I, 198, 13-19).” 77 See GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), pp. 447-448. Also AVERINCEV 1988, L’anima, p. 205. 72

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καί ποτε χαλκὸν ἔχουσα διαυγέα τέρπετο κούρη κάλλεος ἀντιτύποιο δικασπόλον, αὐτομάτῳ δέ (595) σιγαλέῳ κήρυκι τύπον πιστώσατο μορφῆς ψευδαλέον σκιόεντι δέμας κρίνουσα κατόπτρῳ, μιμηλὴν δ’ ἐγέλασσεν ἐς εἰκόνα· Once she was amusing herself with a resplendent bronze plate which reflected her face like a judge of beauty; and she confirmed the image of her shape by this free voiceless herald, testing the unreal form in the shadow of the mirror, and smiling at the mimic likeness.

Even though it is not possible to postulate any undisputable dependence from proverbs for both Nonnus’ works, the association between wisdom and silence, and silence and eloquence, may also echo proverbial expressions and gnomai coming from tragic poetry.78 An example is the expression ἡ γὰρ σιωπὴ τοῖς σοφοῖσιν ἀπόκρισις, whose source is a fragment by Euripides,79 quoted by Plutarch,80 or in the proverb φησὶν σιωπῶν,81 also occurring in Euripides: φησὶν σιωπῶν· ἀρκέσω δ’ ἐγὼ λέγων.82 A similar interconnection between silence and wisdom can be found again in Euripides, Medea: γυνὴ γὰρ ὀξύθυμος, ὡς δ’ αὔτως ἀνήρ, | ῥάιων φυλάσσειν ἢ σιωπηλὸς σοφή.83 Moreover, the proverb τὸ σιγἆν πολλάκις ἐστὶ σοφώτατον ανθρώπῳ νοῆσαι “for a man to be silent is often the wisest thought”84 finds a parallel (or a source?) in Pindar, καὶ τὸ σιγᾶν πολλάκις ἐστὶ σοφώ- | τατον ἀνθρώπῳ νοῆσαι.85 A close link between silence and wisdom is also present in the Biblical tradition, for example chapter 20 of the Sirach is devoted to the value of silence. More specifically, prudent silence is praised in verse 1 (καὶ ἔστιν σιωπῶν καὶ αὐτὸς φρόνιμος); verse 5 commends the silence of the wise man as opposed to inappropriate loquacity (ἔστιν σιωπῶν εὑρισκόμενος σοφός, καὶ ἔστιν μισητὸς ἀπὸ πολλῆς λαλιᾶς) and in verses 6-7 silence is placed in relation to appropriate time/occasion (καιρός): the wise man is that who keeps silence until it is the right time to speak (ἄνθρωπος σοφὸς σιγήσει ἕως καιροῦ). In Qoèlet (Ecclesiastes 3.7 καιρὸς τοῦ σιγᾶν καὶ καιρὸς τοῦ λαλεῖν) the two

See TOSI 2017, Dizionario delle sentenze, pp. 25-30. Euripides frag. 977, “To the wise, silence is an answer.” 80 Plut. De vitioso pudore 532ef. See TOSI 2017, Dizionario delle sentenze, p. 25. 81 TOSI 2017, Dizionario delle sentenze, pp. 28-29. 82 Euripides Or. 1592, “His silence says he is; let it suffice for me to say it” (transl. COLERIDGE in OATES – O’NEILL 1938, Euripides). 83 Eur. Med. 319-320, “a hot-tempered woman – and a hot-tempered man likewise – is easier to guard against than a clever woman who keeps her own counsel” (transl. KOVACS 1994). 84 See TOSI 2017, Dizionario delle sentenze, pp. 26-27. 85 Pind. Nem. 5.17-18, “and silence is often the wisest thing for a man to heed” (transl. ARNSON SVARLIEN 1990). 78 79

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concepts of silence and speech are linked, yet contraposed: that there is a time (καιρός) for speaking and a time for being silent. From this particular analysis, it emerges that silence is depicted as eloquent to the extent of becoming a testimony, with all the implications that this may carry in Christian culture. As we have seen, these kinds of images are present in Christian literature, but they are also part of what we may call a ‘collective memory’, as in the case of proverbial expressions. 6. Resonant or Speaking Silence In certain instances silence is also related to ‘loud’ images of sound. This is particularly evident in book 5, where Jesus, after mentioning the testimony and the voice of John the Baptist,86 states that His testimony is greater and superior: Ἰωάνναο δὲ φωνῆς | μείζονα μαρτυρίην μεθέπω καὶ ὑπέρτερον ὀμφήν·87 and that the deeds (ἔργα) of the Father shall speak for themselves with the eloquent trumpet of silence (Par. 5.143-145):88 φθέγγεται αὐτοβόητα λάλῳ σάλπιγγι σιωπῆς· ταῦτά με κηρύσσει καὶ ἐρεύγεται ἔμπεδον αὐδήν· οὐδὲ πατήρ με λέλοιπεν ἀκηρύκτῳ τινὶ σιγῇ, (145) For all the deeds which my Father gave me to complete proclaim themselves selfsounded with the speaking trumpet of silence. These announce me and utter a steadfast voice Nor has He left me in hidden silence, the Father.

The adjective eloquent grammatically refers to the trumpet (λάλῳ σάλπιγγι) but, in fact, it is related to the silence and characterizes it as well. The line renders a short phrase of the corresponding evangelic verse (John 5.36) αὐτὰ τὰ ἔργα ἃ ποιῶ, μαρτυρεῖ περὶ ἐμοῦ,89 in which the main verb expresses the action of witnessing. It seems that the image of an eloquent silence has been chosen because the oxymoron is a particularly effective figure to stress the importance of the μαρτυρία proclaimed in the Gospel.90 The dialectic relationship between silence and voice is evident in the presence of verbs that typically 86 John the Baptist is typically characterized by the power of his voice. ROTONDO 2008, La Voce divina, pp. 287-310 (in particular pp. 305-307). 87 Par. 5.140-141, “But compared to the voice of John I have a greater testimony and a superior prophecy.” 88 On this passage see AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), pp. 511-514. 89 John 5.36, ἐγὼ δὲ ἔχω τὴν μαρτυρίαν μείζω τοῦ Ἰωάννου: τὰ γὰρ ἔργα ἃ δέδωκέν μοι ὁ πατὴρ ἵνα τελειώσω αὐτά, αὐτὰ τὰ ἔργα ἃ ποιῶ, μαρτυρεῖ περὶ ἐμοῦ ὅτι ὁ πατήρ με ἀπέσταλκεν. “I have testimony weightier than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to finish – the very works that I am doing – testify that the Father has sent me.” 90 GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica points out that image of the wise trumpet in the Dionysiaca (25.269) refers to the signal for war in Homeric poems, whereas in the Paraphrasis the same image is employed for the Sacred Book (5.158) and in this passage for the deeds of Jesus (pp. 155-156).

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express a powerful sound such as φθέγγεται and ἐρεύγεται, as well as by the terms σάλπιγξ and αὐδή. The former possibly echoes Jeremiah 4.19 (οὐ σιωπήσομαι, ὅτι φωνὴν σάλπιγγος ἤκουσεν ἡ ψυχή μου).91 Moreover, silence is negated by the assertion that the Father shall not leave the Son in a “silent absence of premonition” (ἀκηρύκτῳ τινὶ σιγῇ, literally “unannounced silence”). It is worth mentioning that the theme of silent heralds occurs in the orations by Gregory of Nazianzus, for example Or. 43.5 ζῶντες μάρτυρες, ἔμπνοοι στῆλαι, σιγῶντα κηρύγματα92 and Or. 45.6 σιγῶντες ἐπαινέται τῆς μεγαλουργίας, καὶ διαπρύσιοι κήρυκες.93 The latter quotation refers to the action of the Logos and seems to be a memory of Ps. 19.4-5,94 that may also be echoed in Nonnus’ lines. A similar effect is obtained from a line in book 13 where silence is once again associated with the adjective λάλος. Here Christ reveals to the Apostles that one of them shall betray him, and Peter asks “the beloved Disciple”, to question the Lord about who will be the betrayer,95 τούτῳ Πέτρος ἔνευσε· λάλῳ δ’ ἐρέεινε σιωπῇ,96 which rephrases the verb εἰπέ in John 13.24, where there is no mention of silence.97 Nevertheless the verb νεύει, which is referred to Peter’s question (and is already present in the Gospel),98 implies the idea of a mute gesture that the paraphrast has transposed into the image of eloquent silence. Peter’s “eloquent silence” is, in fact, a way to urge Christ to break it. Silence is further mentioned only three lines above (line 102) in the expression ἐμαστίζοντο δὲ σιγῇ (they were flogged by silence) where the metaphor of the whip is also employed. Here it suggests the feeling of pain and suspense created among the disciples by the announcement that one of them shall betray the Lord, and conveys the image of a mute astonishment. As we have seen, in some instances Nonnus creates a strong connection between silence and loud sounds, or images related to them, such as that of the trumpet or the herald. This oxymoronic combination reflects the poet’s taste for what we may call his aesthetics of the paradox.

91

“I cannot keep silent. For I have heard the sound of the trumpet.” “Living witnesses, breathing stones, silent heralds.” 93 “Silent praisers, piercing heralds of the magnificent deed.” 94 Ps. 19.4-5 οὐκ εἰσὶν λαλιαὶ οὐδὲ λόγοι, | ὧν οὐχὶ ἀκούονται αἱ φωναὶ αὐτῶν· | εἰς πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν ἐξῆλθεν ὁ φθόγγος αὐτῶν | καὶ εἰς τὰ πέρατα τῆς οἰκουμένης τὰ ῥήματα αὐτῶν. 95 See GRECO 2004, Nonno, Parafrasi (13), pp. 22-23 and 139-140. 96 Par. 13.105, “to him Peter signaled; and in speaking silence asked him.” 97 As well as in the other Gospels: Matt. 26.20-25; Marc 14.17-21; Luke 22.21-23. 98 John 13.24, νεύει οὖν τούτῳ Σίμων Πέτρος πυθέσθαι τίς ἂν εἴη περὶ οὗ λέγει, “Simon Peter motioned to this disciple and said, ‘Ask him which one he means’.” 92

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7. Images of Silence in the Episode of the Resurrection of Lazarus 7.1. Silence Expressing Pain and Sorrow In the episode of the resurrection of Lazarus the grief of his sister Mary is described as silent and is related using a the metaphor of a whip. It expresses the idea of suffering ‘visually’, as it is a particularly effective means of conveying the feeling of despair of the speechless and distraught woman. Moreover, the juxtaposition of whip and silence has an oxymoronic connotation, as the former expresses movement and the latter implies an internal stillness: ἐνδόμυχος Μαρίη μαστίζετο πενθάδι σιγῇ,99 rendering the second part of John 11.20 (ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ ἐκαθέζετο). Mary’s painful silence is presented in contrast with the opposite attitude of Martha, who is described as “loud-groaning” in verse 74 (βαρύστονος). The effectiveness of silence in conveying feelings of deep sorrow has a long tradition. It may suffice to mention Aeschylus’ Persians, where Atossa is described as stunned into silence, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the disaster,100 or the words of the coryphaeus in Sophocles’ Antigone: οὐκ οἶδ’· ἐμοὶ δ’ οὖν ἥ τ’ ἄγαν σιγὴ βαρύ | δοκεῖ προσεῖναι χἠ μάτην πολλὴ βοή (“but to me, a silence too deep seems to promise trouble just as much as a vain abundance of weeping”).101 A silent attitude is in tune with Mary’s contemplative nature (as opposed to Martha’s pragmatic attitude),102 but also represents a typically feminine feature, as an almost proverbial line from Sophocles’ Ajax illustrates: γύναι, γυναιξὶ κόσμον ἡ σιγὴ φέρει (“woman, silence graces woman”),103 which is defined as “that trite jingle” just in the line above (292).104 Praise of feminine silence is not absent in the Biblical tradition, for instance in Sirach 26.14: “A silent wife is a gift from the Lord”.105 The depiction of Mary as silent recurs again in line 101: ὡς Μαρίη ταχύγουνος ἀνέγρετο φοιτάδι σιγῇ.106 Here the woman is represented in a hurry, 99 Par. 11.73, “Mary, by contrast, within the house, sequestred, was tormented in sorrowing silence” (transl. SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), see also this commentary, ad loc. p. 216). The passage seems to combine two different themes: silence as appropriate to women, as well as painful silence. Cf. Soph. Aj. 293, γύναι, γυναιξὶ κόσμον ἡ σιγὴ φέρει; Hom. Od. 13.309-310 πάντων, οὕνεκ’ ἄρ’ ἦλθες ἀλώμενος, ἀλλὰ σιωπῇ | πάσχειν ἄλγεα πολλά, βίας ὑποδέγμενος ἀνδρῶν. 100 Cf. Aesch. Pers. 290-292. 101 Soph. Ant. 1251-1252, transl. JEBB 1891. 102 Cf. Luke 10.38-42. 103 Soph. Aj. 293. 104 Soph. Aj. 292. Cf. also a fragment of Democr. B274DK, expressing the same concept: κόσμος ὀλιγομυθίη γυναικί. 105 δόσις κυρίου γυνὴ σιγηρά. 106 Par. 11.101, “Mary with a sprightly start rose up in frenzied silence” (transl. SPANOUDAKIS 2014).

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and her silence is defined as “agitated” (φοιτάς “roaming/wandering”).107 This reflects the Johannine text (τὴν Μαριὰμ ὅτι ταχέως ἀνέστη καὶ ἐξῆλθεν).108 As Spanoudakis observes,109 this seems to be a psychological evolution of the previous, painful, silence for now Mary is full of hope for the imminent miracle. 7.2. Sealing Silence The image of wise silence combined with the metaphor of the seal (appearing in the last verses of the Paraphrase)110 also occurs in the episode of Lazarus:111 χείλεσιν ὑμετέροισι σοφὴν σφρηγῖδα σιωπῆς.112 In the corresponding passage of John 11.40 (λέγει αὐτῇ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Οὐκ εἶπόν σοι ὅτι ἐὰν πιστεύσῃς ὄψῃ τὴν δόξαν τοῦ θεοῦ)113 neither of the two metaphorical images occurs. Par. 11.145 is a Nonnian addition entirely. Even though the adjective σοφήν technically refers to the seal, in the paraphrased text, it is strongly intertwined with the concept of silence, which, in this context, suggests the idea that the act of faith should be silent and obedient. In the following line the poet alludes to the orthodox faith,114 ὀρθὴν πίστιν ἔχουσα καὶ οὐ διχόμητις ἐοῦσα,115 where the adjective διχόμητις, a Nonnian coinage,116 is placed right before the homeoteleuton created by the two participles in a specular position at the end of both hemistich. Here, as Spanoudakis observed, Christ’s wise reticence illustrates an “attitude full of devotion and exoteric faith in the power of God”117 and represents a “moment of ‘preparation’ before the miracle”. This last example also illustrates particularly effectively the fundamental function of silence in remarking the solemnity and ineffability of miraculous events, such as in the case of resurrection of Lazarus, or, more generically, in religious mysteries.118 The combination of the concept of silence with the metaphor of the seal is also particularly expressive because the idea of immobility,

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The adjective is employed in relation to Cassandra, Aesch. Ag. 1273. John 11.31. 109 SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), p. 234. 110 Quoted above, p. 270. 111 See SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), pp. 266-267. 112 Par.11.145, “if you keep a seal of wise silence on your lips” (transl. SPANOUDAKIS 2014). 113 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”. 114 Cf. AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), p. 46 n. 35 ὀρθὴν πίστιν = ὀρθόδοξον πίστιν. 115 Par. 11.146. 116 Occurring only in the Paraphrasis: 20.132; 7.167; 8.146. See also SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), p. 268. 117 SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis (XI), p. 266. 118 Silence played an important role in the celebration of the mysteries, both Eleusinian and Dionysian, cf. MONTIGLIO 2000, Silence, pp. 23-38. 108

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implicit in the σφραγίς, stresses the stillness that accompanies the absence of sound. Thus, in the episode of Lazarus, the idea of silence is placed in relation to a variety of metaphorical images that effectively help the reader to visualise different feelings, such as sorrow, pain, expectation and faith. 8. Hiding Silence In a number of instances in the Paraphrase silence is neither associated with the idea of wisdom nor with that of eloquence, but it appears in metaphorical figures emphasizing its function of hiding rather than the capacity of revealing. For instance in the second book, εἶχεν ἀκηρύκτῳ κεκαλυμμένα φάρεϊ σιγῆς119 renders the last section of John 2.25 (τί ἦν ἐν τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ), stating that the Lord did not need any testimony for He knew what was hidden in every man.120 By inserting the image of an unannounced mantle of silence, which finds parallels in poetry and prose,121 the poet alludes to the vanity of the attempt to hide any human thoughts (ὅσα φρενὸς κεκαλυμμένα) from divine wisdom.122 A similar metphorical image using the participle κεκαλυμμένος is again related to silence, and to the adjective κρύφιος, and occurs in another two passages of the Paraphrase. The first concerns Jesus’ speech to Nicodemus: ἔργα, τάπερ τελέει κρυφίῃ κεκαλυμμένα σιγῇ,123 paraphrasing a section of John 3.20124 (ἵνα μὴ ἐλεγχθῇ τὰ ἔργα αὐτοῦ), where it is stated that “everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.” Similarly, in book 7, ἔργον ἀθηήτῳ κεκαλυμμένον ἀχλύι σιγῆς125 (where the brothers try to exhort Christ to manifest Himself), the idea of silence is once more related to the action of hiding. Here, although the term has to be understood in its literal sense, it is associated with the synaesthetic/ oxymoronic figure of an invisible mist or fog covering the deeds of Christ. 119 Par. 2.118-120, “(everything a man inside his mind) held covered, hidden, in a cloak of silence.” 120 John 2.25, καὶ ὅτι οὐ χρείαν εἶχεν ἵνα τις μαρτυρήσῃ περὶ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου: αὐτὸς γὰρ ἐγίνωσκεν τί ἦν ἐν τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ, “He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person.” 121 Cf., LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi (B), pp. 312-315. As Livrea observed, the metaphor of the mantle of silence could be implicit in Pind. Parth. 1.9 (ὑπὸ σιγᾷ μελαίνᾳ κάρα κέκρυπται), Syn. H. 5.23.5 and 9.75; Dion. Ar. Myst. 1.1. 122 See ROTONDO 2008, La voce divina, p. 309, suggesting that the divine wisdom has the ability of dis-mantling: “Si tratta di un silenzio che parla, che si rivela nel suo vano nascondimento; la sapienza divina, per restare in metafora spoglia l’uomo, lo denuda, lo s-vela.” 123 Par. 3.106, “his deeds, which are covered in hidden silence.” 124 John 3.20, πᾶς γὰρ ὁ φαῦλα πράσσων μισεῖ τὸ φῶς καὶ οὐκ ἔρχεται πρὸς τὸ φῶς, ἵνα μὴ ἐλεγχθῇ τὰ ἔργα αὐτοῦ, “everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.” 125 Par. 7.17, rendering John 7.4, οὐδεὶς γάρ τι ἐν κρυπτῷ ποιεῖ καὶ ζητεῖ αὐτὸς ἐν παρρησίᾳ εἶναι, “no one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret.”

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This same emphasis on the cloaking function of silence appears in the passage about the Jewish leaders who believed in Christ, yet not openly for fear of the Pharisees: ἀπροϊδής, ἀβόητος ἐκεύθετο φωλάδι σιγῇ126 (corresponding to John 12.42).127 The metaphorical adjective φωλάς is normally used for animals as it means “lurking in a hole”.128 In this context it suggests the idea of cowardliness, which is not explicit in the Gospel. In these last instances, it seems that the metaphorical connotations of a “masking” silence are, in a sense, milder (if compared to the previous examples), as the metaphors chosen by the poet are closer to the literal meaning of the noun to which they are related. Silence here mainly performs the function of covering. 9. Conclusion From the analysis of the selected passages, it appears that the metaphorical images related to silence employed by Nonnus abound not only in literary echoes but also in religious implications. They reflect themes recurrent in many late antique authors, which the poet of Panopolis elaborates creatively, adjusting them according to the different contexts of the pagan and the Christian poem. These images belong to a common background, shared by many lateantique authors, as not only are they employed in different literary genres, but they also seem to echo proverbial expressions. Moreover, in the Paraphrase these sorts of metaphors often perform an exegetical funcion as they help the paraphrast to clarify theological issues. Thus they become integral part of the process of interpretatio. In both Nonnus’ poems metaphors related to silence are particularly effective in illustrating actions, concepts and characters in a vivid, almost visual, way. Silence is related to sound, eloquence and wisdom by means of a wide range of metaphorical expressions intended to emphasise the dialectic relationship between silence and speech, often by means of paradoxical associations of ideas or anthitetical elements that echo each other. These are congenial to Nonnus’ poetical taste and predilection for sharp contrasts and sought-after contradictions.

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Par. 12.173, “a deed veiled in the unseen mist of silence”. John 12.42, ὅμως μέντοι καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἀρχόντων πολλοὶ ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτόν, ἀλλὰ διὰ τοὺς Φαρισαίους οὐχ ὡμολόγουν ἵνα μὴ ἀποσυνάγωγοι γένωνται, “yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue.” 128 Theoc. Id. 1.115 of bears lying in their caves; A.P. 9.233 of a spider; 9.251 of a bookworm; 11.34, metaphorical, of a shy maiden. 127

XVI. “JE SUIS LA VIE, LA VÉRITÉ ET LE DROIT CHEMIN” (PAR. 14.20) : ROUTES ET CHEMINS DANS LA PARAPHRASE DE SAINT JEAN DE NONNOS DE PANOPOLIS Halima BENCHIKH-LEHOCINE et Christophe CUSSET

1. Introduction La paraphrase du verset fameux Jean 14.6 “Ἐγώ εἰμι ἡ ὁδὸς καὶ ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ἡ ζωή· οὐδεὶς ἔρχεται πρὸς τὸν πατέρα, εἰ μὴ δι᾽ ἐμοῦ”1 donne lieu au développement suivant dans le poème de Nonnos (Par. 14.20-24): Ζωὴ ἀληθείη τε καὶ ὄρθιός εἰμι πορείη· (20) ζωὴ ἐγὼ βιότοιο καὶ ἀτραπός· οὐ δύναται δέ εἰς θεόν, εἰς γενετῆρα μολεῖν γαιήιος ἀνήρ, εἰ μή τις δι᾿ ἐμεῖο θεόσσυτον ἴχνος ἐπείγει στείχων ὀρθὰ κέλευθα δι᾿ υἱέος εἰς γενετῆρα. Je suis la vie, la vérité et le droit chemin; moi je suis la vie et la sente qui conduit à la vie; un homme de la terre ne peut aller vers Dieu, vers le Père, s’il n’avance son pied mu par Dieu à travers moi, en parcourant les droits sentiers qui mènent par le Fils vers le Père.

Ces vers, qui nous serviront ici d’ouverture, sont à la fois au cœur de la théologie johannique par “l’affirmation de l’exclusivité et l’unicité du chemin qui mène au Père et par l’anticipation dans le présent d’un avènement eschatologique”2 et de la poétique nonnienne par la variété et l’originalité qu’ils mettent en œuvre, en particulier par l’attention qu’ils portent au motif de la route. Il semble bien en effet que Nonnos cherche à mettre ici en évidence, par son œuvre poétique, qu’il a bien compris qu’en ce verset du texte johannique, la proclamation de Jésus porte essentiellement sur le ‘chemin’, ainsi que le signalent les mentions précédentes de ce motif en Jean 14.4-5 (= Par. 14.1318) et l’explication qui en est donnée immédiatement après, quand Jésus déclare qu’il est le chemin qui conduit au Père. Nous n’entrerons pas ici dans les divergences d’interprétation dont la formule johannique a été l’objet,3 mais nous 1

“Je suis le Chemin, la Vérité et la Vie. Nul ne va au Père que par moi.” Sauf mention contraire, toutes les traductions sont des auteurs. 2 NENCI 2014, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto Quattordicesimo, p. 134. 3 Avec LÉON-DUFOUR, Lecture de l’Évangile selon Jean, t. III, pp. 98-99, on peut rappeler que ces interprétations sont au nombre de trois: “C’est moi le chemin qui mène à la vérité et à la vie” (la vérité étant, comme la vie, le but à atteindre, et désignant l’essence divine: c’est

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concentrerons sur l’annonce centrale que soutient cette image topique du chemin,4 image qui s’appuie sur une double tradition biblique et païenne. Cela ne signifie pas que nous considérions les deux autres notions de vie et de vérité comme secondaires par rapport à celle du chemin,5 mais nous cherchons à utiliser ici ce passage comme clé de lecture du motif du chemin dans la Paraphrase de Nonnos. Ces vers se caractérisent tout d’abord par la grande variété des termes qui se rattachent au motif du chemin (πορείη, ἀτραπός, μολεῖν, ἴχνος, στείχων, κέλευθα) à différentes positions métriques dans le vers, ce qui produit une double saturation à la fois de l’espace métrique et du paradigme: cette variété en quelques vers est à l’image de la richesse sémantique des termes qui désignent le chemin dans la Paraphrase et dont nous tenterons de donner un bref aperçu. On constate ensuite, dans le cadre du travail de réécriture, que le poète conserve deux des termes employés par Jean (ἀλήθεια et ζωὴ), si l’on veut bien mettre de côté les altérations morphologiques associées à l’imitation de la langue homérique dans la Paraphrase, mais qu’il ne conserve pas le troisième terme qui désigne le chemin – ὁδός étant remplacé par πορείη:6 de quoi ce changement est-il le signe? En quoi permet-il de mettre en évidence l’intérêt tout particulier que Nonnos porte à l’expression du chemin et à sa portée symbolique? On observe également, toujours dans une perspective intertextuelle, que le poète présente les trois prédicats7 par lesquels Jésus se définit l’interprétation à couleur néoplatonicienne des Pères alexandrins, mais cette interprétation force le sens de “vérité” et ne correspond pas explicitement au texte de Jean qui dit que le chemin conduit non à la vérité, mais au Père); “C’est moi le chemin qui mène par la vérité à la vie” (cette fois, le but à atteindre est la vie et la vérité, en tant que révélation, n’est que le moyen d’y parvenir; cette lecture qu’on trouve chez la majorité des Pères, par exemple Ambroise, PL 14.592, respecte le sens johannique de la vérité, mais substitue encore la vie au Père); “C’est moi le chemin, parce que je suis la vérité et [aussi] la vie” (ici, vérité et vie ont une valeur explicative, mais il y a un risque de réduire à un sens instrumental les notions de vérité et de vie). 4 Selon NENCI 2014, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto Quattordicesimo, cependant, dans le texte de Jean, les trois termes, coordonnés, doivent en réalité être expliqués comme une progression de l’un à l’autre, ce qui signifierait donc que le plus important n’est pas le premier, mais le troisième (cf. Theod. Mops., PG 66.776b); mais une telle interprétation est rendue problématique par le traitement que Nonnos fait subir au texte de Jean. 5 Pour ce qui est du motif de la vie, dans la mesure où il est commun à Dionysos et au Christ, deux divinités sotériologiques, il permet à Nonnos de réaliser son projet syncrétique de fusion entre l’héritage classique et le Christianisme et doit bien être aussi considéré comme une donnée essentielle de la formule de Jean paraphrasée ici par Nonnos, comme le suggèrent notamment la position initiale du mot ζωή dans le vers et son anaphore au début des deux vers 20 et 21; quant à la vérité, on voit que Nonnos prend soin de conserver et de mettre aussi en valeur le terme ἀληθείη – alors même qu’il n’hésite pas à le remplacer souvent par ἀτρεκίη, cf. Par. 1.45 et 1.54 etc. – par la coupe trochaïque et de l’associer étroitement à ζωή dans la mesure où la vérité est la réalité divine qui, seule, garantit la vie. On notera cependant que l’accent est mis surtout sur le chemin et sur la vie, comme le montre la reformulation au vers 21 ζωὴ ἐγὼ βιότοιο καὶ ἀτραπός. 6 On voit qu’il ne conserve pas davantage le verbe de mouvement ἔρχεται employé par Jean. 7 Cette association de trois prédicats est un fait unique chez Jean qui d’ordinaire n’associe qu’un seul prédicat à l’expression ἐγώ εἰμι: voir FREED 1979, Egō Eimi in John 1:20 and 4:25,

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(ζωή, ἀληθείη, πορείη) dans un ordre inverse par rapport à l’ordre du texte johannique (ὁδός, ἀλήθεια, ζωή): on doit faire l’hypothèse que cette inversion n’est pas un simple hasard ou une licence poétique visant à adapter l’oralité du discours de Jésus aux contraintes de l’hexamètre; bien plutôt, il faut voir dans ce changement un fait de lecture, d’interprétation de la part de Nonnos qui s’inscrit dans la lignée de l’exégèse alexandrine: le poète mettrait ainsi en valeur une image que nous suggérons aujourd’hui d’interpréter comme un élément de structuration du texte poétique. Nous nous proposons ainsi de réaliser une analyse multiscalaire des modalités de structuration de cette image dans la Paraphrase. Nous verrons donc comment le motif de la route structure le texte au niveau de la diégèse, du personnel actantiel, mais aussi au niveau théologique et enfin méta-poétique. 2. Structuration au niveau diégétique: une grande mobilité de Jésus Le récit développé dans la Paraphrase, à partir de l’hypotexte johannique qui n’est nullement modifié en la matière, met en scène un personnage, Jésus, entouré de compagnons de route, opérant d’incessants va-et-vient entre les différentes régions de Palestine. De Cana en Galilée où il fait couler le vin à flot durant des Noces avant de guérir à distance le fils d’un officier du roi à Jérusalem en Judée où il est crucifié en passant par le parvis du temple d’où il chasse les Marchands, Capharnaüm, Ænon – patrie des Pharisiens aux ‘hautes villes’ – Sichar en Samarie où il discourt avec une habitante locale, Bethesda aux portes de Jérusalem où il guérit un paralytique, le lac de Tibériade où il multiplie les pains et les poissons puis marche sur les eaux ou encore Béthanie où il ressuscite Lazare,8 Jésus chemine, marche sans cesse: en somme, il fait route. Dès l’ouverture de la Paraphrase, le motif du cheminement offre une récurrence forte, d’une part à travers la figure de Jean Baptiste comme Précurseur (προκέλευθος,9 1.22), d’autre part dans la présentation du Verbe incarné venu parmi les hommes. Le vers 1.29 est de ce point de vue très éclairant: καὶ λόγον οὐ γίνωσκεν ἐπήλυδα κόσμος ἀλήτης. mais il ne connaissait pas la venue du Verbe, le monde qui errait.

pp. 288-229; LÉON-DUFOUR 1990, Jean (vol. 2), pp. 145-156; LÉON-DUFOUR 1993, Jean (vol. 3), pp. 97-99. 8 Cf. dans l’ordre: Jn 2.1-11 (Par. 2.1-60); 4.46-54 (Par. 4.205-254); 19.6-18 (Par. 19.26100); 2.13-16 (Par. 2.70-87); 2.12 (Par. 2.61-69); 3.23 (Par. 3.115-122); 4.1-30 (Par. 4.1-145); 5.1-18 (Par. 5.1-70); 6.5-15 (Par. 6.10-61); 6.16-21 (Par. 6.62-83); 11.1-44 (Par. 11.1-180). 9 L’adjectif est repris en Par. 1.111; 10.14; 12.166; 14.7. Nonnos fait écho à l’épithète πρόδρομος plus courante dans le vocabulaire chrétien pour Jean Baptiste.

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L’adjectif ἔπηλυς forme ici une paire intéressante avec ἀλήτης, soutenue par l’assonance: les deux adjectifs disent deux mouvements antithétiques, l’errance des hommes empêchant ces derniers de reconnaître la venue du Verbe dans le monde. Le Verbe se manifeste dans sa venue au monde par son mouvement même et c’est ensuite par leur mouvement, par leur élan, que les disciples expriment d’abord leur foi en celui qu’ils reconnaissent comme le Messie. Tout se passe comme s’il y avait un transfert du mouvement du Christ comme Verbe incarné vers le mouvement de foi des nouveaux disciples.10 Il n’est donc pas étonnant que la partie de l’Évangile que l’exégèse appelle communément le Ministère Public de Jésus constitue un moment où est fortement thématisé le motif de la route: l’espace est occupé et les différentes pérégrinations dessinent bien un chemin physique. Cependant, il est intéressant de noter qu’à partir du chant 14, la diégèse se fixe à Jérusalem. Il s’opère en effet un véritable rétrécissement de l’aire géographique: plus le récit avance, plus les déplacements se réduisent entraînant une transformation de la nature du chemin qui va en se dématérialisant peu à peu, à mesure que la foi progresse chez les disciples. On passe d’une occupation horizontale de l’espace terrestre avec une présence physique à la création d’un chemin spirituel entre la terre et le ciel. Mais ce chemin a priori immatériel s’incarne en fait dans les mots du poète. En effet, en remotivant la métaphore méta-poétique courante qui fait de la route un symbole de poésie, le Panopolitain fait de sa réécriture elle-même le canal poétique et exégétique du message évangélique. Ainsi la narration est-elle clairement informée et même rythmée par les différentes pérégrinations de Jésus et de ses compagnons de route. Néanmoins, allant bien plus loin que le simple sens dénotatif de la route, Nonnos utilise aussi et surtout le motif comme une métaphore récurrente lui permettant de caractériser spatialement ses personnages à partir de leurs interactions. L’image de la route et tout le champ lexical qui y est afférent esquissent ainsi une sorte de grille interprétative que nous allons à présent détailler. 3. Structuration au niveau des interactions entre les différents actants du récit L’un des procédés récurrents de caractérisation des personnages dans la Paraphrase nonnienne consiste en la description de leur placement spatial relativement à Jésus. L’adhésion au message religieux, son rejet et toutes les attitudes intermédiaires sont métaphoriquement signifiées par une position spatiale sur le chemin incarné par Jésus. Plusieurs cas de figures sont observables qui viennent appuyer ici cette remarque. 10 Cf. par exemple l’élan des premiers disciples à suivre Jésus en 1.136-137, puis 148-151, 159-160 etc.

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3.1. Disciples, sectateurs et convertis: ceux qui ‘partagent’ (σύν-) le chemin de Jésus, le ‘suivent’ (ὄπισ-) ou en sont ‘proches’ (ἄγχι-) Le premier cas significatif est celui des disciples, sectateurs et autres convertis à la parole christique. On remarque en effet qu’ils sont caractérisés par des termes contenant trois types de préfixes: συν-, ἀγχι- et ὄπισ-. On trouve συνqui renvoie aux notions de partage et de compagnonnage, en 1.152 dans la rencontre avec André, en 1.172 lorsque Jésus, s’adressant à Simon-Pierre, l’appelle à être un “compagnon qui partage sa route”11 (συνάεθλον […] ὁδίτην), ou encore en 21.36 pour désigner Jean, “le disciple et compagnon de route aimé du Seigneur” (κοίρανος ὃν φιλέεσκε, συνέμπορος […] μαθητής). La proximité, autre notion spatiale clé dans la caractérisation des personnages entourant Jésus, est, quant à elle, utilisée par le poète pour qualifier Nathanaël – disciple déclaré de Jésus – en 1.187 dans le syntagme ἀγχικέλευθον ὁδίτην (“marcheur le suivant de près”) qui réunit (comme souvent) les sémantismes de la marche, du chemin et de la modalité qui les régit. De la même manière, au chant 6, près du lac de Tibériade, juste avant que Jésus n’accomplisse un autre miracle et ne multiplie les pains, Nonnos réécrivant l’hypotexte johannique, décrit une “grande foule de voyageurs” admiratifs des miracles accomplis précédemment et qui “marchent à proximité” (Par. 6.12). Le préfixe ὄπισfait intervenir enfin une dernière notion, complémentaire des deux précédentes: l’action de suivre qui se traduit concrètement par une position arrière sur le chemin, mais qui métaphoriquement évoque aussi l’adhésion – à une idée, à un culte etc. Nonnos l’emploie – entre autres – en 2.67-68 pour qualifier l’intégralité des douze disciples: οἷσι δυωδεκάριθμος ὁμόστολος εἶχεν ὁδεύων ἀγχιθέων μίαν οἶμον ὀπίστερος ἐσμὸς ἑταίρων; Derrière eux, les accompagnant, marchait la troupe des douze compagnons semblables à dieu, faisant le même voyage et suivant le même chemin.

On voit dans ce passage, outre l’emploi de ce composé caractéristique de la constitution du groupe, la saturation du texte par le champ sémantique du chemin (ὁδεύων, οἶμον).12 3.2. Samaritains, Pierre, Judas: ceux qui s’écartent du chemin La deuxième caractérisation notable passant aussi par le positionnement spatial concerne les personnages qui sont dits s’écarter du chemin – et donc de Jésus.

11 12

DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto I, p. 218. LIVREA 2000, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto B, pp. 247-249.

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Trois cas de figure principaux sont identifiables qui incarnent trois modalités différentes de l’écart. 3.2.1. Les Samaritains Après l’avoir suivi depuis la Samarie, ébahis qu’ils étaient par les miracles qu’il avait accomplis, les Samaritains s’éloignent de Jésus et du chemin qu’il incarne (Par. 6.206-209):13 οὗ χάριν ἀστήρικτος ὀπισθοπόρῳ ποδὶ βαίνων χάζετο τηλεπόρων μετανάστιος ἐσμὸς ἑταίρων, οὐκέτι δ’ ὡς τὸ πάροιθε, μετάτροπον ἦθος ἀμείψας, Χριστῷ ἐφωμάρτησε τὸ δεύτερον… Pour cette raison, mal affermi, en faisant marche arrière, le groupe des sectateurs (Samaritains) venus de loin s’éloignait et ils se détournèrent, ne suivant plus de près le Christ, une nouvelle fois comme auparavant…

La progression est rapide et joue, pour ainsi dire, sur les attentes du lecteur/ auditeur. Dès le vers 206, le poète utilise comme à l’accoutumée un syntagme renvoyant à la position spatiale de ses personnages: ils marchent (βαίνων) d’un pied qui fait marche arrière (ὀπισθοπόρῳ ποδί); mais le vers suivant voit l’apparition à l’incipit d’un verbe signifiant l’écartement (χάζετο) associé à un adverbe marquant la distance (τηλεπόρων). Tous deux placés de manière significative à l’initiale, ils sont renforcés par les deux vers suivants qui varient l’expression du retournement en passant par une formulation négative faisant état d’une temporalité révolue: c’est ainsi par le contraste entre deux positions relatives qu’est caractérisée cette foule, elle suivait avant (ὡς τὸ πάροιθε), mais ne le fait plus au moment de la diégèse. 3.2.2. Simon-Pierre Nous avons mentionné précédemment que les disciples étaient très régulièrement décrits dans la Paraphrase comme des compagnons de route de Jésus, avec une alternance entre des mots renvoyant au partage d’un même chemin, formés avec le préfixe συν- et ceux qui insistent sur le fait que les disciples se trouvent derrière leur maître et suivent la route que tracent ses pas, ces derniers étant des composés formés à partir de l’adverbe ὀπισ-. Le cas de Simon-Pierre offre, dans ce cadre, un exemple très éclairant (Par. 13.152-154): εἶπε δὲ Σίμων· οὐ δύναμαι ταχύγουνος ὀπισθοπόρῳ ποδὶ βαίνων ὑμετέρης ἀβάτοιο ταμεῖν κενεῶνα κελεύθου; 13

FRANCHI 2013, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto Sesto, pp. 491-492.

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Et Simon dit: ne suis-je pas capable, marchant agilement sur un pied qui suit derrière, de couper à travers les creux de ton chemin inaccessible?

Le premier extrait que nous soumettons à l’analyse (13.153-154) avec le syntagme ὀπισθοπόρῳ ποδὶ14 montre que la caractérisation de Pierre obéit à cette règle que nous venons de dégager: l’adhésion spirituelle passe bien par l’image de la route suivie. Mais ce n’est pas tant cette similitude que l’on notera maintenant; on fera plutôt remarquer que cette image participe grandement de l’élaboration poétique du reniement de Simon-Pierre qui est d’abord suggéré implicitement avant d’être entériné (Par. 18.70 et 73-74): καί οἱ ὀπισθοκέλευθος ὁμάρτεε τηλόθι Σίμων; […] Χριστῷ σύνδρομος ἦλθεν ἔσω θεοδέγμονος αὐλῆς. καὶ βραδὺς15 αὐτόθι Πέτρος ἐλείπετο νόσφι θυράων. Et Simon, suivant derrière, l’accompagnait, de loin! […] (Un autre disciple) accompagnant en courant le Christ vint à l’intérieur de la cour sacrée et le lent Pierre fut laissé là-même, à l’extérieur, près des portes.

En effet, au vers 18.70, Pierre est dit suivre Jésus qui vient d’être arrêté, mais la fin du vers introduit un premier indice du retournement avec l’adverbe τηλόθι qui marque la distanciation de Pierre: il suit toujours Jésus, mais de loin. Cette distanciation est renforcée trois vers plus loin avec les positions relatives de l’un et de l’autre: Jésus est obligé de rentrer dans le palais du Grand Prêtre (ἔσω … αὐλῆς), quand Pierre est dit rester νόσφι θυράων, à savoir “à l’écart des portes”, à l’extérieur (73-74). Cet éloignement physique savamment construit par le poète sur l’image de la route suivie de laquelle on s’éloigne aboutit au reniement lui-même.

GRECO 2004, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto tredicesimo, pp. 172-173. Outre l’éloignement, un autre indice du reniement à venir, lié plus indirectement à la position physique, est à noter ici: la lenteur mentionnée via l’adjectif βραδὺς apposé à Πέτρος au vers 74. En effet les sectateurs de Jésus sont souvent décrits en mouvement, voire en train de courir. Ainsi Marthe et Marie dans le chant 11, lorsqu’elles se rendent auprès de Jésus, font preuve d’une grande mobilité et d’une rapidité toute particulière: les vers 91-104 par exemple voient Marthe retrouver son élan, sa vivacité et sa joie après une discussion avec Jésus, élan tout spirituel qui s’illustre dans une énergie physique et un pied rapide (cf. 11.91: ὀξέι ταρσῷ). SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis XI, pp. 226-227 au demeurant souligne le parallèle entre la vivacité de Marthe et l’élan de la Samaritaine (Par. 4.136: ὠκυτέρῳ δὲ διαστείχουσα πεδίλῳ, “après s’être éloignée sur un pied plus prompt [qu’avant son entretien avec Jésus]”) ou celui de Marie Madeleine retournant auprès des disciples (Par. 4.142, 20.12: ἐπειγομένῳ δὲ πεδίλῳ, “d’un pas hâtif”). À l’inverse, la foule des Juifs arrivant à Béthanie (cf. Par. 11.65: λαὸς Ἰουδαίων) est caractérisée par une lenteur marquée par l’emploi du participe ἕρπων dont le sémantisme renvoie à un mouvement difficile – celui du malade qui se traîne – et que le poète motive par une mauvaise intention: celle de consoler les sœurs du défunt comme à l’accoutumée alors que Jésus attend de son entourage une croyance confiante dans la réversibilité de cette mort grâce à la toute-puissance divine. 14

15

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Contrairement au texte johannique dans lequel seul le statut de disciple est mentionné pour être nié,16 chez Nonnos, c’est cette notion de partage du chemin qui fait l’objet des dénégations du disciple apeuré (Par. 18.82):17 ὦ γύναι, οὐ Χριστοῖο συνέμπορός εἰμι μαθητής. Non, femme, je ne suis pas un disciple compagnon de route de Christ.

Néanmoins, dans le cas de Simon-Pierre, cet écart est temporaire, ce n’est qu’un détour et le chant 20 voit ses pieds à nouveau ‘suivre’ Jésus (Par. 20.26): ἑσπομένοις δὲ πόδεσσιν ὀπίστερος ἵκετο Σίμων Sur des pieds qui suivaient, arrivait derrière Simon.

3.3.3. Judas Iscariote À l’inverse, Judas, νυκτὸς ὁδίτης18 (13.125) ‘trahit’ de manière définitive, une trahison signifiée via l’alliance de deux motifs complémentaires dans l’économie de la Paraphrase, celui de la marche et celui de la lumière et de l’ombre (dont nous verrons qu’il est essentiel dans la définition de la théologie nonnienne). L’ombre (ici la nuit) est associée à l’errance et au mal par opposition à la lumière incarnée par Jésus. Ainsi, en qualifiant Judas de “marcheur de la nuit”, Nonnos signifie poétiquement à son lecteur que le compagnon de Jésus a trahi ce dernier en s’écartant du chemin auquel il donne corps.

Cf. Jn 18.17: Λέγει οὖν ἡ παιδίσκη ἡ θυρωρὸς τῷ Πέτρῳ, Μὴ καὶ σὺ ἐκ τῶν μαθητῶν εἶ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου τούτου; Λέγει ἐκεῖνος, Οὐκ εἰμί, “La servante qui gardait la porte dit donc à Pierre: “N’es-tu pas, toi aussi, un des disciples de cet homme?” – “Je n’en suis pas”, dit-il.” 17 LIVREA 1989, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto XVIII, p. 150. 18 Le chant 19 offre une deuxième occurrence de ce syntagme qui sert au vers 204 à qualifier non pas un sectateur ayant choisi de s’éloigner de Jésus, mais Nicodème, Pharisien membre du Sanhédrin qui dans cet antépénultième chant aide Joseph d’Arimathie à descendre Jésus de la croix et à lui rendre les derniers hommages selon le rite juif. Il apparaît néanmoins dès le chant 3 où son qualificatif de “marcheur de nuit” prend tout son sens: attiré en effet par les idées de Jésus, il se rend auprès de lui pour écouter ses enseignements … à la faveur de la nuit, d’un pied méfiant, habité par la peur d’être pris en flagrant délit de collusion avec le fauteur de troubles menaçant l’ordre politique et religieux des prêtres des Juifs. Mais s’il est dans un premier temps associé aux Ténèbres d’où il vient – ces Ténèbres étant elles-mêmes le lieu du péché et de l’opposition à Jésus qui incarne la Lumière salvatrice –, le mouvement que Nicodème effectue est un mouvement qui l’éloigne de cette ombre et l’attire vers la lumière et Jésus. Ainsi quand le qualificatif de “marcheur de la nuit” est employé au chant 19, c’est pour mieux rappeler cette progression vers le salut lumineux de Jésus puisque c’est une nouvelle fois en direction de ce dernier que le Pharisien effectue sa marche nocturne. C’est parce qu’il a trahi Jésus et tourné le dos à la Lumière qu’à l’inverse Judas est qualifié de la même manière par Nonnos qui utilise ainsi le même syntagme pour deux mouvements opposés. (Sur Nicodème chez Jean, voir DOROSZEWSKI 2014, The Imagery of Light and Darkness in Nonnus’ Poetic Exegesis of John 3:1-21, pp. 127-129). 16

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3.3. Ceux qui s’écartent pour mieux se rapprocher: les guéris miraculés Enfin, un dernier cas d’actants dont les interactions sont mises en évidence par le motif de la route est celui des guéris miraculés. L’exemple de l’officier du roi de Capharnaüm qui se rend à Cana pour demander de l’aide à Jésus pour son fils malade au chant 4 est en cela exemplaire. Jésus ordonne à cet homme non pas de le suivre, mais au contraire de s’éloigner de lui pour retrouver son fils (Par. 4.225-226):19 ἔρχεο καὶ ζώοντα καὶ ἀρτεμέοντα κιχήσεις τηλύγετον σέο παῖδα… Va et20 tu trouveras, sain et sauf et bien vivant, ton dernier-né…

L’ordre suscite chez l’officier une réaction immédiate (Par. 4.228-229):21 εἶπεν ἄναξ, καὶ κραιπνὸς ἀνὴρ ἐπεπείθετο μύθῳ, Ἰησοῦς ὃν ἔειπε, καὶ ἔστιχεν ἐλπίδι πειθοῦς Le seigneur parla et aussitôt, l’homme était convaincu par les paroles qu’avait prononcées Jésus et il s’en alla avec l’espoir né de la foi.

L’éloignement physique est paradoxalement salvateur, la distance n’empêchant en rien – et même renforçant – un rapprochement et une adhésion spirituels. Ainsi l’adjectif τηλεπόροιο, qui qualifie au vers 228 le chemin que prend l’officier pour rentrer chez lui et qui présente un premier élément (τηλε-) identique à celui que l’on trouvait dans l’adverbe τηλόθι22 qui qualifiait Pierre et annonçait son reniement imminent, est ici au contraire associé à la guérison: la proximité est spirituelle et n’a pas besoin de se matérialiser dans une position physique. Nous avons montré dans ce deuxième temps que Nonnos utilisait le motif de la route et son champ lexical pour caractériser ses personnages. La position spatiale, concrète, occupée relativement à cette route et à son incarnation – à savoir Jésus – métaphorise ainsi l’adhésion ou le rejet du message théologique et d’élément purement diégétique, le motif devient un trait de la poétique nonnienne. Mais là ne s’arrête pas notre réflexion et nous proposerons ce troisième niveau de lecture: le motif de la route structure aussi et surtout le plan théologique et poétique. Jésus non seulement ouvre le chemin vers la vérité et Dieu et guide le reste de l’humanité, mais il fait plus, il le devient. Et c’est la richesse de la plume de Nonnos, sa tendance à l’hyper-adjectivation et son CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto IV, p. 309. Le motif “ἔρχεο καί” est récurrent dans la Paraphrase (et déjà chez Jean): cf. 1.187; 4.77, 225; 5.30, 45; 9.35; 11.123; ce kérygme thématise clairement l’importance initiale du mouvement dans l’expérience de la foi. Celui qui croit est d’abord celui qui fait l’effort d’aller voir. 21 CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto IV, pp. 311-312. 22 Cf. Par. 18.70. 19 20

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utilisation récurrente de mots composés qui transmettent cette idée en plus de l’association de trois images qu’il fait fonctionner en réseau et qui lui permettent de développer une théologie de la Lumière. 4. Structuration au niveau théologique et poétique Ainsi Jésus incarne-t-il – en plus de le montrer – le chemin entre le ciel et la terre, celui de la Lumière opposé à celui des Ténèbres. En effet, d’ouvreur de chemin, de guide, il devient ce chemin qui fait de lui le lien tangible entre le domaine divin et celui des mortels. Au vers 10.14, dans ce que l’on appelle communément la parabole du berger, Jésus, est dit par le paraphraste de Jean “marcher en avant” (προκέλευθος ὁδεύει23) pour guider son troupeau, annonçant par là-même le début du chant 14 marqué par une déclaration d’intention: ouvrant le chemin pour les hommes, le premier, il ira au royaume des cieux pour y préparer leur séjour (14.7: προκέλευθος ὁδεύσω “Je marcherai, guidant à l’avant”). Mais le guide se transforme en chemin quelques vers plus loin, transformation que le jeu des prépositions et des affixes rend tangible dans le texte: du préfixe προ- évoquant un emplacement relatif, le poète passe à la préposition διά dont le sémantisme renvoie à l’idée de route empruntée pour atteindre un endroit. On peut d’ailleurs noter à ce propos, que le poète encadre dans un chiasme stylistiquement remarquable les deux groupes prépositionnels employant cette préposition24 – et qui désignent les deux fois Jésus – de compléments circonstanciels introduits par la préposition εἰς25 décrivant la destination du voyage qu’entreprendront les hommes à leur mort vers Dieu le Père. Jésus devient grammaticalement le complément circonstanciel évoquant le lieu par lequel on passe pour aller à un autre endroit – le Paradis. Jésus finit donc bien par incarner la route dans sa personne, mais comment se définit cette dernière? Sa caractéristique principale semble être la lumière: le chemin qui mène au ciel est lumineux et – deuxième image associée à celle de la route et de la lumière – moralement droit. Le passage suivant extrait du chant 11 illustre parfaitement cela (Par. 11.34-37):26 ἤματος ἀντέλλοντος ὁδοιπόρος οὔποτε κάμπτει ταρσὸν ὀλισθηροῖσι περιπταίοντα πεδίλοις. (35) ὃς δὲ διαστείχει λιποφεγγέι σύνδρομος ὄρφνῃ ποσσὶ χαριζομένοις, σφαλερὴν ὁδὸν οὗτος ὁδεύει. Quand le jour se lève, le voyageur ne tord jamais son pied, il ne le fait jamais rencontrer des sandales glissantes. Mais celui qui s’écarte marchant de concert avec les ténèbres sur des pieds acharnés, celui-là chemine sur une route précaire. 23

Cf. Par. 18.70. Cf. 14.22 δι’ ἐμεῖο (“en passant par moi”) et 14.24: δι’ υἱέος (“en passant par le Fils”). 25 Cf. 14.22 εἰς θεόν, εἰς γενετῆρα (“vers Dieu, vers le Père”) et 14.24 εἰς γενετῆρα (“vers le Père”). 26 SPANOUDAKIS 2014, Nonnus, Paraphrasis XI, pp. 179-183. 24

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Dans cet extrait est construite une claire opposition entre le voyageur du jour, celui qui marche avec pour guide et lumière Jésus et dont le voyage se déroule sans embûches (οὔποτε κάμπτει) et celui qui fait route de nuit quand les ténèbres sont au plus fort (λιποφεγγέι ὄρφνῃ). La marche de ce dernier est plus difficile (son “chemin est glissant”: σφαλερὴν ὁδόν) et sa route incertaine et périlleuse. Nonnos dessine ainsi en contraste la marche terrestre laborieuse du pécheur et le mouvement léger céleste de celui qui suit Jésus, contraste que l’on retrouvera par exemple au chant suivant aux vers 140-144 avec la même opposition entre celui qui marche “dans la lumière” (ἐνὶ φωτί) en suivant une “ligne droite” (ἰθυπόροιο κελεύθου) qui mène à Dieu et au Paradis et celui qui s’en écarte, marcheur nocturne avançant sur un pied glissant et errant sans connaître l’issue de la route empruntée (ὃς δὲ διαστείχει σφαλερῷ ποδὶ νυκτὸς ὁδίτης). Mais, au-delà de toute considération théologique, au regard du grand nombre de termes qui dénotent le chemin dans le poème27 et de leur forte productivité dans la composition nominale, il y a lieu de se demander si Nonnos ne cherche pas à utiliser le motif évangélique de la route en le remotivant par le biais d’une métaphore méta-poétique bien ancrée dans la tradition littéraire, notamment chez Callimaque28 dont on ne saurait nier l’influence sur le poète de Panopolis. En effet, si le Christ est à la fois le Verbe et le Chemin qui mène au Père, le chemin peut aussi être compris comme métaphore de la poésie, ce qui déplace l’analogie du plan théologique au plan poétique. Or, l’insistance avec laquelle Nonnos fait mention des chemins parcourus et surtout des pieds de ses personnages en marche (notamment Jésus) invite à s’interroger sur le sens qu’il convient d’accorder à cette attention. Les pieds des marcheurs rythment en effet le texte avec cinquante-deux occurrences dont onze dans le seul chant 13 ou encore dix dans le chant 19.29 Or, cette récurrence pourrait bien avoir aussi une dimension méta-poétique: le pied du Christ-Verbe divin incarné pourrait renvoyer, par syllepse, au pied de 27 On compte 2 occurrences pour ἀτραπιτός (4.20 et 13.137), 3 pour ἀτραπός (7.130; 14.21; 16.39), 11 pour κέλευθος, 6 pour ὁδός, 8 pour οἶμος, 10 pour πορείη, 1 pour τρίβος (1.86). 28 ASPER 1997, Struktur und Funktion poetologischer Metaphern bei Kallimachos, pp. 21-107. 29 Une occurrence toute significative est à trouver au vers 17: Nonnos y utilise, pour qualifier Pilate, le procédé – récurrent dans la Paraphrase – de la caractérisation des personnages via la description de parties du corps qui, par métonymie ou hypallage, renvoient à l’intégralité de la personne. Le préfet du prétoire est ainsi dit marcher sur “des pieds qui reviennent à nouveau” (ποσσὶ παλιννόστοισι) et si, au sens propre, le syntagme signifie seulement qu’il s’en retourne sur ses pas, l’association de νόστοισι à l’adverbe en composition παλιν- suffit, selon nous, avec le réseau d’échos dans lequel ce dernier résonne, à décrire un trait que l’on peut véritablement considérer comme définitoire de Pilate, à savoir son hésitation. En effet, alors qu’il est décrit comme effectuant des va-et-vient incessants durant tout le procès romain de Jésus entre ce dernier retenu dans le prétoire et la foule des Juifs au dehors, ses pieds peuvent être interprétés au niveau métaphorique comme marquant en réalité une hésitation face au choix d’accepter ou non le message christique comme véridique. Sur le motif des pieds, voir ACCORINTI 1986, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto T (= XIX), pp. 40-43.

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l’hexamètre mis en œuvre par le poète dans sa paraphrase du texte évangélique. L’attention portée aux pieds du Christ et de ses disciples – qui relève toujours d’un ajout concret de la paraphrase poétique – serait une manière pour le poète d’attire l’attention sur le processus poétique qu’il met en œuvre pour développer le texte johannique. Parmi de nombreux exemples, nous prendrons ici l’une des premières occurrences ‘du pied’ dans le poème (Par. 3.1-8): Ἦν δέ τις ἱερὸν αἷμα νοοπλανέων Φαρισαίων, ἀρχὸς Ἰουδαίων πολυλήιος, ἔννομος ἀνήρ· οὔνομά οἱ Νικόδημος· ἀμάρτυρος οὗτος ὁδίτης Χριστῷ νυκτὸς ἵκανε φυλασσομένῳ ποδὶ βαίνων· ἔννυχος εἰς δόμον ἦλθεν, ὅπῃ φάος· ἀνδρὶ δὲ πιστῷ (5) Ἰησοῦς ἐνέπων βαπτίσματος ἔνθεον αἴγλην νυκτιφανῆ Νικόδημον ἑῷ φαιδρύνατο μύθῳ, καί οἱ μῦθον ἔλεξε θεῷ πειθήνιος ἀνήρ· Il y avait, du sang sacré des Pharisiens à l’esprit égarés, un chef opulent des Juifs, un homme juste. Son nom était Nicodème; celui-ci, cheminant sans se faire voir, vint de nuit auprès du Christ, tout en marchant d’un pas précautionneux; il entra de nuit dans la maison où il y avait de la lumière; à cet homme fidèle Jésus en lui révélant l’éclat divin du baptême, purifia de sa parole Nicodème qui était apparu de nuit et l’homme qui commençait à croire en Dieu lui tint ce propos.

Pour apprécier la dimension poétique du passage et le travail paraphrastique, il convient de mettre ce passage en regard du texte de Jean (Jn 3.1-2): Ἦν δὲ ἄνθρωπος ἐκ τῶν Φαρισαίων, Νικόδημος ὄνομα αὐτῷ, ἄρχων τῶν Ἰουδαίων· οὗτος ἦλθεν πρὸς αὐτὸν νυκτὸς καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· Or il y avait parmi les Pharisiens un homme, du nom de Nicodème, un des notables juifs. Il vint de nuit à lui et lui dit.

Les éléments mis en gras dans le texte de Nonnos font apparaître assez clairement le fonctionnement du travail paraphrastique: la paraphrase en ce début de chant commence de manière assez simple par des expansions des groupes nominaux, avec des ajouts d’adjectifs ou une apposition supplémentaire; puis, à partir du vers 3, l’expansion s’amplifie et tend à concerner le second hémistiche dans sa totalité; les ajouts portent alors sur le motif cher à Nonnos de la marche; à partir du vers 5, la paraphrase passe à un développement autonome, d’abord par une réduplication du sens du vers 4a, puis avec l’apport d’éléments d’explication du non-dit présent dans le récit johannique. Or, c’est au moment même où la paraphrase prend de l’ampleur que figure l’expression φυλασσομένῳ ποδὶ βαίνων:30 l’habileté avec laquelle Nonnos développe progressivement le récit johannique pourrait bien être à l’aune de la prudence de l’approche nocturne de Nicodème; à l’instar de ce dernier, le poète avance lui aussi d’un 30 On peut noter que l’expression ποδὶ βαίνων forme une clausule aisément reproductible: cf. Par. 6.206; 10.140; 13.153; 19.205.

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pas précautionneux, en n’apportant pas d’éléments fondamentalement étrangers à l’hypotexte évangélique, mais en précisant progressivement les données de ce récit ou en les explicitant. L’opposition implicite chez Jean entre l’obscurité (présente dans νυκτός) et la lumière (absente dans le récit) est ainsi très clairement explicitée par Nonnos (cf. νυκτός repris par ἔννυχος, puis l’opposition avec ὅπῃ φάος), puis interprétée par le poète dans un sens baptismal.31 Le passage des ténèbres à la lumière du personnage évangélique servirait alors aussi d’analogie au travail poétique de Nonnos dont la Paraphrase vise précisément à apporter une lumière nouvelle sur le discours johannique. Nonnos fait de son poème un chemin littéraire qui s’offre comme un canal poétique du message exégétique. 5. Conclusion Des régions de l’éther – domaine de Dieu – à la terre des hommes, de la verdoyante Cana galiléenne à Jérusalem où les événements vont s’accélérer et la volonté divine s’accomplir, Jésus chemine, voyage, fait route. Toujours en mouvement, il “conduit le char céleste sur terre” (Par. 1.13232) incarnant en sa personne le lien entre le monde divin du Père et celui des mortels d’icibas. Le double motif de la route (sous toutes ses formes) et de ceux qui l’empruntent est omniprésent dans la Paraphrase de Nonnos ainsi que, du moins espérons-nous l’avoir montré, profondément signifiant. Il structure en effet à la fois la diégèse qu’il rythme au gré des différents déplacements, les interactions entre les actants (la plupart des personnages étant définis selon qu’ils suivent et partagent la route qu’ouvre et incarne Jésus ou qu’ils s’en éloignent, voire s’opposent à elle) et le message théologique. C’est aussi et surtout un élément structurant d’un point de vue littéraire puisque c’est l’un des lieux par excellence où se manifestent la richesse lexicale et l’invention poétique du Panopolitain qui remotive ainsi une métaphore méta-poétique courante de la route comme symbole de création.

31 Sur le sens de cette opposition entre obscurité et lumière dans ce passage, voir DOROSZEWSKI 2014, Imagery of Light and Darkness. 32 DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi, Canto I, pp. 193-194.

XVII. THE WOMAN AT THE WELL: EPIC VARIATIONS OF THE SAMARITAN WOMAN IN EUDOCIA’S HOMERIC CENTOS AND IN NONNUS’ PARAPHRASIS OF ST. JOHN’S GOSPEL Anna LEFTERATOU

1. John’s Samaritan Woman1 This contribution2 will focus on the late antique poetic reworking of the encounter in the first edition of the Homeric Centos (I HC) and in Nonnos’ Paraphrasis.3 I HC, is often attributed – though without certainty – to Eudocia, the Christian wife of Theodosius the II (d. 460);4 the Paraphrasis of St. John’s Gospel is accredited to Nonnos of Panopolis, the Christian poet of the longest late antique mythological epic, the Dionysiaca.5 The dialogue with the Woman at the Well receives only a short development in the second edition of the Homeric Centos (II HC), whereas it is absent from the shorter editions.6 This contribution deals with the similarities and differences in the poetic and exegetical reception of John in both Christian epics and considers not only the impact of classicising tradition on biblical poetry but also the late antique exegetical context together with the relevant material evidence.7

1

In the Greek Eortologion the Samaritan Woman is commemorated on the 26th of February as St. Photeiné. This contribution is dedicated to her namesake Fotini Hadjittofi, for encouraging me to work on Nonnus and more. 2 I would like to thank DFG for generously funding my project on the Homeric Centos and the Paraphrasis at Heidelberg University and my participation in the Conference Nonnus in Context IV from which this volume derives. The paper presented there (19.04.2018) will now appeari as LEFTERATOU forthcoming, The Cana wedding and is part of a larger series of comparative articles based on WHITBY’s 2007, The Bible Hellenized, pioneering contribution. The comparative approach presented at the conference has stimulated further research, the latest of which is VERHELST 2019, Greek biblical epic. Special thanks go to Berenice Verhelst for carefully editing my contribution. 3 The translations of the Paraphrasis are from HADJITTOFI forthcoming, Nonnus of Panopolis; the translations from Cyril from MAXWELL – ELOWSKY 2013, Cyril of Alexandria; the other translations are mine. 4 SCHEMBRA 2006, La prima redazione; SCHEMBRA 2007, Homerocentones. 5 For an overview see CHUVIN 2014, Revisiting old problems. 6 II HC 898-940. The tale is told also by Juvencus ELQ 2.2443-327 and 4.222-232. 7 For the reception of classicising poetry in Christian hexameter poems see POLLMANN, The Baptised Muse and also HADJITTOFI – LEFTERATOU 2020, The genres of Late Antique Christian poetry. For the methodology adopted here and throughout my comparative case-studies, e.g. LEFTERATOU 2017, Late antique epiphanies; LEFTERATOU forthcoming, The Cana wedding.

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The theme of the Maiden or the Stranger at the Well belongs to universal folklore and so is the connection of wandering holy men with springs.8 In cultures where women have to draw water, the fountain, spring, or well, becomes a place to socialise with other women and also to flirt.9 As early as Homer’s Odyssey fountains are erotic places par excellence: Odysseus meets Nausicaa next to a source (Od. 6.110-322),10 and later Athena, transformed into a young girl with a jug (Od. 7.18-81); earlier he had met at a spring the daughter of the Laestrygonian king Antiphates who led them to her carnivorous parents (Od. 10.103-111).11 Even Eumaeus has a story to tell about a Sidonian girl seduced at a well by bandits (Od. 15.415-484).12 Though most importantly, and although sacred springs and fountains were related to purification rituals throughout Antiquity,13 they are often the backcloth of famous rapes, illicit love affairs, and murders.14 The theme had also a long romantic vetero-testamentary prehistory, illustrative of its universal appeal: Abraham’s old slave Eliezer, meets and betroths the future wife of Isaac, Rebecca, next to a well (Gen. 24.11-20); Jacob meets his wife Rachel at a well (Gen. 29.1-12); so does Moses, who wins Sephora’s hand (Ex. 2.15-21). It is against this intercultural background that poets such as Eudocia and Nonnus were expected to manipulate their Christian material in order to narrate a very different encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan Woman that reads as follows (John 4.1-30): “Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John” 2 – although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptised – 3 he left Judea and started back to Galilee. 4 But he had to go through Samaria. 5 So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot (χωρίον) of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, p. 114; BLACKER 1990, The folklore of the stranger. Cf. also an Indian variant of the scene in which the temptress attempts to seduce a disciple of Buddha, Ananda, who sits next to the well and asks her for a drink, BULTMANN 1971, The Gospel of John, p. 179 and DERRET 1987, The Samaritan Woman. 10 LIMC 6.1 s.v. Nausicaa, records visual images from Attic pottery; the most famous Nausicaa scene was probably the one painted by Polygnotus on the Acropolis. 11 Cf. the famous depiction of the episode is the fresco at Esquilin LIMC s.v. Laistrygones, 6.1, p. 87, where the princess comes downhill carrying a jug, the source being depicted as a maiden, and approaches Ulysses and his companions. The Laestrygonians, the Phaeacians, and the Cyclopes were thought to have originated from the giants, Paus. 8.29.2. For the Nausicaa episode as a positive motif versus the negative at Laestrygonia see FENIK 1974, Studies in the Odyssey, p. 128; DOUGHERTY 2001, The raft of Odysseus, p. 140. 12 Also in hCer 98-183 and Paus. 1.39.1 Demeter meets the daughters of Celeos at the spring who lead her to the palace. For the scene see RICHARDSON 1974, The Homeric Hymn to Demeter, pp. 179-180, 339-343. 13 KLOSTERGAARD PETERSEN 2011, Ritual of purification. 14 Cf. In Pausanias’ Periegesis fountains are a popular theme of descriptions of cities; e.g. 1.21.4, the rape of Alcippe next to the fountain of Asclepeion in Attica; elsewhere cf. 2.3.6, the murder of Glauce; 8.47.4, the rape of Auge by Hercules; on water maidens see MACRÌ 2012, Aretusa, on Nonnus see LEFTERATOU 2021, Aura’s metamorphosis. 8 9

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was there (πηγὴ τοῦ Ἰακώβ), and Jesus, tired (κεκοπιακὼς ἐκ τῆς ὀδοιπορίας) out by his journey, was sitting (ἐκαθέζετο ἐπὶ τῇ πηγῇ) by the well. It was about noon (ὥρα ἦν ὡς ἕκτη). 7 A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” 8 (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift (τὴν δωρεάν) of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water (ὕδωρ ζῶν).” 11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? 12 Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well (φρέαρ), and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” 13 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life (ἐν αὐτῷ πηγὴ ὕδατος ἁλλομένου εἰς ζωὴν αἰώνιον).” 15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” 17 The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” 19 The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet (θεωρῶ ὅτι προφήτης εἶ σύ). 20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews (ὅτι ἡ σωτηρία ἐκ τῶν Ἰουδαίων ἐστίν). 23 But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth (ὅτε οἱ ἀληθινοὶ προσκυνηταὶ προσκυνήσουσιν τῷ πατρὶ ἐν πνεύματι καὶ ἀληθείᾳ), for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” 25 The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming”, who is called Christ, (Μεσσίας ἔρχεται, ὁ λεγόμενος χριστός). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I am he the one who is speaking to you (ἐγώ εἰμι, ὁ λαλῶν σοι).” 27 Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?” 28 Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, 29 “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” 30 They left the city and were on their way to him.”15

In John the encounter takes an unexpected spiritual and theological turn as Jesus breaks down several cultural “barriers: the socioethinc barrier of centuries of Jewish-Samaritan prejudice; the gender barrier; and a moral barrier imposed by this woman’s assumed behaviour.”16 The woman’s conversion contrasts the conversion of Nicodemus in John 3: Nicodemus comes to Jesus, 15 16

Greek text, SBLGNT, English translation NRSV. KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 585.

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incognito, at night, and the rabbi reveals to him the mysteries of baptism;17 contrarily, the philandering woman,18 an outsider from Samaria, meets Jesus alone in broad daylight and the teacher reveals her the mysteries of the ‘living water’.19 Unlike Nicodemus’ slow conversion, the woman intuitively recognises Jesus as the Messiah and becomes the first apostle. The second part of John 4 expands the ‘living water’ theme: Jesus now preaches the disciples, who were dispatched to bring food, about the ‘fruit of eternal life’ (John 4.39).20 The episode ends with the conversion of the Sychemites,21 proving that “a prophet has no honor in his own country” (John 4.44),22 and foreshadows the growing hostility towards Jesus in the rest of the narrative. At the end of Book 4, Jesus heals by hearsay the dying son of a nobleman (John 4.46-54), which is probably the second sign (John 4.54, σημεῖον) at Cana, after the miracle at wedding in John 2. Thus, despite its episodic nature, the encounter with the woman belongs to a more or less coherent narrative. In the neo-testamentary sources the encounter is not found in the synoptic Gospels or the Christian Apocrypha. A possible echo of John 4 appears in the Apocryphal Acts of Peter and Andrew; there the apostles meet a ploughman in front of a city and ask for bread and hospitality; in return, the apostles sow the field yielding a great crop.23 There, instead of the Samaritan Woman the apostles meet another female sinner, a prostitute, who repents and converts with the whole city.24 But most intriguing is the narrative of the annunciation of Mary in the Protevangelium where Mary first hears the good news of the incarnation near a well.25

BULTMANN 1971, The Gospel of John, p. 181; KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 585. There has been a long allegorical interpretation of the five husbands to which I will return below; BULTMANN 1971, The Gospel of John, p. 188 for a Jew three marriages would have been the maximum; KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 595 argues that the fact that the woman comes at noon and alone, whereas married women and virgins came in groups on other time, suggests her impurity. 19 DANIÉLOU 1958, Le symbolisme, on John linking the ‘living water’ and the living water qua ‘Holy Spirit’, to baptismal rituals. DANIÉLOU 1958, Le symbolisme, p. 345, compares the Samaritan Woman and John 7.38 to the Exodus. BULTMANN 1971, The Gospel of John, p. 182 discerns a Gnostic echo behind phrases such as ‘the living water’ which enhances the revelatory character of the passage. 20 About the eucharistic imagery in the juxtaposition between water and bread see BULTMANN 1971, The Gospel of John, p. 195, where he expresses some reservations. 21 On the eschatological dimension of the passage see KEENER 2003, The Gospel of John, p. 619; ASHTON 2007, Understanding, p. 199. 22 ASHTON 2007, Understanding, p. 98 notes that the question is whether salvation is from the Jews and what is the role of Judeans, Galileans and Samaritans in it. 23 AA Petri et Andreae, 3.2-3 in BONNET 1898, Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha, pp. 117-127. 24 BONNET 1898, Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha, pp. 9-12. 25 Protev. 11.1-3. 17 18

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2. The Reception of John 4 in Late Antiquity In the late antique visual record, Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, besides the earliest contested fresco of a Woman at the Well at Dura Europos,26 appears in the Roman Catacombs in combination with other allusions to water, the symbol of Christian baptism.27 The theme was paired with other water- or resurrection-related subjects, such as Moses or Lazarus.28 The frescoes depict Jesus usually standing, contra John 4.6 (ἐκαθέζετο), facing a woman as an equal.29 Roman matronas might have identified with the missionary zeal of the Samaritan, making the scene a suitable topic.30 The encounter appears also on sarcophagi, mosaics, and miniatures: e.g. a 4th c. mosaic from the Baptistery of Sta. Restituta depicts the Samaritan Woman, the pitcher and the well next to the six jugs of the Cana Wedding, reinforcing thus the passage’s nuptial and eucharistic character.31 Early Christian exegesis of John 4 focuses on several key points of the narrative. Origen, for example, compares the motif of earthly thirst to that of the Jews in Exodus 17.6; he associates Jesus with the ‘living water’ and interprets it as ‘teaching’. Origen contrasts Jesus’ spiritual teaching qua ‘living water’ to that of the Scripture, which is represented by Jacob’s well, qua physical water, or the Pentateuch, symbolised by the woman’s five husbands.32 Keen to read the passage in the light of struggle between matter and spirit, Origen takes the passage about the abandoned pitcher as an allegorical renunciation of matter for the sake of a higher spiritual cause.33 Elsewhere he attempts to exculpate the woman and interprets her five husbands as symbolising the five senses.34 In his view the woman is the spiritual woman whose curiosity leads her to revelation, drawing one of the earliest associations of the woman with the

26 PEPPARD 2016, The world’s oldest church, esp. chapter 5, in which he tries to prove that the Woman at the Well at Dura Europos is not the Samaritan one but Mary at the Annunciation. 27 AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), p. 66: “per un Cristiano la lettura battesimale di qualsiasi cosa relative all’acqua era del tutto naturale.” 28 BUCOLO 2009, La samaritana al pozzo, in the Callisto catacomb the Samaritan woman at the well is depicted next to Moses stricking water from the rock; in the Praetextatus she is depicted next to Lazarus, BORG 2013, Crisis and ambition, p. 258. See also JENSEN 2011, Living water, e.g. pp. 15-16, 21, 33-37, passim. 29 On the two variants of Jesus (standing and sitting) see also BINAZZI 1989, Cristo e la Samaritana. 30 SCHENK 2017, Crispina and her sisters, esp. pp. 30-31. 31 JENSEN 2011, Living water, Fig. 6.9 and the discussion at p. 194. 32 PG 14.4.217-219. 33 PG 14.4.239, περὶ τῆς ἀφέσεως τῆς ὑδρίας. 34 PG 14.4.219c, προφάσει ἀλληγορίας.

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Church.35 Eventually, the woman’s eroticised meeting with Jesus helps her achieve her heavenly fullfilment.36 We also have two spurious homilies on John 4 attributed to John Chrysostom.37 In the first, he sets out to weave an encomium for the woman pointing out in an impressive Asianic antithetical climax the sins of the woman and the grace of the Lord.38 Eventually, the woman is transformed from a whore into a philosopher (πόρνης πνευματικὰ φιλοσοφούσης), a topic popular in imperial declamation,39 her mind focused on theological issues.40 More interesting though for my approach of the two epic poems is the hunting metaphor revisited in both homilies: Jesus is depicted as the ‘hunter’, who, knowing that his prey will arrive at noon to drink and rest from the heat, comes alone in order not to scare his prey. Yet noon coincides with the hour Eve was tempted and ate the forbidden fruit, making the Samaritan an antitype of the first woman.41 Ps.-John’s reading highlights the passage’s sensuality: not only the Eve-Serpent intertext and the hunter metaphor, but Jesus’ words are also described as arousing her desire, though metaphorically,42 which turns her into an apostle.43 The 4th c. Ephraim the Syrian wrote two hymns on the Samaritan Woman to be included in the Hymns to Virginity.44 In Ephraim the woman defends herself against the charges of impurity,45 and shows herself particularly smart in

PG 14.4.222b. WILES 2011, The spiritual Gospel, p. 47. PG 14.14.236, probably inspired by the gnostic Heracleon whom he quotes throughout the Commentary, see also Origen, in the opening of his commentary he also associates Jesus qua πηγὴ ὕδατος ἅλλομένου with the Nymphios of the Song of Songs, PG 14.4.215. 37 PG 61.743. According KAISER 2016, Das Mesopentekoste-Fest, pp. 90-97 the celebration of the Mid-Pentecost was inspired by John 7.14, ἑορτῆς μεσούσης, but both the attribution of this homily to John and its place in the late antique liturgy is contested, e.g. other candidates might have been (Ps.?-)Amphilochius of Iconium or Petrus Chrysologus, bishop at Ravenna, both dated ca. late 3rd / the early 4th c. 38 PG 59.535, τὴν πτωχὴν καὶ πλουσίαν, τὴν πόρνην καὶ ἀπόστολον, τὴν ἄσωτον καὶ πιστὴν, τὴν πολύγαμον καὶ πολυδύναμον, τὴν πολλοὺς μιάνασαν, καὶ τὸν μονογενῆ Λόγον τοῦ Θεοῦ θεραπεύσασαν, τὴν μιανθεῖσαν, καὶ καθαρισθεῖσαν, τὴν διψήσασαν, καὶ ὑδάτων ζώντων ἐπιθυμήσασαν, καὶ τῶν ἐπουρανίων ναμάτων τὴν χάριν κληρονομήσασαν (“the poor and the rich, the whore and apostle, the polygamous and powerful, the one who polluted many, and the one who served the Word of God, the polluted and purged, the thirsty and desiring the living water, and inheriting the grace of heavenly waters”). 39 HAWLEY 1995, Female characterization, p. 265 on Lib. Prog. 11.18, “what speech would a prostitute who has been chaste (πόρνη σωφρονήσασα) utter?” 40 PG 59.540. 41 PG 59.537. 42 PG 59.537, διήγειρεν αὐτῆς τὸν πόθον εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν, 538, 541, σαγηνεύει. 43 PG 59.541. 44 CSCO 223.95 (Beck) Hymn 22 (pp. 68-72) and Hymn 23 (pp. 73-75). 45 E.g. Hymn 22, str. 4 her husbands died; str. 14, comparison with the seven wives mentioned in Isa. 4.1; the reasons why she changed husbands was because she was barren like Sarah str. 15 and 20; comparison with Tamar, Gen. 38.14. 35 36

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discussing with Jesus,46 who, in turn, is depicted as her divine spiritual husband.47 Ephraim’s Samaritan Woman is compared to Mary and celebrated as an apostle avant la lettre,48 a tradition leading to the 6th c. Romanos, who interprets the woman as the Church of the Gentiles in her spiritual union with Christ.49 Like Mary, the Samaritan conceived the Logos immaculately (this time figuratively) through the ear; like Mary she did not bear forth a baby but confessed that he is the Messiah (a figurative birth). She is even compared to Eve,50 the vine of death, as a positive model, thought the rest of the passage is corrupt.51 Ephraim also uses the hunting metaphor. Eventually the hymn closes with a eucharistic imagery of the ‘living water’ and the ‘living bread’ and with a general encomium of the woman. Of particular importance, especially for the Paraphrasis, is Cyril’s Commentary on John. Cyril takes ‘living water’ as signifying the Holy Spirit, an interpretation that is followed by the majority of exegetes,52 and relates it to baptism.53 He also dwells emphatically on the controversy between Judea and Samaria: Jesus comes to Samaria making thus a first opening away from Jerusalem, which will eventually become an invitation to the gentiles.54 Later he also taunts the Jews for their cruelty and contrasts them to the openness of the Samaritans.55 Although he interprets the ‘sixth hour’ literally and not symbolically, as a time at which one needs to rest,56 Cyril understands the rest of the scene through the hunting metaphor too.57 This very brief sketch of the late antique reception of John 4 shows that visual arts were more interested in the nuptial and baptismal potential of the pericope, hence the association with other water-related images or the Cana wedding. Most impressively they tend to depict the pair standing, as equals, contrarily to the Gospel. The exegetes, on the other hand, besides the passage’s 46

Hymn 22, str. 8 and 12, she hides her past in order to test Jesus’ claims. Hymn 22, str. 3. 48 CSCO 223.95, Hymns on Virginity 22 (pp. 68-72) and 23 (pp. 73-75). 49 Hymn XIX (ed. de Matons), cf. also PAPAGIANNIS 2013-2014, Ρωμανού του Μελωδού. 50 CSCO 223.95, Hymns on Virginity 22 (pp. 68-72) and 23 (pp. 73-75). 51 Hymn 23, str. 9. 52 WILES 2011, The spiritual Gospel, p. 47 and 48, on baptismal imagery. PG 73.6.183, ὕδατος ἁλλομένου … τὴν δωρεὰν τοῦ Πνεύματος. 53 Though more symbolic reading of the baptismal imagery here is probably Proclus, of Constantinople, Hom. 4.105, CONSTAS 2003, Proclus, p. 235, “the waters offer the Jordan, and the wells the Samaritan woman.” 54 PG 73.6, 178, although he does not go as far so as to identify Samaria with the gentiles as he does for Cana elsewhere, LEFTERATOU forthcoming, The Cana wedding; this identification comes later with Romanos Hymn XIX str. 5.11 (de Matons), τὴν ἐξ ἐθνῶν, τὸν τύπον. But also an earlier evidence for this association is the quotation to the 2nd c. gnostic Heracleon in Orig. in Jo 14.4.226b, who identified the Samaritans with the nations. 55 PG 73.6.195. 56 PG 73.6.179. 57 PG 73.6.179. 47

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nuptial and baptismal symbolism, tackle other questions, such as the woman’s morality, issues of worship, the Judaea / Samaria hostility and its meaning for the gentiles, and, above all, the multi-layered symbolism of the ‘living water’ as either ‘teaching’ as in Origen, or as ‘Holy Spirit’, as in the majority of the exegetes. Such interpretations would have been conflated in Eudocia’s and Nonnus’ times within and outside the Johannine narrative. For example, the 4th century Bordeaux Pilgrim, who visited Jacob’s Well, evokes several parallels from both the Old and the New Testament: he describes also Mt. Gerizim, the tomb of Joseph (Josh. 24.32), recalls the rape of Dinah close to the well (Gen. 34.1), and mentions a modern baptistery “that is watered from this [Jacob’s] well”, underlying thus the baptismal character of the episode.58 Thus the transmission of the encounter at the well was visual, textual, and also reflected the embodied pragmatics of the late antique Holy Land, which was visited by elite Christian pilgrims. 3. Centonising John 4 The conversion of the Samaritan Woman in the Homeric Centos evokes a plethora of Patristic and Homeric intertexts.59 3.1. Jacob’s well and the ‘living water’ Il. 8.68 Il. 1.92 + Od. 17.204 Od. 17.205, the Spring at Itahca, ekphrasis Od. 17.206 Od. 17.208 Od. 17.209 Od. 10.105, The Laestrygoninan princess Od. 10.107 Od. 10.108

Ἦμος δ’ ἠέλιος μέσον οὐρανὸν ἀμφιβεβήκει, καὶ τότε ⸢δὴ⸣⸥ ⸤στείχοντες ὁδὸν κάτα παιπαλόεσσαν ἄστεος ἐγγὺς ἔσαν καὶ ἐπὶ κρήνην ἀφίκοντο (1055) τυκτὴν καλλίροον, ὅθεν ὑδρεύοντο πολῖται.. ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρ’ αἰγείρων ὑδατοτρεφέων ἦν ἄλσος, πάντοσε κυκλοτερές, κατὰ δὲ ψυχρὸν ῥέεν ὕδωρ. κούρῃ δὲ ξύμβλητο πρὸ ἄστεος ὑδρευούσῃ, ἣ μὲν ἄρ’ ἐς κρήνην κατεβήσατο καλλιρέεθρον (1060) ἀρτακίην· ἔνθεν γὰρ ὕδωρ προτὶ ἄστυ φέρεσκεν ἔνθα

When the sun in his course reached the middle of the sky, then they took the steep rocky path and came close to a city and arrived at a fountain, hand-sculpted, with 58 Itinerarium Burdigalense 588.2-5, ed. GEYER – CUNTZ 1965; ELSNER 2000, The Itinerarium Burdigalense, p. 186. On description of springs and wells in Itineraria as a sign of interested in female sexuality and in ‘life-giving water’ as a theological metaphor see ELSNER 2000, The Itinerarium Burdigalense, p. 191. 59 For the Samaritan Woman see also SOWERS 2010, Retelling and misreading Jesus and VERHELST 2019, Greek biblical epic. Both emphasising mainly the Homeric and not the exegetical appeal of the passage.

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crystal waters, where the town-people draw water. Around grew a grove of waternourished poplars, all around in a circle, and under flew cool water. There Jesus met a girl who came to draw water from the town; she came down to the beautiful fountain, the ever-flowing; from there she brought water to the city. There he went and sat and asked about everything; with sweet words he approached and spoke to her.

At the intratextual level the repetition of specific centos is important for the understanding of the composition of I HC as a whole as they help contrasting and comparing specific passages. In I HC the time of the day corresponds with that of the Crucifixion,60 weaving thus the whole poem around a kernel of theme-related meridian symbolism. The landscape of Samaria in the I HC is implicitly compared to Ithaca and Scheria:61 like Ithaca it is stony, like Scheria it has a tower and two ports, which has very little in common – only the walls and the mountain – with the actual landscape of Sychem.62 The well is pivotal in John and in the depictions of the miracle. The Ithacan setting of the passage is established by the ekphrasis of Jacob’s well crafted with lines belonging both to the description of the fountain at Ithaca and the spring in the land of the Laestrygonians. In fact, the Odyssey has several idyllic fountains that could lend themselves to centonisation.63 But the reprise of these very characteristic blocks of lines is indicative for the exegetical touch attempted here. First of all, it is the accent on the hand-made aspect of the fountain. In the Gospel it is important that the well is that of Jacob, providing an aetiology, but also a basis for the allegorical interpretation between Jacob’s ‘drawn water’ (Old Testament) and Jesus’ new ‘living water’ (New Testament) present in both Origen and Cyril of Alexandria.64 In Ithaca the handmade fountain is also an aetion.65 The Ithacan fountain is the one in the grove – though not the cave – of 60 Ι HC 1882. Observed by KARANIKA 2014, Female voice, p. 102. SOWERS 2010, Retelling and misreading Jesus, p. 33 emphasises the importance of powerful Homeric female models for upgrading the characterisation of the Samaritan Woman. 61 I HC 1054-1058 (Ithaca, the fountain) and I HC 1129 (Scheria, the two ports), SCHEMBRA 2006, La prima redazione, p. 330. 62 Contra the description of διερὴ Σικίμων in the 2nd c. Theodot, a Jewish epic poet, who describes it as a city among grassy and watery mountains, with a fort and a wall around, KUHN 2012, Die jüdisch-hellenisticher Epiker Theodot und Philon, p. 15. An observation for which I am thankful to Thomas Kuhn-Treichel. The most famous ancient cities with double ports were Corinth, with the ports Lechaina and Cechries on both sides of the Isthmus; the other was Sidon with a twin port, the one inside the other, cf. Ach. Tat. 1.1.2. Constantinople also had a double harbor, the Prosphorion of ancient Byzantium and the Neorion founded in the 4th c. Unless this is meant as an allusion to Constantinople, the verse is confusing as Sychem was on a mountain in a valley. 63 Cf. Od. 6.292, Nausicaa mentions a fountain in Athena’s grove on Scheria; at Od. 9.141 the source is Polyphemus’ cave; a source called Arethousa on Ithaca Od. 13.408, etc. 64 WILES 2011, The spiritual Gospel, p. 46. 65 On the foundation of the spring and the city cf. ScholV Hom. ad Od. 17.205. Eust. ad Od. 2.139, ὅτι κρήνη τις ἦν ἐν Ἰθάκῃ τυκτὴ, τουτέστι χειροποίητος, καλλίροος, ὅθεν ὑδρεύοντο πολῖται. ἀξία δὲ λόγου αὕτη τρεῖς ἔχουσα ἐπισκευαστάς· φησὶ γάρ· τὴν ποίησεν Ἴθακος καὶ

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the Nymphs, where there is an altar for the passer-by to sacrifice.66 Thus the context of the allusion to the Ithacan well in I HC assimilates a subtle allusion to what is a major theme in John 4.20 regarding the right place of worship and sacrifices to God (Gerizim vs. Jerusalem). The second cluster of lines is inspired by the description of Artacia in Laestrygonia and is also important not only because it highlights the connection between the princess, Eve and the Samaritan woman as negative foils and potential temptresses, but also because of its etymology, Ἀρτακίη in the Odyssey is a proper name but here it is an adjective. I follow here the excellent suggestion by Schembra who argues that the centonist was probably aware of an etymological interpretation of the name of the spring as conflating ἄρτι and κίεν, which is found in Eustathius,67 meaning ‘the ever-flowing’ spring. This might have accentuated the baptismal imagery of the ‘ever flowing’ waters that is also present in a parallel description of the water inside the jugs at Cana.68 3.2. The Characterisation of the Woman The passage needs to be studied (1.) in connection to John; (2.) intratextually (with other similar passages in I HC, such as the encounter of Eve with Satan and Mary with Gabriel); (3.) and intertextually (with regards to the Homeric hypotext). In I HC the encounter goes thus: Od. 17.70 ἔνθα καθέζετ’ ἰών, τῇ δ’ ἐξερέεινεν ἕκαστα Od. 24.393 Odysseus μειλιχίοις δ’ ἐπέεσσι καθαπτόμενος προσέειπεν· to old servant Dolius Od. 23.98 (the “τίφθ’ οὕτως ἀνδρὸς νοσφίζεαι, οὐδὲ παρ’ αὐτόν recognition scene, Telemachus

Νήριτος ἠδὲ Πολύκτωρ· ὧν ἐξ Ἰθάκου μὲν ἡ Ἰθάκη, ἀπὸ δὲ Νηρίτου Νήριτον ὄρος ἐκεῖ, ἀπὸ δὲ Πολύκτορος τόπος αὐτόθι Πολυκτόριον (“that there is a crafted source in Ithaca, hand made, beautiful, from where the citizens draw water. It is worth mentioning that it had three constructors: they say that Ithacus, Neritus and Polyctor made it; from Ithacus therefore is named Ithaca; from Neritus the mountain Neriton there; from Polyctor, the place there is called Polyctorion”). 66 Od. 17.2111. 67 SCHEMBRA, La prima redazione, pp. 321-322 on the manuscript tradition and on centonist being aware of the scholia thus offering the etymology here according Eust. ad Od. 1.371.22-25, παρ’ Ὁμήρῳ μὲν πηγὴ περὶ Λαιστρυγόνας, ἴσως μὲν ἱστορικῶς περιφερομένη, τυχὸν δὲ καὶ πεπλασμένη διὰ τὸ ἀένναον, παρὰ τὸ ἄρτι κίειν ὅ ἐστιν ἀναδίδοσθαι καὶ προιέναι ἢ ἀνακηκίειν, πρὸς ὁμοιότητα τοῦ, αἰεὶ νέον ἐρχομενάων (“in Homer there is a spring among Laestrygonians, passing from mouth to mouth either as history or more probably as fiction because of the ever-flowing: from ‘now going’ which means bursting forth and spring or swell up, from resemblance to ‘that issue for ever’ (Il. 2.87)”). 68 I HC 604, ὕδατ’ ἀενάοντα. For the baptismal symbolism here see LEFTERATOU forthcoming, The Cana wedding.

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Od. 23.99 to Penelope) Od. 6.286 Nausicaa to Odysseus Od. 6.287 Od. 6.288 Od. 23.100 Odysseus to Penelope Od. 23.101 Od. 23.103 Od. 24.126 Penelope’s cunning Od. 6.66 Nausicaa Od. 6.67 Od. 6.178 Od. 23.93 Penelope (the recognition) Od. 23.94 Od. 15.434 Il. 17.437 + Il. 21.468 Od. 6.289 + Od. 23.105 Od. 23.106 Od. 23.107 + Od. 6.221 Od. 17.273 Od. 4.347 Od. 4.348 Od. 4.350 Od. 11.507 Od. 6.194 Nausicaa to Odysseus Od. 3.361 Il. 9.603 Od. 8.236, Alcinous to Odysseus Od. 8.237 Od. 8.236 + Od. 6.191 Od. 6.192 + Od. 4.788 Il. 9.154 Il. 9.155 Od. 6.158 Odysseus to Nausicaa Od. 6.159 Od. 7.299

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ἑζομένη μύθοισιν ἀνείρεαι ἠδὲ μεταλλᾷς; (1065) καὶ δ’ ἄλλην νεμεσῶ, ἥ τις τοιαῦτά γε ῥέζοι, ἥ τ’ ἀέκητι φίλων πατρὸς καὶ μητρὸς ἐόντων ἀνδράσι μίσγηται πρίν γ’ ἀμφάδιον γάμον ἐλθεῖν. οὐ μέν κ’ ἄλλη ὧδε γυνὴ τετληότι θυμῷ ἀνδρὸς ἀποσταίη, ὅς τοι κακὰ πόλλ’ ἐμόγησε· (1070) σοὶ δ’ αἰεὶ κραδίη στερεωτέρη ἐστὶ λίθοιο”. ἡ δ’ αὖ ἠρνεῖτο στυγερὸν γάμον οὔτε τελεύτα. ὣς ἔφατ’· αἴδετο γὰρ θαλερὸν γάμον ἐξονομῆναι ἀνδρὶ φίλῳ· ὁ δὲ πάντα νόει καὶ ἀμείβετο μύθῳ· “ἄστυ τέ μοι δεῖξον, δός μοί θ’ ὕδωρ κορέσασθαι.” (1075) ἡ δ’ ἄνεω δὴν ἧστο, τάφος δέ οἱ ἦτορ ἵκανεν, ὄψει δ’ ἄλλοτε μέν μιν ἐνωπιδίως ἐσίδεσκεν. τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε γυνὴ καὶ ἀμείψατο μύθῳ, οὔδει ἐνισκήψασα καρήατα·⸥ ⸤αἴδετο γάρ μιν· “ξεῖνε,⸥ ⸤ἐπεὶ θυμός μοι ἐνὶ στήθεσσι τέθηπεν, (1080) οὔτε τι προσφάσθαι δύναμαι ἔπος οὐδ’ ἐρέεσθαι οὐδ’ εἰς ὦπα ἰδέσθαι ἐναντίον.⸥ ⸤αἰδέομαι γάρ. ῥεῖ’ ἔγνως, ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ τά τ’ ἄλλα πέρ ἐσσ’ ἀνοήμων. ταῦτα δ’ ἅ μ’ εἰρωτᾷς καὶ λίσσεαι, οὐκ ἂν ἐγώ γε ἄλλα παρὲξ εἴποιμι παρακλιδόν, οὐδ’ ἀπατήσω· (1085) τῶν οὐδέν τοι ἐγὼ κρύψω ἔπος οὐδ’ ἐπικεύσω, πᾶσαν ἀληθείην μυθήσομαι, ὥς με κελεύεις, ἄστυ δέ τοι δείξω, ἐρέω δέ τοι οὔνομα λαῶν. εἶμ’, ἵνα θαρσύνω ἑτάρους εἴπω τε ἕκαστα. ἔρχεο· ἶσον γάρ σε θεῷ τίσουσιν ἅπαντες. (1090) ξεῖν’, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἀχάριστα μεθ’ ἡμῖν ταῦτ’ ἀγορεύεις, ἀλλ’ ἐθέλεις ἀρετὴν σὴν φαινέμεν, ἥ τοι ὀπηδεῖ, ξεῖν’,⸥ ⸤ἐπεὶ ἡμετέραν τε πόλιν καὶ γαῖαν ἱκάνεις, οὔτ’ οὖν βρώσιος δευήσεαι οὔτε⸥ ⸤ποτῆτος. ἔνθα δ’ ἄνδρες ναίουσι πολύρρηνες πολυβοῦται, (1095) οἵ κέ σε δωτίνῃσι θεὸν ὣς τιμήσουσι. κεῖνος δ’ αὖ περὶ κῆρι μακάρτατος ἔξοχον ἄλλων, ὅς κέ σε ἔδνοισι βρίσας οἶκόνδ’ ἀγάγηται. ξεῖν’, ἦ τοι μὲν τοῦτό γ’ ἐναίσιμον οὐκ ἐνόησα,

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Il. 10.384 Od. 6.187 Od. 1.174 Od. 1.170 Od. 6.154 […] Od. 8.461 Nausicaa to Odysseus Od. 8.462 Od. 8.467 Od. 8.468 Od. 8.487 Il. 24.111 Zeus to Thetis Il. 24.425 Od. 3.361

ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπὲ καὶ ἀτρεκέως κατάλεξον· (1100) ξεῖν’, ἐπεὶ οὔτε κακῷ οὔτ’ ἄφρονι φωτὶ ἔοικας, καί μοι τοῦτ’ ἀγόρευσον ἐτήτυμον, ὄφρ’ ἐῢ εἰδῶ· τίς πόθεν εἰς ἀνδρῶν; πόθι τοι πόλις ἠδὲ τοκῆες; τρισμάκαρες μὲν σοί γε πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ. […] χαῖρε, ξεῖν’, ἵνα καί ποτ’ ἐὼν ἐν πατρίδι γαίῃ (1115) μνήσῃ ἐμεῖ’, ὅτι μοι πρώτῃ ζωάγρι’ ὀφέλλεις. τῷ κέν τοι καὶ κεῖθι θεῷ ὣς εὐχετοῴμην αἰεὶ ἤματα πάντα· σὺ γάρ μ’ ἐβιώσαο κούρην ὦ ξεῖν’, ἔξοχα δή σε βροτῶν αἰνίζομ’ ἁπάντων, αἰδῶ καὶ φιλότητα τεὴν μετόπισθε φυλάσσω. (1120) ὦ ξεῖν’, ἦ ῥ’ ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἐναίσιμα δῶρα διδοῦναι. εἶμ’, ἵνα θαρσύνω ἑτάρους εἴπω τε ἕκαστα”.

There he went and sat and asked about everything; with sweet words he approached and spoke to her: “Why do you forsake your man, and you do not sit with him, engage with him and talk? For truly I resent a woman who does such things, who without the consent of her dear father and mother chats with men before officially marrying. No other woman would bear in her heart to stay away from her husband, who has suffered so much. But your own heart has always been harder than a stone.” But she was not refusing the hateful wedding, nor was she giving it an end. And so he spoke; for she was ashamed to call by name the blissful marriage to a dear man. But he who knows everything answered in return: “Show me the city, give me water to quench my thirst.” There she stood silently, her heart fully amazed, and she would look at him fully upon his face. So the woman addressed him and said, lowering her head to the floor, for she was ashamed of him: “Stranger, since my heart is stunned, I cannot address you a word and I cannot ask you, I cannot even see you straight in the eye; for I am ashamed. You know (all this) clearly, for you are not unintelligent otherwise. For these you are asking me and seek to learn, I cannot tell another tale beside the mark, I cannot deceive you. From these I will hide nothing from you and I will not conceal anything. I will tell you the full truth, as you request it; I will show you the town, and tell you the name of the people. I am going to hearten my townsfolk and bring them the truth. Come! Each and every one of them will honour you as if a god! Stranger, as you discuss with us not gracelessly, and you wish to reveal your grace that follows you, stranger, upon arriving to our city and land, you will not have to worry any more about food and water. Here dwell people rich in sheep and cattle flocks, they shall honour you with gifts, and most blessed in heart will be the one who will win you with dowry and take you (to his) home. Stranger, I may not have understood that properly, but come, and tell me, explain me the truth! Stranger, for you do not look like an evil and senseless man, explain me all this in truth, so that I may understand well: Who are you among men? What is your city? Who are your parents? Thrice blessed shall be your father and your revered mother. […] Stranger, fare well, and if and when you arrive to your homeland, remember me, for

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first to me you owe the ransom for your life. For there too I shall pray to you as a god for the eternity, for you brought me to me life, as a maiden. Stranger I praise you above all men, and I will treasure in the future your respect and your friendship! Stranger it is good and praiseworthy to give presents. I am going to hearten my townsfolk and bring them the truth.

Unlike John’s brevity, the treatment of the passage in I HC includes lengthy monologues that contribute to the characterisation of the participants. In I HC Jesus is described as a foreigner (ξεῖνος), focalising thus the episode from the point of view of the woman and not of Jesus or his disciples, unlike John.69 Unlike the Gospel where Jesus simply asks the woman for water to drink, here he first taunts her in a lengthy digression about her ways, thus setting up a strong erotic and moralising context. Contrarily to the Vorlage, the woman seems to recognise Jesus immediately as she tells him that, shall he come to the city, the citizens will honour him like a god (1090). Most importantly, Jesus does not proclaim here himself to be the Messiah but recognition relies on the woman’s intuition alone: she names him god (1090, 1096, 1157, θεόν) and later a healer (1134, ἱητρόν) though as early as v. 1089 she is eager to go and preach her fellow citizens, a line repeated at v. 1122, in the speech’s ring composition.70 The disciples are nowhere in this revision whose second part focuses on the witness speech of the woman in Sychem, an important diversion from the original. At the intratextual level (2.) the passage suggests a strong connection between Mary, Eve and the Samaritan woman, just as in Ps. Chrysostom and Ephraim. In I HC Eve meets Satan at the well, while the Samaritan Woman meets Jesus in a similarly loaded erotic atmosphere at Jacob’s Well. Whereas Satan tries to win over Eve, Jesus taunts her.71 Moreover, earlier in the poem the reader saw how cautiously Mary responded to the good news of Gabriel, since, she is afraid that someone might tempt her.72 In contrast to the naiveté of Eve and the reluctance of Mary, the Samaritan Woman displays particular boldness since she holds her ground. The reuse of similar Homeric lines to describe the reaction of all three women to their male interlocutors strengthens the characterisation of each of them but also highlights the unity of the poem’s composition around shared themes.

69 Cf. PG 58.537, “and she sees Jesus as some stranger (ξένον), and alone as a wanderer (ὁδοιπόρον).” On the female focalization here see also KARANIKA 2014, Female voice, p. 103. 70 Cf. I HC 1089, εἶμ’, ἵνα θαρσύνω ἑτάρους εἴπω τε ἕκαστα and at v. 1122. 71 I HC 39 (Eve) and 1059 (Samaritan); II HC 185 (Eve) and 909 (Samaritan): κούρῃ δὲ ξύμβλητο πρὸ ἄστεος ὑδρευούσῃ. 72 I HC 259-268 ~ Od. 23.213-217. The issue of morality goes beyond the choice between marriage or virginity as argued by SOWERS 2010, Retelling and misreading Jesus, p. 29.

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The intertextual reading (3.) of the passage alongside the Iliad and the Odyssey supports and amplifies these findings.73 The reworking of the encounter is consistently wrought around the meeting of Odysseus with Nausicaa in Book 6 and 874 and the slow recognition between Odysseus and Penelope in Book 23.75 Of particular importance is the assimilation of Jesus to Odysseus. Below I will begin with the Homeric characterisation of the Samaritan woman and continue with that of Jesus. The connection between the two positive female Odyssean characters, Nausicaa and Penelope, has long been noticed by both ancient and modern commentators: Eustathius, for example, mentions Odysseus’ charm with women (φιλογύναιον) and their fondness of him (διὰ τὴν γυναικοφιλίαν), from Circe and Calypso, to Helen and Athena, to Nausicaa and Penelope.76 In modern analyses Nausicaa exemplifies the adolescent love, while Penelope the mature woman and both embody the marital ideal: upon leaving, Odysseus wishes Nausica finds someone like-minded (homophrosyne), an allusion to his own relationship to Penelope.77 The I HC blend the two passages in one line, sharing hemistichs from both Odyssey 23 and 6.78 Yet in the narrative plan of the I HC, the famous speech on homophrosyne79 is mentioned earlier at I HC 62-65 by Satan, who uses it ironically: he tries to convince Eve to eat the forbidden fruit by telling her this will strengthen her marriage. For Eve, Nausicaa is one of the positive epic models,80 while the daughter of the carnivore king of Laestrygonians is the negative one.81 For an audience that would have already linked Nausicaa and the Laestrygonian princess earlier the reuse of these models for the Samaritan Woman would have prompted further associations between Eve and the Samaritan: unlike Satan who seduces Eve, Jesus’ taunts the woman and restores the marital ideal that is exemplified in the hypotext alluding to the reunion / recognition of Penelope and Odysseus. Thus the reader of the I HC is encouraged to read John 4 in the light of the Temptation and interpret Jesus as the woman’s spiritual betrothed, On intertextuality in cento poetry see BAŽIL 2009, Centones christiani, pp. 34-42. In a total of 107 lines on the Samaritan these are overwhelming numbers: Od. 6 (Odysseus and Nausicaa): 18 lines I HC 1066-1067, 1073-1075, 1080, 1082, 1088, 1094, 1097-1098, 1101, 1103, 1113-1114, 1125-1126, 1145; Od. 8 (Odysseus at Alcinous’ palace incognito, farewell with Nausicaa): 21 lines, I HC 1053, 1091-1092, 1105-1106, 1108-1111, 1115-1119, 1128-1130, 1132, 1136, 1139, 1153-1155, 1160. 75 Od. 23 (Odysseus and Penelope): 10 lines, 1064-1065, 1069-1071, 1076-1077, 1080, 1081, 1121. The passage as a hospitality type scene is fully analysed by USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, chapter 7. See also SOWERS 2010, Retelling and misreading Jesus, pp. 30-31 and VERHELST 2019, Greek biblical epic, p. 19. 76 Eust. ad Od. 1.234. 77 AUSTIN 1975, Archery, pp. 214-217; VAN NORTWICK 1979, Penelope and Nausicaa; and KATZ 1991, Penelope’s renown, p. 136. 78 I HC 1082 ~ Od. 23.107 and 6.221. USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, p. 302. 79 Od. 6.181-184. 80 For Eve in the I HC, see LEFTERATOU 2020, Deux chemins d’apprentissage. 81 SANDNES 2011, The Gospel, p. 190. 73 74

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as in Origen and Ephraim.82 This spiritual matrimonial union is further showed in the gift / dowry metaphor in I HC 1097-1098 of Nausicaa’s dowry presents (ἔδνοισι) alluding to Odyssey 6.158-159. Yet, whereas in Homer Odysseus utters these words, in the Christian poem, they are placed in the woman’s mouth, swapping the gender roles and empowering the woman.83 The Nausicaa-Penelope models foil the understanding the conversion of the woman. The Nausicaa foil appears first in Jesus’ words about the disrespectful woman at I HC 1067-1069 entangled with Odysseus’ complaint about the ‘stone heart’ of his wife.84 The Samaritan Woman is depicted as a cunning Penelope but also as reluctant Nausicaa, as she is not able to confess her sin and desires.85 The unawareness of Nausicaa, who ignores the stranger’s identity, contrasts the slow and intuitive recognition inspired from Odyssey 23 that resumes at I HC 1081 with Penelope’s / Samaritan Woman’s repentance about her earlier life. Still, like the Phaeacians and Penelope in Book 19,86 the woman pressures Jesus to reveal his origin, his parents and motherland. These foils were not compulsory for centonising the Samaritan Woman and in other versions of the Centos we have different hypotexts.87 The choice therefore of Penelope in this edition, is a conscious choice enhancing the nuptial symbolism of the passage:88 by confessing Jesus to be the Messiah the woman recognises in him her long-lost suffering husband.89 Accordingly, the emphatic interrogation about Jesus’ origin in I HC could be interpreted as a sign of the woman’s eagerness to learn and confirm her intuition that the one who stands in front of her is indeed a god.90 Her belief is such that, like Nausicaa, she prays that he remembers her when he returns:

JENSEN 2011, Living water, Fig. 6.9, 194 Restituta. Cf. USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, p. 306, for other occasions as a case of Verfremdung from the original. CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), p. 50 sees in it a general allusion wedding imagery. Still, there is a biblical precedent, cf. in Orig. in Cant. 13.3.47, it is the Queen of Sheba (embodying the Church of the Gentiles) that brings to Salomon presents, munera digna Christo. 84 I HC 1064-1065 and I HC 1069-1071. 85 I HC 1072-1073 ~ Od. 24.126 and 6.66. 86 Cf. esp. I HC1107 ~ Od. 19.163, οὐ γὰρ ἀπὸ δρυός ἐσσι παλαιφάτου οὐδ’ ἀπὸ πέτρης, a line that had become proverbial. Apion De Glossis fr. 98; Sext. Emp. Adv. Mathem. 11.161; Clem. Alex. Protr. 2.38 and Strom. 2.20.124. 87 I HC 1103-1112. 88 This needed not to be so; e.g. the II HC 898-940 does not include lines from the recognition scene at all and emphatically present the woman as an avatar of Nausicaa (positive temptress) against the Laestrygonian princess (negative temptress), whereas the inquire about his origin is only three-lines long. 89 Cf. I HC 1070 ~ Od. 23.101, ὅς τοι κακὰ πόλλ’ ἐμόγησε. 90 USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, p. 286 interprets it as a case of convoluted formulaic gnomic verses that were useful for mnemonic technique. Again the parallel episode in the II HC 922, where the woman ‘recognises’ him as ἐναίσιμον, righteous, is theologically weaker than the one in the I HC. 82 83

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μνήσῃ ἐμεῖ’, ὅτι μοι πρώτῃ ζωάγρι’ ὀφέλλεις.91 Although the line might appear puzzling – God is the source of life and redemption, not the woman – the verse should be read as an interpretatio Christiana since it vividly recalls the prayer of the bandit to Jesus on the Cross: μνήσθητί μου, Κύριε.92 Accordingly, the woman seeks remembrance and redemption at the spiritual level, as the first witness. On the other hand, it is tempting to read also the passage in the light of Mary / Eve / Samaritan woman metaphor as life-givers: as in Ephraim’s Hymn 23, the line may imply that the gift of Jesus’ ‘human life’ at the Incarnation is owed to women.93 Regarding the use of the disguised Odysseus as a foil for Jesus in this passage, I haver argued elsewhere that beggars in I HC bear Odyssean characteristics and that allusions to the homeward voyage, similarly to the Neoplatonic belief, are a hint to the soul’s travel in the material world and return to heaven.94 Jesus is represented through Odysseus at the moment of his arrival at Ithaca as a beggar illustrating his future sufferings in the flesh. 3.3. The Samaritan Woman as an Orator Of particular importance in I HC is the amplification of the woman’s speech in Sychem after her meeting with Jesus. By contrast to John I HC attributes to the woman a lengthy monologue: Il. l.428 Od. 12.407 Od. 6.262 Od. 6.263 Od. 1.323 Od. 8.497 Od. 8.11 Od. 8.12 ? Od. 8.491 Od. 9.14

91

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασ’ ἀπεβήσατο, τὸν δ’ ἔλιπ’ αὐτοῦ, ἡ δ’ ἔθει οὐ μάλα πολλὸν ἐπὶ χρόνον· αἶψα γὰρ ἦλθεν. αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν πόλιος ἐπεβήσατο ἣν πέρι πύργος (1125) ὑψηλός, καλὸς δὲ λιμὴν ἑκάτερθε πόληος, θάμβησεν κατὰ θυμόν· ὀΐσατο γὰρ θεὸν εἶναι. αὐτίκα καὶ πᾶσιν μυθήσατο ἀνθρώποισι· «δεῦτ’ ἄγε, Σικήμων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες, εἰς ἀγορὴν ἰέναι, ὄφρα ξείνοιο πύθησθε, (1130) ὅς πέρ μοι βίον εἶπε καὶ ἔργματα καὶ νόον αὐτόν, ὥς τέ που ἢ αὐτὸς παρεὼν ἢ ἄλλου ἀκούσας. τί πρῶτον, τί δ’ ἔπειτα, τί δ’ ὑστάτιον καταλέξω;

I HC 1115 and Od. 8.462. Lk 23.42, SCHEMBRA 2006, La prima redazione, p. 325. USHER 1998, Homeric stitchings, p. 118, reads is as a case of Verfremdung and role-reversals. For Jesus’ life as the ransom of his friends’ human souls see also Par. 15.51, τοσσατίης ἀγάπης ἑτέρην οὐκ οἶδα νοῆσαι, | λύτρον ἑῶν ἑτάρων ζωάγριον. 93 Cf. also Mary at the Well at Dura Europos in PEPPARD 2016, The world’s oldest church, p. 156. 94 LEFTERATOU 2017, Late antique epiphanies; on the Christian Odysseus theme see PÉPIN 1982, The Platonic and Christian Ulysses. 92

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Od. 4.231 Od. 4.232 […] Od. 17.373 Od. 3.69 Od. 1.406 Od. 1.407 Od. 6.201 Od. 16.196 Telemachus and Odysseus Od. 16.197 (the recognition) Od. 16.198 Od. 3.246 Od. 4.247 Odysseus’ disguise in Troy Il. 23.469 Il. 23.470

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ἰητρὸς δὲ ἑκάστῳ ἐπιστάμενος περὶ πάντων ἀνθρώπων· ἦ γὰρ Παιήονός ἐστι γενέθλης. (1135) […] αὐτὸν δ’ οὐ σάφα οἶδα, πόθεν γένος εὔχεται εἶναι· νῦν δὴ κάλλιόν ἐστι μεταλλῆσαι καὶ ἐρέσθαι ὁππόθεν οὗτος ἀνήρ, ποίης ἐξ εὔχεται εἶναι γαίης, ποῦ δέ νύ οἱ γενεὴ καὶ πατρὶς ἄρουρα. οὐκ ἔσθ’ οὗτος ἀνὴρ διερὸς βροτὸς οὐδὲ γένηται· (1145) οὐ γάρ πως ἂν θνητὸς ἀνὴρ τάδε μηχανόῳτο ᾧ αὐτοῦ γε νόῳ, ὅτε μὴ θεὸς αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼν ῥηϊδίως ἐθέλων θείη νέον ἠδὲ γέροντα. ὥς τέ μοι ἀθάνατός γ’ ἰνδάλλεται εἰσοράασθαι, ἄλλῳ δ’ αὐτὸν φωτὶ κατακρύπτων ἤϊσκεν. (1150) ἀλλὰ ἴδεσθε καὶ ὔμμες· οὐ γὰρ ἔγωγε εὖ διαγινώσκω· δοκέει δέ μοι ἔμμεναι ἀνήρ».

Thus she spoke and went away, and left him there. But she did not run for long, soon she came back again. She went up the city where was a tall tower, and below a lovely double harbour from both sides of the city. Her heart was amazed; for she understood him to be a god. Immediately she talked to all men: “Come here, all you leaders and councillors, come to the sacred forum, so that you learn about the stranger, who told me my life and deeds and even my thoughts, as if he himself a witness or having heard from another. What shall I say first, what later, what for conclusion? He is a healer who knows everything for all humans; truly he is of Paeon’s (the heeler of the gods) generation […] I am not aware with certainty from which family he prides himself to come from; now though it is better to ask and question (him), from where is this man, from which land he says he comes; where is his family and where his motherland. Nor would a mortal man come up with such things, with his own mind, unless a god overwhelmed him, who can easily turn the old man into a youngster. To me of course he appears an immortal one, as I look upon him, though in disguise as a mortal man. But come, stand up, and see for yourselves; for I do not know clearly; he seems to me a mortal man.

The speech of the Samaritan woman in John 4.29, according to the ancient commentators, was problematic. Origen for example asks how the woman to whom the truth has been already revealed still questions whether this is really Christ, while Cyril attributes her attitude to a need to craftily deliver her message.95 In the I HC this second speech is a highly competent exercise in the 95 Orig. PG 13.31.190; Cyril shows that the woman plans her speech so as not to scare her fellow citizens, in Jo 1.289 (PUSEY), “you see how skillfully she conversed with the Samaritans.

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woman’s ethopoea96 and demonstrates her rhetorical skill:97 she first invites the Sychemites to hear about the man; then she ponders how to start and continue, and asks a rhetorical question.98 She then carefully compares him to a healer (ἰητρός),99 pretends not to know his origin, calls him a holy man or non mortal (1144, διερὸς βροτός; 1146, οὐ θνητὸς ἀνήρ), before confessing he is the immortal god (1146, θεός; 1149, ἀθάνατος); and then again she regresses (1051, οὐ … εὖ διαγινώσκω), a case of dubitatio / aporia,100 ending the ring composition that began with the rhetorical question, passing thus the judgment over to her fellow citizens.101 The woman’s rhetorical skill engages her audience in the recognition process undermining the recognition of the townsfolk in John.102 The woman then is presented as a convincing orator, probably an erudite woman of her own times, once more strengthening the appeal of this passage to a female audience but also the attribution of the work to a female author. 4. Paraphrasing John 4 Paraphrasis 4 begins with alluding to the events in Book 3 and Book 5 thus tightening the coherence of John’s Gospel.103 Jesus is not only falsely accused of baptizing more than John (John 4.1) but Nonnus creates a seamless link

She does not immediately say that she has found the Christ … she prepares them ahead of time with wonder.” 96 Cf. similar hypothetical cases where the students of an orator had to compose a fictional speech for a fictional situation (often, but not exclusively) inspired by mythological topics. Cf. a farmer (Hermog. Prog. 9.30), the repenting whore (Lib. Prog. 18), but also on Christian topics, such as Cain in the P. Bodm. 33. MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in context, pp. 316-327, HURST – RUDHARDT 2002, Le Codex des visions, pp. 119-126 and which will become very popular in Byzantine progymnasmata, e.g. Nicephor. Basil. 38. 97 In Ephraim’s Hymn 22.6 the Samaritan Woman appears equally skilled at defending herself, see Beck ad loc on disputatio. In the II HC 919-926 the woman talks for only 8 lines, whereas Jesus addresses her in one line, II HC 917. 98 Cf. Schol. in Ael. Aristid. 94.12 (Jebb), comparing speech openings in Homer and Demosthenes. 99 For the metaphorical allusions to Paeon, the healer of the gods, see SCHEMBRA 2006, La prima redazione, p. 330. 100 Quint. 9.2.19, “again, hesitation may lend an impression of truth to our statements, when, for example, we pretend to be at a loss, where to begin or end, or to decide what especially requires to be said or not to be said at all,” transl. BUTLER 1922; Quintilian proposes to fake ignorance also when passing on judgment. 101 The term διαγιγνώσκω was, among other, a law-term (determine or decide a suit) e.g. Antiph. 6.3 (used in the captatio benevolentiae), Lys. 7.22, Dem. Or. 28.10 (before the testimonies); contra SCHEMBRA 2006, La prima redazione, p. 329, who argues that the uncertainty is the result of the woman’s lack of precise knowledge regarding Jesus’ nature. 102 Cf. also the testimony of the Sychemites who believe because they themselves have seen / heard Jesus and not because of the woman, John 4.42. The passage as indicative of the embodied faith, cf. Orig. in Jo, PG 13.53, 363. 103 Cf. AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), pp. 61-65, with references to water and baptismal themes throughout the Par.

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between the baptismal imagery throughout the first books. The baptismal theme returns early in the Paraphrasis 4 focusing on the material aspect of water104 contrarily to the heavenly nature of Jesus’ own baptism.105 4.1. Symbolic Geography and Jacob’s Well The arrival of Jesus at Samaria through Galilee is ideologically loaded in book 4.9-10, and develops a theme established in Book 2:106 Jesus comes to the land of the “affectionate (φιλοστόργων) Galileans”, the avatar of the gentiles, leaving behind the “faithless rage of the uncharmable (ἀκηλήτων) Pharisees”. Samaria, on the other hand, as it is the case in Cyril,107 lurks somewhere between the two: the geographical precision γαίης μεσσατίης (12) can be read against Dionysius Periegetes’ description of Mesopotamia.108 Samaria then becomes a centre that destabilises the power of the (other and main) centre, Jerusalem, an idea found in the patristic exegesis and mainly in Cyril. The shift of focus from centre to periphery is endorsed by the description of Samaria, which as in the I HC gives an opportunity for an ekphrastic digression that makes of the place a kind of a locus amoenus. Though in the I HC the place is surrounded by a grove here the paraphrast follows John and describes Jacob’s vineyard, a Dionysiac and Christian imagery.109 Moreover, by amplifying John, Nonnus’ Jacob draws from the muddy well “nether (18, νέρτερον) water”, the water of Judaism as in Origen which is to be contrasted to Jesus’ heavenly one.110 It is on this basis that the theme of the spiritual water will be developed.

Par. 4.2, ἀμφὶ λοετρῶν; Par. 4.5, ὕδατι βαπτίζει; Par. 4.7, οὐ βάπτιζεν ἐν ὕδασιν. Par. 3.27, πνεύματος ἐξ ἁγίοιο καὶ ὕδατος εἰν ἑνὶ θεσμῷ. 106 For Cana as symbolizing Jesus’ invitation to the nations in Nonnus see LEFTERATOU forthcoming, The Cana wedding. 107 Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.173 (= 1.264 PUSEY), “Lord Jesus does not yet strip them (Jews) from grace. He does nevertheless draw out the blessing to others little by little … depicted typologically by the nature of his action. That they (Jews) will presently undergo a complete loss of grace and will send their own good possession, that is the Christ, to others (καὶ εἰς ἔθνη λοιπὸν ὁ θεῖος ἐκδράμοι λόγος).” 108 Dionys. Per. 994-997, a propos of Mesopotamia who is encircled by the rivers Tigris and Euphrates and very prosperous because of that without human interference: ὅσση δ’ Εὐφρήτεω καὶ Τίγριος ἔνδοθι γαῖα, | τήνδε περικτίονες Μέσσην ποταμῶν ἐνέπουσιν. | οὐ μέντοι κείνης γε νομοὺς ὠνόσσατο βούτης, … οὐδὲ μὲν ὕλην παντοίην φυτοεργὸς ἀνὴρ ἀθερίσσατο καρπῶν. This is a case of Kontrastimitation. In the Periegesis Mesopotamia is a natural paradise, whereas Sychem becomes one because of Jacob’s labour. 109 Cf. CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), p. 158 on Icarius Dion. 47.125 and Jacob as φυτοεργοί. 110 CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV) attributes the references to mud to Nonnus’ debt to Greg. Naz. and the references to the under-worldly water to the dualism between the world and Christ, material and immaterial. 104 105

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4.2. From ‘Living Water’ to ‘Life-Giving Water’ In Nonnus’ Book 4 water is mentioned not less than 18 times,111 and Jesus is hailed as Lord of Waters, ἄναξ ὑδάτων.112 The adjectives used to describe water in this Book are various and besides a study in poikilia they hint to a deep symbolic treatment of the Vorlage. John’s water is living (4.10, 4.11, ὕδωρ ζῶν) and its source becomes a “πηγὴ ὕδατος ἁλλομένου εἰς ζωὴν αἰώνιον” (4.14). Accordingly in the poem there are two kinds of water: (a) Mortal water is νέρτερον 19; it is liquid, ὑγρόν, as it springs from an earthly bossom (χθονίου κόλπου), an earthly spring (44, ἐπιχθονίης πηγῆς), or “earth born” (62, χθονίων λαγόνων; 58, πεδοτρεφές);113 it is a gift of hospitality (29, ξεινήιον); it is ephemeral (45, 62, μινυώριον); it is sufficient to satisfy human thirst (58, ἄρκιον); it is forcefully drawn (74, ἀρύειν βεβιημένον); (2.) Divine water is eternal and living (65, αἰώνιον ζωόν); it is wise (47, σοφὸν ποτόν); it is “life producing” (48, φυσίζοον); it is water migrating from the heavens (52, μετανάστιον); it is a “foreign life-giving water” (54, ζείδωρον ξένον); it is “life supporting” (71, βιοτήσιον) as the woman observes at the end in an embedded metapoetic comment contrasting the other flamboyant predicates used to describe John’s ‘living water’; ultimately, in a wonderful digression, divine water is described as having a divine noetic origin, “leaping from the spiritual depths with a God-whirled quivering, | from an innermost spring, an ever-revived, steadfast water.”114 In Nonnus ‘living water’ is transformed into a ‘life giving water’ and has a distinct baptismal character. The imagery of (re)birth connects this passage with the corresponding discussion about the recreational potential of baptism that took place in the Nicodemus episode, were baptism is equated to a mimema of female birth.115 Cyril too briefly describes the breastfeeding power of Jesus’ heavenly water.116 Similarly in Book 4 Nonnus understands ‘living water’ as not only of heavenly origin but as a birth-giving element through a conglomeration

111 Par. 4.5, 4.7, 4.19, 4.23, 4.27, 4.29, 4.35, 4.45, 4.47, 4.48, 4.52, 4.54, 4.57, 4.61, 4.65, 4.68, 4.71, 4.74. 112 Par. 4.27, CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), p. 167; cf. also Romanos Hymn 19.4.1, Χριστὸς, φησίν, ὁ πηγάζων | πηγὴν ζωῆς τοῖς ἀνθρώποις … ἐπεκάθητο πηγῇ. Cf. also Ps. 28.3, ὁ κύριος ἐπὶ ὑδάτων πολλῶν. 113 Cf. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.183, τῶν νοητῶν ὑδάτων πρὸς τὰ ἐν αἰσθήσει καὶ γεωδέστερα. 114 Par. 4.67-68, ἁλλόμενον νοεροῖο βυθοῦ θεοδινέι ῥιπῇ | πηγῆς ἐνδομύχοιο παλιμφυὲς ἔμπεδον ὕδωρ. Echoing here Cyril’s distinction between the noetic waters (τῶν νοητῶν ὑδάτων) and the material (πρὸς τὰ ἐν αἰσθήσει καὶ γεωδέστερα). 115 Par. 3.27-29, “unless a man cleanses his body with cleansing baths | of holy spirit and water joined in one rite, | and receives a more recent, unsown beginning and birth, | in the imitative form of women’s labor.” See further the detailed analysis by ROTONDO 2017, Ascoltare, vedere, credere, ch. III. 116 Though Cyril briefly also includes a nursing metaphor, in Jo, PG 73.6.180, τὸ νεωστὶ τῶν πηγαίων ἀνομβρῆσαν μαστῶν.

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of imagery related to female physiology: Jacob’s well is characterised as βαθύκολπος (17), a Homeric adjective used for women’s clothing; water and the womb, as elsewhere in Nonnus,117 appear entangled, e.g. ὑποβρυχίων κόλπων (51); χθονίου / χθονίοιο κόλπου (22, 52); χθονίων λαγόνων (62); βυθίων λαγόνων (74), even details that do not exist in the Vorlage such as the movement of the hands pulling the pitcher from the deep well (52, χερσὶν ἀμοιβαίῃσιν) hint at the physical labour of drawing water, of birth, and eventually of illumination.118 The maieutic imagery applied to Nicodemus is equally at play here, and particularly highlighted in the Nonnian formula εἰς φάος ἕλκων, reused thrice alone in Book 4, for all those who, like the woman, come to see the true light.119 Just as baptism is a second birth so is Jesus’ teaching intended so as to bring forth a newly born human being, one that is able to recognise / confess Jesus as the Messiah. Though we are still far from Ephraim’s explicit association of the Samaritan Woman and Mary, Nonnus’ reworking of John 4 abounds in birth-related imagery, much more than John’s Gospel or Cyril’s Commentary. What is also important is the theme of hospitality, an epic theme that we also observed above in I HC, that is not necessarily found in John. The contrast between Jesus’ ‘hospitality-gift’ (29, ξεινήιον) and the woman’s attribute ‘strange / foreign’ (54, ξένον) to water is striking but also illuminating: Jesus asks for water from a stranger’s palm as a sign of hospitality, a theme repeated here120 and throughout the Paraphrasis.121 In fact, elsewhere Jesus is consistently portrayed as a foreigner and a vagabond, whose real ‘origin’ are the heavens.122 Through a play of alliteration and paretymology (ξειν- / ξεν-),123 the woman asks the stranger for ‘ξένον’ water – whereas previously Jesus asked for water as a ‘ξεινήιον’ – reverting the roles of the guest and of the host. The interpretation is further enhanced by the word’s multiple connotations. In fact, the adjective ‘ξένος’, meaning both ‘strange’ and ‘foreign’, See GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 26-29. On φωτισμός in Nonnus see DOROSZEWSKI 2014, Commenting, on the Nicodemus passage, also highlighting some of the similarities with the Samaritan Woman. 119 Par. 4.4, Ἰησοῦς ὅτι φῶτας ἀλήμονας εἰς φάος ἕλκων | ὕδατι βαπτίζει (the baptised disciples); Par. 4.61, Ἰησοῦς ἐδίδαξεν ἀπ’ ἀχλύος εἰς φάος ἕλκων (the Samaritan woman); Par. 4.246, εὐσεβίης ὅλον οἶκον ἀμεμφέος εἰς φάος ἕλκων (the household of the nobleman). The formula thrice in the Dionysiaca: 2.337, 4.439, 11.380; cited again in Jo. Malalas 10.12 (Jesus’ miracles). Probably the formula could be read as Kontrastimitation with its Homeric forerunner that was gnomic, where sun is succeeded by darkness and not vice versa as in the Christian context; Il. 8.485, ἐν δ’ ἔπεσ’ Ὠκεανῷ λαμπρὸν φάος ἠελίοιο | ἕλκον νύκτα μέλαιναν ἐπὶ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν, Strab. 3.2.12, Heraclit. Alleg. 45.2. 120 In Par. 4.37 the woman’s hand is described as ἀηθέος παλάμης (‘a stranger’s palm’). 121 Cf. Lazarus as host (ξεινηδόκος, 11.40, 11.54), Abraham as host (ξεινοδόκοιο, 8.107). 122 Cf. Par. 1.31 (the Jews do not honour Jesus) ὡς ξένον οὐκ ἐγέραιρον; Par. 8.54-55, ξεῖνος ἔφυν κόσμοιο καὶ οὐ βροτὸν οἶδα τοκῆα·| ξεῖνος ἐγὼ κόσμοιο καὶ αἰθέρος εἰμὶ πολίτης; Par. 17.50, ἐγὼ κόσμοιο πέλω ξένος. 123 Ν.b. ξεινήιον (δῶρον) is the gift not the stranger (ξένος, ξεῖνος). 117 118

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reflects the overall fascination of the paraphrast with copies, or antitypes of the heavenly world into the real world, a recurrent theme in the Dionysiaca and in the Paraphrasis.124 The theme of the ‘foreign’ water culminates in the woman’s description of the water as μετανάστιον (52), an adjective coined by Nonnus to describe wanderers,125 but, and most importantly in the Paraphrasis, those ‘returning to / from’ Heavens.126 This same adjective is also used for the wine of heavenly origin found in the jugs at Cana (2.47, μετανάστιον ὕδωρ) linking thus tightly the Cana episode to the Samaritan Woman through eucharistic imagery: for a Christian audience it would have been impossible not to discern in the adjective μετανάστιος,127 beyond its epic wandering connotations, an allusion to Christian resurrection, the ἀνάστασις par excellence, foreshadowed through baptism and communion. In Nonnus’ exegesis, therefore, water, a gift of hospitality, becomes an estranged, foreign, heavenly liquor that guarantees this life and the next, an ideal, return-gift, an antidoron. The Paraphrasis touches also upon another favourite topic of the Church Fathers, the abandoned pitcher (4.28), symbolising the relinquishment of the material for the immaterial.128 In Nonnus, the pitcher is left next to the “Godreceiving spring” (137, θεοδέγμονι), an idea found in Origen,129 and the Samaritans come to join Jesus “marching from the city towards the mouth of the spring near to God” (ἐς ἀγχιθέου στόμα πηγῆς).130 These exegetical touches show the importance the source acquires through Jesus’ teaching, and in Nonnus’ times it was indeed a place of pilgrimage as discussed above. Since the Paraphrasis develops the second part of John 4 Nonnus takes the opportunity to expand on the eucharistic character of the miracle: when the disciples arrive bringing him food, Jesus uses the adjective ‘βιοτήσιος᾽ to now compare the ‘living water’ to the ‘living food’.131 He furthers associates his own immaterial ‘food’ to the mission of his father,132 inspired by Origen.133 Thus Nonnus

Par. 9.7, ξένον ὄμμα (the fake eye of the Man born Blind); 19.124 τύπον ξένον (Jesus’ garment). Cf. also the synonyms νόθος (2.78 and 117, 8.114, 13.20, 19.8), esp. the Pharisees as sham disciples at 9.141; the disciples at 6.214, 15.78, and 17.49; fake prophets / Messiah at 5.165 and 168; The adjective ἀηθής (not customary) 5.33 and 56; and 10.18, 11.124, 19.79 (ἀηθέα κοίρανον, a strange master), 19.123, 3.68, 9.43. 125 Or fugitives as the Baptist at 1.63, the wandering disciples at 6.207, and the wandering Jews at 6.176. 126 E.g. the Paraclete at 14.62, Elijah at 1.71. 127 Not the interpretation found in DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 153 and 157. 128 Cf. Orig. PG 13.51; Cyr. Alex. PG 73.6.194. 129 Cf. Orig. PG 13.31.187. 130 Passage prominent in erotic connotations; cf. for example Jo. Chrys. in Cant. 6.32, ἡ δὲ πηγή ἐστι τοῦ νυμφίου τὸ στόμα. 131 Cf. Par. 4.71, βιοτήσιον ὕδωρ and Par. 4.152, ἄλλην δαῖτα βιοτήσιον. 132 John 4.34, βρῶμά ἐστὶ ἵνα ποιῶ τὸ θέλημα τοῦ πέμψαντός με. 133 Orig. PG 13.219-220, 228, 230. 124

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emphasises food (156, εἶδαρ) as well as water (156, ποτόν) expanding on the eucharistic potential of Book 4 and highlighting the unity of John 4. 4.3. The Samaritan Woman as a Philosopher The Samaritan Woman in the Paraphrasis is referred to as a woman (25, 28, 33, γυνή), and not as a young girl as in the I HC, or as female (34, θυλητέρης). To Jesus’ questions she appears curious (33, φιλοπευθέι μύθῳ), although unable to grasp the divine truths revealed to her (48 μὴ νοέουσα; 79, ἀγνώσουσσα) and even naïve (87, vοὐτιδανή). Throughout the encounter she appears increasingly amazed and puzzled (49, θάμβος με ἔχει; 86, θαμβαλέη), though willing and begging to learn (70, ἱκέτευε πειθήμονι φωνῇ). Still, despite the potential in the woman, Jesus before the final revelation scrutinises her belief: first he talks with riddles (42, ἀσημάντῳ μύθῳ); then he tries to teach (61, ἐδίδαξεν) and then to test (76, ἐπειρήτιζε) the woman, who only now is described as “woman of many husbands” (76, πολύανδρος),134 before listening to her reply.135 The allusion to the woman’s erotic past influences the interpretation of the passage: the epic verb ‘πειρητίζω’ has the meaning ‘trying, test’ but in a Christian poem it might bear semantic connotations of the Christian notion of peirasmos. By meeting and discussing with such a woman, Jesus mingles with a possible temptress while he might be tempted and tempting her in return. In this dialogue with the woman Jesus first addresses her as the Son of Man and eventually as God (82-83, θεὸς δ᾽ἤλεγξε γυναῖκα). The Nonnian revision illustrates above all Jesus’ teaching method. The verb ἐλέγχω, which does not exist in the Vorlage (4.17, λέγει), is here indicative of Nonnus’ philosophical reworking of John 4. Elenchus was Socrates’ maieutic method, whose integral part was aporia. The technique included a claim, which was to be proven false and then corrected or refuted. If applied to the Samaritan Woman she falsely claims not being married, although the one she lives with is not her legitimate husband. As a result, Jesus challenges and guides her to refute her case.136 A crucial step to her realisation are the repeated comments about her astonishment, her own aporia,137 that lead to the confession that he is indeed godly, as in I HC. In the Paraphrasis the woman further confesses him to be a “god-

134 The adjective πολύανδρος is used for the Samaritan Woman first in Asterius’ in Ps. hom. 25.13, ὡς γὰρ ἡ πολυανδρία ἀνανδρία and in Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.317 (= 1.288 PUSEY), πολύανδρος γυνή. 135 In John 4.17, no characterisation of the woman is offered in advance. On temptation see ROTONDO 2017, Ascoltare, vedere, credere, p. 1347. 136 Cf. also Orig. in Jo, PG 13.8.48, ἔδει ἐλεγχθῆναι. 137 For the method here cf. also Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.180 (= 1.268 PUSEY), ἀρχὴ μαθήσεως ζήτησις … ἐπαπόρησις.

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speaking man, a prophet” (139, θεηγόρον ἄνδρα προφήτην; 88, θεοπρόπον ἄνδρα πορφήτην).138 Nonnus here amplifies an idea found in the Commentary: Cyril observes that the woman does not shy away from the revelations and the taunting but gradually raises herself to contemplate the truth with her heart’s eye.139 He also praises the gradual revelation of Jesus’ identity as a kind of spiritual pedagogy:140 like Socrates who guides his interlocutors as a mid-wife to give birth to the truth,141 the rabbi guides the woman from ignorance to knowledge. Cyril evokes the Platonic metaphor of the labouring soul142 that became popular in the Neoplatonic late antique koine, both pagan and Christian.143 Both then the description of the birth-giving qualities of divine water and the description of the woman’s progressive revelation turn Nonnus’ episode into a birth-related allegory about the transformation of the naïve woman into an apostle and a seer, who confesses Christ with “oracular voice” (122, μαντώδεϊ φωνῇ). Nonnus embeds the maieutic imagery by reusing it also in his description of the townsfolk who join Jesus as if “stung into frenzy for God by one mind-enchanting word” (145, εἰς θεὸν οἰστρηθέντες ἑνὶ φρενοθελγέι μύθῳ),144 an allusion to the gadfly metaphor.145

CAPRARA 2005, Nonnos, Parafrasi (IV), p. 245 as amplification. Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.183 (= 1.273 PUSEY), “she is in no way disturbed by the accusations (πρὸς τοὺς ἐλέγχους ἀσχάλλουσα) … she ascends in some measure to a vigorous mind and stretches the eye of her heart to an unaccustomed understanding of things (εἰς ἀήθη πραγμάτων θεωρίαν).” Observe the paretymological play between the woman’s confession at John 4.19 (θεωρῶ ὅτι προφήτης εἶ) and Platonic theoria. On prophesy in Nonnus here see ROTONDO 2017, Ascoltare, vedere, credere, pp. 143-144. 140 Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.193c (= 1.286 PUSEY), ἐκ μικρᾶς παιδαγωγίας; Cyril here presents Jesus’ method as ideal for those teaching and preaching at churches the catechumens. 141 Pl. Tht. 1491-151d, Socrates as the midwife. 142 Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.6.191 (= 1.285 PUSEY), “Christ reveals himself not to untaught or completely unlearned souls, but shines forth and appears to those souls who are already more prepared to want to learn and who, giving birth (ψυχαί … ὠδίνουσαι, 127) to the beginning of faith in simple words, hasten on toward the knowledge of the more perfect.” Cf. PENDER 1992, Spiritual pregnancy, argues that Plato employs a male and a female way of talking about pregnancy, depending on his audience – male for the first, mixed for the latter. In Nonnus we see that both in the Nicodemus passage and in the Samaritan woman it is female pregnancy that is the focus. 143 Cf. Plot. Enn. 5.3.17, Method. Olymp. Symp. 8.6, Jo. Chrys. PG 49.310, etc. 144 Cf. also Greg. Naz. Carmina Moralia (522), οἷς ζωὴν χθονίην χαμάδις βάλε παρθένος οἶστρος, | πρὸς Θεὸν ὑψιμέδοντα νόου πτερὸν ἔνθεν ἀείρων. 145 Pl. Ap. 30e. The Platonising tint in the Paraphrasis is not unique: according to Socr. Hist. Eccl. 3.15-16, Apollinaris the younger, a sophist, turned the letters of Paul into Platonic dialogues. Cf. also the mosaic depicting Socrates and his disciples in Apamea in mid-4th c. that shows clear Neoplatonic and maybe Christian influences CHARALABOPOULOS 2007, Two images of Sokrates. 138 139

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4.4. On Worship and Epiphany Yet, unlike the I HC, the Parphrasis is also interested in other topics whose symbolism is crucial for Nonnus’ understanding of the passage. Whereas the I HC focuses on ethopoea, the Paraphrasis focuses on issues of true worship. The elaborated mystery terminology of Book 4 is treated fully in Doroszewski,146 who shows persuasively that the Jewish rituals are presented through the lens of pagan, Bacchic, mystery and orgiastic terminology. Christian exegetes had long associated Jesus’ ‘living water’ as the opposite of Jewish worship and tried to replace the idea that “salvation comes from the Jews” (4.22), with Jesus’ promise as forshadowing his invitation to the nations.147 Nonnus further offers an elaborate description of ritual proskynesis at lines 110-118 which has its parallel in Cyril’s lengthy digression about true worship and humility again alluding to the supposedly correct worship perfomed by the gentiles.148 Moreover, Nonnus underlines the epiphanic nature of the meeting much more than the I HC: not only is it noon,149 but also the revelation to the woman that he is the Messiah is underlined by a gesture of silence (130, δάκτυλον αὐτοβόητον ἀναυδέι ῥινὶ πελάσσας),150 so is the revelation to his disciples about the other food (150, χειρὸς ἀφωνήτοιο νοήμονι μάρτυρι σιγῇ). In the Greek context it is not unusual that a god asks a mortal to keep the epiphany silent.151 In an Egyptian context, nevertheless, this gesture would have been reminiscent of the popular visual representations of the child Horus / Harpocrates,152 who is depicted in a hushing posture – index finger in front or next to his mouth. Harpocrates’ index finger was thought to be a gesture bidding silence in the presence of divine mystery.153 In late antiquity Harpocrates was conflated with Dionysus154 and his terracotta figurines were popular in Fayum and throughout Egypt as they were part of the domestic lore. He was celebrated together with Isis at the winter solstice, the Pelusia, a festival heavily criticised by Tertullian as a mock-baptism ceremony, since it included water /

DOROSZEWSKI 2016, The mystery terminology. Orig. in Jo, PG 14.4.229; Cyr. Alex. PG 73.6.178. 148 Cyr. Alex. in Jo, PG 73.5.186ff. (= 1.277ff. PUSEY). On Nonnus see ROTONDO 2010, p. 143. 149 See CAPRARA 2005, Nonno, Parafrasi (IV), p. 5, on the “meridian circumstance”. 150 See HADJITTOFI forthcoming, Nonnus of Panopolis, ad loc. associating lines 130 and 150. 151 Cf. h.Aphr. 291, Aphrodite to Anchises; and also in the cento treatment of the blind man in I HC 924, on which see LEFTERATOU 2017, Late antique epiphanies, pp. 282-283. 152 I am indebted to Fotini Hadjittofi for pointing out to me that the gesture of Jesus is modeled on Harpocrates. 153 Cf. Plut. De Is. Et Os. Mor. 378b, ἐχεμυθίας καὶ σιωπῆς σύμβολον. 154 MATHEWS – MULLER 2016, The dawn of Christian art, pp. 85-99, Fig. 3.4 in discussing the forerunners of Christian icons, includes a discussion of the Cairo Harpocrates / Dionysus painting (JE31568), a Hellenised version of Harpocrates / Horus. See also a Roman hymn to Harpocrates in hexameters in BORTOLANI 2016, Magical hymns, Hymn 5 (PGM IV 939-948). 146 147

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washing ritual.155 Harpocrates was also depicted, together with his hushing index finger, as breastfeeding from Isis, foreshadowing the later representations of Mary with the Child.156 Harpocrates’ syncretism with Dionysus then might have been easily transferred and projected, in an Egyptian milieu, onto Jesus. In Nonnus, then, the encounter of Jesus with the Woman at the Well acquires an extra highlighted epiphanic character, merging Christian imagery to GraecoEgyptian mystery symbolism. 5. Afterthoughts Far from being exhaustive the analysis of 1 HC and the Paraphrasis shows that the differences between the two classicising poems are more important that the similarities. Whereas both poems take the opportunity to ekphrastically describe Jacob’s Well following the rhetorical commands and aesthetics of their times, and whereas both poems make of Jesus a ξένος, a stranger and a wanderer moulded on the Odyssean foil, the theological and rhetorical agenda of the two poems diverge significantly. The I HC focalises the incident through the eyes of the woman and attempts a thorough ethopoea of her. On the theological plan it emphasises the nuptial and eucharistic imagery. By contrast, the Paraphrasis, despite its allusions to wedding and eucharistic imagery, seems concerned with the baptismal and epiphanic symbolism of the passage. It reworks then the scene as a kind of philosophical, quasi-Platonic dialogue, portraying Jesus as Socrates and also as an avatar of the Egyptian god of divine silence, Harpocrates / Horus. Whereas I HC seem more keen in the enactment off the encounter and adventure elements, such as characterisation and recognition, the Paraphrasis, following the Alexandrian tradition is particularly keen in reading John 4 allegorically in sets of opposition between the material and the immaterial, as seen in the wonderfully illustrated case of the abandoned pitcher next to the “god-receiving spring” (137, θεοδέγμονι). Thus, although both poems touch upon the contemporary exegetical approaches of the story, they emphasise and treat it differently. In reworking then the episode of the Woman at the Well, Eudocia and Nonnus not only reinterpret the passage in classicising metre and manner but also project on it the Graeco-Roman cultural ideology by transposing the dialogue into a highly sophisticated rhetorical and philosophical conversation about salvation: such an encounter could have taken place either in Samaria, in Scheria, or even at the banks of the Ilissos.

Tert. De bapt. 5.1, see GRAF 2011, Baptism, pp. 105-106. Cf. On the type of Isis lactans see PATERSON CORRINGTON 1989, The milk of salvation, and MATHEWS – MULLER 2016, The dawn of Christian art, p. 99. 155 156

PART SIX: MULTIPLE CROSSINGS. NONNIAN POETRY AND THE WORLD OF LATE ANTIQUITY

XVIII. NONNUS OF PANOPOLIS BETWEEN POETRY AND RHETORIC: THE ENCOMIUM OF BERYTUS (DION. 41.14-154) Cristiano MINUTO

Book 41 of Nonnus’ Dionysiaca opens with a long encomium of the city of Berytus (vv. 14-154), which is preceded by a brief invocation to the Muses of Lebanon (vv. 10-13). The encomium of Berytus can be categorized as a particular typology of encomium, that of a city, which was developed, in literature, and theorized, from a rhetorical point of view, during the Imperial age.1 After its first mentions which we read in Pseudo-Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Quintilian and Pseudo-Hermogenes,2 where the τόποι ascribed to the encomium of a city are the same as those to the encomium of a person,3 it is in the course of the 2nd century, with Aelius Aristides, that the first complete examples of encomia of cities appear:4 one might think of the speeches by that rhetor in honour of Athens, Smyrna and Rome.5 Finally, in the 3rd century, with the Books 2 and 3 of the First Treatise and Chapter 3 of the Second Treatise attributed to Menander Rhetor, the encomium of a city receives its final rhetorical codification.6 Since the encomium of Berytus composed by Nonnus is part of this rhetorical tradition, my aim is to study it from a rhetorical point of view. I will therefore try to highlight its relationship with the guidelines for the encomium of a city provided by the rhetorical manuals and in particular by Menander Rhetor’s two Treatises. I do not have the intention to prove that Nonnus, in the act of 1 See PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, pp. 79-82; GASCÓ 1998, Menander Rhetor, pp. 3118-3126. 2 See Dion. Hal. Rhet. 1.228 Usener – Radermacher; 5.256-257 Usener – Radermacher; Quint. 3.7.26-27; [Hermog.] prog. 7.15.197-198 Patillon. 3 On this assimilation, see PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, pp. 189-202. 4 See PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, p. 80; VALLOZZA 1994, Enkomion, p. 1156. 5 See Ael. Aristid. 1 Lenz – Behr (Athens); 17 and 21 Keil (Smyrna); 26 Keil (Rome). On the relationship between Aelius Aristides and the Roman Empire, see PERNOT 2008, Aelius Aristides, pp. 175-201. From a strictly poetic perspective, an encomium of Rome was composed by Melinno (Suppl. Hell. 541), a female Greek poet who probably lived in the 2nd century B.C. On this poem in Sapphic verses, see BOWRA 1957, Melinno’s Hymn, pp. 21-28. 6 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.346-3.367 Russell – Wilson; 2.3.382-388 Russell – Wilson. On the τόποι of encomium included in the treatises by Menander, see PERNOT 1986, Les topoi de l’éloge, pp. 33-53. On the figure of Menander Rhetor and his production, see GASCÓ 1998, Menander Rhetor, pp. 3110-3146; HEATH 2004, Menander, pp. 93-213. On the problems linked to the authorship of the First Treatise, see RUSSELL – WILSON 1981, Menander Rhetor, pp. XXXI-XL; PERNOT 1986, Les topoi de l’éloge, p. 34; GASCÓ 1998, Menander Rhetor, pp. 3113-3115.

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writing, mechanically reproduced the norms included in such manuals, but that he was indirectly influenced by them. As a matter of fact, he surely attended the late antique school and he came in contact with its rhetorical teaching there;7 therefore his education must have left traces in his work. In the course of the analysis some analogies between the themes developed by Nonnus in the encomium at hand and those present in encomia of cities composed by Aelius Aristides will be underlined. Such analogies seem to confirm, if not a direct knowledge of Aelius Aristides’ orations, the existence of a repertoire of conventional motifs for the encomium of a city, a repertoire that, developed in the frame of the Second Sophistic, was received by later authors as well. In the following pages, the encomium of Berytus will be divided in three parts: the geographical description of the site of Berytus (vv. 14-49), the antiquity of the city and the myth (vv. 51-142) and the virtue of justice (vv. 143154).8 1. The Geographical Description of the Site of Berytus (vv. 14-49) The encomium of Berytus opens with a geographical description of the natural site of the city (vv. 18-49),9 preceded by a brief section where Nonnus seems to contrast Berytus with Tyre (vv. 15-17).10 The geographical description is articulated in three sections: vv. 18-27 (the city’s eastern part), vv. 28-37 (the north-western part), vv. 38-49 (the south-western part). The temperate climate and the healthy quality of the air in the eastern part are praised for favouring agricultural productivity: a breeze, “source of life” (βιοσσόος αὔρη, v. 20) and “fragrant winds” (εὐόδμοις ἀνέμοισι, v. 21) blow in this area, making it a natural home (δόμος, v. 22) for farmers, peasants and shepherds (vv. 18-27). Moving on to the north-western part, the poet describes

7 On how the antique education system worked in the Egyptian city of Panopolis, see MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2008, Poems in Context, pp. 264-370. 8 As it can be seen, v. 50 is excluded from our analysis: it refers to Tyre and not Berytus, and for this reason, it appears to be out of place after v. 49. See ACCORINTI 1997, Note critiche ed esegetiche, pp. 353-354; ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 180; CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLI-XLIII), p. 158. 9 On the ἔκφρασις of Berytus, see FABER 2016, Nonnus and the Poetry of Ekphrasis, pp. 451452. On the relationships between this ἔκφρασις and the structure of the Dionysiaca, see LAURITZEN 2012, À l’ombre des jeunes villes en fleurs, pp. 210-213. On the descriptions of cities in Nonnus’ poem, see AGOSTI 2014, Contextualizing, pp. 150-155. For a general discussion on the ἔκφρασις in the late antique age, see TISSONI 2000, Cristodoro, pp. 45-54. As VILJAMAA 1968, Studies in Greek Encomiastic Poetry, pp. 15-17 notices, the rhetorical exercise of ἔκφρασις in the late age has a close relationship with the encomium (ἐγκώμιος). 10 See CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 198, with the footnotes in ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), pp. 174-175. See also the observations in CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLI-XLIII), pp. 154-155. On the entire descriptive sequence of vv. 14-17, see ACCORINTI 1997, Note critiche ed esegetiche, pp. 350-351.

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the cliff and the harbour, and celebrates its waters that are rich in fish through a metaphor focused on the humanization of the marine element:11 Berytus is Poseidon’s companion, who receives countless fish as a wedding gift (vv. 28-37) from her “watery husband” (ὑγρὸς ἀκοίτης, v. 30).12 In the conclusion, Nonnus focuses on the south-western part, highlighting the beauty of the landscape and the lush vegetation: trees and grapes prosper in the gardens; a road protected by shade is offered to travellers and a thick forest lines the coast and resounds at the whistle of Zephyrus (vv. 38-49). Starting the encomium of a city with the description of its geographical characteristics is a procedure mentioned in the manuals of rhetoric and included by Aelius Aristides in his own encomia of cities. The first τόπος that Menander Rhetor illustrates when explaining how to construct the encomium of a country or a city is the description of the nature (φύσις) and the geographical location (θέσις)13 of the country or city being praised;14 Aelius Aristides’ encomia of Athens and Rome both start with an ἔκφρασις of the natural site of these two cities.15 However, the influence that rhetoric has on our encomium is not only proved by its position at the beginning of the natural-geographical τόπος, but also and especially by the way this τόπος is developed by Nonnus: the motifs on which the poet insists in praising the site of Berytus (the temperate climate and healthy air, which favour the productivity of the soil; the waters of the harbour rich in fish; the beauty of the landscape and the lush vegetation) are all motifs which are present in the rhetoric of the encomium. According to Menander Rhetor, when describing the geography of a city it is important to assess its condition “in respect to the sky and the seasons” (κατὰ τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ τὰς ὥρας) and to ponder the climate and the production of the city.16 The ideal condition is for the climate to be temperate: a temperate climate offers the advantages of clean air and a fertile soil.17 These are the same characteristics which Nonnus ascribes to the eastern part of Berytus (vv. 18-27) and which also appear in Aelius Aristides’ encomia. The rhetor praises Athens’

11 On the humanization of landscape in the Dionysiaca, see GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 195-202. 12 On this periphrasis, see CRIBIORE 1996, Gli esercizi scolastici dell’Egitto greco-romano, p. 522. 13 On the difference between φύσις and θέσις in the encomium of a city, see PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, pp. 203-204. 14 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.344-353 Russell – Wilson. See also Men. Rhet. 2.3.383-384 Russell – Wilson. 15 See, respectively, Ael. Aristid. 1.8-23 Lenz – Behr; 26.6-13 Keil. 16 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.347-348 Russell – Wilson. 17 See Quint. 3.7.27; Men. Rhet. 2.3.383 Russell – Wilson; PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, pp. 206-207. On the theory of climates, see FERRARY 1988, Philhellénisme et impérialisme, pp. 382-394.

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temperate climate and its abundant and excellent agricultural production;18 when describing Smyrna, he observes that sweet spring breezes blow through the city.19 In addition to the climate, Menander Rhetor recommends specifying the precise geographical location of the city being praised: it is necessary to state “whether it is located inland or along the coastline” (ὅπως κεῖται πρὸς ἤπειρον, ὅπως πρὸς θάλασσαν) and, in the case of a maritime city, what the characteristics of its harbour are. If the city is inland, one needs to praise the safety of its position, which keeps it safe from the dangers of the sea; if the city instead is by the coastline, it is indispensable to list all the goods coming from the sea.20 As for the harbour, it is interesting to notice that Menander Rhetor uses the figure of speech of personification to provide examples of how to praise the benefits the sea blesses the city with. The harbour takes the sailors to its bosom (κόλπῳ) and offers a warm welcome to those coming from the sea with its hands (χεῖρας).21 It therefore seems meaningful that Nonnus, in describing the harbour of Berytus, mentions the waters rich in fish (vv. 33-34, “the goods coming from the sea” which Menander Rhetor talks about) and exploits the figure of speech of personification, not applying it to the harbour itself, but to the action of the sea (Poseidon), which offers the city of Berytus (his bride) an abundance of fish as a wedding gift (vv. 28-34). Similar details can be found in the encomium of Athens and in the first speech for Smyrna by Aelius Aristides: the rhetor depicts the harbour of Athens in an anthropomorphic manner, stating that it opens its arms to welcome sailors, and celebrates the waters rich in fish of Melete, the river of Smyrna.22 The very same river, in the second speech written by Aelius Aristides for Smyrna, is compared to a city’s lover, unable to separate from her,23 quite like the love uniting Poseidon and Berytus in Nonnus’ encomium. Finally, when describing the geography of a village (χώρα),24 Menander Rhetor recommends analysing all the natural beauties (τὰ κάλλη), the lush 18 See Ael. Aristid. 1.18 Lenz – Behr and the commentary by OLIVER 1968, The Civilizing Power, p. 96. In the same speech (Ael. Aristid. 1), see also 352 (Athens’ climate is excellent; a gentle breeze brings pleasure everywhere) and 353 (Athens’ air is the best and the purest one). 19 See Ael. Aristid. 17.12 Keil. According to Dio Chrysostom, the soils of Tarsus and Apamea are fertile and productive and provide their inhabitants with everything they need to live. See, respectively, Dion. Chrys. 33.17 Lamar Crosby and 35.13 Lamar Crosby. On these two orations, see DESIDERI 1978, Dione di Prusa, pp. 122-131. 20 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.348-349 Russell – Wilson. 21 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.351-352 Russell – Wilson. 22 See, respectively, Ael. Aristid. 1.10 Lenz – Behr and 17.15 Keil. See also Ael. Aristid. 17.22 Keil (the gulf of Smyrna and the many docking sites); 26.13 Keil (the sea and the harbour of Rome). 23 See Ael. Aristid. 21.15 Keil. 24 On the relationship between χώρα and πόλις, see PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, p. 203.

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vegetation (τὰ φυτά) and “everything growing in it” (τῶν ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ βλαστημάτων).25 Nonnus also follows this recommendation: in describing Berytus’ south-western part, he underlines the beauty of the scenery and mentions the many trees and vineyards growing in that area (vv. 38-49). The beauty of Berytus’ scenery cheers the spirits of those who glance upon it (v. 38), not unlikely the beauty of Athens or Smyrna celebrated by Aelius Aristides, which strike an impression upon the visitors, who stand amazed and stunned.26 2. The Antiquity of the City and the Myth (vv. 51-142) The central part of the encomium of Berytus celebrates the antiquity of the city’s inhabitants (vv. 51-66) and of the city itself (vv. 67-96),27 followed by a mythological digression on the landing of Aphrodite in Berytus (vv. 97-128) and the birth of Eros (vv. 129-142).28 The first inhabitants of Berytus were contemporaries of Dawn, created by Nature29 through the combination of the four elements and the insufflation of vital breath (vv. 52-57).30 Nature gave these men “perfect form” (εἶδος τελεσφόρον, v. 58) and made them “like the gods” (θεῶν ἴνδαλμα, v. 65): they therefore were very different from the horrendous Cecrops, an imperfect and biform being, and from the wild Erechtheus, both ancient inhabitants of Athens (vv. 58-64). After praising the antiquity of the first inhabitants of Berytus, Nonnus praises the antiquity of the city. By adapting a famous episode from Hesiod’s Theogony31 to Berytus’ mythology, the poet states that the city was built by Cronos32 at the time when he vomited up the children he had previously devoured because of the stone he had swallowed on Rheia’s advice. At the time, Zeus was still an infant and there was neither lightning nor thunder,

See Men. Rhet. 2.3.383-384 Russell – Wilson. See, respectively, Ael. Aristid. 1.12 Lenz – Behr and 17.9-10 Keil. 27 The emphasis on the theme of chronological priority is underlined by the frequent use of the term πρῶτος, alone or in compounds. See CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLI-XLIII), p. 13. 28 On the numerical balance, characterizing the parts in which this section of the encomium is articulated, see ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 158. For this aspect of Nonnus’ writing technique, see CHUVIN 1992, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (VI-VIII), pp. 30-31, 63-65, 76-77; VIAN 1995, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XI-XIII), pp. 255-258. 29 On the role of Φύσις in the Dionysiaca, see VIAN 1993, Préludes cosmiques, pp. 41-42. 30 This type of anthropogony is influenced by a scientific tradition, on which see SCHMIDT 1978, Atome, pp. 137-143. CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 213, instead, sees the influence of Philo of Byblos and the Jewish-Phoenician tradition. 31 See Hes. Theog. 485-497. 32 The motif of the antiquity in a city founded by a god in a primeval age is a τόπος of the πάτρια. See GIGLI PICCARDI 1990, La ʽCosmogonia di Strasburgoʼ, p. 15; PERNOT 1993, La rhétorique de l’éloge, p. 183 n. 308. 25 26

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nor the sombre roar of the rain (vv. 68-82).33 Nonnus claims for Berytus the first position in the history of all foundations: the city is more ancient than Tarsos, Thebes, Sardis, Argos and Arcadia. A contemporary of Αἰών, Berytus is even more ancient than the sun and the moon: emerging out of primordial chaos, it was the first to receive their light (vv. 83-96).34 This second part of the encomium concludes with a mythological digression, its protagonists being Eros and Aphrodite. Immediately after her birth in the sea, Aphrodite swam35 past Paphos, Byblos, the beach of Colias and the city of Cythera, to land in Berytus (vv. 97-118). When the goddess arrived, the harbour was covered in seaweed and the beaches were reddened in rose bushes; springs of wine and milk started flowing spontaneously36 and their scent travelled through the air, carried by a perfumed breeze (vv. 119-128).37 It was at Berytus’ harbour that Aphrodite conceived Eros. The god, kicking the womb of the mother, was born early and jumped into Aphrodite’s arms, throwing himself at her bosom, hungrily suckling on the milk from her firm breasts (vv. 129-142).38 From a rhetorical perspective, this central part in the encomium of Berytus is inspired by the second τόπος recommended by Menander Rhetor when praising a city: its origin (γένος).39 A theme included in this τόπος is that of the city’s first inhabitants (οἱ οἰκήσαντες), whose virtues (ἀρεταί), have to be highlighted stating whether they were barbarians or Greeks. In the first case, one will say that their line was ancient (πρεσβύτατα), very wise (σοφώτατα), highly royal (ἀρχικώτατα), or that they possessed some other excellent virtue. In the second case, one will say that the Greeks “belonged to very noble γένη” (τῶν εὐγενεστάτων γενῶν), like the Dorians, the Aeolians and the Ionians.40 The virtues that Nonnus 33 The anaphora of negatives to describe in terms of an absence the moment preceding creation is typical of cosmogonic texts. See DAVIES 1988, ’Ere the World Began to Be, pp. 15-24; GIGLI PICCARDI 1990, La ʽCosmogonia di Strasburgoʼ, pp. 141-142. 34 Also the detail of the most ancient city preceding all the others in receiving the light of the sun is a τόπος of the πάτρια. See GIGLI PICCARDI 1990, La ʽCosmogonia di Strasburgoʼ, pp. 16-18. 35 As KNOX 1988, Phaethon, p. 538, explains, this is one of the five description of a naked bath in the Dionysiaca which does not have erotic consequences. 36 The prodigious flowing of liquids is a detail usually associated to Dionysus or members of his host (see, for example, Eur. Bacch. vv. 704-713), with implications entering the sphere of the cult and the sacred. See DODDS 1960, Euripides, pp. 163-164; ROUX 1972, Euripide, pp. 465-468. 37 All these miracles are attributable to the more general fertilizing power of Aphrodite, the goddess who promotes union not only in the divine, human or animal world, but in nature as a whole. See Hymn. Hom. Ven. 1-44; CÀSSOLA 1975, Inni omerici, pp. 227-252. 38 For the nurturing scenes in the Dionysiaca, see NEWBOLD 2000, Breasts and Milk, pp. 11-23. On the fortune of Nonnus’ episode of the birth of Eros, reprised by Marino in his Adone, see MINUTO 2015, Giovan Battista Marino, pp. 745-757. 39 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.353-359 Russell – Wilson. 40 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.353-354 Russell – Wilson.

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attributes to Berytus’ first inhabitants are their perfect form and their resemblance to the gods (vv. 58 and 65): these two virtues are contrasted with the imperfect and horrendous nature of the two ancient inhabitants of Athens, Cecrops and Erechtheus (vv. 58-64). Berytus’ first inhabitants are not described as barbarians, nor as Greeks, but as extremely ancient men, almost mythological in nature, as their birth shows: they are the product of Nature, which combined the four elements, bestowing the vital breath on them and generating a line with no wedding, no father, no birth and no mother (vv. 52-57). In so doing, Nonnus’ intention seems to be to emphasize the autochthonous nature of Berytus’ first inhabitants, a reason for praise which had been exploited also by Aelius Aristides concerning the first inhabitants of Athens and Smyrna. The rhetor underlines the fact that they were ancient men, born in that place and not foreigners and for the Athenians he specifies that they were generated directly by the soil.41 This clarification reminds of the genealogy of Berytus’ first inhabitants, who were generated by Nature. When talking about the origins of a city, it is necessary to speak of its founder too (ὁ οἰκιστής), who can be a god, a hero or a mortal. If it is a god, the encomium is the greatest of all (μέγιστον τὸ ἐγκώμιον), as in the case of Hermopolis (founded by Hermes) and Heliopolis (founded by the son of the Sun).42 It seems obvious that Nonnus, ascribing a divine founder to Berytus (Cronos), intends to list the encomium of this city in the category of the “greatest encomia”. What the discourses in our encomium about Berytus’ first inhabitants and its founder have in common is the focus on the motif of antiquity, also typical of the praising τόπος of the origins. Menander Rhetor provides precise information about how to praise the antiquity of a city, starting from the precondition that “the most ancient” also means “the most honourable” (φήσεις τὸ πρεσβύτατον τιμιώτατον εἶναι).43 If a city is ancient, one can praise it by stating that it arose before the stars or together with the stars, before or after the deluge: so the Athenians brag about having been born together with the sun, “the Arcadians before the moon” (Ἀρκάδες δὲ πρὸ σελήνης)44 and the Delphians immediately after the deluge.45 The astronomical references provided by See Ael. Aristid. 1.25 Lenz – Behr (Athens’ inhabitants); 17.5 Keil (Smyrna’s inhabitants). See Men. Rhet. 1.2.353 Russell – Wilson. On these two cities, see RUSSELL – WILSON 1981, Menander Rhetor, p. 254. 43 Quintilianus (3.7.26) also observes that antiquity gives remarkable prestige in the encomium of a city. 44 Nonnus seems to have remembered this example at v. 90: Ἀρκαδίη προσέληνος. On the extreme antiquity of the Arcadians, a common motif in Hellenistic poetry, see Callim. Aet. fr. inc. sed. 110.11 Massimilla (with the commentary by MASSIMILLA 1996, Callimaco, p. 445); Callim. Ia. 1 fr. 191. 56 Pfeiffer; Callim. fr. inc. auct. 777 Pfeiffer; Ap. Rh. 4.264-265; Lycophr. 482. 45 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.354-355 Russell – Wilson. On these examples, see RUSSELL – WILSON 1981, Menander Rhetor, p. 255. 41

42

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Menander Rhetor are taken up and led to the extreme by Nonnus: not only Berytus appeared before the stars, but it also predates the sun and the moon (v. 91). The antiquity of Berytus is also highlighted through two conventional motifs in the rhetoric of the encomium: the link between the foundation of the city and Zeus’ childhood (vv. 77-82) and the comparison with other later foundations (Tarsos, Thebes, Sardis, Argos and Arcadia, vv. 85-90). In his first speech for Smyrna, Aelius Aristides reminds the readers that the most ancient site of the city was on the Sipylus and that its foundation dates back to the time on that mountain the Curetes danced after Zeus’ birth.46 Σύγκρισις is described by Menander Rhetor as a useful instrument to celebrate the geographical characteristics of the city one wants to praise47 and it appears in Aelius Aristides’ encomia of Athens and Rome. In the encomium of Athens, superiority over the other cities is praised. The comparison between Athens on one side and Argos, Arcadia and Thebes on the other48 is very interesting: these are the same places Nonnus mentions at vv. 85 and 89-90 as terms of comparison to celebrate Berytus’ superior antiquity. In the encomium of Rome, the grandeur of the Roman Empire is exalted through a σύγκρισις with the Persian and Greek empires.49 As said above, the second part of the encomium of Berytus ends with a long mythological digression on Aphrodite and Eros (vv. 97-142). Until now this digression has been explained as a controversy between Nonnus and Philo of Byblos. Philo had claimed the supremacy of Byblos over Berytus, stating that Byblos was founded by Cronos and then given to Dione, Aphrodite’s mother:50 Nonnus instead claims that it was Berytus the city founded by Cronos and that it was here, and not in Byblos (v. 107), that Aphrodite first landed, the goddess generated by the foam of the sea and not by Dione.51 Notwithstanding this explanation, we believe that the whole digression has rhetorical motivations as well. Menander Rhetor observes that the description of a city cannot be detached from the analysis of the causes (αἰτίαι) which determined its foundation. It is interesting that the first cause to be mentioned is the divine one, which is a cause of greater prestige to the city being praised and which requires a mythological

46

See Ael Aristid. 17.3 Keil. See also Ael. Aristid. 21.3 Keil. See Men. Rhet. 2.3.383 Russell – Wilson. 48 See Ael. Aristid. 1.357-360 Lenz – Behr. 49 See Ael. Aristid. 26.14-17 Keil. On the σύγκρισις in an encomium, see also [Hermog.] prog. 7.10.196 Patillon; Aphth. prog. 8.3.132 Patillon; Nicol. progymn. 7.53 Felten; PATILLON 2008, Corpus Rhetoricum, p. 234 n. 148. 50 See FGrHist 790 F 2 (= Eus. Praep. evang. 1.10.35 Mras). 51 See CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 212-213. 47

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discussion.52 The two examples provided by Menander Rhetor are by no means less interesting: Rhodes and Delos. When Zeus, Poseidon and Hades divided the world among them, Helios, having been excluded, demanded Rhodes, which had recently emerged from the sea; Delos was placed in the sea to host Leto’s childbirth.53 If Nonnus is developing, in this part of the encomium of Berytus, the rhetorical τόπος of its origins, it is likely that he also took up the motif of the αἰτία, an essential one, according to Menander Rhetor, when praising a city; a motif that the orator has to exploit in all circumstances.54 The fact the first αἰτία examined by Menander Rhetor was precisely a divine αἰτία and the mythological examples associated with it are related to two islands, Rhodes and Delos, the latter of which hosted a divine birth, finds an interesting match in Nonnus’ encomium. As a matter of fact, after mentioning the first inhabitants, the founder and the antiquity of Berytus, Nonnus opens up a mythological digression focused on the arrival in this maritime city of a goddess generated in the sea and on her conception of the god Eros. To be precise, the poet does not clearly state that Berytus was founded to provide a landing site for Aphrodite and for the goddess to give birth to Eros there. However, the importance of the link between the city and these two deities is confirmed by the following part of the narrative. Aphrodite and Eros are in fact the centre of the action happening in books 41-43 of the Dionysiaca: the clash between Poseidon and Dionysus for Beroe, the city’s eponymous nymph and the daughter of Aphrodite and Adonis, according to a more recent version of the myth (41.155-184).55 The background for this fight is Aphrodite’s intervention, who persuades her son Eros to make Poseidon and Dionysus fall in love with Beroe. It is therefore understandable that if Berytus, once founded, had not welcomed Aphrodite’s arrival and Eros’ birth, the whole episode of books 41-43 could not have taken place: the link between the αἰτία of Berytus’ foundation and the mythological digression on Aphrodite and Eros is justified in light of the wider scope of poetic narrative in which our encomium is placed.

52 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.358-359 Russell – Wilson. On resorting to the myth in the encomia of cities, see also Dion. Hal. Rhet. 1.228 Usener – Radermacher; 5.256 Usener – Radermacher. 53 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.357 Russell – Wilson. On Rhodes, see Pind. Ol. 7.54-72. On Delos, see Hymn. Hom. Ap. 49-119; Callim. Hymn. 4.197-258. 54 See Men. Rhet. 1.2.359 Russell – Wilson. 55 For this version on Beroe’s birth, very likely to be Nonnus’ invention, see ACCORINTI 2004, Nonno, Dionisiache (XL-XLVIII), p. 195; CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLIXLIII), pp. 17-23.

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3. The Virtue of Justice (vv. 143-154) The encomium of Berytus ends with a review of its epithets (vv. 143-150) and with a brief mention of the well-known genealogy of the nymph Beroe: she is the daughter of Oceanus and Tethys, also called Amymone, as she was born underwater (vv. 151-154).56 The placement of the epithets reveals the following structure:57 general encomium (“root of life”, “nurse of cities”, “boast of princes”, v. 143); antiquity of the city (“first city seen”, “twin sister of Time”, “coeval with the universe”, v. 144); centre of jurisprudence (“seat of Hermes”,58 “land of Justice”, “city of laws”, v. 145); place of joy and love (“bower of Merryheart”, “house of Paphia”, “hall of the Lovers”, v. 146); vineyards and forests (“delectable ground of Bacchus”, “home of the Archeress”, v. 147); military aspect of the city (“jewel of the Nereids”, “house of Zeus”, “court of Ares”, v. 148);59 reprise of the general encomium (“Orchomenus of the Graces”,60 “star of Lebanon”); reprise of the theme of antiquity of the city (“year-mate of Tethys”, “running side by side with Oceanus”, v. 150).61 This review of epithets appears to be influenced by a specific part of the τόπος of actions (πράξεις), namely the last τόπος Menander Rhetor talks about in his rhetorical analysis of the encomium of a city. The actions are assessed in terms of the four main virtues: justice (δικαιοσύνη), temperance (σωφροσύνη), prudence (φρόνησις) and courage (ἀνδρεία).62 It is very interesting for our discussion what Menander writes about the virtue of justice and the first two sections where this virtue is articulated: piety (εὐσέβεια) and fair dealing (δικαιοπραγία). According to Menander Rhetor, the prerequisite for piety is for the city “to be loved by the gods” (ὑπὸ τῶν θεῶν φιλεῖσθαι):63 if the city is loved by the gods, it is necessary to state that the city is loved by “the greatest number of gods” (τοὺς πλείστους) or by “the most important ones” (ταῖς 56 See Verg. Georg. 4.341. As CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 208 notices, Beroe’s origin is modelled on Aphrodite’s one (vv. 93-103): in both cases it is a water birth. 57 See CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLI-XLIII), pp. 11-12. 58 Hermes was not the city’s patron, but must have had a local cult, as the archaeological findings document. See MOUTERDE – LAUFFRAY 1952, Beyrouth ville romaine, pp. 31-33. On Hermes’ role as legislator and judge associated with Berytus, see FAYANT 1998, Hermès dans les Dionysiaques, p. 154. 59 For these epithets, see CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 210-211; CHUVIN – FAYANT 2006, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLI-XLIII), p. 11. 60 For the link between Orchomenus and the Graces, see VIAN 1990, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXV-XXIX), pp. 199-200; CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, p. 41; FAYANT 2000, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVII), pp. 176-177. 61 All the epithets are accounted for in W.H.D. ROUSE’s 1940 translation of the Dionysiaca. 62 See Men. Rhet. 1.3.361-365 Russell – Wilson. See also Men. Rhet. 2.3.385-386 Russell – Wilson. On the literary antecedents of this classification, see RUSSELL – WILSON 1981, Menander Rhetor, pp. XIV-XV. 63 See also [Hermog.] prog. 7.15.198 Patillon.

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πρώταις) and that it received “the greatest” (ταῖς μεγίσταις), “the first” (ταῖς πρώταις), “the most numerous” (ταῖς πλείσταις) or “the most necessary” (ταῖς ἀναγκαιοτάταις) honours. Examples are also provided, with the exception for the category of “first honours”:64 Athens is honoured by a great number of gods (Dionysus, Apollo, Poseidon, Athena, Hephaestus and Ares); Olympia and Nemea are honoured by the best god (Zeus); Athens received the greatest honour (wheat) and the most numerous (the Athenians claim that everything they need to survive is provided by the gods); the Egyptians received the most necessary honours (astronomy and geometry). Another part of the virtue of justice is fair dealing (δικαιοπραγία). This is measured through fair and humane customs and precise and just laws: only in this way will citizens manage their city in the best way possible.65 Since Berytus, which hosts a famous school of Roman law, is cursorily presented by Nonnus in this encomium (v. 145) and more widely in the rest of book 41 (vv. 275-400) as the land of justice, it is not surprising that the poet concludes his encomium developing the part of the τόπος of actions centred around the virtue of justice (δικαιοσύνη). Nonnus seems to respect almost all the points suggested by Menander Rhetor in showing that a city is loved by the gods (the motif of εὐσέβεια): Berytus is honoured by several gods (Hermes, Aphrodite, Dionysus, Artemis, the Nereids, Zeus, Ares and the Graces, vv. 145149) and the most important deity (it is the “house of Zeus”, v. 148); it received the greatest honours (the vineyards and the forests, v. 147) and the most necessary (jurisprudence and the laws, v. 145). Jurisprudence and the laws are connected to the fair dealing (δικαιοπραγία): since Berytus is the city of laws, it is also going to be managed in a correct and honest way by its inhabitants. An analogous development can be found in Aelius Aristide’s encomium of Athens. The most important gods (Poseidon and Athena) fought to win the city; Athena gave it the greatest honours (the superiority over the sea) and the most necessary (wisdom, rhetoric, the laws, the sciences, military art and horseriding); a great number of gods honoured Athens with dances, religious ceremonies and assemblies; the city received from the gods the principle of all things (this seems to be that category of honours that later Menander Rhetor will call “the first”). Athens, just like Berytus, is land of justice: the Areopagus and its function are widely described in detail.66

64

On this omission, see Russell – Wilson 1981, Menander Rhetor, pp. 264-265. See Men. Rhet. 1.3.361-363 Russell – Wilson. The correct administration of justice as a source of praise for a city is also dealt with in relation to the virtue of prudence (φρόνησις): see Men. Rhet. 1.3.364 Russell – Wilson. 66 See Ael. Aristid. 1.39-48 Lenz – Behr. See also Ael. Aristid. 1.338-340 Lenz – Behr. 65

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4. Conclusion In the course of our study, the encomium of Berytus has been analysed through the lens of rhetoric, in order to investigate, on the one hand, the influence which the school system of the Imperial age has exerted on Nonnus’ sophisticated poetry, but also highlighting, on the other, the strong relationship between this encomium and the movement of the Second Sophistic, which promoted the spread of many encomia of cities in the previous centuries. The results can be so summarised. From the analysis, it has emerged that the encomium of Berytus is, in its own right, a specific type of the late antique rhetoric of encomium, the encomium of a city, which reached full literary realization with Aelius Aristides’ speeches and full rhetorical theorization with the teachings of Menander Rhetor. It has been argued that the rhetoric of encomium and especially the parts of Menander Rhetor’s two Teatises dedicated to the encomium of a city had a notable influence on Nonnus’ encomium. This influence is a tangible sign of Nonnus’ school education inside an educational system that attributed pivotal importance to the study of rhetoric. At the same time, the co-existence of similar themes in Nonnus and Aelius Aristides reveals our author’s precise intention to use the series of topical motifs about the encomium of a city which developed in the course of the Second Sophistic and found full canonization in the speeches of the famous rhetor. The encomium of Berytus is an example among many of the complexity and rich poetry of Nonnus, poetry that includes different interconnected aspects, and that needs to be contextualized in the dynamic and thriving late antique era. The rhetorical interpretation we chose in this work allowed us to understand that Nonnus’ poetry should not only be appreciated in the light of previous literary tradition, but also as related to a strong and functional educational system, where the teaching of rhetoric had a pivotal role and left visible traces in all those who, like Nonnus, had their upbringing and education inside it.67

67 I would like to thank Professor Giulio Massimilla and Doctor Michael McOsker for reading this work and for their precious suggestions.

XIX. A DIONYSIAN ΦΑΝΤΑΣΙΑ? ECHOES OF NEOPLATONIC GNOSEOLOGY IN NONNUS David HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE

Thirty years ago Daria Gigli suggested in her pioneering work Metafora e poetica in Nonno di Panopoli, to read the prominent theme of the complex relation between reality and distorted or true imitation in Nonnus’ poetry as a key indicator of a possible philosophical background for the Dionysiaca.1 The gap between real objects and their shadows, reflections, or images, is indeed one of Nonnus’ favourite leitmotifs, as Newbold discussed more recently. This author, after a thorough review of the words and categories used in the Dionysiaca, states the paradoxical use of imitation and concludes that “Nonnus shows a concern, obsession even, with the epistemological issue of mimesis and with the instability of representation.”2 In parallel, the correspondence between imitation and reality in the relation between the sensible and intelligible worlds is one of the main concerns of Neoplatonic Gnoseology and Aesthetics from Plotinus’ Enneads onwards. Almost at the same time as Gigli, Sheppard’s essay on Proclus’ Commentary on the Republic opened up new perspectives for late antique Literature as, for example, the idea of appreciating how “Neoplatonic philosophy and contemporary rhetoric affect his reading of Plato.”3 This thematic correspondence can lead us, to ask ourselves how Neoplatonic views on poetry affected contemporary poetry, if at all. In this contribution I aim to investigate whether the Neoplatonic notion of φαντασία, a basic tool of the human soul dealing with different types of perceptions and mental activities, could explain the background of the Nonnian insistence on passages about faithful or deceitful rendering of reality through the senses. Firstly, I will offer a summary of the concept of φαντασία, in particular in Neoplatonism, and of the Neoplatonic views on imitation which could affect late antique Greek Poetry. Secondly, I will quote some selected passages of the Dionysiaca dealing with false and correct perception of reality and analyse their vocabulary and implications. And, third, I will try to ascertain whether some of Nonnus’ mythic episodes (Narcissus) and expressions (such as νόθον εἶδος) regarding false and truthful imitation can be explained with the background of this philosophical debate of Neoplatonism. 1 2 3

GIGLI 1985, Metafora e poetica, p. 234. NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, p. 97. SHEPPARD 1980, Studies on the 5th and 6th Essays, p. 144.

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1. Perception and Phantasia in Late Antique Philosophy The notion of imagination and fantasy among the Greeks occupied a space between the philosophical domains of Asthetics and Gnoseology and had multiple implications within the worlds of creativity and perception, especially in Platonism and Neoplatonism. Among the several ancient words used there to recall creative imagination and perception, we have relevant and often discussed concepts such as εἶδος, which evokes the form or idea, εἰκών or μίμησις, an image appearing as a reflection or imitation, ἄγαλμα, as a reference to the epiphanic image of the gods, and an interesting collection of words regarding the world of visions or dreams (ὄναρ, ὄνειρος, ἐνύπνιον, ὄψις or ὕπνος). Regarding images of art, another product of human creativity in the imitation of nature, apart from the general term εἰκών (“image, representation”), the Greeks had other terms associated with cult images, such as ξόανον or βρέτας (with reference to the material) or ἕδος (to the seat), but above all the aforementioned ἄγαλμα most famously referred to Socrates as Silenus (Plat. Symp. 222a). The Platonic attitude towards metaphors of artistic representation in statues, wax models or mirrors dwelt especially on the difference between εἰκών and ἄγαλμα, which could reflect a glimpse of true realities, and other terms such as εἴδωλον, pointing out the distorted, hallucinatory or deceptive imitation.4 But there are other notions, etymologically related to the verb “appear”, φαίνομαι, with special relevance for the senses of perception: terms such as φάσμα, a vision or a monster, φάντασμα, an apparition, and, above all, φαντασία. A first visual sense of φαντασία, is that of appearance, either immediate or in memory, true or illusory. According to Aristotle (On Dreams 460b19), to whom we owe the most complete treatment of this notion, its visual nature was emphasized through the use of a simile of the image reflected in the mirror.5 However, Plato also has the first definition of φαντασία when it is stated by Socrates that “appearance (φαντασία) is the same as perception (αἴσθησις), whether we are talking about hot things or anything similar to them” (Theaetetus 152c, Φαντασία ἄρα καὶ αἴσθησις ταὐτὸν ἔν τε θερμοῖς καὶ πᾶσι τοῖς τοιούτοις) or when he places this capacity between perception and belief (Sophist 264a-b, σύμμειξις αἰσθήσεως καὶ δόξης). Special kinds of φαντάσματα are the souls who do not succeed to detach themselves completely from the material world, as in this well-known Platonic passage (Phaedo 81c-d): Ἐμβριθὲς δέ γε, ὦ φίλε, τοῦτο οἴεσθαι χρὴ εἶναι καὶ βαρὺ καὶ γεῶδες καὶ ὁρατόν· ὃ δὴ καὶ ἔχουσα ἡ τοιαύτη ψυχὴ βαρύνεταί τε καὶ ἕλκεται πάλιν εἰς 4 STEINER 2001, Images in Mind, pp. 63-66, “Reality and representation”, discussing Plato’s Sophist 234c “eidola legomena”, that deliberately deceive the audience, and opposing them to eikones “keeping to the proportions” (235b). 5 SPRAGUE 1985, Aristotle on Red Mirrors.

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τὸν ὁρατὸν τόπον φόβῳ τοῦ ἀιδοῦς τε καὶ Ἅιδου, ὥσπερ λέγεται, περὶ τὰ (d) μνήματά τε καὶ τοὺς τάφους κυλινδουμένη, περὶ ἃ δὴ καὶ ὤφθη ἄττα ψυχῶν σκιοειδῆ φαντάσματα, οἷα παρέχονται αἱ τοιαῦται ψυχαὶ εἴδωλα, αἱ μὴ καθαρῶς ἀπολυθεῖσαι ἀλλὰ τοῦ ὁρατοῦ μετέχουσαι, διὸ καὶ ὁρῶνται. And, my friend, we must believe that the corporeal is burdensome and heavy and earthly and visible. And such a soul is weighed down by this and is dragged back into the visible world, through fear of the invisible and of the other world, and so, as they say, it flits about the monuments and the tombs, where shadowy shapes of souls have been seen, figures of those souls which were not set free in purity but retain something of the visible; and this is why they are seen.6

Aristotle describes φαντασία in a similar way to perception in De Anima (3.3, 428 b 10-17) as a faculty of the soul which comes about in humans when percieving objects. In On Dreams 460b3-16 he uses φαντασία as a part of his understanding of hallucinations and delusion,7 which also affect those who are in certain psychological states that allow passions to lead to errors. These dysfunctions were related not to the senses, but to φαντασία, a concept also used by the Stoics and Epicureans to refer to images and even hallucinations (Diogenes of Oenoanda, fragment 10). Cicero’s Academics prove that there was an important debate around representation and the possibility of obtaining knowledge among the Stoics on cognitive or apprehensible φαντασίαι (καταληπτική φαντασία). It is remarkable that Cicero’s Latin translation of the Greek term is impressio, recalling Zeno’s definition of φαντασία as “an impression on the soul” (Diog. Laert. 7.45) and underlining the fact that, together with the mirror, the impression of traces on wax, among other materials, is a favourite metaphor for perception and memory, at least since Plato’s Theaetetus (191c8-196c3) Here Plato uses the block of wax in order to explain one of the two ways of grasping things, through perception or memory, explaining how to achieve true opinion in the soul. Notably, this analogy implies that the quality of memories depended on the quality of wax. Later Platonism provided the most important development of the key issue of perception. Aristotle used the block of wax metaphor for perception, adapting it (De Anima 2.8, 423b19-21, 3.12 435a2-3), but Plotinus referred to it critically (3.6.1).8 Further on in the same treaty, Plotinus deals with φαντασία and φαντάσματα and their relation with the perception of the material world, which is not real and produces only an εἴδωλον. Note the great emphasis on delusion to the senses and the use of the mirror as an example of the process (Enn. 3.6.7.21):

Translation by FOWLER 1914, Plato: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo, Phaedrus. As studied by HARRIS 2013, Greek and Roman Hallucinations, in a collective volume on mental disorders in the Ancient World. 8 KING 2009, Aristotle and Plotinus on Memory, pp. 13-14. 6 7

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Διὸ πᾶν ὃ ἂν ἐπαγγέλληται ψεύδεται, κἂν μέγα φαντασθῇ, μικρόν ἐστι, κἂν μᾶλλον, ἧττόν ἐστι, καὶ τὸ ὂν αὐτοῦ ἐν φαντάσει οὐκ ὄν ἐστιν, οἷον παίγνιον φεῦγον· ὅθεν καὶ τὰ ἐν αὐτῷ ἐγγίγνεσθαι δοκοῦντα παίγνια, εἴδωλα ἐν εἰδώλῳ ἀτεχνῶς, ὡς ἐν κατόπτρῳ τὸ ἀλλαχοῦ ἱδρυμένον ἀλλαχοῦ φανταζόμενον· καὶ πιμπλάμενον, ὡς δοκεῖ, καὶ ἔχον οὐδὲν καὶ δοκοῦν τὰ πάντα. Τὰ δὲ εἰσιόντα καὶ ἐξιόντα τῶν ὄντων μιμήματα καὶ εἴδωλα εἰς εἴδωλον ἄμορφον καὶ διὰ τὸ ἄμορφον αὐτῆς ἐνορώμενα ποιεῖν μὲν δοκεῖ εἰς αὐτήν, ποιεῖ δὲ οὐδέν· Its every utterance, therefore, is a lie; it pretends to be great and it is little, to be more and it is less; and the Existence with which it masks itself is no Existence, but a passing trick making trickery of all that seems to be present in it, phantasms within a phantasm; it is like a mirror showing things as in itself when they are really elsewhere, filled in appearance but actually empty, containing nothing, pretending everything. Into it and out of it move mimicries of the Authentic Existents, images playing upon an image devoid of Form, visible against it by its very formlessness; they seem to modify it but in reality effect nothing…9

Not only sculptures, but especially mirrors and wax models were common places to talk about impressions on the soul, stemming from Plato and Aristotle, which were assumed also by Stoicism. Knowledge for the Stoics (Diog. Laert, 7.46; Cic. Acad. Post. 1.41) begins with sensory perceptions, which transmits impressions or representations (φαντασίαι) of things to the soul. However, sensory perceptions must be confirmed by cognition or apprehension (κατάληψις) through which they become cataleptic representations that continue to be impressions received from existing objects and confirmed in such a way that it is impossible for sensory images to come from something non-existent, thereby making the impression both infallible and unmistakable. Φαντασία, which played a minor role in Plato, gained great relevance in the New Academy no doubt due to the influence of the aforementioned debate. But the connection of the Aristotelian φαντασία with the theory of the soul and the New Academy views caused problems for the Neoplatonists as they attempted to give this faculty an intermediate philosophical status: a kind of cognitive bridge between sensory perception (αἴσθησις) and discursive reason (διάνοια) which possesses a character both intelligible and sensitive, noetic and material.10 The first difficulty on the ambiguous nature of φαντασία is addressed by Plotinus, who follows the passage quoted from Plato’s Sophist and make φαντασία a place where perceptions end and reasoning begins. It does not only form some types of (emotional) images of the objects perceived, but also unite them with our beliefs and conceptions, granting perceptions a conceptual form, available for discursive reason or διάνοια (Enn. 4.7.6.1-10). For Plotinus, φαντασία is a form of storage for appearances, a sort of memory of impressions, which provides stability, conscience and self-consciousness. 9 10

All translations from Plotinus are by MACKENNA – DILLON 1991, Plotinus’s Enneads. BLUMENTHAL 1977, Neoplatonic Interpretations.

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Memory is a phenomenon of the sensitive and temporary world, of the soul next to the body, and the souls have memories only in the sense in which they get involved with the sensible world. Since there is a double nature of the human mind there will be two types of memories, the individual ones, dependent on the higher soul, and the shared ones, with the lower soul (4.3.27.1-6). The faculty of φαντασία, acting as a sort of mirror, displays the object as a mental image and represents our memory of it.11 Other Neoplatonists, such as Porphyry, in his Commentary on the Harmony of Ptolemy, also inherit the vision of fantasy as a conceptualization of objects received through perception. This confirms the role that Plotinus gave to this faculty in general and also in memory, and he further developed a theory about projection. The φαντασία, Plotinus argues, is projecting objects of perception on the soul as if the soul were in a mirror. The images or projections within the soul refer to external objects and can be projected, as Simplicius points out in his Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima (202.2-6), even when the perceptible object in itself is not present, and that reinforces the projections’ role in the memory. Other Neoplatonists, like Plutarch of Athens, see φαντασία as a faculty that somehow represents the dividing line of the sensible world and the intelligible, explaining at the same time the unified nature of the human mind and its peculiar capacity to deal with things as different as sensitive objects and ideas. If art is considered a way to perceive the superior world, φαντασία, both as perception and imagination, has a positive implication for Neoplatonists with the modern sense of “imagination”. Sheppard has discussed the variety of implications for φαντασία, from the sense of “visualization”,12 associated with the idea of putting something in front of one’s eyes, and its relation with the rhetoric notion of vividness (enargeia), as a virtue of mimesis or imitation, associated with the idea of literary and artistic realism, also discussed in Longinus On Sublimity. Poetry and rhetoric are able to affect the mind through imagination due to this virtue of vividness, and, in general, in the wide concept of late antique ekphrasis – which is especially present, but not only, in descriptions of works of art – as a literary device aiming at, if the writer or speaker is successful, bringing any scene or object to life, emotion and motion in

11 Plotinus Enn. 4.3.30, Τὸ μὲν γὰρ νόημα ἀμερὲς καὶ οὔπω οἷον προεληλυθὸς εἰς τὸ ἔξω ἔνδον ὂν λανθάνει, ὁ δὲ λόγος ἀναπτύξας καὶ ἐπάγων ἐκ τοῦ νοήματος εἰς τὸ φανταστικὸν ἔδειξε τὸ νόημα οἷον ἐν κατόπτρῳ, καὶ ἡ ἀντίληψις αὐτοῦ οὕτω καὶ ἡ μονὴ καὶ ἡ μνήμη, “This mental conception – an indivisible thing, and one that never rises to the exterior of the consciousness – lies unknown below; the Reason-Principle the revealer, the bridge between the concept and the image-taking faculty exhibits the concept as in a mirror; the apprehension by the image-taking faculty would thus constitute the enduring presence of the concept, would be our memory of it.” 12 SHEPPARD 2014, The Poetics of Phantasia, pp. 19-46.

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imagination,13 in close relation to enargeia. Interestingly phantasia is also connected with moral ideas regarding the effects of art and especially, with poetic inspiration. According to Berchman Neoplatonic imagination “receives the products of thought and perception” and “carries a meaning close to the idea of consciousness” beyond sensation, as a faculty providing knowledge of the intelligibles.14 The Neoplatonists also developed the idea that imagination was a middle point between sense and intellect and even a possible way of obtaining a foretaste of the intelligible world.15 Sheppard argues that this latter sense opens the way for the creative concept of imagination in regard to suprarational and divine spheres, already present in Iamblichus’ Neoplatonism, where symbolism and allegory in traditional literary mythology can play a key role for creativity as a glimpse of the divine world.16 As can be inferred from this panorama, the importance of φαντασία both in relation to the psychological processes of perception and to the correct imitation of the intelligible world is hard to underestimate. For Neoplatonists, aiming to reconcile Plato’s and Aristotle’s views, the imaginative faculty plays a crucial role in the definition of soul-body relationships, in the consideration of the disputed nature of the human mind, in the ability to establish a bridge between both worlds, and in the limits between sensation and intelligence. The equation of φαντασία with the creative imagination can be found in Proclus (e.g. In Rempublicam 2 Kroll p. 107, lines 14-18). Proclus defines the creative imagination as a product of the theoretical developments with which Neoplatonism tried to harmonize Plato’s theory of inspiration with Aristotelian and Stoic notions. But there was nonetheless a certain ambiguity, as we find uses of φαντασία, φάντασμα and φάσμα to highlight the idea that the perception of the material world is delusive, for it does not really exist. 2. Perception and Misperception in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca Regarding the poetic applications of these ideas by Nonnus, let us start by remembering that the Dionysiaca deals often with notions of perception – true or altered –, reflection of images and imitation, using words such as φάσμα, τύπος or μίμημα. Very often the Dionysian perception, altered by wine, provokes double visions, hallucination or vertigo. The idea that our senses are WEBB 2009, Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion, p. 88. BERCHMAN 2005, Porphyry Against the Christians, p. 102. 15 WATSON 1988, Phantasia in Classical Thought, 1988, p. 96. 16 See in general SHEPPARD 2014, The Poetics of Phantasia, chapter 3. For the nuances of phantasia as inspiration see Apollonius of Tyana 6.19, among the passages discussed. On the concept of imagination in philosophy and rethorique, see also the complete panorama of ARMISEN 1979, La notion d’imagination chez les Anciens: I and 1980, La notion d’imagination chez les Anciens: II. There is an excellent survey of the transition of phantasia from Neoplatonism to the Christian writers in PIZZONE 2011, Late Antique Phantasia. 13 14

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deceitful appears also in passages describing the effects of wine, an important Dionysian feature in the poem,17 ot only during the Indian war, as we see with the drunkard Indians (15.14-24, 16.255-261), but also in episodes of Dionysian Love such as Nicaea (16.270-351) or Aura (48.570-644). Divine wine is used by Dionysian characters or by Dionysus himself for various purposes to create confusion in the process of human perception, through headache, double vision or slumber. The very poetics and style of Nonnus has been often depicted as inebriation and altered perception. The first poem of the Dionysiaca presents the sort of Dionysian inspiration, ecstatic and intoxicated by wine (1.34-37), that deals as a prelude of the first myth, that of Europe’s abduction (Ἄξατέ μοι νάρθηκα, Μιμαλλόνες, ὠμαδίην δέ | νεβρίδα ποικιλόνωτον ἐθήμονος ἀντὶ χιτῶνος | σφίγξατέ μοι στέρνοισι, Μαρωνίδος ἔμπλεον ὀδμῆς | νεκταρέης…). Nothing is like it seems in the Dionysiaca from the very beginning. Already in book 1 the myth of Europe dwells heavily on the misperception of Zeus disguised as a bull (1.46, Σιδονίης ποτὲ ταῦρος ἐπ᾽ ᾐόνος ὑψίκερως Ζεύς | ἱμερόεν μύκημα νόθῳ μιμήσατο λαιμῷ), especially in the speech of a surprised seaman who cast doubts upon what his eyes are seeing (1.90-91, εἰσορόων δέ | μιμηλὴν ταχύγουνον ἐχέφρονα νῆα θαλάσσης; 1.97, παπταίνω κατὰ κῦμα νόθον πλόον; 1.100, τύπον εἴκελον εἰνάλιος βοῦς; 1.124, μιμηλοῖσι … νόθος). Verhelst has studied some speeches of the first books of the poem with special emphasis on visual perception: there is a number of speeches pronounced by anonymous characters only appearing in the poem to deliver precisely these speeches. They are surprised by unexpected appearances and wonder about what they see. The first three of such speeches are: (1.) an anonymous sailor who watches Europa’s abduction in 1.93-124; (2.) a passenger on Cadmus’ ship who wonders about the couple in 4.238-246; (3.) a Naiad who wonders about the identity of Semele in 7.226-254.18 The second proem (25.121) includes the scene of a drunken city of Thebes dancing around like a Bacchant, but saddened due to Pentheus’ death (11-14, Θήβῃ δ᾽ ἑπταπύλῳ κεράσω μέλος, ὅττι καὶ αὐτή | ἀμφ᾽ ἐμὲ βακχευθεῖσα περιτρέχει, οἷα δὲ νύμφη | μαζὸν ἑὸν γύμνωσε κατηφέος ὑψόθι πέπλου, | μνησαμένη Πενθῆος). There are many other examples of this sort of vocabulary of delusion in the poem, of which Newbold (2010) has gathered a catalogue, depending on Peek’s Lexicon: 407 οcurrences of words related to deceit such as δόλος (60 occurrences), δόλιος (29), δολόεις (36), 11 δολο-compounds (48); ἀπατήλιος (39), Ἀπάτη (2), ἀπαφίσκω (7), ἐπικλοπίη (6), ἐπίκλοπος (17), ἠπεροπεύω (5), ἠπεροπεύς (17); ψεύδομαι (35), ψευδαλέος (20), ψευδήμων (22), ψεῦδος (2), ψευδόρκος (1), ψευδώνυμος (1); αἰόλος (30), and 9 αἰολο-compounds (32). 17 18

GONZÁLEZ SENMARTÍ 1977, La poesía de Nono de Panópolis, pp. 260-261. VERHELST 2017, Direct Speech, pp. 104-113.

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For our purpose it is relevant to note that Nonnus even innovates in some of the aformentioned compounds, with some hapax legomena, such as δολοπλανής (8.126), δολοφράδμων (4.68, 32.1), αἰολόδρακρυς (26.79 and 43.365), αἰολόμολπος (40.223), αἰολόπεπλος (7.173)19. Some of these words are included in the abundant catalogue of dreams and false visions or hallucinations in the Dionysiaca.20 Altered perceptions are typical of Dionysian drunkenness be it that of the Indian soldier (14.419-437, Ξεῖνον ἴδον καὶ ἄπιστον ἐγὼ ποτόν) or that of Icarius (17.78-104). For instance, the exuberant Dionysian power, which intoxicates the senses and produces hallucinations, appears in the episode of the Tyrrhenian pirates in book 45.150-168. It is written in a language that involves all the senses: especially hearing and seeing, since the pirates hear the roars of a bull and they mistake the ocean for a meadow and hear even the shepherd’s pipes (156-165). But, is this philosophically relevant? Or, in other words, do any of these episodes reflect Nonnus’ knowledge of the debate on perception, delusion and fantasy? The word φαντασία is not attested in Nonnus Dionysiaca, but the use of φάσμα, is verified ten times, and is frequently used when alluding to false visions and hallucinations. For example, in 10.266, when Bacchos sees his beloved Ampelos in his dreams as “the shadowy phantom of a counterfeit shape” (μιμηλῆς ὁρόων σκιοειδέα φάσματα μορφῆς). A parallel expression is found in the Narcissus episode (48.586). Another example can be found in 29.326 when Ares sees another dream as a “deceitful vision depicting oneiric images” (φάσματα ποικίλλουσα δολοπλόκος ὄψις ὀνείρου). But the phasmata target the enemies of Dionysus, such as Deriades, whose perception is also altered by the power of the god in book 36. Deriades is astonished when fighting with shape-changing Dionysus who “puts on all sort of varied appearances” (36.295, δύσατο παντοίης πολυδαίδαλα φάσματα μορφῆς). Soon, the Indian king discovers that he fights in vain, against “empty phantoms” (36.334, Δηριάδης δ’ ὑπέροπλος ἐμάρνατο φάσματι κωφῷ) and, accusing Dionysus of cowardice, continues seeing only “phantoms of diverse shapes of Bacchos” (36.350, παπταίνων ἑτερότροπα φάσματα Βάκχου). Another enemy of Dionysus, Pentheus, suffers the alteration of his “human intellect” (46.97, νόον ἀνδρός) by “Selene’s divine lash” seeing φάσματα ποικιλόμορφα (46.102). Of note are the verbs of perception in combination with such delusions. The maddened king of Thebes is then convinced by the god to contemplate the Dionysian mysteries, dresses, and dances as a Bacchant in order to join the revelries at the mountains. The paraphrase of Euripides is evident from verse 105 onwards. We can bear in mind Nonnus’ rendering of 19 See ESPINAR OJEDA 2003, La adjetivación en las Dionisíacas de Nono de Panópolis, sub vv., pp. 49, 195, 177, 22 and 23. 20 NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, pp. 86-87, counts 20 dreams involving such concepts.

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Pentheus’ altered perception, which appeared already in Euripides (46.125-127, καὶ διδύμους Φαέθοντας ἐδέρκετο καὶ δύο Θήβας·| ἔλπετο δ’ ἀκαμάτων ἐπικείμενον ὑψόθεν ὤμων | Θήβης ἑπταπόροιο μετοχλίζειν πυλεῶνα). Nonnus’ poetics dwell heavily upon this game of perspectives between reality and its delusional mirroring provoked by several causes but mainly by the influence of divinity. This change in perceptions is underlined through the use of a rich series of adjectives describing mainly the altered image, such as ἀντίρροπος, ἀντίτυπος, δόλιος, ποιητός, ἀπατήλιος, νόθος, etc. Newbold studied the appearances of such adjectivation, most abundantly δόλος (60 occurrences), δόλο-compounds, and other synonyms.21 The contrast with the Paraphrase is clear, for here the Divine does not provoke such confusion of appearance and delusion of the senses and the vocabulary regarding these issues is not so frequent although present nonetheless. The vocabulary of deceit in the Dionysiaca (δόλος, μίμημα, νόθος, ψεύδομαι) is often applied to matters of perception regarding images, shapes, and counterfeit reflections (εἶδος, εἰκών, μορφή, δέμας, μίμημα, τύπος/ἀντίτυπος). There are also some constructions from the semantic field of imitation or reproduction of an original, where some kind of deceit can be implied.22 Let us just note here the frequent juncture νόθον εἶδος, that Newbold does not study in particular. Here the mirroring appears as a metaphor of misperception or of an “altered shape”. Nonnus uses this favourite expression in the Dionysiaca sixteen times. On the one hand, most occurrences are referred to as transformations and dissimulation of the usual shape: Actaeon’s metamorphosis (5.528 and 44.289), Zeus’ transformation in snake in order to seduce Persephone (5.600), the false shape of Iphigeneia (13.109, νόθον εἶδος ἀληθέος Ἰφιγενείης), the hybrid bodies of Pan (14.71) and Satyrs (21.203; 27.230) or river Hydaspes (30.89), Morrheus countenance in armour (35.126), Zeus’ metamorphosis with Callisto (36.73), Pentheus’ threats and orders to bind Dionysus, described as a hybrid creature (45.259), the metamorphosis of the Tyrrhenian pirates (47.630) and Niobe’s metamorphosis (48.427). But, on the other hand, there is another group of expressions regarding reflection of images and problems of perception. In book 10.12 Athamas’ perception is deluded by madness while trying to punish Ino (μὴ νοέων νόθον εἶδος) and again in 10.35, after losing “a third part of his soul” (10.25, ὤλετο δὲ ψυχῆς τρίτατον λάχος), evidently reason, in a reference to the Platonic theory of the tripartite soul. But it appears related to Zagreus’ mirror in 6.173, when the Titans deceive the child Dionysus as he was staring at his “deceitful shape” in the mirror (ἀντιτύπῳ νόθον εἶδος ὀπιπεύοντα κατόπτρῳ), an episode I will expand on below. Miguélez-Cavero, in speaking about the 21 22

NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, pp. 85-86. NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, p. 90.

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appearance of the gods in the Dionysiaca, argues that “Nonnus drew a clear line between these mythological games, the fictionality of which was emphasised by the constant use of vocabulary related to falsehood and delusion, and his real beliefs: in his Paraphrase, he opts for a seriously theological approach to the Gospel of John.”23 However, as I try to show here, precisely this emphasis on delusion of the senses in matters related to the divine does not show a playful relativization of the pagan deities, and therefore of Dionysus, but rather a Neoplatonic leitmotiv. Out of 96 instances of deceit through imitation, be it with image or words, studied by Newbold and just classified according to motivation and success, it seems that mimesis is perceived as malevolent in more than half of the cases.24 So there are clearly two attitudes toward mimesis, following a long lasting debate in the Academia, a positive and a negative one, depending on the origin – divine or not – and on the direction – upwards or downwards – of the model and the copy. Motivation and success are just relevant for the narrative, but not for the ethical dimension of mimesis. We could add some more nuances regarding Nonnian adjectivation about the deception of the νοῦς. For example, νοοπλανής ocurs eleven times and often refers to the effects of divine madness, as in 9.44 (the madness of the nymphs of river Lamus, as punishment of Hera), and especially of Dionysian madness, as in 15.96 (the effects of wine upon an Indian), 29.69, 33.318, 42.168 or 45.68.25 Another example is νοοσφαλής, with 7 occurrences also related mainly to misperception due to Dionysian madness: 16.322; 17.277 (the lake whose water is turned into wine), 46.189 (regarding the delusion through wine); 21.122 (on the Arab shepherds punished with Dionysian madness). In Par. 3.93 the adjective refers to the condemnation of an impious man who dwells only on his human flesh and forgets about its true spiritual nature (τις ἀνήρ | ἀνδρομέην ἐπὶ σάρκα νοοσφαλὲς ὄμμα τιταίνων). Third, we have νοόπλαγκτος, with only 2 occurrences, the first one regarding Ino (9.255), and the second one regarding wine (μέθης 12.386).26 These compound epitheta with νοῦς are quite original of Nonnus, for the presence of νοο- in compounds is very rare. Most occurrences are to be found after Nonnus, in epithets such as νοογάστωρ (Tzetz. Chil. 12.374), νοοπλήξ (Tryph. 275) or νοόπληκτος (A.P. 6.71 [Paul. Sil.]). But the only precedents are detected in Neoplatonists such as Plotinus (Enn. 5.1.3, 5.3.8, νοοειδής; Enn. 6.8.18, νοοποιός) and Proclus (in Ti. 1.247, νοοειδής, in Ti. 1.311.20, 24, νοοποιός). Let us finally MIGUÉLEZ-CAVERO 2009, The Appearance of Gods in the Dionysiaca of Nonnus, p. 568. NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, p. 88. 25 In the Paraphrase the adjective has a negative connotation: 3.1 refers to the lineage of Pharisean, mad or deprived of knowledge and 19.19 to the absence of madness that Pilatus finds in Jesus. 26 Cf. ESPINAR OJEDA 2003, La adjetivación en las Dionisíacas de Nono de Panópolis, sub v. νοόπλαγκτος, pp. 220-223. 23 24

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recall another compound with νοῦς, a Nonnian hapax appearing this time in the Paraphrase, νοοβλαβής (Par. 12.160), which refers to the mind of the sinners, which will be healed by Christ’s words. Let us turn now to the presence of the aforementioned two main philosophical metaphors for delusional perceptions: wax and mirrors. The former is rarely quoted in the Dionysiaca, it is referred to when alluding to the counterfeit axe made by Myrtilos for the chariot of the evil Oenomaus (20.158-166; 33.282308 and 37.329-358) or that of Phaeton’s chariot (37.420-450). Mirrors, on the other hand, play an important role as transmissors of false images. Two occurrences of mirrors are to be found in the episode of Beroe, first in the description of the maiden’s beauty (42.53-89), who does not need to be reassured with “no shining mirror of bronze with its reflection a witness of her looks”, and, second, when Dionysus spies Beroe and gazes “the shape of the girl with steady eyes, as if in a mirror” (42.449-450, ὀξὺ δὲ λεπταλέοιο δι’ εἵματος οἷα κατόπτρῳ | ὄμμασιν ἀπλανέεσσι τύπον τεκμαίρετο μορφῆς). But the most important episode is that of Zagreus, already mentioned above. Firstly, during the seduction of Persephone by Zeus transformed into snake, the God spies on Persephone while she is looking at her false countenance (νόθον εἶδος) in the shadowy mirror, with a clearly Platonic adjectivation, σκιόεντι δέμας, parallel to Plato’s Phaedo and Plotinus first Ennead (Dion. 5.594-600, cf. Phaedo 81c-d and Enn. 1.6.8): καί ποτε χαλκὸν ἔχουσα διαυγέα τέρπετο κούρη κάλλεος ἀντιτύποιο δικασπόλον, αὐτομάτῳ δέ (595) σιγαλέῳ κήρυκι τύπον πιστώσατο μορφῆς ψευδαλέον σκιόεντι δέμας κρίνουσα κατόπτρῳ, μιμηλὴν δ’ ἐγέλασσεν ἐς εἰκόνα· Περσεφόνη δέ αὐτοχάρακτον ἄγαλμα διοπτεύουσα προσώπου ψευδομένης νόθον εἶδος ἐδέρκετο Περσεφονείης. (600) Once she was amusing herself with a resplendent bronze plate, which reflected her face like a judge of beauty; and she confirmed the image of her shape by this free voiceless herald, testing the unreal form in the shadow of the mirror, and smiling at the mimic likeness. Thus Persephone gazed in the selfgraved portrait of her face, and beheld the selfimpressed aspect of a false Persephoneia.27

Further on, Nonnus renders the Orphic myth of Zagreus in the frame of the biography of the god, emphasizing how the child god is deceived by the Titans using the mirror. Zagreus is distracted by his own νόθον εἶδος and, we could say, loses himself at the mirror until the Titans kill him (Dion. 6.169-173; 206-207): οὐδὲ Διὸς θρόνον εἶχεν ἐπὶ χρόνον· ἀλλά ἑ γύψῳ κερδαλέῃ χρισθέντες ἐπίκλοπα κύκλα προσώπου (170) 27

All translations from the Dionysiaca are by ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca.

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δαίμονος ἀστόργοιο χόλῳ βαρυμήνιος Ἥρης Ταρταρίῃ Τιτῆνες ἐδηλήσαντο μαχαίρῃ ἀντιτύπῳ νόθον εἶδος ὀπιπεύοντα κατόπτρῳ. But he did not hold the throne of Zeus for long. By the fierce resentment of implacable Hera, the Titans cunningly smeared their round faces with disguising chalk, and while he contemplated his changeling countenance reflected in a mirror they destroyed him with an infernal knife. Ζεὺς δὲ πατήρ, προτέροιο δαϊζομένου Διονύσου γινώσκων σκιόεντα τύπον δολίοιο κατόπτρου, After the first Dionysos had been slaughtered, Father Zeus learnt the trick of the mirror with its reflected image.

In the Orphic tradition, there were some instruments used by the Titans to fool Zagreus, among them some toys and apples and a mirror,28 elements which perhaps played some ritual role and on which Neoplatonists commented in detail. But Nonnus only alludes to the mirror as the key element for the distraction of the child god Zagreus, who was absent-minded and fell into the trap precisely because he “was looking at his false shape in a reflecting mirror” (6.173, ἀντιτύπῳ νόθον εἶδος ὀπιπεύοντα κατόπτρῳ). 3. Plotinus’ and Nonnus’ Narcissus: The Soul Looking at Itself in the Mirror? As I have already pointed out, mirrors had a profound significance for the Neoplatonic metaphysics and gnoseology, for they symbolize falsehood of the earthly world and also explain misperceptions and hallucinations. In Plotinus, both processes of perception and relationship between the various levels of being, from the One to its hypostasis or to the sensible reality, are often described with the metaphor of the mirror. This allows the intelligible soul to reflect in the animal that in turn does so in the vegetable. As Jean Pépin has studied in detail, Plotinus has a clear predilection for the comparison between the processes related to the soul and the images on the surface of a mirror.29 The inferior part of the soul is the image of the true soul, like a reflection, and the very soul is sometimes compared with a mirror, for it also becomes a copy of its model, able of catching a glimpse of the higher world. Language appears as a mirror of thought through an image and even the relation between consciousness and intellect depends on the calmed state of the soul, so that clear reflections can be obtained.30 Indeed, the Intellect is naturally in upward 28 Clem. Al., Protr. 2.18.1 and Euseb. Praep. evang. 2.3.23. On the myth of Zagreus, cf. BERNABÉ 2003, Autour du mythe orphique sur Dionysos. 29 PÉPIN 1970, Plotin et le Miroir de Dionysos, p. 316. Obviously, ancient mirrors were quite distorting. 30 Cf. Plotinus Enn. 6.2.22.33-35; 4.3.11.6-8; 4.5.7, 4.3.30.9-10.

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orientation, but the lower part of it, the existence of the soul, tends to go down and to become like the reflection on a mirror. Whenever there is peace in the soul, it can reflect the images of the superior principles of reality and it is able of perceiving them (Enn. 1.4.10). But when the soul is disturbed, this mirror within is shattered (Συγκλασθέντος δὲ τούτου) and intellect is unattended by imagination (ἄνευ φαντασίας ἡ νόησις). This is no doubt what happens to Zagreus in the previous episode. Needless to say, apart from the Orphic background, Dionysus’ mirror in this episode was a favourite Neoplatonic leitmotiv from Plotinus’ interpretation in the Enneads, when the philosopher describes how, in spite of the fall of the soul, we do not lose our primordial relation with the divine Intellect. Zeus had pity on human souls and made the bonds with the material world soluble by death, so that after we are free from the body we can go back to the Universal Soul (Plotinus Enn. 4.3.12): Ἀνθρώπων δὲ ψυχαὶ εἴδωλα αὐτῶν ἰδοῦσαι οἷον Διονύσου ἐν κατόπτρῳ ἐκεῖ ἐγένοντο ἄνωθεν ὁρμηθεῖσαι, οὐκ ἀποτμηθεῖσαι οὐδ’ αὗται τῆς ἑαυτῶν ἀρχῆς τε καὶ νοῦ. Οὐ γὰρ μετὰ τοῦ νοῦ ἦλθον, ἀλλ’ ἔφθασαν μὲν μέχρι γῆς, κάρα δὲ αὐταῖς ἐστήρικται ὑπεράνω τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. The souls of men, seeing their images in the mirror of Dionysus as it were, have entered into that realm in a leap downward from the Supreme: yet even they are not cut off from their origin, from the divine Intellect; it is not that they have come bringing the Intellectual Principle down in their fall; it is that though they have descended even to earth, yet their higher part holds for ever above the heavens.

Plotinus, departing from the Platonic tradition, established a positive valuation of art which, far from simply reproducing nature, “goes back to the Reasonprinciples from which nature herself emanates” (Enn. 5.8.1) i.e. from an ontologically superior level. Plotinus explained his views on what a work of art should do using the metaphor of the mirror in a more positive way, when related to the agalma or divine image (4.3.11): Καί μοι δοκοῦσιν οἱ πάλαι σοφοί, ὅσοι ἐβουλήθησαν θεοὺς αὐτοῖς παρεῖναι ἱερὰ καὶ ἀγάλματα ποιησάμενοι, εἰς τὴν τοῦ παντὸς φύσιν ἀπιδόντες, ἐν νῷ λαβεῖν ὡς πανταχοῦ μὲν εὐάγωγον ψυχῆς φύσις, δέξασθαί γε μὴν ῥᾷστον ἂν εἴη ἁπάντων, εἴ τις προσπαθές τι τεκτήναιτο ὑποδέξασθαι δυνάμενον μοῖράν τινα αὐτῆς. Προσπαθὲς δὲ τὸ ὁπωσοῦν μιμηθέν, ὥσπερ κάτοπτρον ἁρπάσαι εἶδός τι δυνάμενον. I think, therefore, that those ancient sages, who sought to secure the presence of divine beings by the erection of shrines and statues, showed insight into the nature of the All; they perceived that, though this Soul is everywhere tractable, its presence will be secured all the more readily when an appropriate receptacle is elaborated, a place especially capable of receiving some portion or phase of it, something reproducing it, or representing it, and serving like a mirror to catch an image of it.

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In this passage the image is like a mirror representing matter that participates in its model of virtue within the Plotinian hypostatic ontology and of the principle of universal sympathy, of Stoic origin and adopted here by Plotinus for his purpose. It was also a question of vocabulary, for the difference between good and bad μίμησις, when speaking of the mirroring of beauty in art, is emphasized with the term agalma, which implies a good aesthetic imitation and a bridge between the material and the intelligible. Good μίμησις means selfimprovement of the soul in search of enlightment, with the metaphor of the “divine image” or ἄγαλμα (1.6.9.5 cf. Plat. Symp. 222a): “never cease chiselling your statue (μὴ παύσῃ τεκταίνων τὸ σὸν ἄγαλμα), until there shall shine out on you from it the godlike splendour of virtue, until you shall see the perfect goodness surely established in the stainless shrine.” However, the “negative mirroring” appears often with εἴδωλα or images in our world which provide “false imitation”. We know from Porphyrius’ Life of Plotinus (1.7-10) that, in spite of his metaphors regarding sculptures, the philosopher himself resisted the idea of sitting for a portrait, arguing that it was nonsense to have a more enduring “image of an image” (εἴδωλον εἰδώλου), since our countenances and the sensible world were already ontologically inferior and a pale reflection of higher realities.31 In his Commentary on Scipio’s Dream (1.12.12), Macrobius alludes to this myth of the mirror and identifies the child god with the “material intellect”; that is, the “reflection” of the intelligible world upon matter. Moreover, Proclus, in his commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, refers to the myth of Dionysus at the mirror as an allegory of cosmic intelligence, which suffers a process of division in order to create the material world. For Proclus, the mirror represents “the receptivity of the universe to intellectual fulfilment” (In Tim. 3.80.20 trans. Baltzly) and the intellect is the “undivided substance” of Dionysus (3.145.9-145.9-146.22), turned into fragments in our world by the act of the Titans. Afterwards Proclus will interpret Dionysus rebirth from Zeus’ thigh and his infancy with the nurses as the reception of the intelligible forms by the world’s soul, participating in the “intellect of the world”, that is, Dionysus (In Tim. 2.407.25-408.10). The mirror would also imply the transition from the one to the many (as Proclus comments on Tim. 33b). Later Neoplatonists such as Olympiodorus and Damascius also deal with the Zagreus episode, but they did not dwell in the leitmotiv of the mirror, but chose instead to look at the dismemberment of the god: for Damascius, the mirror is a way of protecting Dionysus’ image on the universe (cf. In Phaed. 1.129). 31 EDWARDS 2000, Neoplatonic Saints: The Lives of Plotinus and Proclus by their Students, p. 1: “[…] when Amelius begged him to have a portrait done of himself, he said ‘Is it not enough to carry the image that nature has put about me?’ Did Amelius think that he would agree to leave a more enduring image of the image as though it were some piece worthy of display?” Although, at the end, Amelius succeeded to produce faithful portrait of him.

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The metaphor of the mirror applies directly to the soul, to the World Soul, which receives Dionysus, but also to individual souls. Here we have the myth of Narcissus as the metaphor for the individual soul that fails to ascend to the superior and ideal principles. Plotinus uses this idea in Enn. 3.6.7, when discussing the nature of matter, which does not deserve the name of Being. For Neoplatonism, Dionysus seems, to be a patron of φαντασία, because his founding myth of Zagreus explains not only the origin of the transition downwards between the different levels on the ontological pyramid, but also because he represents the glimpse of the divine in our world and the possibility of reversion. Nonnus no doubt reflects these notions on Dionysian φαντασία. In my view, Nonnus might be fully aware of the philosophical implications of his hero’s patronage of this bridge between the material and the intelligible dimensions. Matter is depicted as “veritable Not-Being, no more than the image and phantasm of Mass, a bare aspiration towards substantial existence” (ἀλλ’ ἀληθινῶς μὴ ὄν, εἴδωλον καὶ φάντασμα ὄγκου καὶ ὑποστάσεως ἔφεσις) and “a phantasm unabiding and yet unable to withdraw” (εἴδωλον οὐ μένον οὐδ’ αὖ φεύγειν δυνάμενον). Matter and Not-Being, however, pretend to exist but must not deceive those aiming to superior knowledge of reality, for Matter and Not-Being are essentially deceitful and full of trickery. The mirror of Narcissus is used in a similar way but in reference to the fall of the soul and to the excessive attachment of a part of the soul to the lower world. Narcissus’ mirror plays another symbolic, yet minor role in Nonnus, that is deeply rooted in the Neoplatonic views. The myth was well known in Antiquity and referred to in Conon (Narr. 24) and Ovid (Met. 3.339-510), which was perhaps based in an older version related to a cult to an Euboean hero in Eretria.32 In Hellenistic and Roman times it was traditionally interpreted as a moral lesson on vanity but this account of self-desire provided material for philosophical ideas about subjectivity and sight, as well as on the relation between subject and object of desire.33 Soon the reflection on mirroring water appears as the loss of identity, false perception and metaphysics. Plotinus describes the very relation between the ontological levels of his philosophy in a descendent way – from the intelligible to the sensible world – with the metaphor of the mirror that allows the intelligible soul to be reflected upon the animal soul and the animal soul upon the vegetal soul. This is how the myth of Narcissus was interpreted, whose mistake consisted in being trapped by the reflection of himself, which is necessarily inferior in this chain of reflections instead of trying to revert to the antecedent light, as Pierre Hadot has discussed in the context

32 33

KNOEPFLER 2010, La Patrie de Narcisse, pp. 61-72. SQUIRE 2016, Introductory reflections, pp. 25-26.

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of psychoanalysis and in comparison with Ovid’s version.34 One must not fall into the shadowy depths “where the intellect finds no delight” (Enn. 1.6.8) as Narcissus did. Plotinus allegorizes that looking in the mirror with temptations that make the soul fall away from what should be its objective, which is to return to its origin and pursue the contemplation of eternal forms. Narcissus’ fault is that he has forgotten the relationship between his reflection and his own self and he gets lost in a lower and more imperfect reality, instead of tending to the best one.35 Moreover, since Plotinus’ first philosophical reading of the myth, there have been many other modern views, not only Freudian or structuralist, but also Lacanian, all of them dealing with the symbolic value of Narcissus’ reflection upon the surface of the water. Frontisi Ducroux examined the evolution of the different versions of the myth and its relation with visual culture and with rhetorical ekphrasis.36 Hardie, on the other hand, devoted chapter 5 of his Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion, to “Narcissus: the mirror of the text”, a reading of Ovid’s Narcissus (Met. 3.339-510) evoking the Lacanian mirror as a bridge between Self and Other and upon the basis of Epicurean gnoseology: after all, Narcissus would be an example of “simulacral delusion” in a Lucretian paradox of frustrated desire (De rerum natura 4.1088-1090).37 Most interestingly for our purpose, Hardie discusses the story of Narcissus in comparison to those of Theban Dionysus, as “the manifestations of a Dionysiac poetics of presence and illusion”.38 But let us return to Plotinus’ Narcissus: there is no direct quotation of the myth in the Enneads, but rather an allusion to a myth that is well known to all his readers. In this very passage of Enn. 1.6.8, Plotinus instructs us on how to contemplate the inaccessible Beauty, and turn away from material beauty. The latter is only a counterfeit copy, a shadow of true reality beyond matter (εἰκόνες καὶ ἴχνη καὶ σκιαί). In this context, Plotinus uses the example of Narcissus staring at himself as he points out the nonsense of following the beauty of appearances like a reflection over water. So if someone, like Narcissus, is tricked and trapped by material beauty, his soul risks to be sunk forever in the dark depths hated by Intellect (Enn. 1.6.8): Ἰδόντα γὰρ δεῖ τὰ ἐν σώμασι καλὰ μήτοι προστρέχειν, ἀλλὰ γνόντας ὥς εἰσιν εἰκόνες καὶ ἴχνη καὶ σκιαὶ φεύγειν πρὸς ἐκεῖνο οὗ ταῦτα εἰκόνες. Εἰ γάρ τις 34 HADOT 1976, Le Mythe de Narcisse et son intérpretation par Plotin (Reprinted in Plotin, Porphyre. Études néoplatoniciennes. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1999, pp. 225-266). 35 See also Enn. 4.4 40 y 5.8 2. In Hadot’s interpretation (HADOT 1976, Le Mythe de Narcisse et son intérpretation par Plotin, pp. 243-255 of the 1999 reprint), “L’erreur de Narcisse consiste ici à croire que l’image de lui-même qu’il voit dans les eaux est un être réel et à vouloir posséder ce qui n’est qu’une ombre”, p. 244, and he concludes: “La fable de Narcisse sert donc chez Plotin à illustrer le thème de l’amour ‘narcissique’ de l’âme pour elle-même”, p. 249. 36 FRONTISI DUCROUX – VERNANT 1997, Dans l’œil du miroir, pp. 225-230. 37 HARDIE 2002, Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion, pp. 143-172, esp. 161-162. 38 HARDIE 2002, Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion, p. 166.

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ἐπιδράμοι λαβεῖν βουλόμενος ὡς ἀληθινόν, οἷα εἰδώλου καλοῦ ἐφ’ ὕδατος ὀχουμένου, ὁ λαβεῖν βουληθείς, ὥς πού τις μῦθος, δοκῶ μοι, αἰνίττεται, δὺς εἰς τὸ κάτω τοῦ ῥεύματος ἀφανὴς ἐγένετο, τὸν αὐτὸν δὴ τρόπον ὁ ἐχόμενος τῶν καλῶν σωμάτων καὶ μὴ ἀφιεὶς οὐ τῷ σώματι, τῇ δὲ ψυχῇ καταδύσεται εἰς σκοτεινὰ καὶ ἀτερπῆ τῷ νῷ βάθη, ἔνθα τυφλὸς ἐν Ἅιδου μένων καὶ ἐνταῦθα κἀκεῖ σκιαῖς συνέσται. When he perceives those shapes of grace that show in body, let him not pursue: he must know them for copies, vestiges, shadows, and hasten away towards That they tell of. For if anyone follow what is like a beautiful shape playing over wateris there not a myth telling in symbol of such a dupe, how he sank into the depths of the current and was swept away to nothingness? So too, one that is held by material beauty and will not break free shall be precipitated, not in body but in Soul, down to the dark depths loathed of the Intellective-Being, where, blind even in the Lower-World, he shall have commerce only with shadows, there as here.

A similar experience happens in Nonnus when Narcissus’ tale appears in a very relevant episode at the end of the poem (48.581-586). According to Nonnus, Aura was the daughter of the Titan Lelantus and the mother, by Dionysus, of the last member of the Dionysian trinity, Iacchus, the third Dionysus, a figure connected with the Eleusinian mysteries. The rape of Phrygian Aura by Dionysus, mad with desire, has all the elements of Nonnian voyeurism and seduction, and especially delusion though wine. Her episode is linked to the story of the first Dionysus, Zagreus, through the use of the mirror. The birth of Iacchus, the third Dionysus, will come afterwards as a result of the union of Dionysus and Aura. Hence the importance of this episode, at the very end of the poem, where past (Zagreus), present (Dionysus) and future (Iacchus) of the god seem to coincide as in a reflection upon a mirror. Also, the myth of Narcissus is alluded to in a key moment of the narration. Let us quote the concrete passage (Dion. 48.581-586) with its whole context (48.573-606): οὐδὲ λάθεν Διόνυσον ὀρίδρομος ἄστατος Αὔρη διψαλέη· ταχινὸς δὲ θορὼν ἐπὶ πυθμένα πέτρης θύρσῳ γαῖαν ἄρασσε· διχαζομένη δὲ κολώνη (575) αὐτομάτην ὤδινε μέθην εὐώδεϊ μαζῷ χεύματι πορφύροντι· χαριζόμεναι δὲ Λυαίῳ δμωίδες Ἠελίοιο κατέγραφον ἄνθεσιν Ὧραι πίδακος ἄκρα μέτωπα, καὶ εὐόδμοισιν ἀήταις ἀρτιφύτου λειμῶνος ἱμάσσετο νήδυμος ἀήρ· (580) εἶχε δὲ Ναρκίσσοιο φερώνυμα φύλλα κορύμβων ἠιθέου χαρίεντος, ὃν εὐπετάλῳ παρὰ Λάτμῳ νυμφίος Ἐνδυμίων κεραῆς ἔσπειρε Σελήνης, ὃς πάρος ἠπεροπῆος ἑοῦ χροὸς εἴδεϊ κωφῷ εἰς τύπον αὐτοτέλεστον ἰδὼν μορφούμενον ὕδωρ (585) κάτθανε, παπταίνων σκιοειδέα φάσματα μορφῆς· καὶ φυτὸν ἔμπνοον εἶχεν Ἀμυκλαίης ὑακίνθου· ἱπτάμεναι δ’ ἀγεληδὸν ἐπ’ ἀνθεμόεντι κορύμβῳ (589) εἰαρινῶν ἐλίγαινον ἀηδόνες ὑψόθι φύλλων. (588)

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κεῖθι δὲ διψώουσα μεσημβριὰς ἔτρεχεν Αὔρη· (590) ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ βλεφάροισιν Ἔρως κατέχευεν ὀμίχλην. † κεῖθι διαψώουσα Διὸς χύσιν ἤ τινα πηγήν ἢ ῥόον ἀθρήσειεν ὀρεσσιχύτου ποταμοῖο. ἀλλ’ ὅτε Βακχείην ἀπατήλιον ἔδρακε πηγήν, δὴ τότε οἱ βλεφάρων σκιόεν νέφος ἤλασε Πειθώ, (595) τοῖον ἔπος βοόωσα γάμου πρωτάγγελον Αὔρῃ· „παρθενική, μόλε δεῦρο, τελεσσιγάμοιο δὲ πηγῆς εἰς στόμα δέξο ῥέεθρα, καὶ εἰς σέο κόλπον ἀκοίτην.“ κούρη δ’ ἄσμενος εἶδε· παραπροχυθεῖσα δὲ πηγῇ χείλεσιν οἰγομένοισιν ἀνήφυσεν ἰκμάδα Βάκχου. (600) παρθενικὴ δὲ πιοῦσα τόσην ἐφθέγξατο φωνήν· „Νηιάδες, τί τὸ θαῦμα; πόθεν πέλε νήδυμον ὕδωρ; τίς ποτὸν ἔβλυσε τοῦτο; τίς οὐρανίη τέκε † γαστήρ; ἔμπης τοῦτο πιοῦσα ποτὶ δρόμον οὐκέτι βαίνω· ἀλλὰ πόδες βαρύθουσι, καὶ ἡδέι θέλγομαι ὕπνῳ, (605) καὶ σφαλερὸν στομάτων ἁπαλόθροον ἦχον ἰάλλω.“ Dionysos failed not to see how thirsting Aura ran rapidly over the hills. Quickly he leapt up and dug the earth with his wand at the foundation of a rock: the hill parted, and poured out of itself a purple stream of wine from its sweet-scented bosom. The Seasons, handmaids of Helios, to do grace to Lyaios, painted with flowers the fountain’s margin, and fragrant whiffs from the new-growing meadow beat on the balmy air. There were the clustering blooms which have the name of Narcissos the fair youth, whom horned Selene’s bridegroom Endymion begat on leafy Latmos, Narcissos who long ago gazed on his own image formed in the water, that dumb image of a beautiful deceiver, and died as he gazed on the shadowy phantom of his shape; there was the living plant of Amyclaian iris; there sang the nightingales over the spring blossoms, flying in troops above the clustering flowers. And there came running thirsty at midday Aura herself, seeking if anywhere she could find raindrops from Zeus, or some fountain, or the stream of a river pouring from the hills; and Eros cast a mist over her eyelids: but when she saw the deceitful fountain of Bacchos, Peitho dispersed the shadowy cloud from her eyelids, and called out to Aura like a herald of her marriage – “Maiden, come this way! Take into your lips the stream of this nuptial fountain, and into your bosom a lover.” Gladly the maiden saw it, and throwing herself down before the fountain drew in the liquid of Bacchos with open lips. When she had drunk, the girl exclaimed: “Naiads, what marvel is this? Whence comes this balmy water? Who made this bubbling drink, Hyacinthos once more! what heavenly womb gave him birth? Certainly, after drinking this I can run no more. No, my feet are heavy, sweet sleep bewitches me, nothing comes from my lips but a soft stammering sound.

In this key moment, Dionysus prepares a trap (48.570, δόλον εὐνῆς) for Aura, who runs over the hills and is thirsty, so that she drinks from a spring of false water. It was in fact, wine, which causes marvel and intoxication in the maiden (48.602, Νηιάδες, τί τὸ θαῦμα; πόθεν πέλε νήδυμον ὕδωρ). The locus amoenus for the deceit of the senses is marked by the flowers who bear the name of Narcissus, that serve as a memory of the lost senses of the boy (48.581-586).

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There is an allusion to the name of Narcissus, in the middle of this exuberant Dionysian vegetation, and to the fact that he stared at his own “false image of a beautiful deceiver” (ἠπεροπῆος ἑοῦ χροὸς εἴδεϊ κωφῷ), formed upon the waters spontaneously as a mould (τύπον αὐτοτέλεστον), and that he became lost in that deceitful vision, and died watching “the shadowy phantom of his shape” (σκιοειδέα φάσματα μορφῆς). After this allusion, the union of Dionysus and Aura, last love companion of the god, takes place. Aura gives birth to twins but she murders one of them. Nicaea, mother of Telete, or “initiation”, who directs “the mysteries of Lyaeusº” (48.811), appears in the episode. After the deceptive union of Dionysus and Aura, the gods (Artemis especially) try to prevent Aura from killing Iacchus. Thus, Dionysus orders Nicaea and her daughter Telete to take care of her (48.870-886). Dionysus – close to his apotheosis – feels proud of this double offspring (48.888), from his first and last mortal wife, Nicaea and Aura. Both children, Telete and Iacchus, will keep alive the presence of the god on earth: Telete, as an allegory of the Dionysian rites, and Iacchus, as the personification of the mysteries. Along with his offspring, Dionysus will take care of the destiny of the unfortunate Aura (48.928-942), who, after throwing herself to the river Sangarius, ends up metamorphosed into a fountain. Dionysus’ only official wife, Ariadne, ascends to the starry vault in 969-973, while Iacchus is taken care of by Artemis. The final verses of the poem allude to the Nachleben of Dionysus, culminating his theological biography with a sort of trinity (48.966, τελεταῖς τρισσῇσιν) of Zagreus-Dionysus-Iacchus, ὀψιγόνῳ / ἀρχεγόνῳ / τριτάτῳ; Ζαγρέα κυδαίνοντες ἅμα Βρομίῳ καὶ Ἰάκχῳ (48.959-968). I believe that this passage on Narcissus’ mirror is linked to that of Zagreus in book 6 and that, through the use of both myths in such relevant passages of the poem, Nonnus echoes the Neoplatonic debate on the mirror. Philosophy, as we have seen, allegorized both myths on mirrors in order to allude to the relation of the soul – and its parts, higher and lower – with the intelligible world. If the mirror of Zagreus was used to explain emanations, that of Narcissus was an allusion to the “negative mirroring”, that is to say, the frustrating experience of the human soul unable to be completely detached from the material world. This experience is symbolized by the reflection of a false image, but attractive because of the appearance or physicality of the body. This soul loses sight of the upper reality, to which it belongs, and perishes in contact with the sensible world as it gazes the shadowy phasmata from the material shape. Of course, there is a long Platonic tradition behind this text. These σκιοειδέα φάσματα here remind the platonic tradition of σκιοειδῆ φαντάσματα from the aforementioned passage of Plato’s Phaedo (81d), speaking of the earthly burden of the body, which some souls cannot overcome, so that they are dragged into the visible world as shadowy shapes. Moreover, there can be a deliberate echo of the Plotinian views on Narcissus in the first Ennead and of the insistence on

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the σκιαί, or shadows, the deceitful reflections in mirrors and water. In both myths, Zagreus and Narcissus, both Plotinus and Nonnus seem to warn the reader about the dangers of losing touch with the true intelligible world. Ten years ago, Newbold noted the paradox posed by the Dionyisiaca, on the one hand, a celebration of the sensory world, in a deeply pagan way; on the other hand, a poem distrustful of the illusions provided by the material world through the senses, very much in tune with the Christian views of his day.39 But, again, in Nonnus there is no simple dichotomy between exclusive worldviews, and mimesis, if Neoplatonically understood, must not be simply regarded as a treacherous and deceitful tool. Phantasia was, indeed, also used by the Christian Fathers in the debate on perception of the divine and of divine images: already Origen defends a Christian phantasia as a godly enlightenment of the mind and Eusebius of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa – perhaps the best-known Christian follower of Plotinus’ aesthetics – claim that it is a way to understood some theological mysteries.40 Nonnus’ attitudes towards mimesis are perhaps reflecting the twofold consideration of the image in Neoplatonism, the difference between eikon or agalma, able of reflecting a glimpse of true realities, and phasma, eidolon or phantasma, which pointed out distorted or deceptive imitations. The mirror is a key element, for it implies both false and divine mimesis: both the ethical mirroring of Narcissus’s lost soul (Enn. 1.6.8) and the metaphysical one of Dionysus’s mirror, as an original Unity later fragmented in a mirror in order to descend to our multifaceted world (Enn. 4.3.12).41 Perhaps, as the evidence seems to point towards, Nonnus’ emphasis on the double mimesis, ascendant and descendent, and double role of the mirror show his awareness of this long-lasting Platonic debate on φαντασία and phantoms, positive and false reflections, in two myths regarding mimesis already allegorised by Plotinus and other Neoplatonists.

39 NEWBOLD 2010, Mimesis and Illusion, pp. 82-83. He also speaks of two broad categories of imitation in Nonnus, deliberate and accidental (90), without any further implication for our purpose. 40 See, for example, Origen, Contra Celsum 4.95.23; Eusebius, De Ecclesiastica Theologia 3.21.1, Gregory, Orationes viii de Beatitudinis 141.15-21. In general, cf. PIZZONE 2011, Late Antique Phantasia and IOZZIA 2015, Aesthetic Themes. 41 See again PÉPIN 1970, Plotin et le Miroir de Dionysos.

XX. NONNUS AND GRAECO-EGYPTIAN MAGIC: CROSSROADS, POETIC CONFLUENCES AND FRINGE STATES Flor HERRERO VALDÉS

1. Nonnus and the PGM: Crossroads The idea of Nonnus as a ‘poet at the crossroads’ is most appropriate in the case of the field of Graeco-Egyptian magic. This esoteric manifestation is a phenomenon that coexists in time and space with our author and it is essentially liminal. It dwells in frontiers and cross-paths, in the same way that Nonnus is a bridge between ages, poetic manières and trends of religious sentiment, from which to contemplate the past that already was the Classical Antiquity, his present time and the future to come in the Empire’s area. As an object of study, Graeco-Egyptian magic is preserved in the mentioned PGM:1 Greek-Coptic papyri from various provenances along the Nile, dated from the 2nd cent. BC to the 6th AD. They were gathered by Preisendanz and Heinrichs because of the strange content they have – recipes of spells infused with a mix of mythological, religious and philosophical conceptions from all over the Mediterranean. Greek, Egyptian and Chaldean-Babylonian gods are invoked along with Jesus, the archangels and some sort of Yahweh or creator-god. Religious activities that resemble Egyptian transits to the afterlife appear along with Apollonian incubations, love spells or simple curse lead tablets, among many other magical praxeis. And its liturgy is characterized by a striking use of poetic passages from the most famous Greek authors in the recitations for consecration of objects or magical petitions. Entire verses of Homer are reorganized and partially transformed in a magisterial use of the poetic tool of allusion, in order to argue the petition and put in motion the magical performative means. But one can also find traces of Hesiod, the Homeric and the Orphic Hymns or even the charm of our Nonnus. There are also Hermetic salutations and spells, or a whole book on Gnostic rituals attributed to Moses.

1 Attested also in: DANIEL – MALTOMINI 1990-1992, Supplementum Magicum; AUDOLLENT 1904, Defixionum tabellae; WÜNSCH 1907, Antike Fluchtaflen; JORDAN 1985, A survey of Greek defixiones; KOTANSKY 1994, Greek magical amulets; BONNER 1950, Studies in magical amulets.

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This compendium is, indeed, a bit artificial: the time span of the papyri’s dating is too wide, they come from different find places, unknown in many cases, and its authors are anonymous magicians or eventual practitioners of magic without correlation between them. It is a product of the habits of the late 19th century German academia – an antiquarian collection, not without a great value but that needs to be taken carefully. Nonetheless, it is worth summarizing the points in which this magic is a ‘crossroad’ of cultural and religious proportions, because the same kind of questions may apply as in the study of Nonnus. There are four main points: 1. It is a dramatic testimony of the Hellenistic miscegenation between the Greek and the Egyptian. Especially at the level of its mythology, due to the wild religious syncretism that the spells present. But also, socially and culturally. They preserve the names of the people who practiced magic and the languages they spoke and wrote in;2 or the documental or literary genres which they still popularly used, such as letters, hymns, lyric prose or even judicial rhetoric. 2. At the level of its ritualistic nature, Graeco-Egyptian magic is a late manifestation of its Greek counterpart that, paradoxically, because of its mixture with the rather magical understanding of the Egyptian religion, includes more traditional Greek religious practices. The Greeks believed that magic came from Persia and Egypt, so we can guess a continuous flux of esoteric conceptions and practices which is attested physically by the PGM. 3. It is also a link between the traditional religious practices of the Greek temples, the trans-metaphysical thought of the Neoplatonists, the mystical conceptions of the Gnostics and the popular believes of the early Christian communities. It is an important milestone between the polytheism of the Classical Antiquity and the monotheism of the new trends of thought, characterized by a powerful desire for personal salvation. Its basic henotheistic and syncretistic nature is shown in continuity in these papyri from the 2nd to the 6th century AD. 4. Finally, and especially significant, as rituals, the spells that the PGM preserve work at the level of the so-called “fringe states”. It is not random that Hekate, Persephone, Selene, Hermes or Typhon are the main divinities involved in these praxeis. As we shall see, magical musical-poetic tools help quieten or even remove conscious states and logical patterns of thought for the mythic symbols to act at the level of the emotions and “make magic”. 2 Greek names along with Egyptian ones or the typical use of both, in the papyri that contain examples of spells which were carried out by practitioners who probably paid a professional magician for the recipe. About their language, the papyri are written in a late Hellenistic Greek with abundant misspelling caused by Egyptian phonetics, along with some Coptic passages and magical words of Hebrew origin.

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These are hard assertions to make and demonstrate. We are to use them to help broadly contextualize where the Greek Magical Papyri dwelled and acted upon, but also the topic at hand. Nonnus himself is a milestone or cross-point across ages and cultures. His use of the Greek hexameter, which he also adapted to his time and its needs,3 to sing both to a Dionysus who is not the classical one anymore, and to Christ, parallelly and sincerely, without prejudgments, involves those points just drafted. They are both manifestations of the same cultural and spiritual process, so their confluence is not that surprising. This is a connection that deserves more research. For this contribution, however, my focus is on making known this unusual context of transmission or/and possible use of Nonnus’ poetry, not without addressing some interesting questions. 2 Nonnus and the Magical Use of Poetic Allusion in the Greek Magical Hymns The Greek Magical Hymns4 are liturgical excerpts of hexametrical and iambictrochaic verses. They belong to the legomena, the words to be uttered or written in cultic objects, which make work the spells of the Greek Magical Papyri. The so-called hymns5 are found in the prayers to the gods. By their nature and structural coincidence with traditional epic and lyric forms of Greek poetry, they have been considered mere appropriations of a popular, ancient corpus, that somehow got lost in transmission.6 Nowadays, scholars are switching to the idea that there was a specific hymnic subgenre for magical purposes, as there was one for many other ritualistic and performative occasions.7 The coincidence with traditional Greek literary genres is sometimes direct reuse of whole or partial verses and episodes from famous literary works, in order to furnish mythological or symbolical content, for the magical lore of a particular cult or god’s action to take part in the ritual. This use of literary allusion is not strange to Greek poets,8 but it is of the most importance in magic 3 By reducing the patterns from the thirty-two of Homer to just nine, due to specific accentuation phenomena of his time, mainly the loss of the tonal aspect of the Greek language. Cf. MANTEROLA – PINKLER 1995, Dionisiacas, p. 14. 4 The main edition is PREISENDANZ 1974, PGM, vol. II, pp. 237-264. It contains Preisendanz’s hypothesis along with the work of HEITSCH 1961, Hymni e papyris. From now on, abbreviated as Hymn. Mag. 5 It is a controversial subject – if they should be called hymns at all, since what we know as such are cut and pasted verses, put together by Preisendanz and Heitsch as complete songs, due to their content and subjected to their own creativity and hypothesis as scholars. 6 Cf. CALVO MARTINEZ 2002, El Tratamiento, pp. 71-72. 7 Cf. PETROVIC 2015, Hymns in the PGM; TISSI 2015, L’innologia magica. 8 For a basic bibliography, see: DEREMETZ 2009, Intertexte; HAWTHORNE 2014, Allusion; GARNER 1990, From Homer. Nonnus himself made use of it, cf. HOLLIS 1976, Some Allusions; SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic.

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and philosophical poetry. There are some things that cannot be transmitted by analytical or discursive narrative, as Plato already remarked with his myths and parables. The work of Kingsley on Parmenides’ poem as a psychagogic exercise9 is paramount to understand the function of this stylistic feature. Homer is the most relevant poet, as it was the Greek norm. His poetry is the most often alluded in the hymns, in the evocation of well-known mythological episodes and in the straightforward appropriation of complete verses, half verses and expressions.10 His influence does not stop here. Some verses from Iliad and Odyssey were considered sacred so they could just be inscribed in a tablet and serve as an amulet or paredros.11 There was a specific type of spell for revelation called Homeromanteîon: three dices would determine the verse to choose from a numbered list, in order to answer specific questions.12 And a new version of Od. 9.34-50 can be found in PGM 23,13 a magical amplification of the spell that Odysseus had to perform to awake and question Teiresias. Allusion as a poetic device can involve epithetic formulation, citation, paraphrasing or even allegory. The Magical Hymns make abundant reutilization of divine epithets which may allow tracing back cultic scenarios. In this context, we encounter typical Homeric formulation and famous cultic attributes of Greek gods, especially from the Homeric or the Orphic Hymns, but also from the lyric or dramatic poetry and many other sources.14 There is also a frequent use of expressions from the Greek version of the Old Testament, Septuaginta, such as the monotheistic saying θεὸς θεῶν or the frightening image of the 9 Cf. KINGSLEY 2001, In the dark places, and GEMELLI MARCIANO 2008, Images and experience. They uncover how Homeric references, helped by sonorous and visual metaphoric effects, allowed the psyche of the reader or Parmenides’ disciple, to acquire a different state of mind. 10 E.g. the evocation of Peleus’ transformation in Hymn. Mag. 3.1-2, from Od. 4.457-478; a citation of a whole passage, Il. 1.37-41, in Hymn. Mag. 10.7-8 and 10.13-15; utilization of half verses and expressions, such as οὔρεα ὑψόσ’ ἀείρας/ἐγείρει Hymn. Mag. 1.2 (in Il. 10.465, Il. 10.505, Il. 20.325, Il. 21.307, Il. 23.501; Od. 9.240, Od. 9.340, Od. 12.248, Od. 13.83), or ἀκάματον πῦρ, which appears five times in the PGM (PGM 4.438, PGM 4.1953, PGM 4.2523, PGM 4.2821; PGM 20.14) and nine in Homer (Il. 5.4, Il. 15.731, Il. 16.122, Il. 18.225, Il. 21.13, Il. 21.341, Il. 23.52; Od. 20.123 and Od 21.181). 11 Cf. PGM 4.2145-2240. 12 The beginning of PGM 7 contains 216 verses from Iliad and Odyssey. 13 Preisendanz only edited the magical invocation from this papyrus, as Hymn. Mag. 24. See P. Oxy. 412, for the full edition of Julius Africanus’ Kestoi, end of book 18. 14 E.g. of Helios: in Hymn. Mag. 4.10, μάκαρ ἄφθιτε, as in Hymn. Orph. 15.1, Ζεῦ πολυτίμητε, Ζεῦ ἄφθιτε or Procl. Hymn 6.3 and 15, Ἴανε προπάτορ, Ζεῦ ἄφθιτε. Or Hymn. Mag. 5.10, as χρυσοκόμης, as in Anac. Fr. 13.2 χρυσοκόμης Ἔρως; Diod. Sic. l7.12.7.4, Ἀπόλλων χρυσοκόμης; or Hes. Theog. 947, χρυσοκόμης δὲ Διώνυσος. And of Apollo-Phoebus, Hymn. Mag. 9.1-2, ἑκάεργε, as in Hymn. Hom. Ap. 257, Φοῖβε ἄναξ ἑκάεργε (also Hymn. Hom. Ap. 56, Hymn. Hom. Ap. 357, Hymn. Hom. Ap. 382, Hymn. Hom. Ap. 400, Hymn. Hom. Ap. 420, Hymn. Hom. Ap. 474) or Il. 5.439, Il. 9.564, Il. 15.243, Il. 15.253, Il. 16.94, Il. 17.585, Il. 20.461, Il. 21.478, Il. 22.220; Od. 8.323; Hymn. Hom. Merc. 239, Hymn. Hom. Merc. 281, Hymn. Hom. Merc. 333 (Ἑρμῆς Ἑκάεργον); Pind. Pyth. 6.28, Bacchyl. Dithyr. Fr. 5b.11. Of Selene-Artemis, in Hymn. Mag. 19.17, μάκαιρα, as in Sappho Hymn Aphr. fr.1.13, or Hymn. Orph. 2.13, 3.12.

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creator god.15 Important topics such as the cosmogenesis or the aspect of the underworld, accumulate specialized vocabulary which can be directly linked to Genesis, Hesiod’s Theogony, the Hermetic Corpus or the Gnostic cosmological theory. As an example, Hymn. Mag. 1, dedicated to the creator-god, describes a brief cosmogony for which the primary source seems to be Apollonius of Rhodes, Argon. 1.496-502, which considered, in its turn, an ancient Orphic excerpt.16 It can also be related to Gen. 1.11.1-4, Hesiod’s Theog. 116-131 and Poimandres 4-5 or Hieros Logos 1.5-3.6. And as an example of paraphrasing, there is a prosaic version of a famous Hermetic salutation in PGM 3.592-610, known, almost verbatim but in Latin, through Pseudo-Apuleius’s Asclep. 41b.374-376. In the same way, Nonnus’ poetry can be linked to many poetic passages from this strange liturgy. We can divide the material into three categories: appropriations; transmission of mythological obscure episodes; and proof of the existence of a μάγος ὕμνος. 3. Magical Appropriations of Nonnus’ Poetry There are straightforward parallels to Nonnus’ poetry in just one magical papyrus, the PGM 2. It was first dated from the 3rd century of our era by the first editor Parthey, then re-dated to the 4th century in later studies.17 We encounter here the first problematic question, both in relation to Nonnus’ and the papyrus’ dating. But we should see first the evidence and then draw some conclusions. The main material is a passage of seven contiguous lines in Hymn. Mag. 11.19-25, that transports us through several episodes of the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase. The context is a salutation dedicated to Apollo who is identified with Helios. The first thing one must understand is that the use of allusion in magic is very subtle and loose, because it pursues the specific goals of the spell in question. In this case, the author is constructing a poetic image of a solar god, who is at the same time Helios, Apollo and Horus. The general aim of the spell is the procurance of an oracle in dreams, by using all kind of 15 That monotheistic expression comes up in PGM 4.1200; PGM 5.446; PGM 12.74; PGM 13.945; PGM 22b.21; and Ps. 49.1.2. The horrific epiphany of the Creator implies that the whole creation trembles and fears, and it pre-exists in: Esdras 2.11.5, κύριε ὁ θεὸς τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ὁ ἰσχυρὸς ὁ μέγας καὶ ὁ φοβερός; Jer. 4.24, εἶδον τὰ ὄρη, καὶ ἦν τρέμοντα, καὶ πάντας τοὺς βουνοὺς ταρασσομένους·; Deut. 10.17, Deut. 18.4, Deut. 19.32, Ps. 46.3. In the PGM is extremely abundant: PGM 4.245, ὃν τρέμει γῆ, βυθός, Ἅιδης, οὐρανός, ἥλιος, σελήνη, χορὸς ἄστρων ἐπιφανής, σύμπας κόσμος, PGM 4.3068-3070 ὃν τρέμει γέννα πυρὸς καὶ φλόγες περιφλογίζουσι καὶ σίδηρος λακᾷ καὶ πᾶν ὄρος ἐκ θεμελίου φοβεῖται, PGM 77.11, ὃν τρέμουσιν οἱ δαίμονες, ὃν τὰ ὄρη φοβεῖται. The Greek mythology has its examples as well, as in Il. 13.1719, Αὐτίκα δ’ ἐξ ὄρεος κατεβήσετο παιπαλόεντος | κραιπνὰ ποσὶ προβιβάς· τρέμε δ’ οὔρεα μακρὰ καὶ ὕλη | ποσσὶν ὑπ’ ἀθανά τοισι Ποσειδάωνος ἰόντος. 16 Cf. CALVO MARTÍNEZ 2003, Dos Himnos Mágicos, p. 235. 17 PREISENDANZ – HENRICHS 1974, PGM, pp. 18-21.

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objects of Apollo’s cult and a lamp. It is, thence, a lychnomanteia, a kind of empyromanthy. I shall explain briefly the magical praxis, which is in PGM 2.64-182. The recipe involves preparatory actions: purification of the room where the rite is going to take place; crafting of two magic wands and a crown, made of boughs and leaves of bay; and the preparation of a throne covered by a linen, where Apollo-Helios is going to manifest himself. The ritual gets started in a night ruled by a crescent moon in Gemini, with some more actions of purification: a sacrifice of a cock, an offering of pineapple and wine, and an unction. The body of the performer is anointed with a mixture that contains opium. During this process, the acolyte prays ceaselessly to Apollo-Paean by the lamp, until the smoke of the offering is consumed and then he or she goes to sleep with their head facing south. Before falling asleep, the first invocation is recited, a hexametrical hymn to Daphne and Apollo-Helios in which divinatory powers are asked for. It is formed by the first eleven verses of the Hymn. Mag. 11 (Text 1.A, see below). At dawn, another hymn is recited, which is a salutation to the sun. It begins with the next twenty-two verses of the Hymn. Mag. 11 (Text 1.B.a), in a dactylic rhythm that sometimes gets diluted by the introduction of magic vowels and magical words. It is addressed to Helios-Apollo. Here is where Nonnus’ poetry seems to be used for the construction of beautiful epic images of the Sun’s race through the celestial vault. Half-way through, it turns into prose, a rhythmic one in which a iambic-trochaic pattern can be felt. It gets addressed to Horus and Egyptian characteristics of the solar god are described. And it is closed by another invocation to Apollo-Phoebus, where dactyls are mixed with series of magic vowels (Text 1.B.b). Although it does not recuperate completely its hexametrical form anymore, Preisendanz considers this sequence must be the original end of the archetypal Greek hymn that he has tried to reconstruct as Hymn. Mag. 11, along with a small petition to Apollo, preserved in what needs to be inscribed in the throne prepared for the epiphany of the god (Text 1.C). Therefore, early in the morning and after a sleepless night, by the end of the rhythmical invocation to Helios/Apollo-Horus, the god must have manifested himself in the throne and should be giving oracle. If not, a coactive action is prescribed, which we do not need to discuss here. And after the proper interrogation of the divine entity, a liberation is required: a small prayer accompanied by sprinkling the blood of a pigeon and burning myrrh. Now, let us focus on the salutation to Helios-Apollo.18 18

For the extracts, I provide my own edition of the Greek text of the Magical Hymns and the English translation from BETZ 1992, Greek Magical Papyri. Purposely, they do not match. Betz’s translators used Preisendanz’s reconstructions of the hymns, which are an important source for their understanding. However, I also wanted to preserve the original state of the evidence. On

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Text 1: Greek text of Hymn. Mag. 11 (PGM 2.81-101, 133-140, 163-166) A. Δάφνη, μαντοσύνης ἱερὸν φυτὸν Ἀπόλλωνος, ἧς ποτε γευσάμενος πετάλων ἀνέφηνεν ἀοιδάς, αὐτὸς ἄναξ σκηπτοῦχος. Ἰήιε, κύδιμε Παιάν, ἐν Κολοφῶνι ναίων, ἱερῆς ἐπάκουσον ἀοιδῆς. ἐλθὲ τάχος δ’ ἐπὶ γαῖαν ἀπ’ οὐρανόθεν σμιγγαωνυδωρ, (5) ἀμβροσίων στομάτων τε σταθεὶς ἔμπνευσον ἀοιδάς, αὐτός, ἄναξ μολπῆς, μόλε, κύδιμε μολπῆς ἀνάκτωρ. κλῦθι, μάκαρ, βαρύμηνι, κραταιόφρων, κλύε, Τιτάν, ἡμετέρης φωνῆς νῦν, ἄφθιτε, μὴ παρακούσῃς. στῆθι, μαντοσύνην ἀπ’ ἀμβροσίου στομάτοιο (10) ἔννεπε τῷ ἱκέτῃ, πανακήρατε, θᾶττον, Ἄπολλον. B.a Χαῖρε, πυρὸς ταμία, τηλεσκόπε κοίρανε κόσμου, Ἠέλιε κλυτόπωλε, Διὸς γαιήοχον ὄμμα, παμφαές, ὑψικέλευθα, διιπετές, οὐρανοφοῖτα, αἰγλήεις, ἀκίχητε, παλαιγενές, ἀστυφέλικτε, (15) χρυσομίτρη, φαλεροῦχε, πυρισθενές, αἰολοθώρηξ, πωτήεις, ἄκαμνε, χρυσήνιε, χρυσοκέλευθα, πάντας δ’ εἰσορόων καὶ ἀμφιθέων καὶ ἀκούων· σοὶ φλόγες ὠδίνουσι φεραυγέες ἤματος ὄρθρου, σοὶ δὲ μεσημβριόωντα πόλον διαμετρήσαντι (20) ἀντολίη μετόπισθε ῥοδόσφυρος εἰς ἑὸν οἶκον ἀχνυμένη στείχει, πρὸ δέ σου δύσις ἀντεβόλησεν ὠκεανῷ κατάγουσα πυριτρεφέων ζυγὰ πώλων, Νὺξ φυγὰς οὐρανόθεν καταπάλλεται, εὖτ’ ἂν ἀκούσῃ πωλικὸν ἀμφὶ τένοντα δεδουπότα ῥοῖζον ἱμάσθλης, (25) (MAGICAL VOWELS) Μουσάων σκηπτοῦχε, φερέσβιε, δεῦρό μοι ἤδη, δεῦρο τάχος δ’ ἐπὶ γαῖαν, Ἰήιε κισσεοχαίτα. μολπὴν ἔννεπε, Φοῖβε, δι’ ἀμβροσίου στομάτοιο· καὶ σὲ, πυρὸς μεδέων, αραραχχαρα ηφθισικηρε, (30) καὶ Μοῖραι τρισσαὶ Κλωθώ τ’ Ἄτροπός τε Λάχις τε, σὲ καλω τὸν μέγαν ἐν οὐρανῷ, ἀεροειδῆ, αὐτεξούσιον, ᾧ ὑπετάγη πᾶσα φύσις … (PROSE SECTION) B.b ἀντολεῦ, πολυώνυμε, σενσενγεν· βαρφαραγγης· κλῦθί μοι (…) ϊη· ϊη· ϊη· ϊηϊε· Παιάν, Κολοφώνιε Φοῖβε, (35) < ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ > Παρνήσσιε Φοῖβε, < ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ > Καστάλιε Φοῖβε· < ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ ̆ ̆̅ ̄ > ὑμνήσω Μέντορι Φοίβῳ (…) σὲ καλω, Κλάριε Ἄπολλον εηυ· Καστάλιε· αηα· Πύθιε· ωαε· Μουσῶν Ἄπολλον. ιη· ιεα ιωαυ Δαμναμενεὺς αβραη· αβραω αβραωα· δέσποτα Μουσῶ[ν], (40) C. ἵλαθί μοι, τῷ σῷ ἱκέτῃ, καὶ ἔσο εὐμενὴς καί εὐίλατος, φάνηθί μοι καθαρῷ τῷ προσώπῳ. Nonnus’ works, the TLG’s Greek text is given and the English translation comes from ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca, and PROST 2003, Nonnos, Paraphrase.

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The salutation is in section B. It is a proper hymn on its own as in the Homeric Hymns, with a tripartite structure composed of invocation, epic development and petition, and a perfect use of the dactylic hexameter. (a.) The first part of the tripartite structure, typical of a Greek Hymn as settled by Carl Ausfeld,19 the canonical specialist on the Greek Hymn, is the invocation or epiclesis, which in this case takes the form of greetings. “Hail, fire’s dispenser, world’s far-seeing king, O Helios, with noble steeds, the eye Of Zeus which guards the earth, all-seeing one, Who travel lofty paths, O gleam divine, Who move through the heaven, bright, unattainable, Born long ago, unshaken, with a headband (15) Of gold, wearing a disk, mighty with fire, With gleaming breastplate, winged one, untiring With golden reins, coursing a golden path, And you who watch, encircle, hear all men.”

The beginning with χαῖρε, is a typical feature of the Homeric Hymns, also used by Callimachus, Isidore or Proclus. In an epiclesis, the god is named, praised and welcomed. In our little hymn, Helios is addressed by his proper name in the second verse and his eulogy is made by his description in an orientalising manner: by giving a list of epithets and descriptive adjectival expressions, which is something characteristic of the Egyptian liturgy or the Orphic Hymns. In these first verses, Helios is properly described as the sun, a primordial and distant entity that shines and enlightens, of cosmocratic powers and, in proper Hellenic mythological terms, the charioteer of the heavens. (b.) The middle part is what Ausfeld called the pars epica, which in the Homeric Hymns usually supposes the narration of epic episodes. In our hymn, this has indeed a narrative form, and poetic famous images seem to be borrowed to transmit the beauty of the sun’s race through the skies. Here is where our work with Nonnus starts. “For you day’s flames that bring the light give birth To Dawn, and as you pass the midmost pole, (20) Behind you rosy-ankled Sunrise goes Back to her home in grief; in front, Sunset Meets you and leads your team of fire-fed steeds Down into Ocean; Night darts down in flight From heav’n, whene’er she hears the crack of whip” (25)

19

AUSFELD 1903, De Graecorum, p. 514.

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If we carefully track the meaningful vocabulary used, we find an, apparently, chaotic approximation to some of his images. See the table below: Texts 2: Hymn. Mag. 11.19-25 and its parallels in Nonnus Hymn. Mag. 11.19: σοὶ φλόγες ὠδίνουσι φεραυγέες ἤματος ὄρθρου, ἄχρι φάος δέρκεσθε, σοφῷ πιστεύετε μύθῳ εἰς φάος, ὄφρα γένοισθε φεραυγέες υἱέες αἴγλης. (Par. 12.145-146) “As long as you can see the Light, trust His wise words, and then you will become the shining sons of splendour.” αὔλακες ὠδίνουσιν, ὅτε δρόσος εἰς χθόνα πίπτει λουομένην Φαέθοντι. (…) (Dion. 42.289-290) “The furrows are teeming, when the dew falls on land parched by Phaethon.”

Hymn. Mag. 11.20-22: σοὶ δὲ μεσημβριόωντα πόλον διαμετρήσαντι ἀντολίη μετόπισθε ῥοδόσφυρος εἰς ἑὸν οἶκον ἀχνυμένη στείχει, (…) (…) Φαέθων δὲ πόλον δινωτὸν ἐάσσας εἰς δύσιν ἔτραπε δίφρον· (…) (Dion. 2.163-164) “Phaeton had left the rounded sky, and turned his car towards setting:” ὅττι Διὸς μεγάλοιο γονὴν ἐψεύσατο μηροῦ καὶ πόλον ὡς ἑὸν οἶκον. (…) (Dion. 44.162-163) “because of his lies about the thigh of great Zeus, and the heaven as his home.” (…) ῥοδοςτεφέος … Ἠοῦς. (Dion. 34.106 and 48.681) “(…) rose-crowned … Dawn.”

Hymn. Mag. 11.22-23: (… ) πρὸ δέ σου δύσις ἀντεβόλησεν ὠκεανῷ κατάγουσα πυριτρεφέων ζυγὰ πώλων, (…) ὁ μὲν δρόμον ἄρτι τελέσσας ἠερόθεν νόστησε· πυριγλήνου δ’ἐλατῆρος Φωσφόρος αἰγλήεις τετράζυγος ἐγγύθι δίφρου θήκατο θερμὰ λέπανδα καὶ ἀστερόεσσαν ἱμάσθλην, γείτονος Ὠκεανοῖ ο παρὰ προχοῇσι καθήρας μυδαλέων ἱδρῶτι πυριτρεφέων δέμας ἵππων. (Dion. 12.7-12)

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“He had just finished his course and come dawn from sky. Bright Phosphorus was ready for the fire-eyed driver, near his chariot and four. He put away the hot yokestraps and starry whip and washed in the neighbouring Ocean stream the bodies of the fire-fed horses wet with sweat.”

Hymn. Mag. 11.24-25: Νὺξ φυγὰς οὐρανόθεν καταπάλλεται, εὖτ’ ἂν ἀκούσῃ πωλικὸν ἀμφὶ τένοντα δεδουπότα ῥοῖζον ἱμάσθλης (…) Φαέθων δὲ πόλον δινωτὸν ἐάσσας εἰς δύσιν ἔτραπε δίφρον· ἀναθρῴσκουσα δὲ γαίης ὑψιτενὴς ἅτε κῶνος ἐς ἠέρα σιγαλέη Νύξ οὐρανὸν ἀστερόεντι διεχλαίνωσε χιτῶνι, (Dion. 2.163-166) “Phaeton had left the rounded sky and turned his car towards setting. Silent Night leapt up from earth into the air like a high-stretching cone and wrapped heaven about in a starry robe spangling the welkin.” οἰστρηθεὶς Ἀθάμας μανιώδεϊ Πανὸς ἱμἀσθλῃ (…) ἀεὶ δέ οἱ ἔνδον ἀκουῆς Πανιάδος Κρονίης ἐπεβόμβεε δοῦπος ἱμάσθλης· (Dion. 10.4 and 10.12-13) “Athamas was tormented by the maddening lash of Pan (…) for always in his ear sounded the thuds of the lash of Cronian Pan.” δαίμονος ἀμφιέπων μανιώδεα ῥοῖζον ἱμάσθλης; Ἰησοῦς δ’ ἀγόρευε πάλιν δυςπειθέι λαῷ· δαίμονος οὐ μεθέπει με λαθίφρονος ἦχος ἱμάσθλης ἀλλὰ θεὸν ζείδωρον ἐμὸν γενετῆρα γεραίρω τιμαῖς εὐαγέεσσιν· ἀτιμίῃ δέ με πολλῇ ὑμεῖς ἀφραδέοντες ἐλέγχετε κέντορι μύθῳ. (Par. 8.145-150) “‘Or are you lashed to madness by a tending demon?’ Again, Jesus addressed the disbelieving mob: ‘The whiplash of a fatal demon strikes me not, but, rather, fruitful God, my Father, I revere with honour undefiled: with great dishonour, me you foolish men vituperate with stinging words.”

Despite the apparent looseness, we can clearly identify two Nonnian passages, which are merged: Dionysiaca 2.163-166 and 12.7-12. “(…) Phaeton had left the rounded sky and turned his car towards setting: silent Night leapt up from earth into the air like a high-stretching cone, and wrapped heaven about in a starry robe spangling the welkin. He had just finished his course and come dawn from sky. Bright Phosphorus was ready for the fire-eyed driver, near his chariot and four. He put away the hot yokestraps and starry whip and washed in the neighbouring Ocean stream the bodies of the fire-fed horses wet with sweat.”

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They both mention Phaeton, “the one who shines”, and speak about the end of the sun’s daily trip with his horses. Meaningful coincidence of vocabulary points out towards a connection: the Nonnian use of πόλος for heaven; the “fire-fed” horses that finally can rest in the Ocean; Night that “leaps up” or “darts down” once the sun’s run finishes or starts; or the sound of the whip with which the chariot is led. The relationship and the poetical game are obvious. Φαέθων is both an epithet of Helios and the name of his famous mortal son, who died driving his horses in a vain attempt to prove his divine origin.20 As a heliacal character, their identification is justified, both in traditional mythmaking and in magic. The transference of attributes between mythological personages of the same kinship is very usual in magic and hymn-singing, due to the belief that the more the god is attributed the faster it is identified. It is also related to the hidden interest that a specific episode can add to the ritual (psychologically speaking) or the story (poetically), in the construction of several layers of meaning. Helios is an important character of Nonnus’, because of his personal interest in astrology and his use of his knowledge of the sky in his poetry. But it is also meaningful that the chief of the Indians, Deriades, Dionysus’ enemy, is a descendant of Mithra, “the Persian Phaeton”.21 Within such a clear intertextual context, other poetical images of Nonnus acquire significance. His “rose-crowned” Aurora (Dion. 48.681/34.106) is turned here into a “rosy-ankled” one, which is a beautiful variation that makes sense, since the movement of the images has changed from a starry night that makes its appearance from the waters towards dawn, to one that is submerging itself in them towards sunset.22 Or the metrically appropriate use of the ends of hexameter ἑὸν οἶκον and ῥοῖζον ἱμάσθλης. The first one, ἑὸν οἶκον, is a handy hexametrical sequence that appears in Homer (only once in Od. 23.8) 20 It is the most frequent epithet of Helios in Nonnus, although his son is also a main character. His death is mentioned in: 2.157; 11.23, 32 and 324, along with the Heliades, where his fall seems to be used as a beautiful metaphor of the gift the sun’s beams carry “δὸς ποταμῷ γέρας ἶσον Ὀλύμπιον, ὅττι καὶ αὐτός, | Ὠκεανῷ Φαέθων ῥοδέας ἀκτῖνας ἰάλλει”; 18.185-186; 23.90; or 38.91-102. And from 38.105 until the end of the book, Hermes tells Bacchus his legend. Helios as Phaeton along with the river Eridanus are mentioned in 2. 320 and 327, since the latter is also a constellation and that passage is a description of the sky when the astral battle of Typhon against the Olympians is about to happen. And in 23.244-245 Phaeton and Helios seem to be identified, when the Eridanus is said to have been burnt by Phaeton’s rays (in 251, Ἠριδανῷ φλεχθέντι κεκαυμένον ἶσον Ὑδάσπην). Cf. ROSE 1932, Mithra-Phaéton chez Nonnos; KNOX 1988, Phaethon. 21 Cf. Dion. 21.250-251, ὅπῃ θεὸς ἔπλετο Μίθρης, | Ἀσσύριος Φαέθων ἐνὶ Περσίδι; 26.188-195, εἰς πεδίον γάρ | ἀρτιφανὴς Φαέθων, ὅτε λούεται Ὠκεανοῖο, | ὄμπνιον ἠῴης ἀποσείεται ἰκμάδα χαίτης, | ῥαίνων ζωοτόκοιο φυτηκόμον αὔλακα γαίης. | τοῖον Ἀρειζάντεια φέρει μέλι, τῷ ἔπι χαίρων | νηχομέναις πτερύγεσσιν ὑπὲρ † ποταμοῖο χορεύων | ἵπταται ἄσπετος ὄρνις· ὄφις δέ τις ἀγκύλος ἕρπων, | μιτρώσας ἑλικηδόν, ὁμόπλοκον ἡδέι δένδρῳ. 22 In Dion. 18.158-159, Nonnus also pictures the movement towards sunset in similar terms: δυομένου Φαέθοντος ὑπὸ σκιοειδέι κώνῳ, | βαιὸν ὀπισθοκέλευθον ἔχων ἔτι λείψανον Ἠοῦς.

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and is frequently used by Nonnus.23 This case seems to be a stylistic variation of Dion. 44.163, πόλον ὡς ἑὸν οἶκον, since the word πόλος is also mentioned in Hymn. Mag. 11, one line up (20): “as you pass the midmost pole, behind you rosy-ankled Sunrise goes back to her home in grief.” The second one, ῥοῖζον ἱμάσθλης, just seems to happen in the Hymn. Mag. 11 and in the Par. 8.145. Therefore, it is very unlikely this is a mere coincidence and it points to think that the magician who wrote this hymn knew quite well the poetry of Nonnus. Nonnus loved the sound effect of this reference: he uses the word ἱμάσθλη fourty-seven times, with variations of this formula such as ἦχος ἱμάσθλης or δοῦπος ἱμάσθλης. In addition to hippic situations, i.e. battle or horse races (e.g. book 37), theses expressions mainly accompany scenes of charioteers of the heavens such as: Typhon in Dion. 1.163-175, Selene in 1.333, the winds (2.533), Nike (2.702), the noon (7.137-13924), Helios (10.142 and 29.301), Phaeton (38.186, 302, 323), Aura (48.328) and Adrastea (48.459 and 463). Meaningfully, it also appears related to the maddening sound of Pan’s lash, like in Dion. 10.4, 13 and 38 (also mentioned in Dion. 21.118). The lexical coincidence is confirmed once more by the use of the verb ἀκούω. The relationship of this object, or its sound, with madness does not end here: in Dion. 9.39, Lamus’ daughters are maddened by Hera (δαιμονίης κακότητος ἐβακχεύθησαν ἱμάσθλῃ);25 the Erinyes’ spell, which also drives mad, is described as the whiplash of the serpents that form their hair (in Dion. 32.103 and 124, and 44.261); Icarus is beaten and whipped by a drunken and frenzied crowd of peasants in Dion. 47.117-126; or in the Paraphrase, as we have seen in the table above (also in Par. 17.35) the action of the devil, which seems a sort of insanity to the Hebrew, is described as a whiplash.26 I detect two more lexical coincidences, which perhaps could seem more difficult to sustain, purely due to contextual reasons. They are those of Hymn. Mag. 11.19: the connection with Dion. 42.289-290 out of the use of the verb ὠδίνουσιν in another mention to Phaeton;27 and the form φεραυγέες, which

23 Although not in this case, it is an astrological expression, cf. Dion. 6.235. Also, in Dion. 18.43, Dion. 19.223 and Dion. 41.400; and Par. 16.120. 24 These two verses could also be relevant in terms of terminological coincidence with Hymn. Mag. 11.19-25, Σεμέλη ῥοδοειδέι σύνδρομος ὄρθρῳ | ἀργυρέης ἐτίταινε δι’ ἄστεος ἦχον ἱμάσθλης ἡμιόνους ἐλάουσα. 25 As a Homeric repetition, the same verse is used several times with variations: Dion. 30.302 and 36.167. 26 Paradoxically also Christ action against the Hebrews in the temple is initiated by him fiercely whipping the air, Par. 2.78. 27 Another reference to Helios’ fertility powers is Dion. 27.4-8, ἀντιπόρῳ Φαέθοντι μέλας λευκαίνετο Γάγγης· | καὶ φυγὰς ἀρτιχάρακτος ἐχάζετο κῶνος ὀμίχλης | σχιζόμενος φαέεσσιν· ἀπὸ δροσεροῖο δὲ δίφρου | ὄρθριος εἰαρινῇσιν ἐλούσατο καρπὸς ἐέρσαις.

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appears like that just in the MagΗ. 11 and in Par. 12.146, and surrounded in both cases by fire-related vocabulary (φλόγες and φάος, respectively). The adjectival expression φεραυγής is another of Nonnus’ favourite words. He uses it very often, in fourteen instances. It is related to a solar or illuminative context. In the Dionysiaca it usually refers to Helios and his descendants or the sun and its movement: in Dion. 21.313 about the lands of the Levant, where the sun sets; in Dion. 23.93 (and Dion. 42.420) attributing the waters of the Eridanus, where Phaeton drowned; about Phaeton in Dion. 24.305; or about Aura’s chariot in Dion. 48.330. Also, in Dion. 31.141, Dion. 33.124, and Dion. 38.181, in the sequence φεραυγέα δαλὸν, a light-bringing torch. However, I find more relevant its appearance in the Paraphrase, in a sentence attributed to Jesus Christ in which he speaks about the Light of faith, when he has revealed himself as the Light of the World. Both Jesus Christ and Dionysus are bearers of light. Two important passages link them: Dion. 33.373, ἑοῦ Στεφάνοιο φεραυγέος, about Dionysus’ crown, and Dion. 38.80-81: where the seer Idmon says that he considers Bacchus the second bringer of light and equals him to Helios, ἠελίῳ γάρ | δεύτερον ἀστράπτοντι φεραυγέα Βάκχον ἐίσκω. Consequently, we must draw upon the level of deep content, which takes me to my main argumentation. What reason might hide the accumulation of poetic expressions from the same work or author, sometimes without straightforward relationship to each other? Allusion is not a matter of just showing off poetic mastery and literary knowledge, or simple pragmatic utilization of comfortable metrical sequences. In the field of magic, as a ritualistic scenario, it has a concrete purpose as pointing technology. The episodes referred to specific vocabulary and images are not random. They have a purpose, one which works at very subtle levels. The high number of concurrences from a particular work also forces that the connection is not missed. Let us see what these episodes could point towards. The longest passage, Dion. 2.163-166, is divided into two in the hymn, between verses 20-21 and 24-25, like enveloping the whole image. It is the beginning of the section generally known as the “advent of Night and consequent calmness”, after Typhon’s first burst of fury.28 If the reader recognizes the scene, it should bring serenity and quietness to the state of mind of whoever listens to or recites this. In verses 22-23, there is the allusion to Dion. 12.10-12, which also speaks of that moment of calmness when the night arrives. And, as a matter of fact, that is exactly the moment of the day in which rituals of revelation in dreams should begin, as the spell recipes of the PGM attest. Therefore, this passage is indeed producing an effect. Furthermore, there is that sonorous figure of the whiplash, emphatically overused by Nonnus: “whene’er she hears the crack of whip that strikes with 28

Lines 163-243, cf. MANTEROLA – PINKLER 1995, Dionisiacas, p. 84.

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force around the horses’ flanks.” At a mythological level, it is a symbol of the god’s power to lead and rule, which situates his importance in the theology of this kind of magic as a sovereign divinity. To this aspect of the divinity, refer all those heavenly personages who drive divine chariots through the sky. In the context of the Graeco-Egyptian magic, it is a feature of the solar god, Helios/ Apollo-Horus, which goes second in the hierarchy, after the Hypsistos. While the latter is the totality, a supreme being or ultimate reality to which all other divinities make reference and by which all spells must be justified; the solar god personifies the next level of perception, that of duality, ruling it along with the female character which is the Infernal Goddess (who can be from Persephone or Hekate to Selene and Artemis). As this fragment shows, HeliosApollo is a god of revelation and illumination, fact that is proven if we take a deeper glance. We have already pointed out that this strong allusion implies a straightforward reference to madness as well. First and foremost, we have the connection with Par. 8.145, in the form of the reuse of that end of hexameter. There, the Hebrew question Jesus Christ’s sanity and he replies that it is not a demon who speaks through him but God himself. And then, all those other references to Bacchic or revengeful frenzy. However, the crack of the lash as a maddening sign belongs to Pan’s cult and myth.29 And Nonnus dedicates a long number of verses to Athamas’ madness, who was tormented by Pan (book 10). Any kind of revelation delivered by Apollo needs to be inspired by a possession such as the Pythia’s, and that is what is being pointed to. It is what Plato in Phaedrus denominates “prophetic mania” (244a) the noblest of all kinds of madness because, as a divine manifestation, it is a gift of the gods.30 Therefore, it is a process to access to mysterious knowledge. Along with revelation this process implies illumination, especially in this magic, where spells for divination in dreams are mixed with and contaminate Gnostic rituals to acquire visions of higher realities and knowledge of metaphysical lore which should unlock power and magic skills. In conclusion, the references to Phaeton, a semi-divine solar figure, as parallel to Jesus Christ as the Light of the World make perfect sense in the context of a solar god who reveals what is hidden, who ‘illuminates’, which is a basic feature of this divine entity of the GrecoEgyptian Magic. (c.) After a sequence of magic vowels which seems to make the effect of breaking the block of sense, the salutation (Text 1.B.a) gets closed as follows. 29 Cf. USTINOVA 2017, Divine Mania, pp. 227-231 and 245-248. She recounts episodes of battle mania or pastoral rapture in isolated, natural places, initiated by the phantasmagorical echo of a whiplash, which was popularly attributed to Pan and panolepsy. 30 Cf. USTINOVA 2017, Divine Mania, p. 55.

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“O sceptre-bearing leader of the Muses, Giver of life, come now to me, come quickly To earth, Ieios, hair wreathed with ivy. And, Phoebus, with ambrosian mouth give voice To song. Hail, fire’s guard, (magic word) (30) (magic word), and hail, Moirai three, Klotho and Atropos and Lachis too. I call you, who are great in heav’n, air-like, Supreme ruler, you whom all nature serves …”

The god is addressed again, and the petition of inspiration is done, as in a proper Greek hymn. The first six verses still maintain a perfect hexametrical structure, despise the magical words, but in the last lines the rhythm starts to dilute. And the prose takes over, along with the Egyptian aspect of the deity. At the content level, Helios, “giver of life” and “fire’s guard”, becomes Apollo-Phoebus: “leader of the Muses”, Ieios and the one who inspires songs. Unexpectedly, he is referred to as κισσεοχαίτης, wreathed with ivy. References to Dionysus are extremely scarce in the PGM and he is never invoked as such. Some experts, as Pachoumi,31 believe that the reason is because Dionysus had been long assimilated to Osiris in Egypt, therefore he is named by his Egyptian version. In any case, his mention here is significant – perhaps to corroborate a relationship with Nonnus; but mainly, it points to the Bacchic side of the inspiration insufflated by Apollo and his Muses. It was already manifestly known to ancient Greeks, as the fact that Delphi was shared by Apollo and Dionysus, half a year each, demonstrates. It is striking and symptomatic that Nonnus dedicated his epic works to Dionysus, instead of Apollo, and Jesus Christ parallelly, and Helios seemed to be in the enemy’s side; and that on the contrary, in magical literature Apollo has a special importance. To conclude this section, we should summarize and see how everything works together so as to induce an incubation or revelation in dreams. The performer of magic is all alone in his own room, which he has carefully prepared. All the previous elements are arranged to provoke a different state of mind and a specific cultic context: the smell of bay leaves in the amulets or the crown that he/she is wearing; mysterious magic names and the drawing of a beetle, a solar symbol, inscribed on the doorposts; a throne with a drawing of the Akephalos, who is also a revelatory figure, and a magic lamp which is going to be burning all night. When the moon shows up, offerings start to burn, the performer anoints his/her body with narcotic substances and begins to pray ceaselessly to Apollo-Paean, while staring at the light of the lamp until the offering is consumed. 31

PACHOUMI 2017, The Concepts, pp. 122-129.

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Then, the first hymn is recited, perhaps chanted, or even sung. We should assume some sort of performance. The poetical intention and the hexametrical rhythm are there. Eleven verses, to start with, in which the performer, aloud or in their mind, dancing or just imagining it, must have recreated what they have listened to in the theatre or the official festivals. In the 5th century, on one side, the mysteries of Isis or Bacchus where quite extended all along the Roman Empire, and they transmit the ecstatic practices of the old Eleusinian and Dionysiac ones. On the other side, Greek drama was as popular as ever; and the hexametrical poetry, as alive as always. Nonnus’ production demonstrates so, otherwise he would not have bothered composing such massive epic works in the manner of Homer; neither he would have been so famous. Musical-poetical entertainment is a long-lasting tradition, imbued in the Mediterranean culture at a popular level but also at a religious one. It too involved ‘enthousiasmos’, even though in a lesser degree than it did in what was performed in oracular and incubation sites, or in the religious festivals of the mysteries. Not in vain, its manifestations were attributed to the Muses, as patronesses of the poets, and to Dionysus, who oversaw the dramatic activity, respectively. This ‘enthusiasm’ is considered, already in the Antiquity, as twofolded. Plato defines poetical inspiration as the third type of god-sent mania, in the same passage mentioned above. And in Ion (533e), he uses the metaphor of a magnetic stone to picture the effect of the poetic art in the audience, which receives the divine epipnoia through the epic bard, from the composer. Aristotle completes the analysis in a more pragmatic way, in Poet. 1455a 32-34: the poet certainly undergoes a temporary abandonment of his self when writing, by means of visualization and gesticulation, which allows self-identification with the characters and the development of the emotional aspects of the story. In the same way, the audience also forget their own circumstances, like being ‘out of themselves’ during the dramatic mise-en-scène and thanks to the performance of the actors.32 Thence, the Bacchic action was contagious in all its manifestations, and that was well known by poets, magicians and the very same consumers of both activities. It is a fact that makes extremely popular this cultural activity and very likely its transfer to a musical-poetical context, such as the staging of a complex ritual which involves reciting poetry of antique taste. Resuming the conclusions about the performance of the magical action, the first hymn (Text 1.A) offers an unknown version of the myth of Daphne, in which she was already a tree when Apollo gets to taste her, perhaps a subtle kiss while she is transforming, which causes the effect of provoking his sacred songs. It says:

32

USTINOVA, Divine Mania, pp. 265-279.

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“Laurel, Apollo’s holy plant of presage, Whose leaves the sceptre-bearing lord once tasted And sent forth songs himself, Ieios, Renowned Paean, who live in Colophon, Give heed to holy song. And quickly come (5) To earth from heaven and converse [with me]. Stand near and from ambrosian lips inspire My songs; come, lord of song, yourself; renowned Ruler of song. Hear, blessed one, heavy In wrath and stern. Now, Titan, hear our voice, (10) Unfailing one, do not ignore. Stand here, Speak presage to a suppliant from your Ambrosian mouth, quickly, all-pure Apollo.”

Here, Apollo’s mantic arts are directly connected to his musical abilities and the sound of the paean, which helps the inspiration of the rhythm of the hexameters. By now, all the symbols are settled for a lucid dream to occur, the subconscious is pregnant with symbols and the heart with questions, obviously. After a night of restless dreaming, the performer makes sure to be awake enough to sing again at sunrise and get inspired by the second long hymn – the salutation to the sun, full of poetical references to several aspects of the god, and helped by a rhythmic game which goes from old fashion hexametrical verses to rhythmic prose, to a final loose dactylic refrain. It is then when the god should be occupying his post in the throne, carefully prepared for his apparition. Absolutely all the spells attested in the PGM seem to rely on parasomnia events. They are purposely carried out when the body is supposed to get its rest and enter or get out of dream-like states. Thus, it is not difficult to imagine a solar god such as Apollo-Helios manifested in the light of the sun, shining brightly through the linen that covers the throne, in those early hours of the morning. Especially if you are singing the beautiful verses inspired by Nonnus’ poetry, just described. 4 Magical-Mythological Content Attested in Nonnus: Source or Cultural Coincidence? In the PGM, there seems to be attested a branch of Apollonian divination which involves strong solar cultic worship, hexametrical hymns, rituals of incubation, lychnomanteia and a tight connection to Daphne, as the type we have just seen. We find one complex ritual of this sort in PGM 1.264-345 and another one in PGM 3.185-261; and two complete documents dedicated to this phenomenon, PGM 2 and 6. The latter papyrus has been dated to the 3rd cent.; PGM 1 and 2 apparently come from the same library, judging by their similar handwriting and coincidence in abbreviations or phonetical misspellings, and their dat-

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ing oscillate between the 4th and 5th cent.; and PGM 3, popularly known as the ‘Mimaut Papyrus’, is considered to have been written in the first half of the 4th cent. Texts 3: Daphne and Apollo a. Hymn. Mag. 13 (PGM 6.6-21) and Hymn. Mag. 14 (PGM 6.40-45) A. Δάφνη, μαντοσύνης] ἱερὸν φυτὸν Ἀπόλλωνος, ἧς ποτε γευσάμενος Φ]οῖβος στεφθείς τε κλάδοισι ] κεφαλὴν κομόωσαν ἐθείραις σκῆπτρ]ον ἑαῖς παλάμαισι τινάσσων, Παρνασσοῦ κορυφ]ῇσι πολυπτύχου, ὑψηλοῖο, (5) ]ἑοῖς, θέσπιζε βροτοῖσιν. μεγα]λόστονος αὐτὸς Ἀπόλλων ]η παρθένε δ[ει]νή. λισσο]μένῳ ἱεροῖσι π[εδί]λοις δάφνης θαλ]λὸν ἐμαῖς μετὰ [χε]ρσὶν ἔχοντι. (10) π]έμψον μάντευμ[άτ]ε σεμνόν, α]ι σαφηνέσι φοιβή[σα]σα ]ν τε καὶ ὣς τετελε[σμ]ένον ἔσται, ] ἵν’ ἔχω[ν] περὶ [παντὸς ἐτ]άζω δ]αμάσα[ν]δρα μ[……]ανδρα. (15) [Laurel,] Apollo’s holy plant [of presage, which] Phoebus [tasted once] and with [the fresh-cut] branches wreathed his [holy] head, adorned with tresses long [and golden]. In his hands he shook [a sceptre] on the [peaks of Mount Parnassus], lofty and with many vales [and gave to all] the gods’ [responses] and to mortals prophesied. [For in the throes of grievous love], it was Apollo who himself [gave you, a nymph], dread virgin, power [to utter presages. Come quickly hither to me beseeching you] in holy measures [and] in my hands holding [a laurel leaf]. Send me [divine responses and a holy prophetic sign. In lucid [words], O priestess, [reveal all things]: both [when this will occur) And how it will be done. [Give me a presage,] so that with it [I may perform a test] on [anything. | Subduer, hither come! Lo you,] mankind’s Subduer, mankind’s. B. Δάφνη, μαντο[σ]ύνης ἱερὸν φυτὸν Ἀπόλλωνος, Δάφνη παρθε[νι]κή, Δάφνη, Φοίβοιο ἑταίρη, Σαβαώθ, ϊαωαωοϊ αγχωθι πύλα μουσιάρχα οτονυπον, δεῦρό μοι, ἔρχε[ο θ]ᾷσσον, ἐπείγομαι ἀείσασθαι θεσμοὺς θεσπ[εσί]ους, νυκτὶ δ’ ἐνὶ δνοφερῇ. (5) Laurel, Apollo’s holy plant of presage, O virgin Laurel, Laurel, Phoebus’ mistress, Sabaoth (MAGICAL WORDS) Hither to me come quickly; haste to sing divine precepts to me [and to proclaim pure words] and in dark night [bring me true sayings].

NONNUS AND GRAECO-EGYPTIAN MAGIC

b. Hymn. Mag. 12 (PGM 3.234-258) Μέλπω σ[έ], μακαρ, [ὦ Παι]ώνιε, χρησμοῦ [ ̄ ̆̄ πάνσοφ[ε], Δήλι[ε ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ Πυθ]ολετόκτυπε, Δωδών[ης μεδέων ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ Πύ]θιε, Παιάν. ̄ κλ]ῄζω σε [ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ] κελάδοιο ἣν ]στιβ[αραῖς ̆ ̆ ̄ χεῖρεσσι]ν ἔχων θεω [ ̄ ̆̄ (5) ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ἄν]αξ, [εὐ]ώνυμε [ ̄ ̄̆ [………………………………] ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ]αὐτοκρά[τωρ ̆̄ ]ων και[ “I sing of you, O blessed one, O healer, Giver of oracles, O all-wise one, O Delian [lord and Python-]slaying [youth], Dodona’s [king …] O Pythian Paean; I call you, [god who rule the tuneful lyre], [With sturdy hands] . . . [ [O well]-named Phoebus … … ruler absolute . . . Who roam the wooded peaks [of Mount Parnassos], Παρνασσοῦ ὄρεος κο]ρυφα[ῖς ]/δένδ[ροις] φοιτᾷ (10) σῖγα, μη χαλ[άσῃς ……. μίσῃ[ς . ] ὦ μύρνης δένδρο[ν ……….. Λύκει[ε ..] παυσάσθω αὔξη θ[ …………. μεῖζο[ν] φῶς· μέλλει γὰρ πεύ[θεσθαι ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆̄ θείω[ν ἐ]κ στομάτων τινὰ [ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ἀ]/γεῖραι (15) τῷ πλήκτρῳ τὸν μαν[τεῖον ̄ ]σων [ ̄ ̆ ̆ ]ν[ ̄ ̆̄ ̄ /]μόλε, δεῦρ’ ἴθι, μάντι, χάρμ[α ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ Σ]μινθεῦ, χ[ρ]ήσα[ς ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ] / κλύε, Πύθιε, Παιάν. ὄρπηξ [ ̄ ̆ ]ε, χαίροις, Δελ[φικέ, παρθένε Δάφνη] σοὶ γὰρ πρώ[τ]ῃ Φοῖβος ἐκρυ[σε] μέλε’ ἐν ἀγίῳ (20) Μουσῶν· δ[ά]φνας σὺ κλάδ[ους, Φ]οῖβε, σίεις. εὐκέλαδόν σε τότ’ ἐκ Δελφ[ῶ]ν ὑμνοῦσι θε[ ̄ ̆̄ ὦ [φ]ωναῖς θείαις, ὦ χρησμ[οῖς ̄ ̆ ̆ ]ωσα αι…ειχωχω οὐροδρόμε, [σεισ]ίχθων, φώσφω[ρ,] ἐλ[θ]ὲ ἱλαρὸς καὶ ἐπήκοος τ[ῷ] σῷ προφήτῃ. (25) σπ[εύ]σεις, ὦ ἀεροδρόμε Πύ[θιε] Παιάν (…) Be silent, do not now unstring . . . Do not hate. O Myrrh tree . . . Lykian god, Do not cease grow . . . A greater light, for he will give news . . . . From someone’s lips divine . . . to give oracle with the plectrum . . . But come you hither, prophesying; come, Come hither, prophet, who bring joy, O Smintheus, Give your response and I hearken, Pythian Paean; Undying shoot, hail. Delphic maiden, Daphne, For to you first did Phoebus strike up songs

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In contest with the Muses; Phoebus, you Shake Daphne’s boughs, since to you They praise your tunefulness from holy Delphi. O with divine tones, o with oracles (magic words?) heaven’s runner, light bearer, Earth shaker: gracious and obedient Come to your prophet, but come now in haste, O you who run through the air, O Pythian Paean.”

c. Dion. 2.149-151 εἴ ην δένδρεον ἄλλο, καὶ ἐκ δρυὸς εἰς δρύας ἔλθω οὔνομα παιδὸς ἔχουσα σαόφρονος· ἀντὶ δὲ Δάφνης μὴ Μύρρης ἀθέμιστον ἐπώνυμον ἔρνος ἀκούσω. “Let me be another tree and pass from tree to tree keeping the name of a virtuous maid; may I never, instead of laurel, be called that unhallowed plant which gave its name to Myrrha!”

As shown in the extracts, the verse Δάφνη, μαντοσύνης ἱερὸν φυτὸν Ἀπόλλωνος, is attested trice in the PGM: 2.81, 6.6 and 6.40. It initiates three different hexametrical hymns which seem to belong to a same tradition or corpus, which was in use between the 3rd and the 5th centuries. A slightly different version of the myth is shown in them. The Ovidian story (Met. 1.452-566) made famous Eros’ revenge against Apollo, provoking his first love, for the nymph Daphne, but at the same time making her hate him and run away from him. The result is that she is saved by her father, the river Ladon, who transformed her into the laurel tree just before Apollo was about to rape her, in erotic ecstasy. Back to his senses, as a compensation, Apollo made her the sacred tree of his cult. In turn, the PGM transmit a more complex view. In Hymn. Mag. 11.2-3, we saw how Daphne’s taste provoked Apollo’s need to sing for the first time, she being already a tree, and perhaps he was not embracing or kissing her but actually biting one of her leaves.33 In Hymn. Mag. 13.2-8, that one bite or kiss made him a deliverer of prophesies and the gods’ will. And it also gave her the ability to produce presages, as a divine reward. If we believe Preisendanz’s reconstruction, which is in the English translation procured by Betz’s translator; sadly, PGM 6 is badly damaged, as it is shown in the Greek text given above (3.A.a). Keeping with the argument, though, Apollo’s erotic and violent passion gave birth to musical and prophetic inspiration, and to the mantic properties attributed to the laurel plant, whatever symbolic or chemical. In the Hymn. Mag. 14.2 she is called παρθε[νι]κή … Φοίβοιο ἑταίρη, virgin and at the same time 33 In ἧς ποτε γευσάμενος πετάλων ἀνέφηνεν ἀοιδάς, the verb γεύω means literally, “to give a taste” and, figuratively, “to feel”, so it is not far from the Ovidian version, but it keeps the ambiguity. And ἀοιδή is a “song” but also an “incantation”.

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mistress of Apollo; or perhaps just ‘Phoebus’s partner’ as part of his ‘mob’, as the Muses are. Therefore, it is obviously a different version of the myth, which paradoxically is more intrinsically connected with the most traditional cult of Apollo’s, the Pythia’s in Delphi. His medium-priestess was known for chewing bay leaves in order to get into trance, although the hallucinogenic properties of this plant have not been proven. Now, we seem to find a parallel on this matter in Nonnus’ work. There are two significative passages. In the first place, there is a possible corroboration of this version of the myth. The verse Φοίβῳ Ζεὺς ἐπένευσεν ἔχειν μαντώδεα δάφνην (Dion. 12.110) supports the idea that Apollo got his inspirational abilities thanks to Daphne or perhaps because of her mantic nature.34 The second one is Dion. 2.149-151 (text 3.c) due to its connection with another of the Magical Hymns dedicated to the Apollonian magic we are talking about, Hymn. Mag.12 (text 3.b). In both, Myrrh and Daphne appear together. This hymn is addressed to Apollo and perhaps also to Daphne, but it is too fragmented to be completely sure. What we have in the English version provided, is Preisendanz’s reconstruction out of the Orphic Hymn 34; but, as PGM 6, PGM 3 is in a poorly state as well. Thus, the concurrence of both figures in Nonnus’ passage would give a clue of what really is in the hymn. His Dionysica are full of episodes about nymphs and legendary damsels who are obliged to run away from unwanted passional pretenders of divine origin. It is what has been called the poetical topos of the parthenos phygodemnios,35 of which Daphne is the major archetype. She is mentioned quite often and every time in this context. There are three main instances in which the theme of the virgin refusing sexual intercourse is treated.36 1. In Dion. 2.98-162. Coincidentally, it is the previous passage to the main one discussed above, on the arrival of night’s calmness. It is a conversation between two Hamadryad nymphs, tree-dwellers. The first one, who belongs to a pine tree, mourns the destruction of the forest caused by Typhon. The second one, from a laurel tree, fears being forced by him. Daphne’s episode is mentioned five times, in lines 100, 108, 115, 150, 157, among other maidens’, such as Myrrh (line 162). Due to the nature of the second nymph, born in a laurel, she is addressed the first and the last one, in her song. 2. In the story of Nicaea, devoted to Artemis but loved by the shepherd Hymen in book 15, and by Dionysus in book 16. Daphne appears in Dion. 15.300-302, Dion. 15.310 and Dion. 16.179, Dion. 16.363. Lines 16.354Although Dion. 15.310, ἆ πόσα Φοίβου | ἔκλυε μελπομένοιο καὶ οὐ φρένα θέλγετο Δάφνη, would make think that it is just his prophetic epipnoia what she inspired. 35 D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studia Nonniani, pp. 86-114. 36 Daphne’s refusal is also mentioned in: Dion. 4.98, a speech that Aphrodite gives to Harmonia in order to convince her about her marriage to Cadmus; 8.227; 33.212-224, where Morrheus fears that Chalcomede might run like her; and 42.256. 34

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364 is Nicaea’s lament for her lost virginity, who was induced to sleep by Hypnus, so that Dionysus could rape her and get her pregnant with Telete. 3. And in book 48, on Dionysus’ passion for the nymph Aura and the resultant birth of Iacchus, the third Dionysus. In Dion. 48.258-301, she falls asleep over a laurel tree (Dion. 48.261) and gets a premonitory dream about it; thus, she regrets that Daphne does not protect her (lines 48.292-300). The conclusion is that the appearance of Daphne and Myrrh together denotes the topic of the virgin who despises the ieros gamos, which is a proper magical issue. The contest between ‘love’ and ‘strife’ is the basic mechanism of the sympathetic chains that connect things and hold the cosmos together in this magic. It is an Empedoclean concept about the atomic functioning of the world, assumed by Plotinus in his explanation about how magic works: Enneads 4.4.40, “the true magic is the Love and also the Strife in the All.” But it is also a mystical concept – what all those stories of nymphs and women chased by gods reflect is a tendency of the soul to union, to the ieros gamos, which is somehow firstly rejected by the identity’s awareness and the ego. It is most appropriate in erotic spells but also in incubations and revelation spells of all sorts, since they are all about possession. This rejection is a characteristic of the spirit that must be sorted in order to obtain systasis, the magic term for “union or communication”. The preconceptions of the regular state of the mind and the rigid structure of the personality prevent the psyche to perceive the higher, unitive reality that seems to be the divinity, due to its fragmentation. Therefore, the myth refers to this process and how the change or alteration in the state of the mind must be forced, somehow. The final question is a problem in the chronology because PGM 3 seems to be previous to Nonnus’ floruit. Thus, the interest for this topic might come from a common source for both the epic writer and the magician; or perhaps magic literature was a popular one on its own. Since we cannot but point out the coincidence and not assure anything conclusive, the relevant point is both manifestations’ interest for the process of the unio mystica. Nonnus was believed to belong to an elite of Christians whose cultural baggage include a vast knowledge of Greek mythology and other forms of Paganism.37 Even though Egyptian stuff is usually obviated, the astrological lore is amply used in his poetry and, as we are seeing, the magical content is quite strong.

37 Cf. MANTEROLA – PINKLER 1995, Dionisiacas, pp. 11-14; ROHDE 1876, Der griechische Roman, p. 476.

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5. The Magical Hymn or μάγος ὕμνος: A Literary Genre? Finally, Nonnus can help us in one last controversial matter, which links to the last question arisen. In the studies of the Magical Hymns, the existence of such a subgenre of Greek Hymn is in constant questioning. Firstly, as commented at the beginning, because the rather artificial nature of the testimonies we have, due to the strong academic work done on them for their delimitation and consequent publication; secondly, because there are no other instances preserved. The PGM demonstrate the existence of a magical literature, but the extent of its popularity can be questioned. The only place where the expression μάγος ὕμνος comes up is in the Dionysiaca, and not only once. Texts 4: μάγον ὕμνον a. καὶ ζαθέων ἄρρητον ἀμελγόμενος γάλα βίβλων, χειρὸς ὀπισθοπόροιο χαράγματα λοξὰ χαράσσων ἔγραφεν ἀγκύλα κύκλα· καὶ Αἰγυπτίου Διονύσου εὔια φοιτητῆρος Ὀσίριδος ὄργια φαίνων μύστιδος ἐννυχίας τελετὰς ἐδιδάσκετο τέχνης, καὶ κρυφίῃ μάγον ὕμνον ἀνέκλαγε θυιάδι φωνῇ λεπτὸν ἔχων ὀλόλυγμα· Dion. 4.267-273 “There he pressed out the milk of the holy books ineffable, scratched their scratches across with back faring hand and traced their rounded circles. And he showed forth the Euian secret of Osiris the wanderer, the Egyptian Dionysus. He learned the nighty celebration of their mystic art and declaimed the magic hymn in the wild secret language, intoning a shrill alleluia.” b. καί νύ κεν Ἰνδὸς ὅμιλος ἑλὼν ἀπὸ γείτονος ὄχθης μάρτυρον ἱκεσίης γλαυκόχροα θαλλὸν ἐλαίης αὐχένα δοῦλον ἔκαμψεν ἀδηρίτῳ Διονύσῳ· ἀλλὰ μεταλλάξασα δέμας πολυμήχανος Ἥρη δυσμενέας θάρσυνε καὶ ἤπαφεν ὄρχαμον Ἰνδῶν, Θεσσαλίδων μάγον ὕμνον ἐφαψαμένη Διονύσῳ καὶ Κίρκης κυκεῶνα, θεοκλήτοις ἐπαοιδαῖς οἷά τε φαρμακτῆρος ἀφαρμάκτου ποταμοῖο. Dion. 22.71-78 “And now the Indian host would have plucked from the neighbouring Banks Green shoots of olive in token of supplication and bent a servile neck before Dionysus unconquerable. But Hera ever ready took another shape and gave encourage to the enemy. She deceived the Indian leader; she fastened on Dionysus a song of magical Thessalian spells, and Circe’s posset with invocations of the gods, as if he had poisoned that un-poisoned river.”

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c. ποῖον ἔχω μάγον ὕμνον ἢ ἀστερόεσσαν ἀοιδήν, ὄφρα θεοκλήτῳ προχέων μέλος εὐάδι φωνῇ οὐταμένου τεὸν αἷμα κατευνήσω κενεῶνος; (Dion. 35.66-68) “what magic hymn have I, or song from the stars, that I may chant the ditty with Euian voice divine, and stay the Flow of blood from your wounded side?”

The first extract, 4.a, forms part of Cadmus’ portrait, lines 249-284, narrated to Harmonia. He is a wise man to whom the Greek alphabet is attributed and who knew sciences such as astrology and mathematics, but also arcane rituals – the mysteries of Dionysus-Osiris, Semitic formulas and magical songs. In the Orphic gold tablets, the knowledge of the initiates is often denominated as “milk”,38 which connects to the expression γάλα βίβλων and χειρὸς ὀπισθοπόροιο χαράγματα λοξά refers to the Phoenician writing direction, from the right to the left. It is striking how Nonnus relates the traditional Dionysiac loud cries, the ὀλολυγή and εὐοί, to magical symbols and words of Semitic origin, and the Orphic teletai to the Egyptian religion. In the second text, magical hymns are attributed to the Thessalian branch of Greek magic. In order to defeat Dionysus, Hera becomes a horrid witch who knows the worst pharmaka, poisons, such as the Thessalian φαρμακίς.39 The last one, 4.c, is in a lament of an Indian soldier who, after murdering a maenad, falls in mad love with her, Dion. 35.37-76. He lists all the ways of resurrecting a dead person: invoking Chiron, learning healing Paeanic arts, using magic herbs such as the one which made Glaucus immortal, or singing μάγον ὕμνον ἢ ἀστερόεσσαν ἀοιδήν, magic hymns and astral incantations, which, again, are linked to Dionysiac tradition by the adjective εὔιος. All of this involve practices that can be found in the PGM, specific magical terminology and the same miscegenation of mystery traditions. The Hymn. Mag. 3 begins with a clearly Orphic formulae for the initiates.40 The Dionysiac cries are attested among other magical words.41 There are numerous recipes of philtroi and erotic spells to drive mad whoever resists the love request of the

Cf. GRAF – JOHNSTON 2007, Ritual texts. E.g. Ar. Nub. 731-734. 40 Cf. CALVO MARTINEZ 2004, El himno Χαῖρε δράκων. 41 In Hymn. Mag. 11, there is a game between magic vowels, the Dionysiac εὐοί and the Apollonian ἰήϊος: ιηεα· ιη· ιω· ιυ· ιε· ιωα· ιηα· ευα· ωεα· ευηα· ωευα· ευωα· ευιε· ευιαε·ευε· ευη· ευιε· ευω· ϊευαε· ευηαε· (PGM 2.134). Another instance is PGM 13.920, Σατραπερκμήφ· αλα Διόνυσε, μάκαρ, Εὔιε, υου υυυ, Θηνωρ, διάγων υυυ ευευευ υε ουω ξερθεναθια θαφθωοικρου· ωρ αραξ γω ω ααα εραρηραυ: ιηρ·. The ὀλολυγμός is mentioned in PGM 7.323, 7.770 and 13.945. 38 39

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performer.42 And katabasis is a mystic resource used for all kind of purposes in magic.43 Notwithstanding, the expression μάγος ὕμνος is not attested in the PGM nor anywhere else. In the papyri as a direct testimony of magical literature, it is understandable. An analysis of the terminology can provide some insight on this and other related matters. Just once the word ὕμνος is used to denominate a Magical Hymn, for MagH. 12. In the other cases they are called ‘formulae’, λόγοι or rather τὰ λεγόμενα, like any other prayer or magical petition. The next most used term for these compositions is ‘incantation’, ἐπαοιδή, which involves the musical side of speech as a seductive or bewitching device. Both hymnos and epaoide point to an important feature of the Greek hymnody, as a performative manifestation of the Greek culture – its imperative use of music and dance, which gives us arguments to sustain the earlier affirmation about a likely performance of these artistic speeches. In addition, we find more technical denominations such as ‘supplication’, εὐχή, ‘invocation’, ἐπίκλησις or ‘petition’, ἐξαίτησις, which refer to the most important part of the prayer. Or others that point to specific stages of the ritual: σύστασις, which means ‘communication’ or ‘union’; ἐπάναγκος, ‘coertion’; διαβολή, ‘slander’; or ἀπόλυσις, ‘release’. They are separate praxeis of a spell which can go accompanied by a logos, being from magic formulae to beautiful hymns. Therefore, a versified hymn can appear on its own, but they are frequently part of a longer prosaic litany, being the climax a complex magical prayer. The legomena, thus elaborated or simpler, are introduced in the recipes by the next terms: προσευχή, ‘prayer’, κλῆσις, ‘invocation’, ἐξήγησις, ‘narration’, χαιρετισμός, ‘salutation’, σύνθεσις, ‘composition’, ἐξήχησις, ‘mode of utterance (or unpleasant sound)’, or ὁρκισμός, ‘vow’, which come from the religious, poetic or even rhetoric terminology. We can also find denominations such as ῥυστική, ‘protective charm’, πρόγνωσις, ‘praxis to learn the future’, θυμοκάτοχον, ‘formula to refrain hatred’, νικητικόν, ‘success spell’, ἀρκτική, ‘Ursa Maior’s formula’, ἑρμαϊκός, ‘Hermetic formula’, among others, which denominate the specific nature of the magical praxis. As a result, in the PGM they are not determined as hymns. However, we can observe the use of technical, poetic terminology which links them to the bigger genre, the Greek Hymn, even in references to the mode of articulation of the legomena, such as “εὐχόμενος”, “when supplicating”, “παιανίζων τὸν θέον”, “singing a paean to the god” (3.192 and 312), “εὐχαρίστων”, “thanks-giving” or “λέγε ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ τόν λόγον”, “recite the formula in hexameter” 42 E.g. PGM 13.319, 61.1 and 61.35, which are φίλτροι πότιμοι; 4.296 and 8.1, φιλτροκατάδεσμοι; and only φίλτροι in 7.405 (661), 459, 462. 43 The best example is PGM 23 (cf. supra, n. 13).

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(3.437). Even in derivative expressions from the word ὕμνος, such as in “λέγε τὸν ὑμνικὸν λόγον”, “utter the hymnic formula” (1.71) or “ὑμνολογούντων”, “praising with hymns” (35.12). Moreover, we can conclude that a specific vocabulary of magical nature identifies the PGM as a testimony of a literary genre that we could denominate magical literature, to which Nonnus seems to have been alluding to and frankly knew very well. 6. Conclusions To sum up, there is evidence which relates Nonnus to the magical literature: (1.) A papyrus from the 3rd-4th century (PGM 2) which contains a poetical image of the Sun’s race in his chariot, as it is popularized or transmitted by Nonnus in a narrative episode of his epic, infused with Nonnian vocabulary. It points to the importance for him, of the figure of Helios and his descendants, as charioteer, ruler of the astral map and source of illumination and nutrition; or the connection of his son Phaeton with Jesus Christ. In addition, just in this papyrus and in another instance (PGM 13, see n. 41), Dionysus is mentioned through his main attributes (the Euios or the ivy) or his proper name. Thence, also poetical symbols of his ecstatic frenzy are highly developed here, such us the maddening sound of the lash. And another poetic topos of his is transmitted here – the calmness of the night. In terms of magical practice, a symbolic structure has been created by means of allusion, at several levels. Primarily, the development of an illuminative figure which lightens dark places of the psyche and luckily gives light into future matters (Helios-Jesus Christ level). Secondly, the establishment of two important stages in the cognitive process to obtain knowledge: the quieten of the mind, or rather its discursive processing of information, which happens in dream-like states, i.e. when the unconscious is allowed to connect (Apollo’s realm); and the destruction of the rigid behavioural patterns of the regular state of consciousness (Dionysiac frenzy). (2.) From that first profound poetical confluence, another connection is clarified. The reiterated apparition of the nymph Daphne in Apollonian rituals of the same sort that the one from PGM 2 (in testimonies from PGM 1, from the 4th-5th cent., PGM 3, first half of the 4th, and PGM 6, from the 3rd), only equals the frequency with which Nonnus mentions her. This fact, along with the concurrence with other nymphs (or unwanted divine passions) such as Myrrh, points to another important topos of his – the parthenos phygodemnios. It contains significant ritual and cognitive connotations – a strong reaction of the conscious mind against altered states or loss of control; and the erotic

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feeling of the so-called unio mystica. Possession, visions or alteration of consciousness are followed by a sensation of unity, well-being and reality beyond individual image of the real world. It is a feature of the mystery initiations and shamanic practices. (3.) Finally, the Nonnian expression μάγος ὕμνος refers to arcane activities which can be found in the PGM: astrology, Semitic magical words and symbols, Thessalian potions, Paeanic healing herbs and incantations, Bacchic ecstatic activities such as mystic initiations and Egyptian-like visits to the underworld. The three passages from Dionysiaca could be a proper historical enumeration of the origins of the magical practice. To conclude, let us see what all this means in terms of chronology, the relationship between Nonnus and Homer, as transmitters of hexametrical epic poetry, and the association between Nonnus’ poems and the magical literature, as representatives of the religious sentiment of the Late Antiquity. This confluence should change the dates given to the papyrus, perhaps extend the floruit of Nonnus to a slightly earlier date, or simply point to the existence of a common source for both testimonies. Anyhow, it demonstrates an extended open-minded consideration of the magical literature. Nonnus’ epic work and the existence of a hexametrical magical hymnody are interrelated links in the transmission of Homeric poetry and traditional Greek means of gods-invocation singing, which seem to be as alive as always in the last periods of Antiquity. Lastly, the religious miscegenation of both manifestations seems to be based on the importance of a semi-divine figure, such as Phaeton and Jesus-Christ, which serves as a medium between human limitation and the joy of the divine. The Graeco-Egyptian magician, the Nonnian follower of Dionysus or the early Christians, would seek to attempt the embodiment of that figure.

XXI. THE CITY OF THEBES IN THE DIONYSIACA BY NONNUS Nestan EGETASHVILI

The foundation of a city has been given great importance in almost every ancient culture. According to ancient conceptions, a city echoed a model of the cosmos extant in the heavens. Precisely because of this, the emulation of celestial creations was only considered the lot of chosen people. Conceptions of the analogies between the heavens and earth were widespread in the thought of almost every world civilization. For example, in Mesopotamia there was the belief that the heavens and earth bore complete likeness to each other, implying that every terrestrial object corresponded to an absolutely identical object in heaven, created through emulating its ideal model. The very image of the cosmos itself is represented by countries, rivers, cities, or palaces. As an example, the layout of the city of Nineveh had been created according to the graphic figures that reflect constellations in the heavens.1 All the municipal archetypes of the Babylonians were satellites. These archetypes not only precede the terrestrial correlates, they are forever existent in the heavenly dimension. The Hindus believed that all the royal cities of India had been created on the basis of a mythical model of India during a primordial or mythical era.2 According to Plato, the ideal city has its own celestial archetype.3 It must be noted that the city of Jerusalem has a celestial archetype quite similar to the heavenly prototype of Babylon.4 Analogous concepts regarding the city were widespread throughout the Mediterranean as well, with as a result that the foundation of a city turned into an important mythopoetic model in Greek myths. In Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, a city’s foundation represents a creative act related in the same way to specific religious cults. We hereby especially have the mysteries of Samothrace in mind, which connect the fate of two significant figures of city founders – Dardanus and Cadmus. This association may be caused by the fact that participation in the mysteries of Samothrace gave the hope of safe journeys in seas, as it is notable that the first cities were founded by heroes having come from afar.

1 2 3 4

MEISSNER 1925, Babylonien und Assyrien, p. 110. ELIADE 1959, The Myth of the Eternal Return, pp. 7-9. Resp. 500e and 592b. GRESSMANN 1928, The Tower of Babel, p. 62.

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Nonnus highlights a number of special cities in the Dionysiaca – Thebes, Dardania, Beroe, Tyre, etc. – created on the basis of celestial examples. In this contribution, we will focus on one of the original cities described in the Dionysiaca, Dionysus’ hometown of Thebes.5 There is a quite an interesting version of the myth of Thebes presented in the Dionysiaca. R. Tsanava thinks the fact is symbolic that the three most crucial mythic cycles of Greek paganism and their representation in epic poetry were divided according to epochs: a genius master of words appeared in the Antique Age for the Troy cycle in the persona of Homer; there was Apollonius of Rhodes for the story of the Argonauts in the Hellenist Age; and Nonnus of Panopolis for the Thebes cycle in the age of Christianity.6 The story of the foundation of Thebes has been conveyed in a very detailed manner in the Dionysiaca. There is a lot of information preserved here that has not survived in other sources. 1. The Foundation of Thebes We will first briefly summarize the story as it is related in Dionysiaca 1-5. Cadmus,7 a Phoenician descendant of Zeus went to look for his sister at the behest of his father. His sister Europa was kidnapped by Zeus, who had transformed into a bull.8 During his wanderings in his search for Europa, Cadmus helped Zeus defeat Typhon. Zeus’ arm and leg sinews and his thunderbolts were stolen by Typhon. The enfeebled Zeus could not manage to fight with him. Cadmus then bewitched Typhon by singing and music. As a sign of gratitude Zeus promised Cadmus that he would give him Harmonia as a wife, the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares, and invited all the gods to the wedding (gods would only rarely attend mortal weddings). At this point Zeus also commanded Cadmus to stop searching for Europa who had become the wife of Asterion of the Dactyls, king of the Korybantes (a son of Minos, Dionysus’ comrade). Afterwards, Cadmus went by boat to Samothrace, where his wife Harmonia lived. Submitted to the will of Zeus, she bid farewell to her childhood realm and the shrine of the goddess Hecate and married the foreigner Cadmus.It must be pointed out that the island of Samotrace had taken on a notable function in 5 Thebes in Beotia has the same name as the city in Egypt (Dion. 4.293-306). It is interesting to note, that there was a city by the name of Thebes also in Asia Minor under Mt. Plakos near the plain of Adramyttium (CHUVIN 1991, Mythologie et géographie, pp. 270-271). 6 TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 254. 7 Cadmus and his siblings Phoenix, Cillix and Europa descend from Zeus and Io via their father Agenor and his mother Libye, who in turn is the daughter of Epaphos, son of Io, and Cassioppea. 8 According to PASCHALIS 2018, The Cadmus Narrative, p. 32, “Cadmus’ search is primarily for the bull throughout and not for Europa, and that it is the bull who receives the overwhelming attention on the part of the narrator and the characters of the epic.”

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the oral traditions of the Thebes and Troy cycles. Yet it also must be stated that Samothrace and the mysteries surrounding it are some of the most obscure and unstudied subjects in Greek culture. Nonnus is an important source in this respect. Samothrace is the precise location from whence the heroes (Cadmus, Dardanos) start off to realize their final goal of founding a city. After Cadmus left the island of Samothrace with Harmonia, he reached Delphi to ask the oracle about his fortune. The Oracle told him the following (Dion. 4.293-297, 303-306): Κάδμε, μάτην, περίφοιτε, πολυπλανὲς ἴχνος ἑλίσσεις. μαστεύεις τινὰ ταῦρον, ὃν οὐ βοέη τέκε γαστήρ, μαστεύεις τινὰ ταῦρον, ὃν οὐ βροτὸς οἶδε κιχῆσαι. (295) Ἀσσυρίην ἀπόειπε, τεῆς δ’ἡγήτορα πομπῆς ἄμφεπε βοῦν χθονίην, μὴ δίζεο ταῦρον Ὀλύμπου· […] ἀλλὰ πόθον Τυρίοιο τεοῦ γενετῆρος ἐάσας μίμνε παρ’ ἀλλοδαποῖσι, καὶ Αἰγυπτίης σέο Θήβης πατρίδος ἄστυ πόλισσον ἐπώνυμον, ἧχι πεσοῦσα (305) εὐνήσει βαρύγουνον ἑὸν πόδα δαιμονίη βοῦς. Cadmos, in vain you travel round and round and round with wandering steps. You seek a bull which no cow ever calved; you seek a bull which no mortal knows how to find. Renounce Assyria, and take an earthly cow to guide your mission; search not for a bull of Olympos… No, let pass your regret for your Tyrian father, and abide among foreigners; found a city with the name of Egyptian Thebes your home, in the place where the cow of fortune shall sink and rest her heavyknee foot.9

Cadmus according to the oracle followed a cow and founded a city, which was given the same name as his home town in Egypt – Thebes. Prior to building the city he fought against a serpent at the River Dirke (Dion. 4.356-416). Because of the serpent’s wrath, Cadmus was destined to change his face. And so, after a long life he and Harmonia finally went to Illyria and were changed into serpents. But first, after the dragon’s death Cadmus gathered its teeth inside his bronze helmet and sowed them on the earth. “There grew out the self-delivered crop of giants” (Dion. 4.427, καὶ στάχυς αὐτολόχευτος ἀνηέξητο Γιγάντων). Cadmus fought with giants (Dion. 4.455-459): ὁ δὲ Παλλάδος ἔμφρονι βουλῇ (455) Γυγενέων τινὰ πέτρον ἐπῃώρησε καρήνων. οἱ δὲ δαφοινήεντι πόθῳ μεθύοντες Ἐνυοῦς Ἄρεϊ βακχεύθησαν, ὁμογνήτῳ δὲ σιδήρῳ ἀλλήλων ὀλετῆρες ἐτυμβεύοντο κονίῃ. 9

All text and translations of the Dionysiaca are from ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca.

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Then by the wise counsel of Pallas he (Cadmos) lifted a stone high above the giants’ heads; and they drunken with gory lust for Enyo, went wild with warlike fury and destroyed each other with the steel their cousin, and found burial in the dust.

After the battle with giants Cadmus cleansed his body in “Dragonbreeding Dirce” (Dion. 5.4) and sacrificed the “Delphian cow on the godbuilt altar as a fair offering for Pallas” (Dion. 5.5-6). The dragon’s death was not the end of the labours of Cadmus. After the giants, he fought the Ectenes and the Aonian people. When Cadmus called for soldiers, a swarm of neighbours came to help him. We read in the poem (Dion. 5.46-7): καὶ κταμένων ῥέεν αἷμα. πολὺς δ’ ἐπὶ φορβάδι γαίῃ ἡμιθανὴς προκάρηνος ἀνὴρ κεκύλιστο κονίῃ. The blood of the fallen ran in streams; many a man fell headlong half-dead on the fruitful earth, and rolled in the dust.

After the battle Cadmus laid the foundation of Thebes (Dion. 5.51-57, 62-63): Πολλαὶ δ’ ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα μεριζομένων κενεώνων αὔλακες ἐτμήγοντο, πολυσχιδέων δὲ κελεύθων ἕδρανα καρχαρόδοντι βοῶν κεχάρακτο σιδήρῳ. πολλαὶ δ’ ἀντιπόρων ἀνέμων τετράζυγι κόσμῳ ἔμμοροι ἐν χόρτοισιν ἐμετρήθησαν ἀγυιαί. (55) καὶ πόλις Ἀονίη Τυρίης ποικίλλετο τέχνης κάλλεϊ λαϊνέῳ· […] καὶ νηοὺς ἐτέλεσσε θεῶν καὶ δώματα φωτῶν τορνώσας κανόνεσσιν. He divides the spaces, and many furrows were cut this way and that, the beds of many branching roads were cut by the sharp-toothed iron of the ox-plow; many streets were measured at right anglesto the four opposing winds to take their share of the grasslands.Then the Aonian city was embellished with the stony beauty of Tyrian art. […] He (Cadmos) completed temples for the gods and houses for the people, planning with his builder’s rules.

Cadmus surrounded the city by walls with seven entries, “imitating in his art heaven with its seven zones” (Dion. 5.65). He dedicated the seven gates to the seven planets (Dion. 5.67-86). Nonnus once again returns to the construction of Thebes when he recounts Dionysus’ shield. Like the shield belonging to Achilles, Dionysus’ shield had been made by Hephaestus with an image of the construction of Thebes shown on it. Thebes is frequently mentioned by Nonnus as being built by a lyre: λυροδμήτοιο βοόκτιτα τείχα Θήβης (Dion. 25.415, “harpbuilt walls of cowfounded Thebes”). Nonnus defines the origins of this persistent epithet. This has to do with Amphion ‘taming’ gigantic stones through playing the lyre,

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which stack themselves on their own by rolling around. This process had been portrayed on the shield in such a way by Hephaestus, that one seeing it would think the stones were joyfully dancing. We read in the text (Dion. 25.419-421): Ἀμφίων δ’ἐλίγαινε λυροκτύπος. ἀμφὶ δὲ μολπῇ | εἰς δρόμον αὐτοκύλιστον ἕλιξ ἐχόρευε κολώνη, | οἷά τε θελγομένη καὶ ἐν ἀσπίδι… (“Amphion played and twanged the harp, and at the tune a whole hill rolled along of itself as if bewitched and seemed to dance even on the shield”). Cadmus is considered to be the city’s founder in other Greek sources as well.10 According to these sources, he had founded the city of Cadmea which was called Thebes later on. The first inhabitants of Cadmea appeared in a miraculous way. They had sprouted up from the teeth of a dragon killed by Cadmus. Because of this, a snake became the symbol of Cadmus’ tribe. Thebans wore brooches with the snake symbol (on the shoulder). Cadmea was expanded by the descendants of Cadmus. The city was encircled by a wall with seven gates by his grandson Amphion. According to tradition, this wall was built miraculously: at the sound of Amphion’ kitara, the stones automatically stacked themselves. 2. Structural Analysis Now that we have related in detail how Nonnus recounts the myth of the foundation of Thebes in the Dionysiaca, let us turn to a structural analysis of this myth. 2.1. Fight against a Chthonic Beast (Dragons, Serpents, etc.) Prior to building the city Cadmus fights against a serpent at the River Dirke (Dion. 4.356-358, 408-416): Καὶ πόδας ἐστήριξε δρακοντοβότῳ παρὰ Δίρκῃ. στῆ δὲ ταφών, ὅθι λοξὰ φανεὶς ὀφιώδεϊ δεσμῷ Ἄρεος αἰολόνωτος ὄφις μιτρώσατο πηγήν […] ὁ δὲ τραφερῇ παρὰ βώλῳ μάρμαρον εὐρυάλωος ἐύτροχον οὖρον ἀρούρης ἵστατο κουφίζων κραναὸν βέλος, ἰθυπόρῳ δέ (410) ἄκρα δρακοντείοιο καρήατος ἔθλασε πέτρῳ. θηγαλέην δὲ μάχαιραν ἐρυσσάμενος παρὰ μηροῦ αὐχένα θηρὸς ἔτεμνεν. ἀπαμηθεῖσα δὲ κόρση σώματος ἐκτὸς ἔμιμνε, κυλινδομένη δὲ κονίῃ ἠθάδα κύκλον ἕλισσε παλίλλυτον ἄστατος οὐρή, (415) καὶ δαπέδῳ τετάνυστο δράκων νέκυς.

10

Paus. 9.12.1-2; Apollod. Bibl. 3.4.1-2.

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He (Cadmos) stayed his feet beside dragonbreeding Dirce: and stood amazed when he saw the speckle-back serpent, Ares’ child, appear from one side and girdle the spring with snaky coil. […] Cadmos where he stood on the dry earth lifted a well-rounded boundary-stone of the broad farm-land, a rocky missile! and with a straight cast of the stone smashed the top of the dragon’s head; then drawing a whetted knife from his thigh he cut through the monster’s neck. The hood severed from the body lay apart, but the tail still moved, rolling in the dust until it had uncoiled again its familiar rings.

In this passage the dragon is a symbol of chaos and indicates the cosmogonic act of founding a city. It should be noted that in the mythology of any nation, cosmogony is related to the transformation of chaos into order. The transformation of chaos into the cosmos was a divine act and represents a common thread for all mythologies. Chaos is frequently equated with darkness, emptiness, a void, water, a mixture of fire and water, or demonic (chthonic) creatures.11 Accordingly, the transformation of chaos into the cosmos is associated to a crossing over from darkness to light, the emergence of dry land from water, and the change from destruction to construction. The cosmogony is an imitable model due as an ideal archetype for every creative situation.12 Chaos in the Dionysiaca is frequently presented as demonic beings, chthonic beasts and dragons, defeat of which equals the victory over cosmic chaos. As we have already mentioned above that in the beginning of the poem Cadmus already participates in the struggle for cosmic restoration: God (Zeus) fights against the chthonic beast (Typhon) and is represented by a hero (Cadmus) (Dion. books 1-2). The serpent at the River Dirke, the Giants, who were born from the dragon’s teeth, and Typhon are personifications of chaotic forces. It should be noted that Typhon itself is an anomaly in terms of his appearance: He has “two hundred furious hands” (Dion. 1.297, χερσὶ διηκοσίῃσι πέλωρ ἐμόγησε Τυφωεὺς βριθοσύνῃ), “dry arms” (Dion. 1.299, ξηροῖσιν ἀγοστοῖς), “viperish feet” (Dion. 1.415, ἐχιδναίῳ ποδὸς ὁλκῷ). This is a good example of the connection between chaos in Greek mythology and aesthetic criteria, according to which the body harmony is in direct contact with the cosmic harmony. 11 Darkness appears in Polynesian, some African tribal, Pueblo Indian, several Indian (‘Mahabharata’, ‘Rigveda’) and Greek mythologies. Night (darkness) is the mother of heaven and the earth in Chinese, Maori (New Zealand) and Orphic Greek myths. Chaos is etymologically related to darkness (Heh) in Ancient Egyptian mythology. In Sumerian mythology Abzu (Absu) referred to the primeval sea below the void space of the underground (Kur) and the earth (Ma) above. In this place was located Enki’s (the most powerful Sumerian god’s) temple. MELETINSKY 2000, Поэтика мифа [The Poetics of Myth]. 12 ELIADE 1963, Myth and Reality, pp. 30-34; see also MELETINSKY 2000, Поэтика мифа [The Poetics of Myth], pp. 205-209.

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In general, the fight of a god with a dragon is a well known mythoritualistic theme. For example, the Hittites had a concept that the god of thunder and lightning was defeated during a fight with a dragon and he would ask a mortal for assistance. One of the reasons for the defeat is that the dragon deprives the god of his heart and eyes.13 The motif of snatching away organs essential for life is well known. Such is the case with Zeus, who will be unable to vanquish Typhon until Cadmus returns his sinews, which symbolically express his connection to the three realms of the universe and stress his divinity. The fact that Nonnus really bestows Cadmus with the function of helping Zeus defeat the dragon is quite important, because the god’s triumph ensures the stability and growth of the universe. On the other hand, the dragon’s reign is equivalent to a period of chaos and is a symbol of darkness, a departure from the norm, and death. Even the foundation of a city is analogous to the transformation of chaos into the cosmos and in relevance to this, this foundation is given a cosmogonical function. This is why the Dionysiaca begins with Typhon’s defeat by Cadmus. It is not by chance that Zeus promises Cadmus a two-fold reward in exchange for this service: being a protector of the harmonious nature of the universe and being beautiful Harmonia’s spouse. We read in the text (Dion. 1.394-397): κερδαλέης σύριγγος ἀλεξικάκῳ σέο μολπῇ θέλγε νόον Τυφῶνος. ἐγὼ δέ σοι ἄξια μόχθων (395) δώσω διπλόα δῶρα. σὲ γὰρ ῥυτῆρα τελέσσω ἁρμονίης κόσμοιο καὶ Ἁρμονίης παρακοίτην. Bewitch Typhon’s wits by the sovereign remedy of your guileful pipes their tune! I will give you ample recompense for your service, two gifts: I will make you saviour of the world’s harmony, and the husband of the lady Harmonia.

The love of Harmonia and Cadmus, or hierogamy, precedes the foundation of Thebes by Cadmus, or the preservation of harmony in the universe. Accordingly, this can also be a mythopoetic model of the victory of the cosmos over chaos. It needs to be mentioned that ultimately, Nonnus grants a decisive role in maintaining the cosmos to Eros, i.e. love. When Typhon and his army (vipers, snakes, dragons) threaten the cosmic order, it can only be saved with the help of Eros (Dion. 1.398-399): καὶ σύ, τελεσσιγόνοιο γάμο πρωτόσπορος ἀρχή, τεῖνον, Ἔρως, σέο τόξα, καὶ ὀυκέτι κόσμος ἀλήτης. You also, Love, primeval founder of fecund marriage, bend your bow, and the universe is no longer adrift.

13 ELIADE 2002, История веры и религиозных идей [A History of Religious Ideas], vol. 1, p. 137.

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2.2. The Location for Founding a City It is intriguing how another motif widespread in Antiquity – founding a city where a cow has reclined – is explained. As we saw, the city of Thebes had been erected by Cadmus over a cow’s resting place. It is also known that Ilos, a descendant of Dardanos, follows a cow and lays a foundation for the city of Ilion by Atas Hill, the spot where the cow rested.14 Finding the necessary location for founding a city is thought to be connected to religions and concepts prevalent in the protoshamanism epoch. During the time when the first humans were establishing their places of residence, finding the ‘necessary’ spot had decisive significance. This is already corroborated on the basis of a study of Aboriginal religions and beliefs on various continents from the Paleolithic Age. This stage of early paganism is called shamanism by scholars.15 There is a hypothesis that it was right during the protoshamanism epoch when a number of universal mythoritualistic models took shape, with one of them being the foundation of a so-called ‘city’. According to shamanistic religions and beliefs, a shaman finds the necessary, sacred place, or place of ‘power’. If he finds a place of power, the shaman must perform an ecstatic ritual – caumanek – through which the seeker chakra is opened up within him. Seeker energy is accumulated in the so-called bull chakra. In ancient Greek myths, the shamanistic esoteric vision has been made more ‘terrestrial’. Here, a biological bull or cow – Βοῦς – takes the place of the bull chakra, which leads a mythic hero to a sacred location. The existence of such locations are recognized by humanity not only on a mythic level, but also within historical epochs. The first cities were established in a mythic time and exist in myth, yet later on, the mythic information joined up with reality and the location of mythical cities corresponded to real ones. In other words, the history of a real city started from a mythical past. Historical cities having a ‘mythical past’ (Thebes, Troy, Argos, Athens, etc.) fulfilled a special purpose even in a historical epoch.16 In Vidal-Nakes’ opinion, the Greek polis is one of the foremost examples of crucial binary oppositions. He considers the opposition of city and country (polis/ agros) to be the cornerstone of Greek state thought. Within this opposition, the polis embodies culture, order, and progress. The polis lived and appeared through the logos; it itself was a word that sounded out on the agora. All phenomena of culture are defined through a juxtaposition with nature; culture however uses its own cipher in which gods, people, animals, and objects have

14

Strabo 13.1-3; Apollod. Bibl. 3.12.3. ELIADE 1964, Shamanism; ELIADE 2017, Rites and Symbols of Initiation; ELIADE 1959, The Myth of the Eternal Return. 16 TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], pp. 258-259. 15

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been included in a coded form. The pattern of this cipher frequently does not have a clear configuration and ethnologists work on identifying it.17 2.3. The Center of a Mythical City The place of power, or the sacred place, has a center from which energetic impulses emanate like waves. At this epicenter, the holiest object or the city’s protective insignia is built or placed.18 According to antique myths, the protectors of the first sacred cities were female divinities. In the case of Thebes, this is the goddess Athena who is called Ὀγκαίη by Nonnus.19 As we have mentioned above after the battle with giants Cadmus “cleansed his body in Dragonbreeding Dirce, and sacrificed the Delphian cow on the godbuilt altar as a fair offering for Pallas” (Dion. 5.4-6, φαιδρύνας ἑὰ γυῖα δρακοντοβότῳ παρὰ Δίρκῃ Δελφίδα βοῦν ἱέρευσε θεοδμήτων ἐπὶ βωμῶν, Παλλάδι καλὸν ἄγαλμα). Yet R. Tsanava notes that the nomination of a god in oral traditions of this type is not the main thing. The main things are the functional, ritualistic characteristics of the divinities. From this standpoint however, it can be unequivocally stated that the patrons of the first cities of pre-Classical civilizations were goddesses of the ‘Great Mother’ type, so-called ‘spiders’.20 An androgynous nature is clearly shown in these goddesses. 2.4. Sacred Animals It is confirmed by archaeological materials that the cromlech21 principle was the basis of the layouts of ancient cities.22 A model of a mandala is realized on an esoteric level in a primeval city. The foundation of cities according to the cromlech principle implies a unification of clans. Correspondingly, all the clans might have their own clan insignia. The cow (bull) holds a prominent place among sacred animals. This is really the central symbol of our analytical mythologem. VIDAL-NAQUET 2001, Черный охотник [The Black Hunter], pp. 28-31. TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 260. 19 Ὄγκα was Athena’s epithet in Thebes (Ὄγκα, ὀγκάομαι – I bray or bleat). In the myths of Thebes and Ilion it is stressed that the protector of both cities was Athena. Onka is quite a rare epithet for Athena and there is the surmise that this highlights the archaic function of this divinity. 20 A spider is one of the iconographic insignias of the ‘Great Mother’ type of goddesses. It is known that only a female spider makes a web, the centric principle of which greatly corresponds to the architectural model of the first city. These spiders choose male partners themselves and destroy them after mating (TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 260). 21 Cromlech – a circular or quadratic structure made of gigantic stone pillars from the Neolithic Period (especially the Bronze Age); they are quite widespread, especially in northern France and in England, with even some in the Transcaucasus. 22 TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 261. 17 18

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Following the leopard, the wild bull (ταῦρος) held the second place among sacred animals in the pre-Asian culture of the 7th-6th millenia BC. The cultic significance of the bull was especially apparent on the island of Crete. This was reflected not only in archaeological material, but even in the myth regarding the Minotaur.23 Paintings portraying hoofed, horned animals on cave walls have been dated to the Paleolithic period.24 The domestication of the bull (cow) began in the early Neolithic period, earlier than when the horse was domesticated. There is a hypothesis that images of people ‘mounted’ on bulls discovered in the culture of Catal Huyuk (7th6th mill. BC) really must be reflecting one of the stages of domesticating bulls. The general Indo-European root of domesticated bulls and cows shows that there was no differentiation of sex. In Greek, βοῦς – Dorian βῶς (gen βο(ϝ)ός) means either a cow or a bull. Not only did the root signifying a cow or bull turn out to be common for Indo-Europeans, but even the beliefs and concepts regarding these animals as most supreme cosmic divinities.25 Within the Greek religion concerning Olympus, a bull and cow are zoomorphic hypostases of the Olympic pantheon’s most supreme couple – Zeus and Hera. Even in ancient Egypt, the sky goddess Khator (Khatkhor) was pictured as a woman with a cow’s head. Even Isis bore the appearance of a cow at times. One of the supreme divinities of the Hindus was Prithvi – the ‘Sacred Cow’.26 It is interesting to recall that the Thebes founded by Cadmus was the city of Beotia. The name Beotia is derived from Βοῦς, which Cadmus had followed to his promised land (Hyg. Fab. 178). Not only is the founding of Thebes ascribed to Cadmus, but also the creation of the Greek alphabet which he had based off the Phoenician one. In the Greek alphabet the first letter is ‘alpha’ – in the Phoenician it is ‘aleph’ (bull).27 Thus the presence of a bull in the story of the foundation of Thebes by Cadmus the Phoenician carries symbolical weight. However, as it was noted, this myth is preceded in the Dionysiaca with the kidnapping of Europa (the cow) by Zeus (the bull) and the emergence of a new race on the island of Crete. This is why having gone to the Oracle of Delphi, Cadmus is advised by Pythia to abandon chasing after the celestial bull and instead follow an earthly cow.

23 It seems the bulls of Aeëtes are a symbolic, mythological image analogous to the Cretan Minotaur, which he had confined in a subterranean corral. There are many other things connecting the mythical Colchis to Crete, but these will not be discussed here (TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 261). 24 BIEDERMANN 1996, Энциклопедия Символов [Dictionary of Symbolism], p. 30. 25 BIEDERMANN 1996, Энциклопедия Символов [Dictionary of Symbolism], p. 576. The bull is the most ancient cosmic divinity in Egyptian, ancient Semitic, Sumerian, Mesopotamian, Anatolian, Hittite, and Greek beliefs. 26 BIEDERMANN 1996, Энциклопедия Символов [Dictionary of Symbolism], pp. 30-31. 27 TSANAVA 2005, ძითორიტუალური ძოდელები [Mythoritual Models], p. 263.

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2.5. The City as a Terrestrial Reflection of the Celestial Cosmos Thebes is the city presented by Nonnus as an earthly isotype, i.e. the image of Olympus. According to the poet, Cadmus built Thebes in association with the star-struck Olympus (Dion. 5.87, ποικίλον ἀσκήσας χθόνιον τύπον, ἶσον Ολύμπῳ, “decking out an earthly image like to Olympus with all its adornments”) and in line with the strict rules, again matching the heavenly layers, seven gates have been erected (Dion. 5.67-86): …οὐρανίοις δέ ἑπτὰ πύλας ἀνέθηκεν ἰσηρίθμοισιν ἀλήταις ἰσοτύπους. πρῶτον μὲν ἐς ἑσπέριον κλίμα πήξας Ὀγκαίην ἐπένειμε πύλην γλαυκώπιδι Μήνῃ (70) ἐκ βοὸς ὀγκηθμοῖο φερώνυμον, ὅττι καὶ αὐτή ταυροφυὴς κερόεσσα βοῶν ἐλάτειρα Σελήνη τριπλόον εἶδος ἔχουσα πέλει Τριτωνὶς Ἀθήνη. δεύτερον Ἑρμάωνι διαυγέι γείτονι Μήνης δῶκε γέρας πυλεῶνα. διαγράψας δὲ τετάρτην (75) Ἠλέκτρην Φαέθοντος ἐπώνυμον, ὅττι φανέντος σύγχροος Ἠλέκτρης ἀμαρύσσεται ὄρθριος αἴγλη, Ἠελίῳ πυρόεντι πύλην ἀντώπιον Ἠοῦς μεσσατίην ἀνέθηκεν, ἐπεί μέσος ἐστὶ πλανήτων. πέμπτην δ’ Ἄρεϊ δῶκε, πόρε τριτάτην Ἀφροδίτῃ, (80) ἀμφοτέρων ἑκάτερθεν ὅπως Φαέθων μέσος εἴη, γείτονα θοῦρον Ἄρηα διατμήγων Ἀφροδίτης. ἕκτην Ζηνὸς ἄγαλμα φαεινοτέρῳ κάμε κόσμῳ ὑψιφανῆ. πυμάτην δὲ Κρόνου λάχεν ἕβδομος ἀστήρ. τοῖον ἕδος ποίησε. καὶ ἱερὸν ἄστυ πολίσσας (85) Αἰγυπτίης ἐκάλεσσεν ὁμώνυμον ἄστεϊ Θήβης. He dedicated seven gates, equal in number to the seven planets. First towards the western clime he allotted the Oncaian28 Gate to Mene Brighteyes, taking the name from the honk of cattle, because the Moon herself, bull-shaped, horned, driver of cattle, being triform is Tritonis Athene. The second gate he gave in honour to Hermaon,29 the shining neighbour of Mene. The fourth he traced out and named for Electra, Phaëthon’s daughter, because when he appears, Electra’s morning gleam sparkles with like colour; and the midmost gate opposite the Dawn he dedicated to fiery Helios, since he is in the middle of the planets. The fifth he gave to Ares, the third to Aphrodite, in order that Phaëthon30 might be between them both on either side, and cut off his neighbour the furious Ares from Aphrodite. The sixth he made an image of Zeus, shining high with more glorious craftsmanship. The last fell to the lot of Cronos31 the seventh planet. Such he made this seat; and having founded the sacred city, he called it by the name of Thebes in Egypt.

28 29 30 31

Ὄγκα is a local title of Athena. The planet Mercury. The sun. The planet Saturn.

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The first gate of Thebes is dedicated to the moon, embodied by a divinity with three faces – Mene, Selene, and Athena. Nonnus dedicates the second gate to Hermaos, or Hermes – Mercury, the third to Aphrodite – Venus. He considers the sun to be in the fourth place, because the gate known through the name of Elektra is really dedicated to the sun. One of the gates of Thebes, the so-called Elektra Gate is considered to also be dedicated to one of the Pleiades, Elektra who raised Harmonia. However, the name of Elektra is connected by Nonnus to electron,32 to amber, and now we are provided with a new etymology of this gate’s title. Yet the association of elektron or amber to Phaethon hearkens to one passage of the Phaethon myth narrated in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, according to which the sisters of Phaeton, the Heliades, mourn their brother. They themselves become trees and their tears turn into amber.33 The fifth gate is dedicated to Ares or Mars, the sixth one is for Zeus or Jupiter, and the seventh one is dedicated to Cronus or Saturn. Nonnus arranges these planets after the sun in an order that is consistent with several astronomical systems, including that of the 2nd century astronomer Ptolemy.34 In this manner, the city of Thebes is represented by Nonnus as a terrestrial isotype of Olympus. We read in the text (Dion. 5.85-87): καὶ ἱερὸν ἄστυ πολίσσας (85) Αἰγυπτίης ἐκάλεσσεν ὁμώνυμον ἄστεï Θήβης, ποικίλον ἀσκήσας χθόνιον τύπον, ἶσον Ὀλύμπῳ. and having founded the sacred city, he called it by the name of Thebes in Egypt, decking out an earthly image like to Olympos with all its adornments.

It has been established in a study by A. Zakharova and D. Torshilov that the term ‘isotype’, ἰσότυπος is used by Nonnus 20 times (yet it is not known whether or not this passage is included in this number, because here this word is given in a metathesis: ποικίλον… χθόνιον τύπον… Ὀλύμπῳ). According to their observations, this term has the meaning of ‘synonym’, denoting something that is to certain extents similar.35 The Olympus in Thessalia is really the name of an extant mountain on which the gods lived according to the beliefs of people in the Antique Age. Yet at the same time, Olympus was also deemed to be the gods’ dwelling in heaven. For example, Homer (who is imitated by Nonnus in many things) frequently recalls

Ἤλεκτρον means an alloy of gold and silver or amber. Ovid. Met. 340-366. This myth is also referred to in the Dionysiaca, for example in 2.154 and 11.34. 34 Историко-Астрономические Исследования [Istoriko-Astronomicheskie Isledovania] 1983, pp. 319-320. 35 ZAKHAROVA – TORSHILOV 2003, Глобус звездного неба [Stars of the vault of heaven], pp. 36-37. 32 33

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Mt. Olympus, the peak of which touches the clouds.36 In some contexts, this clearly provides a basis for equating Olympus with the sky.37 As for the Dionysiaca, here Olympus, the realm of the gods, is considered synonymous with a starry sky. In the first chapters of the poem, the poet already provided an impressive picture of Zeus’ battle with Typhoeus for Olympus. We read in the poem (Dion. 1.176, 178-179, 181-183): Οὐδὲ Γίγας ἀπέληγε […] καὶ δολίχῇ παλάμῃ δεδραγμένος Ἡνιοχῆος νῶτα χαλαζήεντος ἐμάστιεν Αἰγοκερῆος […] Κριὸν ἀνεστυφέλιξε, μεσόμφαλον ἄστρον Ὀλύμπου, γείτονος εἰαρινοῖο πυραυγέος ὑψόθι κὐκλου ἀμφιταλαντεύοντος ἰσόζυγον ἦμαρ ὀμίχῃ. The Giant turned back… with a long arm he grasped the Charioteer, and flogged the back of hailstorming Aigoceros… he (Typhoeus) buffeted the Ram, that midnipple star of Olympos, who balances with equal pin day and darkness over the fiery orb of his spring-time neighbor.

Thus according to Nonnus, Olympus is the same thing as heaven. It is interesting to note that the highest part of the uttermost peripheral fire of the cosmos is called Olympus in the cosmology of Philolaus the Pythagorean, where the elements are in a pure form. Along with this, the use of Olympus as a metaphor for heaven is found in Byzantine literature of the period after Nonnus, for example in the epigrams of Paulus Silentiarius of the 6th century. As the realm of immortals in the Dionysiaca, Olympus is in opposition to the earth – the realm of mortals. Enchanted by Cadmus’ music, Typhon promises him that if he plays on earth (ἐν χθονί) today, tomorrow he will play in Olympus (ἐντὸς Ὀλύμπου) and his pipe will become that of Olympus when he becomes established within the starry firmament (Dion. 1.464-467): σήμερον ἐν χθονὶ μέλπε, καὶ αὔριον ἐντὸς Ὀλύμπου. μολπῆς δ’ἄξια δῶρα παρ΄ἀστεροφεγγέι κύκλῳ (165) στηρίξω σέθεν ὄψιν Ὀλύμπιον, ἡδυμελῆ δέ οὐρανίῃ Φόρμιγγι τεὴν σύριγγα συνάψω. Tune up on earth to-day, to-morrow in heaven! You shall have ample recompense for your song: I will establish your face in the starlit circle of heaven, and join your tuneful pipes to the heavenly Harp.

It is also narrated in the poem how the celestial Zeus leaves the homes of the stars and comes down to Semele, the future mother of Dionysus: ἀστερόεν τότε δῶμα παρέστιχεν ἠέριος Ζεύς | εἰς Σεμέλης ὑμέναιον (Dion. 7.312313, “Zeus passed along the starry dome of the sky to Semele’s bridal”).

36 37

Hom. Il. 1.44; 5.74; Hom. Od. 11.313-316. Hom. Od. 20.103; 20.112-113.

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Despite Nonnus constantly recalling the ‘starry heavens’, the so-called immovable sphere of stars or the eighth realm does not seem to be separate in his work. He calls the sky a place with seven realms: οὐρανὸς ἑπτάζωνος (Dion. 1.241, “the seven-zoned heaven”), πόλος ἑπτάζωνος (Dion. 1.145, “the seven zones of the sky”). Thus it can be concluded that Nonnus thinks of the order of the planets according to the system of Ptolemy, with the difference being that the sphere of immovable stars, said by Ptolemy to be forever separated from the realm of the planets, is not separated as a distinct realm by Nonnus. He places the stars within a single sky – in Olympus. The Ptolemaic system, as it is known, represented a mathematical model which later on was declared to be a real scheme for the order of the universe in which the Saturnian sphere was considered to be the boundary of the universe.38 Thus it can be stated that considering Olympus as an example, a paradigm for a terrestrial, sacred city reflects the commonly shared, ordinary beliefs of the people of the Near East. According to them everything on earth – countries, cities, temples, and objects of special significance – are created according to a celestial model.39 In the writings of Nonnus there are quite frequently oppositions between the celestial and the terrestrial concerning individual objects40 as well as cities (other than Thebes).41 In the Dionysiaca, Thebes is a primordial city whose foundational mythologem contains a model for other cities. And truly, according to a well known inscription on the Paros Marble, the foundation of Thebes by Cadmus is dated to 1518 BC, 10 years after the flood. According to the information in Varro (Rust. 3.1) Thebes is the oldest city on earth. It had first been founded by Ogygus42 before the first flood. Other cities in Europe and Asia must have been erected according to the model of Thebes and Ilion – central cities of two well known myth cycles.

38 Историко-Астрономические Исследования [Istoriko-Astronomicheskie Isledovania] 1983, pp. 320-321. 39 ELIADE 1998, Азиатская алхимия [Asian Alchemy], p. 85. 40 Dion. 9.184-187: καὶ χροῒ λαχνήεντας ἀνεχλαίνωσε χιτῶνας | Εὔιος ἀρτιτέλεστον ἔχων παιδήιον ἥβην, | δαιδαλέην ἐλάφοιο φέρων ὤμοισι καλύπτρην, | αἰθερίων μιμηλὸν ἔχων τύπον αἰόλον ἄστρων. The time of boyhood just come, Eueus draped furry tunics upon his body, and carried to cover his shoulders the dappled skin of a stag, imitation the sky spotted with stars. 41 When Dionysus admires the city of Tyre, he expresses his wonder with following words: “O world-famous city, image of the earth, picture of the sky!” (Dion. 40.351: ὦ πόλι πασιμέλουσα, τύπος χθονός, αἰθέρος εἰκών). It is interesting that apart from the starry sky, Nonnus also credits the Egyptian Thebes as a prototype of the Greek Thebes. 42 Ogygus was ruler of the Theban territory when Lake Copaïs rose and flooded the land (ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca, p. 114).

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But the Thebes that was later founded by Cadmus is the center of world harmony. The city’s symbol is Harmonia’s necklace,43 which Nonnus refers as Ἡφαίστου σοφὸν ἔργον (Dion. 5.138, “a clever work of Hephaistos”). The piece of jewelry is created to the model of the universe: Hephaestus made it in the form of a snake, “with starspangled back and coiling shape” (Dion. 5.144145, ὃς ἀστεροφεγγέι νώτῳ ὡς ὄφις ἦν ἑλικῶδες ἔχων δέμας). The snake has two heads (Dion. 5.154, δικάρηνος) and two mouths (Dion. 5.146, δίστομος), while heads are placed next to each other. “With the two mouths on each side, where is the beginning and the end, was a golden eagle that seemed to be cutting the open air” (Dion. 5.158-159, καὶ στομάτων ἑκάτερθεν ὅπῃ τέλος ἐστὶ καὶ ἀρχή, αἰετὸς ἦν χρύσειος, ἅτε πλατὺν ἠέρα τέμνων). The eagle has four wings: “high-shining with fourfold nozzle of the four wings” (Dion. 5.161, ὑψιφανὴς πτερύγων πισύρων τετράζυγι κημῷ). Various precious stones are placed on the wings: “yellow jasper” (Dion. 5.162, ξανθὸς ἴασπις) is on the first wing, while “the allwhite stone of Selene” (Dion. 5.162-163, τῇ δὲ Σελήνης εἶχε λίθον πάνλευκον) is on the other, “the gleaming pearl” (Dion. 5.167, ἄλλη μἀργαρον εἶχε φαεσφόρον) sparks out on the third one and “the Indian agate” (Dion. 5.170, ἀπέπτυεν Ἰνδὸς ἀχάτης) on the fourth one. The golden eagle with four wings symbolizes in Nonnus the centre of the universal harmony. Four wings of the eagle indicate four sides. The two-headed snake surrounding the eagle is the symbol of chaotic watery space, i.e. ocean. Moreover, the precious stones placed on the wings of the eagle are connected to the four elements by Nonnus: Jasper – to land, Selene’s stone – to air, pearl – to water and agate – to fire. Hence, the necklace of Harmony is a microworld, with at its centre the eagle with four wings. This most beautiful creation placed between the faces of the snake, i.e. dangerous powers, provides universal harmony and permanency of cosmic victory over chaos. 3. Conclusion We can now conclude that in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, the city, and more specifically Thebes, has both cosmic and cosmogonic connotations. It is a source of a cosmogonic view of the world. The foundation of Thebes by Cadmus is the apex of the cosmogonic fight against dragons. Harmonia’s necklace however is a mythopoetic symbol of Nonnus’ world.

43

“The gods gave Cadmus and Harmonia many gifts at their wedding: fortune from Zeus, a rod from Hermes, a spear from Ares, a shield from Apollo, a crown studded with precious jewels from Hephaestus, a throne from Heras, and a necklace from Aphrodite. This necklace was the handiwork of Hephaestus and it had the following appearance: a sinuous, wavy two-headed snake (ἀμφίσ-βαινα) seemed to move, ball up, and spew out venom from each head…” (Dion. 5.150-189).

PART SEVEN: PARTING WAYS. POETIC AFTERLIFE AND SCHOLARLY RECEPTION

XXII. NONNIAN POETS (?): THE CASE OF JULIAN THE EGYPTIAN Arianna GULLO

1. Introduction Around 567/568 AD, under the reign of Justin II, the historian and poet Agathias Scholasticus published the Cycle (Κύκλος), a collection of epigrams of various kinds. Here he assembled a selection of his own poems together with those of several, roughly contemporary and more or less celebrated, epigrammatists.1 The epigrams of the Cycle, many of which survive today in the socalled Greek Anthology, provide a sort of cultural snapshot of Justinian’s reign, as reflections of its historical and literary milieu.2 This contribution deals with the epigrams of the 6th-century AD Greek Christian poet Julian the Egyptian and his relationship with Homer and Nonnus. The focus will be particularly on Julian’s funerary epigrams. One of the most prolific contributors to the Cycle, Julian was presumably a native of Egypt, as the ethnic Αἰγύπτιος suggests,3 although he lived in Constantinople around the first half of the sixth century AD.4 In most cases the two manuscripts of the Greek Anthology correctly style Julian ἀπὸ ὑπάρχων (“the ex-prefect”). The title ἀπὸ ὑπάτων (“the ex-consul”), which appears in some lemmata relating to Julian’s epigrams in the Palatine manuscript,5 but never in the Planudean manuscript,6 is without doubt a mistake that arose from a misunderstanding of the abbreviation ἀπὸ ὑπ-, contained in the Palatine manuscript in the lemmata of three epigrams surely to be attributed to Julian.7 According to an intriguing hypothesis,8 it is likely that the epigrammatist Julian the Egyptian, styled “former prefect” (ἀπὸ ὑπάρχων), should be identified with the praefectus praetorio 1 So cogently CAMERON – CAMERON 1966, The Cycle of Agathias, pp. 6 and 21-25; see also CAMERON 1970, Agathias, pp. 15-16; CAMERON 1993, The Greek Anthology, pp. 16 and 70-75; CAMERON 2016, Paganism, p. 279; MCCAIL 1969, The Cycle of Agathias, p. 87. BALDWIN 1977, Four problems, pp. 298-301, and BALDWIN 1980, The date of the Cycle, argues that the Cycle was published around the end of Justinian’s reign. 2 MCCAIL 1969, The Cycle of Agathias, pp. 94-96. 3 Pace MCCAIL 1969, The Cycle of Agathias, p. 90. 4 All Julian’s dateable poems fall before the mid-6th century AD. 5 Heidelb. Pal. Gr. 23, mid-10th century. 6 Marc. Gr. 481, autograph copy of Maximus Planudes completed in 1299 or 1301. 7 See recently GULLO 2009, Un epigrammista. 8 CAMERON – CAMERON 1966, The Cycle of Agathias, p. 13; see also CAMERON 1977, Some prefects, pp. 42-48.

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Orientis of 530-531 AD,9 who was dragged by the crowd into the Hippodrome together with the usurper Hypatius and Pompeius during the Nika riot, according to the account of the Chronicon Paschale.10 It is less likely that the title ἀπὸ ὑπάρχων is an honorific title, to which the ethnic Αἰγύπτιος might have been added to distinguish the poet from his contemporary.11 Julian’s corpus of epigrams is inferior in number only to those of Agathias himself or of Paul the Silentiary:12 seventy-two epigrams are transmitted in the Greek Anthology under the name of Julian the Egyptian, of which fifty-six are preserved in both the Palatine (A.P.) and the Planudean Anthology (A.Pl.); two are preserved in A.P. alone; thirteen are preserved only in A.Pl.; one 1 is preserved in a twelfth-thirteenth century compilation (Σπ);13 A.P. 9.737 and A.Pl. 63, both anonymous in the manuscripts but attributed to Julian by some modern editors because of their subjects, are probably spurious. All these poems are distributed into the Books of the Greek Anthology as follows: one epigram is handed down in Book 5;14 Book 6 preserves ten poems;15 Book 7 transmits thirty epigrams;16 seventeen epigrams can be found in Book 9;17 finally, like I have already pointed out above, thirteen poems are preserved in the infamously so-called Book 16 of the Greek Anthology.18 Julian perfectly assimilated the preceding epigrammatic tradition into his own poems, which can then be considered “Hellenistic” in content and style. Like the other Cycle poets, who were mostly rhetors and imperial officials with rhetorical education,19 Julian was also a Christian, who, following a long series of Greek and Roman epigrammatists, composed classicizing epigrams in full awareness of the preceding, unbroken tradition. In doing so, he more or less took up and combined Hellenistic and Graeco-Roman epigrammatic motifs

9 PLRE IIIA, pp. 729-730 (Iulianus 4). In the sources this Julian always bears the title p(raefectus) p(raetorio) or ἔπαρχος πραιτωρίων (“praetorian prefect”). 10 s.a. 531, where he is styled Ἰουλιανὸν τὸν ἀπὸ ἐπάρχων πραιτωρίων (“Julian the former praetorian prefect”). 11 PLRE IIIA, p. 733 (Iulianus 11). 12 I am currently preparing a new edition with introduction, translation and commentary of the epigrams of Julian the Egyptian. I present here some preliminary results. 13 Anth.App. 3.179 Cougny. 14 A.P. 5.298. 15 A.P. 6.12; A.P. 6.18-20; A.P. 6.25-26; A.P. 6.28-29; A.P. 6.67-68. 16 A.P. 7.32-33; A.P. 7.58-59; A.P. 7.69-70; A.P. 7.561-562; A.P. 5.565; A.P. 7.576-577; A.P. 7.580-582; A.P. 7.584-587; A.P. 7.590-592; A.P. 7.594-595; A.P. 7.597-601; A.P. 7.603; A.P. 7.605. 17 A.P. 9.398; A.P. 9.445-447; A.P. 9.652; A.P. 9.654; A.P. 9.661; A.P. 9.738-739; A.P. 9.763; A.P. 9.771; A.P. 9.793-798. 18 A.Pl. 87-88; A.Pl. 107-108; A.Pl. 113; A.Pl. 130; A.Pl. 139; A.Pl. 157; A.Pl. 173; A.Pl. 181; A.Pl. 203; A.Pl. 325; A.Pl. 388. 19 For a list of the Cycle poets see CAMERON – CAMERON 1966, The Cycle of Agathias, p. 8, with CAMERON – CAMERON 1967, Further Thoughts, for additions and further remarks; see also CAMERON 2016, Paganism, pp. 278-279.

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with the stylistic features of the “Nonnian School”20 along with the epigraphic tradition, which stands in a relationship of mutual cross-fertilization with literary epigram.21 As a consequence, and in contrast to the obviously Christian epigrams of Gregory Nazianzen or those preserved in Book 1 of the Greek Anthology, there is no way to infer clearly the religious beliefs of Julian solely on the basis of his epigrams: indeed, his poems are so steeped in epigrammatic topoi that, in most cases, it is almost impossible to differentiate between Christian beliefs and secular forms. The massive influence of Nonnus of Panopolis on late antique poetry, including epigram, must always be taken into account when studying Greek poetry of the 5th-6th centuries AD. By imitating and (sometimes) outdoing Homer, Nonnus became the predominant model for late antique poetry of the 5th6th centuries AD from a linguistic, stylistic, and metrical point of view. Nonnus’ poetry is learned in every aspect: in it rare myths and the most uncommon geographical terms are preferred, as well as neologisms – especially adjectives. This however does not mean that Homer was discarded or dismissed, instead his works remains a basis of utmost importance. Therefore, as I will show in this contribution, the exclusive and determinative label of “Nonnian poets” applied particularly to the Cycle epigrammatists including Agathias, must be put into perspective so as not to minimize the influence of Homer. It is possible to demonstrate through only a few metrical remarks, that Julian’s funerary epigrams do not strictly follow Nonnian metrical rules. First and foremost, his poems display two hexameter patterns which are not attested in Nonnus: ssddd (3 ×);22 ssdsd (1 ×).23 As for Bulloch’s Law, in six cases24 hexameters do not present bucolic caesura when having diaeresis between the third and the fourth foot (however, word end occurs within Wortbild in all the cases). Two violations of Meyer I are attested,25 of which one within Wortbild;26 as for Meyer II (hexameters), we have two real violations27 and one violation within Wortbild.28 There is one violation of Hermann’s Bridge within 20 On the definition of the so-called “stile moderno” (“modern style”), that is, the metrical and language style codified in late antique literary poetry, which finds its supreme manifestation in Nonnus of Panopolis (hence it is called “Nonnian”, though it was not properly elaborated and developed by him), see, e.g., WHITBY 1994, From Moschus to Nonnus; AGOSTI – GONNELLI 1995, Materiali per la storia. 21 I prefer not to distinguish between literary and epigraphic epigram, but consider them a single tradition, especially in Late Antiquity: see recently GARULLI 2012, BYBLOS LAINEE; AGOSTI 2015, Per una fenomenologia; CHRISTIAN 2015, Gebildete Steine. 22 A.P. 7.586.3; A.P. 7.587.3; A.P. 7.590.3. 23 A.P. 7.584.1. 24 A.P. 7.32.1; A.P. 7.582.1; A.P. 7.586.1; A.P. 7.598.1; A.P. 7.599.5; A.P. 7.601.3. 25 A.P. 7.70.3; A.P. 7.582.3. 26 A.P. 7.570.3. 27 A.P. 7.600.1; A.P. 7.603.1. 28 A.P. 7.592.3.

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Wortbild;29 one real violation of Tiedke-Meyer’s Law is attested,30 as well as one violation within Wortbild.31 There are four actual violations of Naeke’s Law within Wortbild.32 As for the accentuation in the hexameters, Nonnian rules are broken in two cases.33 Finally, there are five real violations of Meyer II in the pentamenters.34 Even such a brief survey shows immediately how the (abused) label of “Nonnian poet” is not entirely satisfactory when applied to Julian. As the same might be concluded for other Cycle epigrammatists, it is advisable to investigate to what extent these “Hellenistic” poets (strongly faithful to their predecessors and the preceding epigrammatic tradition) are “Nonnian”, and whether it is feasible (and appropriate) to establish precise criteria to consider and define them as so. 2. The Debt Owed to Nonnus35 This section discusses six epigrams in which Julian seemingly depends on Nonnus without any intermediary channel. Through this investigation one is lead to a greater appreciation of the extent to which Nonnus’ influence predominates in Julian’s poetry. Let us start with a funerary poem, A.P. 7.561, dedicated to Craterus, who is being celebrated for his σοφία (line 3) and eloquence. Presumably a rhetor of the mid-6th century AD, Craterus is praised as an outstanding orator, who was capable to move his rivals to tears.36 Moira is to be blamed for his death because she deprived the world of its adornment. Craterus is the protagonist of other two poems ascribed to Julian, A.P. 7.562 and A.P. 9.661. A.P. 7.561 and A.P. 7.562 are “companion pieces”; in other words, these two epigrams can be understood only if the one presupposes the other, because they explain each other mutually. Let us consider first A.P. 7.561: 29

A.P. 7.582.3. A.P. 7.32.1. 31 A.P. 7.576.1. 32 A.P. 7.58.3; A.P. 7.582.1; A.P. 7. 591.1; A.P. 7.605.1. 33 A.P. 7.561.1 ends with ἀνέρ’ ἔτικτεν, which can be easily amended to ἀνέρα τίκτεν in order not to have the accentuation rule broken; in A.P. 7.592.5 the final position is occupied by an oxytone with the last syllable containing a short vowel (φαεινόν). 34 A.P. 7.561.4; A.P. 7.577.4; A.P. 5.86.2; A.P. 7.591.2; A.P. 7.603.4. 35 All translations are my own. The text of Julian’s epigrams is the one I have established for my forthcoming critical edition. 36 See PLRE IIIA, p. 361 (Craterus); HARTIGAN 1975, Julian the Egyptian, pp. 45-46. On the identification, proposed by DINDORF 1832, Chronicon Paschale, ad Φωκᾶν τὸν Κρατερόν (p. 621, 9), II, p. 453, with Phocas’ father, appointed prefect of the East after the Nika riot (STEIN 1949, Histoire, pp. 371 and 456-460; PLRE II, pp. 881-882 [Phocas 5]; PLRE IIIB, p. 1029 [Phocas]), see MCCAIL 1969, The Cycle of Agathias, p. 88; FUSCO 1972-1973, Un epigrammista, p. 153, who consider this hypothesis plausible. 30

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Ἡ Φύσις ὠδίνασα πολὺν χρόνον ἀνέρα τίκτεν ἄξιον εἰς ἀρετὴν τῶν προτέρων ἐτέων, τὸν Κρατερὸν σοφίην τε καὶ οὔνομα, τὸν καὶ ἀνιγροῖς κινήσαντα γόῳ δάκρυον ἀντιπάλοις. εἰ δὲ νέος τέθνηκεν, ὑπέρτερα νήματα Μοίρης (5) μέμφεο βουλομένης κόσμον ἄκοσμον ἔχειν. After long labour, Nature gave birth to a man who was worthy of former years for his virtue, Craterus, strong by name and wisdom, who moved to tears even his grievous enemies. If he died young, blame the supreme threads of Moira, who wanted a world deprived of its ornament.

The epigram displays points of contact (both content and lexical affinities) with Nonnian poetry. In Greek poetry Nature (line 1 Φύσις) is never addressed as a deity before the 2nd century BC. In Stoic writings Physis is depicted as a deity, and in funerary epigrams she is very seldom portrayed as an agent of untimely death, a simultaneous life-giver and destroyer.37 In late antique philosophy Nature is worshipped as a goddess and enjoys her own cult, as is strongly evidenced by the tenth Orphic Hymn. The personification of Φύσις (Anon. A.P. 7.570.3), perhaps due to the Orphic influence, is the poetic image of the world’s energies. In Julian’s poem however, and in the 5th-6th centuries more broadly, this personification is presumably a mere literary convention.38 This reading is supported by the repeated representation of Nature as a goddess throughout Julian’s epigrams.39 Julian might have specifically derived the image of the Nature’s childbirth (line 1), which is also found in an epigram clearly dated to the 6th century AD (Anon. A.Pl. 352.3-4), directly from Nonnus’ Paraphrase (1.35), where the motif may be attested for the first time.40 It is less certain whether the pun on κόσμος and ἄκοσμος (line 6) is also directly derived from Nonnus (Dion. 6.371):41 in actuality, it seems a rather conventional wordplay, because it is present as well in, e.g., Antip. Sid. A.P. 9.323.3 = HE 60.578; Orac. Sib. 7.123; Greg. Naz. Carm. 2.1.46.14, PG 37.1379; Anon. Anth. App. 4.122.1. In fact, the juxtaposition of a noun and a privative ἀ- adjective sharing the same root and reversing the meaning of the noun itself, is already attested in Homer (Od. 18.73 Ἴρος Ἄϊρος), and becomes 37 See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Antip. Sid. A.P. 7.303.6 = HE 26.355 Ἀίδην πικρόν. 38 See DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), ad Nonn. Par. 1.35-38, pp. 133-134. 39 See A.P. 9.738.1-3. and A.P. 9.738.1-4; A.P. 9.793.2. 40 The metaphor is also present in an anonymous epigram (A.Pl. 302) whose content and style suggest a later date. 41 See GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, p. 232; GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), ad loc., p. 507.

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a frequent stylistic trait in poetry, and tragedy in particular.42 Julian employs the same pattern in A.P. 7.577.4 μόρος … ἄμμορος and A.P. 7.600.1 ὥριος … ἀώριος.43 Attention should be drawn to the phrasing ὑπέρτερα νήματα Μοίρης (line 5), which occurs almost identically, yet without an adjective qualifying νήματα, in another epitaph by Julian, A.P. 7.597, dedicated to the talented performer (actress and singer) of tragedy Calliope44 (end of line 3): Ἡ γλυκερὸν μέλψασα καὶ ἄλκιμον, ἡ θρόον αὐδῆς μούνη θηλυτέρης45 στήθεσι ῥηξαμένη κεῖται σιγαλέη· τόσον ἔσθενε νήματα Μοίρης, ὡς λιγυρὰ κλεῖσαι χείλεα Καλλιόπης. The one who sang sweetly and strongly, the only one who broke the fulness of female voice in her breast; lies in silence; the threads of Moira were so powerful that they closed the melodious lips of Calliope.

The iunctura νήματα Μοίρης, despite its topic nature,46 is genuinely Nonnian, as it is not attested exactly as such prior to Nonnus. It is the main element that neatly establishes a privileged relationship between these two epigrams by 42 FEHLING 1968, ΝΥΚΤΟΣ ΠΑΙΔΕΣ ΑΠΑΙΔΕΣ, in part. p. 153; FEHLING 1969, Die Wiederholungsfiguren, pp. 286-289; FINGLASS 2007, Sophocles. Electra, ad Soph. El. 1154 μήτηρ ἀμήτωρ, pp. 452-453, with further bibliography; GARULLI 2012, BYBLOS LAINEE, p. 333 and n. 301; see also Euph. SH 415, col. ii 17 = fr. 26 Lightfoot ἄταφος τάφος. For a variation of this typology of oxymoron see VALERIO 2013, Ione di Chio, ad ION fr. 9.2 νέον οὐ νέον, p. 121, with bibliography. 43 For other cases in epigram see Leon. A.P. 7.715.3 = HE 93.2537 ἄβιος βίος; Id. A.P. 9.322.2 = HE 25.2114 ἄχαριν χάριτα; GVI 1997.13 = 27 B 1 Vérilhac = SGO III 15/01/01 (Kinna or Ankyra?, Galatia, Imperial age) ἄχαρις χάρις; see also [Simon.] A.P. 7.300.4 = ‘Simon.’ FGE 73.1001 ἀθάνατον θνητοῖς. 44 This might be the same Calliope whose portrait is the subject of A.Pl. 218 = 9 Giommoni, by John the Barbucallus (see SCHULTE 1994, Johannes Barbukallos, pp. 492-493): in this poem the woman is compared with the Muse Melpomene. For these personalities in the age of Justinian see WEBB 2008, Demons and Dancers. 45 At line 2 the adjective θηλυτέρης is in emphatic opposition with ἄλκιμον in the preceding line, rather than with γλυκερόν (line 1); it also points out to a certain sensuality of Calliope herself. The emphasis on the feminine nature, in opposition with the power and the strength of Calliope’s voice, is also present in Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 7.598.1-2, another epitaph for Calliope and “companion piece” of A.P. 7.597. Among the Cycle poets, an alike opposition can be found in Leont. A.Pl. 287 = 22 Giommoni (on the pantomime dancer Helladia: see in part. line 4 ἄρσενι γὰρ ῥώμῃ θῆλυν ἔμιξε χάριν), for which the formal parallel might be Aesch. Ag. 10-11 ὧδε γὰρ κρατεῖ | γυναικὸς ἀνδρόβουλον ἐλπίζον κέαρ (Clytemnestra, the virago par excellence). In these specific cases the dichotomy is hard to explain: it is likely that in these texts on singers and dancers the contrast is actually employed as a way to describe “technical” aspects of the performance. 46 For similar expressions (“the thread[s] of the Moirae”) see MAGNELLI 2004, Memoria letteraria, p. 52 and n. 5 (with a particular focus on inscriptions; on the image see in general LATTIMORE 1942, Themes, § 38, pp. 159-161). On the image of the thread of the Moirai in Nonnus see GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 112-116.

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Julian and Nonnus. The expression is placed at verse-end as well in Nonn. Dion. 12.144 παλινάγρετα νήματα Μοίρης; 38.218 ἀμετάτροπα νήματα Μοίρης;47 40.2 ἀκαμπέα νήματα Μοίρης. As shown in all three occurences from the Dionisiaca, like in Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 7.561.5, the iunctura νήματα Μοίρης is preceded by an adjective referred to νήματα; among the Cycle poets, see Jo. Barb. A.P. 7.555.1 = 2 Giommoni ἐσχατίης λίνα Μοίρης, a segment of Nonnian origin which always occurs at verse-end (Dion. 8×: it occurs five times in the pattern adj. referred to Μοίρης + λίνα Μοίρης), and Agath. A.P. 7.551.3 = 71 Viansino Μοίρης … λίνα. Therefore, in this case we have clearly sound evidence for asserting certain dependance of Julian on Nonnus. Let us turn now to our third poem, the other epitaph dedicated to Craterus, A.P. 7.562. Here Julian plays with the funerary theme of silence.48 Craterus used to silence his competitors as yet alive thanks to his eloquence, but the silence of death paradoxically affects him now that he is dead: Ὦ φθέγμα Κρατεροῖο, τί σοι πλέον,49 εἴ γε καὶ αὐδῆς ἔπλεο καὶ σιγῆς αἴτιον ἀντιπάλοις; ζῶντος μὲν γὰρ ἅπαντες ἐφώνεον· ἐκ δὲ τελευτῆς ὑμετέρης ἰδίην αὖθις ἔδησαν ὄπα.50 οὔτις γὰρ μετὰ σεῖο μόρον τέτληκε τανύσσαι (5) ὦτα λόγοις, Κρατερῷ δ’ ἓν τέλος ἠδὲ λόγοις. Ο voice of Craterus, what did it profit you if you were cause of both speech or silence to your enemies? When you were alive, all used to speak; but after your death every mouth is sealed. None any more would lend an ear to speeches after your passing, Craterus and the art of speaking came to one end.

Compare with SIMON 1999, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXVIII-XL), ad loc., p. 205, for several, additional variations of the iunctura in Nonnus. 48 For this theme see GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Antip. Sid. A.P. 7.29.2 = HE 16.271 and ad Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 7.595.3-4. 49 See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Antiphil. A.P. 7.175.3 = GPh 24.931 τί … πλέον. 50 The metaphor of the tight-lipped mouth (literally “tied”, “bound”), more effective than the simple expressions “mouth shut” or “close the mouth” (for which see Antiphil. A.P. 7.630.3 = GPh 4.805 χεῖλος ἔμυσε, unicum), is also present in Thgn. 178 γλῶσσα δέ οἱ δέδεται (first attestation of the image); Lucill. A.P. 11.138.2 = 47 Floridi τὸ στόμα μου δέδεται, with Floridi 2014, Lucillio, ad loc., pp. 261-262, expression which is again found, in the same metrical position, in Lucill. A.P. 11.148.4 = 53 Floridi; Greg. Naz. A.P. 8.35.2 φωνὴ δ’ ἐδέθη καὶ χείλεα καλά (Nonna’s death). Julian uses the metaphor in A.P. 7.597.4 as well (see above), where the Moira, grasping the performer Calliope to death, “held her tongue” (κλεῖσαι χείλεα, literally “to hold the lips”): we can compare, beyond Greg. Naz. A.P. 8.35.2, already quoted, GVI 1938.9 = GG 449 = IGUR 1305 (Rome, 2nd c. AD) καὶ στόμα πέφρακται τὸ χρύσεον (epitaph of Petronia Musa); see CHRISTIAN 2015, Gebildete Steine, p. 286. 47

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The poem is built on a common hyberbolic motif in Greek funerary epigrams, by which the passing of the artists (a poet, a singer, a perfomer, a rhetor, and so on) marks the end of any activity connected with their profession. As per the long-lived Hellenistic topos, if a rhetor is dead, everyone quits speaking; if a musician passes away, then all the instruments are silent and lie abandoned on the ground.51 In A.P. 7.562 another conventional sepulchral motif is also particularly pronounced, the opposition between past (when the dead was alive) and present (after the death). For our analysis the expression τανύσσαι / ὦτα (lines 5-6) is interesting, as it provides yet another example of Nonnus’s direct influence on Julian. The iunctura is not attested elsewhere, and is presumably modeled after the Nonnian phrasing ὄμμα τανύσσαι and the like (Dion. 22.287 ὄμμα τανύσσας; 33.92; 37.71; 43.142 ὄμμα τανύσσῃ), always placed at the end of the verse.52 A fourth, “intriguing” case, which in addition displays a Christian flavour, is A.P. 7.594, an epitaph for the grammarian Theodorus,53 who will be remembered forever not for his material, sepulchral monument, but for his written work. Through his work Theodorus saved from oblivion hundreds of ancient poets by copying their works (and probably providing them with exegetical remarks): Μνῆμα σόν, ὦ Θεόδωρε, πανατρεκὲς οὐκ ἐπὶ τύμβῳ, ἀλλ’ ἐνὶ βιβλιακῶν μυριάσιν σελίδων, αἷσιν ἀνεζώγρησας ἀπολλυμένων ἀπὸ λήθης ἁρπάξας νοερὸν μόχθον ἀοιδοπόλων. Your real monument, Theodorus, is not on the tomb, but on the countless columns of writing in which you recalled to life and snatched away from oblivion the ingenious labour of dead poets.

The idea that the real tomb is not the material monument, but, rather, the significant or heroic deed(s) for which the deceased will be remembered forever (lines 1-2), is a common motif of funerary epigram.54 Julian plays wonderfully with the material dimension offered by the funerary monument and the written/

On the theme see GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Antip. Sid. A.P. 7.29.2 = HE 16.271. See AGOSTI 2005, Miscellanea epigrafica I, pp. 19-20; FRANCHI 2013, Nonno, Parafrasi (VI), ad Nonn. Par. 6.160 πανίλαον ὄμμα τιταίνων, p. 452. See also the following parallels, clearly derived from Nonnnus: Colluth. 132 ὄμμα τανύσσας; Jo. Gaz. 1.287 ὄμμα τανύσσας; 2.236 ὄμμα τανύσσει; Paul. Sil. S. Soph. 286 ὄμμα τανύσσας; 353 ὄμμα τανύσσαι; 398 ὄμμα τανύσσας; 947; Agath. A.P. 4.3b.2 = 2.48 Viansino ὄμμα τανύσσῃ; Anon. A.P. 9.188.3 ὄμμα τανύσσας. All these examples are at verse-end, like in the Nonnian passages quoted above. 53 KASTER 1988, Guardians of Language, no. 266, pp. 434-435; PLRE IIIB, p. 1261 (Theodorus 53). 54 See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Anon. A.P. 7.45.1-2 = ‘Th.’ or ‘Tim.’ FGE 1.10521053 Μνᾶμα μὲν Ἑλλὰς ἅπασ’ Εὐριπίδου, ὀστέα δ’ ἴσχει | γῆ Μακεδών. 51 52

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copied book, as well as the epigrammatic conventions by shifting the role of “carrying memory” from the tomb/funerary inscription to Theodorus’ work as a scribe (and commentator). In doing so, he uses another popular classical theme: the idea that a poet gains immortality through his works.55 In the third line the compound ἀναζωγρέω (“recall to life”) is a Nonnian neologism attested both in the Dionysiaca and the Paraphrase,56 where it is used for the healing of the paralytic (Par. 5.41 ὅστις ἀπὸ κλιντῆρος ἀνεζώγρησε πεσόντα). The verb thus seems to belong to specifically Christian phraseology:57 it stems from Julian’s Christian background, although it is here applied to a context not directly implying a religious dimension (the literary topos of the immortality of the poet guaranteed by his works, “recalled to life” by Theodorus’ copying activity). Above all, though, it derives from Nonnus and is recognizably part of his poetical legacy. The penultimate example is A.P. 7.595, the “companion piece” of A.P. 7.594, and dedicated to the same Theodorus. Like A.P. 7.562 on Craterus, the poem is centered both on the opposition between past and present, and on the idea that the death of the artists hyperbolically causes the definitive end of any activity connected with them: Κάτθανε μὲν Θεόδωρος· ἀοιδοπόλων δὲ παλαιῶν πληθὺς οἰχομένη νῦν θάνεν ἀτρεκέως. πᾶσα γὰρ ἀμπνείοντι συνέπνεε, πᾶσα δ’ ἀπέσβη σβεννυμένου· κρύφθη δ’ εἰν ἑνὶ πάντα τάφῳ. Theodorus died: now the crowd of ancient poets is utterly dead and gone. For all breathed as long as he breathed, and the light of all is turned off with his death; all are hidden in one tomb.

The direct dialogue with the Nonnian text is firmly established by the use at line 4 of the iunctura εἰν ἑνὶ πάντα, which is typically Nonnian (Dion. 12.44; 12.90; 31.281; 32.6; Par. 5.74; 15.30; see also Dion. 12.33; 16.102; 35.390; 37.745; Par. 3.120; 4.239; 5.134; 10.99; 13.142; 15.52; 16.42; 17.6; 20.122; 21.49; 21.81).58 This Nonnian phrasing is varied in Agath. A.P. 7.572.5 = 70 Viansino εἰν ἑνὶ δ’ ἄμφω: εἰν ἑνί occurs twenty-one times in the Dionysiaca (twelve in the same metrical position shared by Agathias) and seventeen in the See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Anon. A.P. 7.12.5-6 = FGE 39.1226-1227. See AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), ad loc., p. 385. 57 See also the use of ζωγρέω, e.g., in Nonn. Par. 5.79-80 ὥσπερ γὰρ γενέτης νέκυας μετὰ πότμον ἐγείρει | ζωγρήσας παλίνορσον ἀκινήτων δέμας ἀνδρῶν (with AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), ad loc., p. 443); 82 ζωγρήσας φθιμένων παλινάγρετα σώματα φωτῶν; Com. Schol. A.P. 9.597.5-6 = 1 Giommoni ἀλλὰ σοφός με Φίλιππος, ὃν ἐν γραφίδεσσι δοκεύεις, | ζώγρησεν κρυερὴν νοῦσον ἀκεσσάμενος; Anon. Jes. (P. Bodmer 32) 6 ζώγρ[ησ’ ἀλ]ιτροσύνας φορέων μετάνοιαν. 58 See AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), ad Nonn. Par. 5.74 εἰν ἑνὶ πάντα, pp. 436-437. 55

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Paraphrase (used four times in the same metrical position resumed by Agathias).59 The iunctura εἰν ἑνί appears later in Lasc. Epigr. 37.1 too. The last poem to be considered in this section, A.P. 7.605, is probably the only instance within the poems of Julian where the presence of Christian flare is clear and unambiguous. In it, a husband celebrates his newly found freedom as a widower by erecting a magnificent tomb for his wife, thanking her for dying so early: Σοὶ σορὸν εὐλάιγγα, Ῥοδοῖ, καὶ τύμβον ἐγείρει ῥύσιά τε ψυχῆς δῶρα πένησι νέμει ἀντ’ εὐεργεσίης γλυκερὸς πόσις, ὅττι θανοῦσα ὠκύμορος κείνῳ δῶκας ἐλευθερίην. Your sweet husband raises a coffin made of precious stone and a tomb for you, Rhodo, and distributes presents to poor people to save your soul, in exchange for the good you did to him: for by dying early you gave him his freedom.

The word ῥύσια (“offerings in thanksgiving for deliverance”)60 here (line 2) indicates the almsgiving for the dead bride’s soul, and is an unequivocally Christian feature.61 This satirical poem may mock Justinian’s puritan propaganda and programme of reforms advancing moral behavior, which particularly affects Agathias’ epigrams, as well as the strict legislation concerning divorce over the years 542-566 AD.62 The adjective εὐλάιγγα (line 1, “decorated, adorned with precious stones or marble”) is a Nonnian neologism (Dion. 5.134; 5.189; 11.122; 16.403; 32.242; 35.9 = 36.438; 36.228; Par. 5.35; 6.181; 7.51; 19.68; 19.217), of which Julian also preserves the usual metrical position, built on λᾶιγξ, which occurs twice in Homer (Od. 5.433; 6.95: see LfgrE, II, s.v. λάϊγγες, coll. 1617-1618): in Nonn. Par. 19.217 the adjective, like in Julian, is referred to the tomb.63 The compound is also attested in Colluth. 46; Paul. Sil. amb. 151; Agath. A.P. 9.767.1 = 58 Viansino (in Colluthus the adjective occurs in the same metrical position as in Nonnus). The overview presented in this section clearly reveals, through Julian’s routine engagement with his work, that Nonnus was certainly among the most recognized (and recognizable) models of this poet; it is likely that, after

See MATTSSON 1942, Untersuchungen, p. 131; CAMERON 1970, Agathias, p. 156. Pers. A.P. 6.274.4 = HE 3.2870 (to Eilithyia in thanksgiving for childbirth). 61 Compare Justinian’s almsgiving for Theodora’s soul (MSyr. Chron. 9.29, II, p. 243 Chabot). 62 MCCAIL 1968, Three Byzantine epigrams, p. 78; see also MCCAIL 1969, The Cycle of Agathias, pp. 95-96; GARLAND 2011, Public lavatories, pp. 153-154. 63 See AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), p. 376, ad Nonn. Par. 5.35, ἐν εὐλάιγγι δὲ νηῷ, and FRANCHI 2013, Nonno, Parafrasi (VI), p. 471, ad Nonn. Par. 6.181, εὐλάιγγος ἔσω νηοῖο. 59 60

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accurate analysis, the same conclusions should be drawn for other Cycle poets: Nonnus was possibly the authority for most of them. However, Nonnus’ influence in Julian’s epitaphs is not overwhelming as expected, but just limited to few lexical re-uses of single words or particular phrasings. 3. Challenging Nonnus and Siding with Homer? The contribution of the preceding Greek epigrammatic tradition to the genre in Late Antiquity is remarkable. Of particular importance is the complex and extremely varied relationship between Homer and epigram,64 which did not end with the Hellenistic age. In general, one may observe it in the fictitious funerary epigrams dedicated to Homer himself,65 as well as in those poems in which, as if in a “miniature” epos, Homeric heroes star. The diversity of Greek epigrams on Homer66 ranges, over time, from poems on the tombs of the Homeric heroes and ekphrastic epigrams on the artistic representations of Achilles, Patroclus, Ajax, Hector, Menelaus, among others, to poems narrating single epic episodes in the turn of a few elegiac distichs, to epigrams on the speeches uttered by the protagonists of the Iliad and the Odyssey and reworked in concise and witty lines, to poems containing more or less literal Homeric quotations. Beyond this readily evident and macro-level imitation of Homer, one may observe a formal and linguistic imitation standing on the edge between the art of poetry and the broad area of ancient exegesis. Specifically, late antique Greek poetry continued the debate on Homeric language, which had been vital since the archaic age. This section will discuss four poems in which Julian consciously resumes a Homerism and at least in one case he seems to make a choice between Nonnus and Homer by preferring a Homeric expression instead of the Nonnian one. The poem A.P. 7.581 is modeled after a group of (mostly) anonymous Hellenistic epigrams67 from Book 7 of the Greek Anthology on the subject of the murderer who buries the corpse of the person he killed in order to hide the crime; Julian contributes to this series by composing two variations on the same theme (the other one is A.P. 7.580), based on a common epigrammatic convention: 64 The study by SKIADAS 1965, Homer, is fundamental. See also GUTZWILLER 2017, Homeric Allusions; HARDER 2007, Epigram and the Heritage; HARDER 2017, Big Heroes; SISTAKOU 2011, Mock Epic; TSAGALIS 2008, Inscribing Sorrow, pp. 262-268; TSAGALIS 2017, Three Modes of Intertextuality, and, in general, DURBEC – TRAJBER 2017, Traditions épiques. 65 See, e.g., BOLMARCICH 2002, Hellenistic Sepulchral Epigrams. 66 See in general PRALON 2017, Homère. 67 Anon. A.P. 7.310; Anon. A.P. 7.356-360 and [Simon.] A.P. 7.516 = ‘Simon.’ FGE 84.1026: for this series see GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Anon. A.P. 7.356 = FGE 29.1160.

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Ἀντὶ φόνου τάφον ἄμμι χαρίζεαι· ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτός ἴσων ἀντιτύχοις οὐρανόθεν χαρίτων. In exchange for your murder you gift me with a tomb, but may you as well receive from heaven the same present in return.

In the poem, the deceased speaks in the first person from the tomb, and brutally addresses his murderer, reversing the common topos of greeting the passerby, whom the murderer replaces here. Attention should be drawn to the expression οὐρανόθεν (“from heaven”) at line 2, which may be considered at first glance one of those interferences which reveal Julian’s Christianity. In this case, however, the plain mention of οὐρανός does not necessarily refer to the Christian heavenly kingdom as it does in Gregory of Nazianzus’ poems, where the word needs no further specifications because of the markedly and unambiguously Christian context.68 In fact, similar generic expressions are quite common in Hellenistic funerary epigrams,69 especially in contexts dealing with the topos of the separation of body and soul after death, which is already attested in Homer.70 Such expressions are present in Christian epitaphs too.71 While in A.P. 7.581.2 the mere presence of the word οὐρανόθεν cannot be considered with certainty a Christian interference, the idea of a punishment coming from heaven is fully Christian. Therefore, the sentence ἀλλά … χαρίτων operates on both the classical and Christian levels, and may well have been perceived by some readers as a Christian interference. The most interesting point for our investigation is at the end of line 1: the Homeric clausula ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτός,72 which is also used by Nonnus, stands out in a privileged metrical position, which is also the standard one in both Homer and Nonnus. Here Julian pays homage to Homer by choosing a stylistic feature found also in Nonnus, but one that is first and foremost has a Homeric connotation, immediately recognizable to the ear of the learned reader. In the next epigram, A.P. 7.586, the death of a travelling merchant who has perished at sea becomes the starting point for a condemnation of the economic

68 A.P. 8.8.3 ἐς οὐρανόν (“to heaven”); A.P. 8.33.1 πρὸς οὐρανόν (“to heaven”); A.P. 8.35.5 οὐρανόθεν; A.P. 8.53.2 πρὸς οὐρανόν; A.P. 8.59.1; A.P. 8.61.1; A.P. 8.69.1; A.P. 8.82.4. 69 See, e.g., Theodorid. A.P. 7.529.1 = HE 10.3544 Τόλμα καὶ εἰς Ἀίδαν καὶ ἐς οὐρανὸν ἄνδρα κομίζει, “Bravery brings a man to Hades and to heaven.” 70 Od. 11.64-65; 11.218-222; see also Od. 11.601-604. 71 See, e.g., Greg. Naz. A.P. 8.12; A.P. 8.33.1-2; A.P. 8.72.1. 72 See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad loc., with bibliography. It is a common Homeric clausula (Il. 11.650; Od. 12.57; see also Il. 13.448; 18.194), which occurs in the same metrical position even in Nonnus (Dion. 7.52; 7.58; 8.88; 10.289; 35.377; Par. 5.146; 18.59): see GOLEGA 1930, Studien über die Evangeliendichtung, pp. 44-45; LIVREA 1989, Nonno, Parafrasi (XVIII), ad Nonn. Par. 18.59, p. 139; AGOSTI 2003, Nonno, Parafrasi (V), ad Nonn. Par. 5.146, p. 515.

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activities related to seafaring, a common topos in classical literature, especially in Roman elegy and Greek epigram:73 Οὔτι σε πόντος ὄλεσσε καὶ οὐ πνείοντες ἀῆται, ἀλλ’ ἀκόρητος ἔρως φοιτάδος ἐμπορίης. εἴη μοι γαίης ὀλίγος βίος· ἐκ δὲ θαλάσσης ἄλλοισιν μελέτω κέρδος ἀελλομάχον. It was not the sea which killed you, nor the blowing winds, but the insatiable love of commerce by sea. May I have a little living from the land; let others pursue profit from the sea gained by fighting the storms.

Julian employs the expression ἀκόρητος ἔρως74 (line 2) with reference to seafaring:75 it seems to be derived from contests in which erotic-nautical metaphors are used.76 This idea of “insatiable” love probably stems from the double function of Aphrodite, both goddess of love and guardian of the seafaring activities because she was born from the foam of the sea, according to the wellknown myth.77 The topos of “insatiable” love is basically Hellenistic,78 but it is likely that here Julian also references Hom. Il. 13.636 πάντων μὲν κόρος 73 See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad Zon. A.P. 7.404.8 = GPh 5.3471 ἐπεὶ εἰς ὀλοὴν ἔδραμες ἐμπορίην. 74 For formal parallels see See GULLO 2022, Antologia Palatina, ad. loc. 75 See also Greg. Naz. A.P. 8.209.3-4, where the sailor is called ἄπληστος. 76 See Cerc. CA fr. 5.7-11, p. 206 Powell = 2.6-10 Livrea = Lomiento. One may also mention the ancient association of πόρνη with ναῦς, already documented in Alc. fr. 306i, col. II V. and resumed in Mel. A.P. 5.204 = HE 60.4298. It is also worth recalling the elegiac topos of the lovers’ happy journey by the sea (a wide range of bibliography can be found in BESSONE 1997, P. Ovidii Nasonis Heroidum, ad Ov. epist. 12.121-126, p. 181), as well as that of the adventures and deeds of the lover compared to those of a sailor; similarly we should consider the theme of the lover’s journey aimed to win his girl over, often compared to a journey by sea. All these metaphors are very common in both Greek erotic epigram and Latin love elegy, particularly by Ovid in his Ars (see LA PENNA 1951, Note sul linguaggio, pp. 202-205; MURGATROYD 1995, The Sea of Love; GIBSON 2003, Ovid. Ars amatoria, ad Ov. ars 3.584 saepe perit ventis obruta cumba suis, pp. 326-327). 77 For this theme in epigram see Diosc. A.P. 5.53.4 = HE 3.1477 = 5.4 Galán Vioque; Id. A.P. 5.54.3-4 = HE 7.1499-1500 = 8.3-4 Galán Vioque; Mel. A.P. 5.156 = HE 25.4130; Id. A.P. 12.157.1 = HE 119.4642 Κύπρις ἐμοὶ ναύκληρος; Id. A.P. 12.167.3-4 = HE 109.4570-4571; Anon. A.P. 12.100.1 = HE 5.3664 πόθων λιμένα; Anon. A.P. 5.11 = FGE 7.1080; Gaet. A.P. 5.17.6 = FGE 1.180 δεσπότι καὶ θαλάμων, Κύπρι, καὶ ἠιόνων; Maced. A.P. 5.235 = 8 Madden; Iren. A.P. 5.249.6 = 1 Giommoni φιλίης ῥεύμασι. See also Asclep. or Posidipp. A.P. 5.209 = Asclep. HE 36.980 = *36 Guichard = Sens = Posidipp. 128 A.-B., with GUICHARD 2004, Asclepíades de Samos, pp. 396-397, and SENS 2011, Asclepiades, pp. 244-245; LIER 1914, Ad topica carminum, pp. 34-35. Finally, see also Musae. 212 ὁλκὰς Ἔρωτος and, most of all, the Nonnian expressions φόρτον ἐρώτων (Dion. 3.116 φόρτον ἐρώτων; 10.364 φόρτον Ἐρώτων; 48.162 φόρτον ἐρώτων, with the note of VIAN 2003, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XLVIII), ad loc., p. 148); φόρτον Ἔρωτος (Dion. 4.118; 41.239; the iunctura is already in Anacr. fr. 140 Gentili = PMG 460); ἐμπορίην φιλότητος (Dion. 3.117), for which see GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 36-39, with preceding bibliography. 78 See KOST 1971, Musaios, ad Musae. 78 κόρον δ’ οὐχ εὗρον ὀπωπῆς, p. 265.

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ἐστί … καὶ φιλότητος, quoted widely in Antiquity,79 and probably echoed by Paul the Silentiary in A.P. 5.255.3 = 58 Viansino οὐ κόρον εἶχον ἔρωτος.80 Nonetheless, the certain dialogue of A.P. 7.586 with the Homeric text is guaranteed by the expression οὐ πνείοντες ἀῆται. For the phrasing one may compare in general formal parallels such as Bacchyl. 17.91 M. βορεάς … πνέουσ’ ἀήτα and, at verse-end, Eud. HC 1.49 λιγὺ πνείοντες ἀῆται (Ludwich, Schembra : πνείοντος ἀῆται Usher); γ 256 Schembra λιγὺ πνείοντας ἀήτας; Musae. 216 βαρὺ πνείοντας ἀήτας and 309 βαρὺ πνείοντες ἀῆται (with the note of Kost 1971, Musaios, ad loc., p. 516). Particularly the passages from Homerocentones and Musaeus rest on Hom. Od. 4.567 λιγὺ πνείοντας ἀήτας (in clausula as well, with ἀήτας = masc. pl.),81 which is the vulgate reading also attested in almost the entire indirect Homeric tradition. Conversely, Aristarchus and a few other manuscripts bear the reading λιγὺ πνείοντος (sc. Ζεφύροιο) ἀήτας, printed by the modern editors of the Odyssey. Presumably Eudocia, Musaeus, and Julian read a textual variant which was either the vulgate in Late Antiquity or the reading drawn from a common florilegium.82 Moreover Julian might contaminate the Homeric text with Nonn. Dion. 47.353 καὶ οὐχ ὁσίοισιν ἀήταις (clausula).83 Whichever is the genesis of the epigrammatist’s writing, it is evident that the basis is Homeric. In addition, one may argue that Julian, by interpreting ἀήτας of Od. 4.567 as a masculine plural (although he uses the noun in the nominative), takes position, as Eudocia and Musaeus do as well, in the exegetical debate over Homer, which was still very lively in Late Antiquity.84 The last two examples that will be presented in this section, A.P. 7.592 and A.P. 9.398, are perhaps the most striking, because they reveal Julian’s peculiar way of “challenging” Nonnus by preferring Homer. A.P. 9.398 resumes the theme of the ship burning on the shore after having avoided the dangers of the sea; the subject is treated in a small group of poems in Books 9 and 11 of the Greek Anthology, mostly derived from the Garland of Philip:85

79 The passage is parodied in Ar. Plut. 188-193 and questioned in Nonn. Dion. 42.180-181 γυναιμανέοντι δὲ μούνῳ | κόρος ἐστὶ πόθων. 80 See DE STEFANI 2008, ΑΛΩΦΗΤΟΣ ΕΡΩΣ, p. 208 and n. 12. On the motif of the “insatiable” sea see GONZÁLEZ GONZÁLEZ 2019, Funerary Epigrams of Ancient Greece, pp. 122-123. 81 On the gender of the noun ἀήτη see LEUMANN 1950, Homerische Wörter, p. 268 and n. 13; LfgrE, I, s.v. Σχ b), col. 192; LIVREA 1973, Apollonii Rhodii Argonauticon, ad Ap. Rhod. 4.766 ἀήτας, p. 230. 82 See discussion in RENGAKOS 1993, Der Homertext, pp. 100-101 and 120. 83 See also Opp. C. 4.63 ἐπιπνείοντας ἀήτας (clausula), which also depend on the vulgate of Hom. Od. 4.567; Musae. 296 πνείοντες ἀεὶ στυφέλιζον ἀῆται. 84 See GULLO 2021, Late Antique Homeric Exegesis. 85 See Bianor A.P. 11.248 = GPh 20.1755; Antiphil. A.P. 9.34 = GPh 32.979; Secund. A.P. 9.36 = GPh 1.3380; Leon. Alex. A.P. 9.106 = FGE 40.2014.

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Ὁλκὰς ὕδωρ προφυγοῦσα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης ἐν χθονὸς ἀγκοίναις ὤλετο †δημιτρίας† ἱσταμένην γὰρ πυρσὸς ἐπέφλεγε· καιομένη δέ δυσμενέων ὑδάτων συμμαχίην ἐκάλει. A ship that had escaped the waters of the boisterous sea, perished in the arms of † … † the earth. For fire consumed it while it lay still, and as it burnt it called upon its foe the water in aid.

A.P. 7.592 is an epitaph for the usurper Hypatius, proclaimed emperor in place of Justinian during the Nika riot in 532 AD. Thanks to the evidence supplied by the historical sources, we know that, after Hypatius’ execution upon Justinian’s order, the emperor himself commanded that Hypatius’ body should be thrown into the Bosphorus. Afterwards, however, Justinian calmed his wish for revenge, and decided to redeem the memory of the usurper by erecting a cenotaph in honor of Hypatius.86 A.P. 7.592, as well as its “companion piece” A.P. 7.591, another epigram attributed to Julian on the same subject, focus solely on this change of mind on the part of the emperor Justinian: Αὐτὸς ἄναξ νεμέσησε πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης κύμασιν Ὑπατίου σῶμα καλυψαμένοις ἤθελε γάρ μιν ἔχειν γέρας ὕστατον οἷα θανόντα καὶ μεγαλοφροσύνης κρύψε θάλασσα χάριν ἔνθεν, πρηϋνόου κραδίης μέγα δεῖγμα, φαεινὸν (5) τίμησεν κενεῷ σήματι τῷδε νέκυν. The emperor himself was furious with the waves of the loud-roaring sea for concealing the body of Hypatius; for he wished the last honours to be paid to him as due to the dead, and the sea covered the favour of his magnanimity. Therefore, a great proof of his mild heart, he honoured the distinguished dead with this cenotaph.

However, only A.P. 7.591 is explicitly ascribed to Julian in both the Palatine and the Planudean Anthology, whereas A.P. 7.592, which is preserved in the Palatine Anthology alone, is transmitted without any indication of authorship.87 Therefore, before turning to the question of the Homeric patina of 86

See, e.g., Procop. Pers. 1.24.56-58. A.P. 7.591 and A.P. 7.592 are written one after another on p. 300 of the Palatine manuscript. Moreover, A.P. 7.591 is transcribed on fol. 37v of the Planudean manuscript, along with other epigrams by Julian on shipwrecked men. By equating the story of Hypatius to that of a shipwrecked man, Planudes thus re-arranged the material found in Cephalas. It is not easy to figure out the reason why Planudes left out A.P. 7.592 from his collection. The omission of A.P. 7.592 in the Planudean Anthology may be justified by either of the two following reasons: a) because the epigram is anonymous or b) because Planudes preferred to select only one out of the two poems by Julian on Hypatius’ death, that is, A.P. 7.591, attributed to a specific epigrammatist. Among Julian’s epigrams, also A.P. 6.29 is not in the Planudean Anthology, while A.P. 6.28, with which A.P. 6.29 make a pair of “companion pieces”, is collected in it: since these two epigrams 87

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A.P. 7.592 and A.P. 9.398, it is perhaps worth examining in depth the question of the authorship of A.P. 7.592. This poem is clearly attributed to Julian in those apographa of the Palatine manuscript that belong to the French branch of the tradition,88 and that bear three out of the thirty funerary epigrams by Julian.89 Julian’s authorship for A.P. 7.592 is accepted by almost all of the modern editors starting from Jens.90 Jacobs91 ascribed the poem to Agathias, yet he had previously attributed A.P. 7.591 to Julian de facto.92 His attribution of A.P. 7.592 to Agathias is perhaps due to a misunderstanding wherein Jacobs mistakenly put Agath. A.P. 7.593 = 11 Viansino in relationship with A.P. 7.592, which is transcribed right before A.P. 7.593 on p. 300 of the Palatine manuscript.93 Since the lemma of Agath. A.P. 7.593, following A.P. 7.592, bears the formula τοῦ αὐτοῦ Ἀγαθίου Σχολαστικοῦ (“by the same Agathias Scholastichus”),94 presumably Jacobs thought95 that the preceding anonymous poem, A.P. 7.592, was by Agathias as well.96 The fact that A.P. 7.592 is anonymous may be likely due only to the omission of the formula

deal with the same subject, Planudes might choose only A.P. 6.28 because it is longer than A.P. 6.29. 88 Par. suppl. gr. 557, p. 147; Par. gr. 2742, fol. 50v; Par. suppl. gr. 243, p. 92; Par. suppl. gr. 45, p. 169. In addition, there are two manuscripts from Leiden, Leid. B.P.G. 87, foll. 272v and 275v; Leid. B.P.G. 67J, fol. 127r, that show affinities with the Parisini, but AUBRETON 1981, La tradition de l’Anthologie Palatine, p. 44, proposed a different source for these manuscripts. I had the chance to examine all these manuscripts, compiled between the 17th and the 18th century, by reproductions in pdf and microfilm. 89 A.P. 7.580; A.P. 7.581 and A.P. 7.592. 90 JENS 1742, Lucubrationes Hesychianae, p. 334 (ep. XC). 91 JACOBS 1813-1817, Anthologia Graeca, I, p. 486. 92 JACOBS 1798-1814, Animadversiones, X (II/3), p. 397. 93 See the critical apparatus of A.P. 7.593 in WALTZ 1960, Anthologie grecque, p. 105. 94 The phrasing τοῦ αὐτοῦ (“by the same”), to which the name of the poet in the genitive may be added, is routinely employed in the lemmata of the Greek Anthology to label an epigram following another by the same author. 95 Thus JACOBS 1813-1817, Anthologia Graeca, III, p. 369, explains his attribution of A.P. 7.592 to Agathias: “in membr. nomen non adscriptum. Quum autem proximo epigrammati additum sit lemma: τοῦ αὐτοῦ Ἀγαθίου. nostrum quoque a lemmatis auctore pro Agathiae poëmatio habitum fuisse existimabam: quam recte non dixerim.” As shown, the editor is uncertain about the Agathian authorship of A.P. 7.592. See also the note of Boissonade apud DÜBNER – COUGNY 1864-1890, Epigrammatum Anthologia Palatina cum Planudeis, I, ad A.P. 7.592, p. 489: “Agathiae tribuit Jacobsius, sed infirmo argumento, quod ipse serius intellexit.” 96 Actually the expression τοῦ αὐτοῦ Ἀγαθίου Σχολαστικοῦ (“by the same Agathias Scholasticus”), related to A.P. 7.593, apparently does not refer to the authorship of A.P. 7.592, but alludes to the fact that A.P. 7.593 is dedicated to the sister of Agathias himself, Eugenia. That Agathias had a sister named Eugenia is generally unanimously accepted, although he does not mention her elsewhere: see MCCAIL 1971, The Erotic and Ascetic Poetry, p. 211 n. 2. Moreover, in the lemma of the Palatine related to A.P. 7.593 the formula τοῦ αὐτοῦ Ἀγαθίου Σχολαστικοῦ is preceded by the following statement: εἰς Εὐγένειάν τινα (sic) θαυμασίαν καὶ σοφὴν γυναῖκα. ἦν δὲ αὕτη ἀδελφὴ Ἀγαθίου. Therefore, one may convincingly argue that τοῦ αὐτοῦ Ἀγαθίου Σχολαστικοῦ recalls the previous Ἀγαθίου in the lemma.

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τοῦ αὐτοῦ (“by the same”, after A.P. 7.591) and such, caused by banal lack of accuracy on the part of a scribe.97 The presence of two elements strongly bolster the hypothesis that A.P. 7.592 is to be attributed to Julian: the analysis of language and style are consistent with Julian’s usus,98 and even for the metrical aspect the poem seems compatible with Julian’s authorship.99 Moreover, the close relationship between A.P. 7.591 and A.P. 7.592 is undeniable, as suggested by the numerous lexical affinities.100 It is true that both the poems use vocabulary which is basically conventional in funerary epigrams, and deploy verbs that are usually applied to the tomb, the gravestone, or the burial more broadly (A.P. 7.591.1 καλύπτειν; A.P. 7.592.2 καλυψαμένοις; A.P. 7.592.4 κρύψε).101 Nonetheless, by considering Thus CAMERON 1978, The House of Anastasius, p. 265. A.P. 7.592 shares a fair amount of lexical affinities with epigrams attributed with certainty to Julian: see 1 ἄναξ ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 7.585.7 ἄνακτι; 1 νεμέσησε ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.Pl. 88.5 νεμέσησον (ead. sed.); 1 πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 9.398. 1 (ead. sed.); 2 κύμασιν ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 7.582.2; 3 ἤθελε ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 9.445.1 (ead. sed.); Id. A.Pl. 325.2 ἤθελεν (ead. sed.); 3 γέρας ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 9.738.2; Id. A.Pl. 203.4; 4 χάριν ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 6.19.2 (ead. sed.); 5 ἔνθεν ~ Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 6.18.3 (ead. sed.). The word χάρις (“grace”) occurs routinely in Julian’s epigrams: see A.P. 6.19.2; A.P. 7.581.2; A.P. 7.584.4; A.P. 7.592.4; A.P. 7.599.2; A.P. 7.600.2; A.P. 7.601.1. Besides, the phrasing used at line 3 of A.P. 7.592 can be compared with the tour of Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 9.445.1-2 (honorific epigram dedicated to the imperial official Tatianus): Ἤθελε μὲν βασιλεύς σε βοηθόον εἰσέτι πέμπειν | ἄστεσι τειρομένοις δευομένων μερόπων. The exaggerated, pathetic spirit that features A.P. 7.592 in order to praise Justinian, is also present in A.P. 7.561 and A.P. 7.562 (on Craterus, see above) and A.P. 7.595 (on Theodorus, see above). 99 The metrical pattern of the hexameters at lines 1 and 3 of A.P. 7.592 is dddsd, which occurs eleven times in Julian’s poems; that featuring line 5 is sdddd, which is one of the commonest in Julian’s epigrams (thirty-three cases). A the beginning of line 5 (ἔνθεν, πρηϋνόου) the epigram deploys a case of final syllable lengthened by position in thesis (see the second syllable of ἔνθεν), which Nonnus tends to avoid as much as possible. Another case of lengthening by position in thesis of a syllable at word end in Julian is A.P. 6.18.3 ἔνθεν πικρόν, where ἔνθεν occupies the same metrical position as in A.P. 7.592.5. At line 1 of A.P. 7.592 the lengthening by position of the final syllable of ἄναξ in the arsis adjusts to the Nonnian canon (the former foot is a dactyl). At line 3 there is a violation of Meyer I (within Wortbild, though) followed by violation of Meyer II: among Julian’s epigrams there is only another case in A.Pl. 108.3 εἰ γὰρ ζωὸς ἐών (here too the violation of Meyer I occurs within Wortbild). The first line of A.P. 7.592 ends with a polysyllabic word showing the last syllable long and accentuation on the penultimate syllable, as the Nonnian rule requires; line 3 ends with a polysyllabic word displaying the last syllable open and accentuation on the penultimate, as prescribed; line 5 ends with a polysyllabic word whose final syllable is closed and contains a short vowel; its accentuation is on the final syllable instead of the penultimate – in constrast to the Nonnian tendency –, but there is another case in Julian’s poems (A.Pl. 107.3 λοετρόν). 100 See A.P. 7.591.1 ῾Υπατίου ~ A.P. 7.592.2; A.P. 7.591.1 τάφος; A.P. 7.591.4 σήματι ~ A.P. 7.592.6 κενεῷ σήματι; A.P. 7.591.1 νέκυν ~ A.P. 7.592.6; A.P. 7.591.1 καλύπτειν ~ A.P. 7.592.2 καλυψαμένοις; A.P. 7.592.4 κρύψε; A.P. 7.591.3 μέγαν ~ A.P. 7.592.5 μέγα; A.P. 7.591.4 τῷ πόντῳ ~ A.P. 7.592.1 θαλάσσης; A.P. 7.592.4 θάλασσα. 101 However, one should note that in funerary epigrams it is the earth which usually “conceals” the dead: in this case, like in several epigrams mentioning cenotaphs for shipwrecked men (see, e.g., Marc. Arg. A.P. 7.374.1 = GPh 19.1393 δύσμορος ἐκρύφθην πόντῳ νέκυς, “the wretched dead was ‘buried’ by the sea”), the same function is taken up by the sea. 97 98

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A.P. 7.591 and A.P. 7.592 as “companion pieces”, one may observe that the lexical and linguistic affinities strengthen the bond between these two poems and support the idea that A.P. 7.592 is compatible with Julian’s authorship. By now we should have cast out any doubts about the authorship of A.P. 7.592, which can be considered the work of Julian the Egyptian to an almost indisputable degree of certainty. We now come to the discussion over the Homeric flavour shared by A.P. 7.592 and A.P. 9.398. Among the lexical and stylistic affinities between A.P. 7.592 and other epigrams that were surely composed by Julian, the iunctura πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης (line 1) is mentioned above, because it also appears in Jul. Aegypt. A.P. 9.398.1, in the same metrical position. It is a well-known formulaic Homeric clausula (Il. 1.34; 2.209; 6.347; 9.182; 13.798; 23.59; Od. 13.85; 13.220), occurring in later poetry too. In contrast to the Nonnian usage, which features the adjective πολύφλοισβος, but never in combination with θάλασσα,102 Julian again uses the adjective πολύφλοισβος as an epithet for the sea, which is typical in Homer. In doing so, Julian stands in opposition to the standard employment of the compound in Late Antiquity, when the word was metaphorically resemantized in regard to the labours of life.103 It is absolutely worth noting (and stressing) that A.P. 7.592.1 and A.P. 9.398.1 are the only occurrences of this Homeric formula in the Greek Anthology. Therefore, we can conclude that, at least in this case, Julian rejected the Nonnian model and uniquely recovered the pure Homerism, which stands out like a “mark” in a relevant metrical position. Julian’s continuous engagement with the Homeric text should come as no surprise. Homer was still the main authority in Late Antiquity, and the model of inspiration on which paideia was founded entirely. 4. Conclusions In this contribution I have shown that Julian constantly and consistently engages with different models, and that the label “Nonnian poet” applied to him is not only outmoded and out of context, but reductive as well. As a learned late antique epigrammatist, Julian skillfully masters and beautifully plays with the conventions of the epigrammatic genre: this framework literally “nourishes” and supports his epigrams like a skeleton. This is the main, most striking feature in his production. In his language and style, then, Julian acknowledges the Greek poetic tradition more broadly, spanning across several authors and genres.

102 Perhaps because, given the neoplatonic equation water = substance, the compound had a negative meaning: see FRANCHI 2013, Nonno, Parafrasi (VI), p. 95 n. 136. 103 See GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, pp. 37-38 and 85-86; GIGLI PICCARDI 2003, Nonno, Dionisiache (I-XII), ad Nonn. Dion. 7.64, p. 534.

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I am very confident that extending such an investigation to all the other Cycle poets may lead to interesting, yet surprising, conclusions, and reveal, once and for all, that these epigrammatists cannot just be considered “Nonnian” (or “Homeric” or whatever else). Therefore, it seems pointless to try to identify unequivocal criteria in order to figure out how and when to define these poets as “Nonnian”. It would make no sense at all. It is crucial not to forget, first of all, that the Cycle poets did not compose epic. They were epigrammatists: this is a fundamental difference which is too often neglected. Secondly, these epigrammatists were, most of all, “Hellenistic”, in every aspect. In his prologue to the Cycle, Agathias himself specifies that his poetry and that of his fellow-mates “compete with the ancient poets” (παλαιγενέεσσιν ἐρίζων),104 that is, their predecessors, alluding not only to Homer and Nonnus, but also, and more likely, to Asclepiades, Callimachus, Leonidas, Meleager, and all the others who came first and shaped epigram as a genre for many generations. As such, this means that the poetry of the Cycle epigrammatists was in constant dialogue with the previous epigrammatic tradition: at the same time, however, the imitation of the earlier epigrammatic models generated further debate, discussion, and experimentation over the genre itself and the development of its history.

104

Agath. A.P. 4.3b.113 = 2.67 Viansino.

XXIII. NONNUS IN THE LOW COUNTRIES. BOOK EPIGRAMS AND OCCASIONAL POETRY OF AND FOR FRANCISCUS NANSIUS Berenice VERHELST

In the 16th century, Nonnus’ Paraphrase was read and studied in humanist circles all over Europe, as is apparent from the no less than fifteen editions which appeared in the course of the century.1 Also in the Low Countries, Nonnus entered the spotlights in this period. This short contribution sheds some light on the author of the first scholarly commentary to the Paraphrase, Franciscus Nansius (c. 1525-1595),2 who in 1589 simultaneously published an edition with Latin translation and a volume of Notae. A few years later these Notae were complemented with additional notes and revisions in his Curae secundae (1593).3 In the later volume’s preface to the lectori benevolo he calls Nonnus sapientissimum ac doctissimum elegantissimumque poetam Nonnum and also highlights the importance of the Dionysiaca as the best parallel for the language and style of the Paraphrase. At that time the Dionysiaca, which otherwise did not share in the Paraphrase’s 16th century success, was only recently made available in print in the editio princeps (1569) of Nansius’ contemporary and countryman Gerard of Falkenburg, whom Nansius refers to regularly.4 Nansius is a lesser-known Flemish-Dutch humanist, trained in Paris, and for most of his life counsellor of the city of Bruges, where he was one of the most prominent learned members of the Laurinus Circle and a corrector for the local humanist printing house Officina Goltziana. Nansius was a respected member of the humanist network of the Low Countries and in touch with the most learned men of his time. Among his closest friends was Justus Lipsius, who stimulated him to publish his work on Nonnus, on which he had started to work in Bruges around the time of Falkenburg’s editio princeps. In 1581 or 1582, in the middle of the campaign of Alessandro Farnese to return Flanders to Catholic 1 See AGOSTI 1999, Prima fortuna; DE STEFANI 2002, Nonno, Parafrasi (I), pp. 66-71; TISSONI 2016, The reception of Nonnus, pp. 701-713. 2 There is some doubt about his exact year of birth. VAN DER AA 1986, Biografisch woordenboek (13) has 1513 but HULSHOFF POL 1976, Franciscus Nansius, p. 82 argues in favour of a later date (ca. 1525) which seems to be more accurate, since Nansius refers to himself as a senior in his late sixties (senem sexagenario longe maiorem) in 1593 (Curae Secundae, Lectori benevolo). 3 NANSIUS 1589, Nonni Panopolitani Græca paraphrasis; 1589, In Nonni Paraphrasin notae; 1593, Ad Nonni Paraphrasin curae secundae. 4 FALKENBURG 1569, Nonni Panopolitae Dionysiaca. Nansius and Falkenburg were both part of the extended network of Bonaventura Vulcanius (1538-1614), see CAZES 2010, Bonaventura Vulcanius. Works and Networks.

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Spain, he left Flanders along with many fellow-protestants and was welcomed by Lipsius at the newly founded University of Leiden. In the final years of his career (1591-1595) he was appointed “preses van de Griecksche tale” (main lecturer for Greek) in the recently founded gymnasium of Dordrecht. After his death in 1595, the library of Leiden University acquired his impressive collection of Greek and Latin manuscripts.5 Like many of his humanist friends, Nansius also wrote occasional poetry in both Latin and Greek, which will be my main interest in this contribution.6 The first section deals with poetry about Nonnus and presents some of Nansius’ own book epigrams inserted in the Notae (1589) and Curae secundae (1593). I discuss these alongside the praise poetry of fellow humanists that is also included in Nansius’ work on Nonnus (as so-called carmina adoptiva).7 The praise for Nansius and Nonnus in these poems contrasts with the later harsh judgement of Nonnus’ poetry by Petrus Cunaeus and Daniel Heinsius – members of the same humanist circle at Leiden University, but of a younger generation. Their radical judgement of Nonnus’ style as “bad taste” significantly tempered the international interest in Nonnus for centuries to come.8 The second section looks for Nonnian influences in Nansius’ poetry. I zoom in on one interesting example of Nansius’ occasional poetry. At the end of his Curae secundae, Nansius includes an appendix consisting of unrelated epigrammata and this for no other reason, as he claims himself, than filling the empty pages of the print volume (ne pagellae aliquot hic vacarent, subjicere | Visum est aliquot mea epigrammata). This too was a common practice among poet-scholars in this period. Among these epigrammata, the poem to celebrate the graduation of the young medical doctor Raphael Thorius is remarkable in several respects. Its subject stands out because it belongs to a different humanist subgenre of praise poetry, that of graduation poetry. All other subjects in this appendix are of a more bookish nature: an ode for the inauguration of Joseph Scaliger at the University of Leiden, and several poems originally inserted as carmina adoptiva in the publication of Justus Lipsius’ commentary on Tacitus, Petrus Calvus’ commentary on Apuleius and Johannes Heurnius’ medical handbooks. In the context of this volume, it is especially its Nonnian beginning and ending that make the poem for Thorius stand out. 5 For more biographical data see VAN DER AA 1868, Biografisch woordenboek (13), pp. 65-70; VAN SCHELVEN 1927, Nansius; HULSHOFF POL 1976, Franciscus Nansius. On Nansius’ network in Bruges, see LAMERS – VAN ROOY 2022, Athenae Belgicae. 6 See VAN DAM 2009, Taking occasion by the forelock, 2010, The Honour of Letters. 7 For a definition see VAN DAM 2009, Taking occasion by the forelock, pp. 119-120. 8 FALKENBURG – CUNAEUS – HEINSIUS – SCALIGER 1610, Nonni Panopolitae Dionysiaca. See TISSONI 2016, The reception of Nonnus, pp. 707-710. Cunaeus and Heinsius are younger members of Vulcanius’ network (cf. CAZES 2010, Bonaventura Vulcanius. Works and Networks) and their publications on Nonnus date from after Nansius’ death in 1595. If Heinsius admits that in his first years as a student in Leiden he was still a fervent admirer of Nonnus, this roughly corresponds with Nansius’ period of activity in Leiden and Dordrecht.

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1. Book Epigrams and Carmina Adoptiva Nansius’ Notae (1589) end with a captatio benevolentiae directed at the candidis lectoribus, which starts with the following lines of Greek verse (1-4 and 17-18, beginning and end of the poem). The remainder of the captatio consists of Latin prose, interspersed with more Greek and Latin poetry, mostly quotes from ancient authors: Καινὰ γράφωσιν οἱ ἄλλοι. ἔγωγε παλαιὰ διορθῶν καινῶς ἱμείρω, καινοπάλαια διδούς. αὐτὰρ ἴσως καὶ ἐγώ τι νέον ποτὲ ὕμμιν ὀπάσσω ἤν γε Θεὸς ζωὴν δῷ ὀλίγον χρόνιον. [5-16: against forgers and unfair criticism] Εἴ τι δ’ ἀναγκαῖον νοσέοντι ἐμοὶ παρελείφθη οὐ μετὰ δηρὸν ἴσως λείψανα κεῖν’ ὀπάσω9 Others write new things, but in my longing for novelty, I set old things straight and present old-as-new. Perhaps I will also provide you with something new one day, if god gives me a little more time. […] And if there is anything important that I missed now, sick as I am, I will provide the rest shortly.

It is tempting to read the playful contrast of ‘old’ and ‘new’ in this expression of his scholarly (and poetical?) ambitions as an echo of Nonnus’ own programmatic νέοισι καὶ ἀρχεγόνοισιν ἐρίζων (Dion. 25.27), but without obvious Nonnian echoes in the phrasing. Nonnus’ ambitious poetic challenge of both old and new is replaced by a humanist view on classical literature. Their own work builds on the ancient material which they study, emendate and imitate and is therefore dubbed both old and new. This sentiment is expressed most clearly in the neologism καινοπάλαιος, which is also found in Nansius’ praise poem for Lipsius’ Tacitus and was possibly coined by his close friend Adolphus Mekerchus, fellow corrector at the Officina Goltziana in Bruges, who used it in 1565 in a similar programmatic statement.10 Also in other parts of his work, Nansius refers to his health problems and old age as an excuse for potential mistakes or lacunae. In the preface to the Curae secundae (1593), entitled lectori benevolo, he looks back at the circumstances of publishing his earlier work as a tumultuous period in which his illness forced him to finish the work hastily. The Greek poetry which he cites here illustrates his overall apologetic attitude, since it is “impossible to please everyone” (Theognis 25-26 and 800-803, Solon Apophth. 12). But apparently his new position in Dordrecht has improved his situation and allowed him to cross the t’s and publish the Curae secundae as an addendum to his earlier work. The final book epigram at least indicates that he considered the project 9 All Greek and Latin texts are transcribed from the early prints of Nansius’ work without further emendations. All translations are my own. 10 See LAMERS – VAN ROOY 2022, Athenae Belgicae. Thanks to Raf Van Rooy for pointing this out to me.

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as finished, but with a modest outlook on the audience he expected to reach with this work. Τὰ πλέω εἰς Νόννον τοῖς μειρακίοισιν ἔγραψα. ἔστι δ’ ἃ καὶ ἄλλοις οἶμαι ἀρεσσόμενα. Most of this work on Nonnus, I have written for my pupils, but some of it may also please others.

The praise for Nansius’ work in the poetry of his colleagues is as excessive as Nansius’ own attitude is modest. Based on the conventions of the type of praise poetry by colleagues that was regularly inserted in the opening sections of humanistic scholarly and literary publications, this is of course not so surprising. In the Notae (1589) there is only one carmen adoptivum, in Latin, by the still very young Justus Raphelengius, son of Nansius’ publisher Franciscus Raphelengius, and a beginning Neo-Latin poet.11 Raphelengius’ poem mainly consists of a comparison between the heroic feat of Jason’s Argonautic journey (as a young man, with the help of Medea’s trickery) and Nansius’ own greater ars and industria. A comparison between Jason and Nansius may seem quite hyperbolic, and even out of place, but has to be read in the context of the rhetorical practices in contemporary praise poetry.12 It ends with an evaluation of Nansius’ work on Nonnus (lines 11-18), which is said to save Nonnus from utter oblivion. Given the enthusiasm for Nonnus in this century this may again be considered an exaggeration, although Nansius will indeed have contributed considerably to Nonnus’ fame in the Low Countries. Nansius will grant Nonnus eternal life and fame, while Nonnus will also make Nansius known to all. In the final lines the poet seems to play at the alliteration of the names Nonnus and Nansius and the adjective notus: Ille etenim N O N N U M (cujus fera & invida secla Lethaeo imbuerant paene caput fluvio) Parcisque invitis et te, Mors saeva, gemente, In lucem densis protulit e tenebris: Et cui nil reliquum fuerat quam nomen inane, (15) Aeternum fecit vivere in ore hominum. Atque ita perfectum est, ut N A N S I I munere N O N N U S Sit notus cunctis, N A N S I US ipse suo Indeed, he brought Nonnus (whose head, by the cruel and envious centuries that have passed, was almost entirely submerged in the river Lethe) against the will of the Fates and under sighs of disapproval from you, cruel Death, back to the light VAN DER AA 1874, Biografisch woordenboek (16), p. 72. Cf. VAN DAM 2009, p. 121: “There seems hardly any connection between the subject of the book and the metre or content of the introductory poetry, except, of course, insofar as the message of all poems is that at last we can read this wonderful book or author. In other words, the theme is praise of the writer-editor, and nothing but praise, with perhaps a few apt words thrown in on the theme of the book.” 11 12

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from a dense darkness. Nonnus had nothing left but a pointless name, but he gave him eternal life in the eyes of men. And it was done in such a way that Nonnus by the efforts of Nansius will be known to all, and Nansius by the work of Nonnus.

The number of carmina adoptiva, the inclusion of Greek praise poems as well as Latin ones, and the fame and status of the authors writing these poems are all significant as signs of prestige. In this respect it is quite clear that the edition (1589) of the Paraphrase was at the time considered more important or prestigious than the Notae – perhaps not surprisingly so. It contains no less than ten carmina adoptiva, by eight members of the humanist circles of (mainly) Bruges and Leiden, among whom Janus Dousa (as one of the curators and famous first librarian of Leiden University), Justus Lipsius and Bonaventura Vulcanius (both professors in Leiden) and Adolphus Mekerchus. Similarly, the Curae secundae, published in 1593 was praised extensively, again in both languages and by seven scholars, among whom Janus Dousa filius (son of the librarian), Petrus Molineus and Petrus Bertius (professors in Leiden), Cornelius Rekenarius (conrector of the gymnasium in Dordrecht) and Franciscus Raphelengius himself (not only as Nansius’ publisher but also as a respected professor of Hebrew in Leiden) instead of his son.13 Albeit its being a volume of a much more modest size and outlook (“only” 56 pages of notes, cf. 244 pages in the Notae, and “merely” adding to what was published four years earlier), it is emphatically presented as a prestigious publication. It seems conceived as a way for the elderly Nansius to end his long-running Nonnus project in beauty and for his colleagues as an excellent occasion, the final major feat of his career, to pay respect to their esteemed friend. The topos of the fame that Nansius and Nonnus grant each other returns in almost all the praise poems. In the Curae secundae this is often combined with emphasis on Nansius’ respectful old age, which confirms the idea that these were conceived as a final tribute. I will quote a few striking lines from three examples only, the first one from the 1589 edition, by Bonaventura Vulcanius (opening lines): Ὀρφναῖος μέχρι τοῦδε ζόφος σοφὸν ἀμφεκάλυψε Νόννον, θειοτέρων ἔξοχον ὑμνοπόλων. ἀλλὰ σὺ, πεπνυμένως αὐτῷ φάος ἐσθλὸν ὀπάσσας, ἐσσι θεὸς Νόννῳ ΝΑΝΣΙ’ ἀλεξίκακος. Until now a gloomy darkness hid the wise Nonnus, the best of all divine poets. But you, by thoughtfully granting him prosperous light, Nansius, you are for Nonnus the averter of evil.

13 For biographical details see the corresponding lemmata in grafisch woordenboek.

VAN DER

AA (1852-1878), Bio-

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Intended or not, the vocabulary in this poem gives it a Nonnian flavour. Ὀρφναῖος and ἀλεξίκακος are both relatively rare words (the latter a Homeric hapax) with – according to the TLG – Nonnus as their most frequent ancient user. The use of ὑμνοπόλος to refer to the group of poets (epic poets?) to which Nonnus belongs is even more striking. Nonnus uses it no less than six times (of 90 TLG occurrences in total), including one of the key metapoetical passages of the Dionysiaca (Dion. 25.259) where he states that Homer should have sung about Dionysus and have left Achilles to “other hymnic singers” (ἄλλοις δ’ ὑμνοπόλοισι) – here clearly as a reference to epic poetry – while already in Dion. 1.15 (ποικίλον ὕμνον) he conspicuously refers to his own epic poem as a hymn. The final two carmina adoptiva that I quote here are from the Curae secundae (1593). I cite from the Greek poem of Janus Dousa (lines 5-6) – the Homeric expression ἄφθιτον κλέος makes Nansius’ feat even more heroic – and from the Latin ode by Petrus Molineus (at that time a young, newly assigned Professor of Philosophy in Leiden), who takes the same topos one hyperbolic step further and even evokes pity for Nonnus because he is overshadowed by Nansius (lines 11-13). ἐξ οὗ γε ΝΟΝΝΟΣ ζῆ τε καὶ βλέπει πάλιν, (5) ἀποδοὺς τὸ ζῆν τῷ δόντι, κ’ ἄφθιτον κλέος. By whom Nonnus lives and can see again, give life to the one who gave it, and immortal fame. Felix Nonne miserque: te deinceps Si Nansi exsuperat jubar coruscum, Damno splendidior tuo legeris Happy and unhappy Nonnus, if you now are overshadowed by the shining light of Nansius, you will be read more splendidly, but at your own cost.

2. A Graduation Poem for Raphael Thorius (1591) In comparison with the praise poems in honour of Nansius which I discussed in the previous paragraph, Nansius’ own graduation poem for Raphael Thorius seems to take a more original approach to the subject of praise. Also in terms of poetical composition it appears to be slightly more ambitious than the average humanist Greek praise or graduation poem. The focus lies on the profession of a medical doctor in general – which makes it an agreeable read for a broader audience – rather than on the specific accomplishments of young Raphael Thorius, who at the time of composition was about to graduate at the University of Leiden. Thorius and Nansius are both originally from roughly the same region of Flanders (Bailleul, now in France, and Izenberge, close to the French border) and Nansius’ references to Thorius’ father suggest that they knew each

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other.14 Both father Thorius and his son are moreover referred to as sweetvoiced poets in the poem, which at least points at a common interest in Latin and Greek poetic composition. From the younger Thorius, several works are preserved, all of which dating from after Nansius’ death. He is best known for the Hymnus Tabaci (1625), a two book hexameter poem. To my knowledge, the graduation poem is preserved in two copies: its reprint as part of the poetical appendix to Nansius’ Curae secundae and, in the original version, as part of a catalogue of graduated students in the archives of the university of Leiden, which I have here used for my transcription.15 The only apparent differences between the two versions is, in the original version, the presence of an extra line of Greek underneath the signature (δόσις ἥδ ὀλίγη τε φίλη τε) and a more luxurious lay-out, with a decorative initial A and ornate page border, suited for the festive occasion of Thorius’ graduation. The poem dates from 1591, which is also the year Nansius left Leiden for Dordrecht.16 Ἄχρονος ἠδὲ ἄναρχος ἐν ἀρρήτῳ Θεὸς ἀρχῇ ἔκτισεν ἄνθρωπον· τοῦ ψυχῇ γυμνῇ ἐούσῃ, ἥρμοσεν αἶψα σκέπασμα. καὶ αὐτὴν ἔσθει καλῷ ἀλλὰ μάλα ψιλῷ τ’ εὐθραύστῳ τ’, ἀμφεκάλυψε δέρματος ἐκ λεπτοῦ, μαλακῆς θ’ ἅμα σαρκὸς, ἰδ’ ὀστοῦ (5) εὐθρύπτου· πινυτῇ συρράψας τέχνῃ ἅπαντα συντρίβεται δ’ ἐσθής κείνη χρήσει τε χρόνῳ τε. κἢν μὴ ἐπιστρεφέως γε ἀναρράπτηται ἐσαῦθις φθείρεται, εἰς ῥυπαρὸν ῥάκος οὐτιδανόν τε τραπεῖσα. Θείη δὲ ψυχὴ τότ’ ἐρυθριόωσα ῥυπώδι (10) εἵματι τοίῳ, ἀποσκοπέει σφέτερον γενετήρα, διζομένη παρ’ ἐκείνῳ ἀεικέος ἄλκαρ ὀνείδους. οἰκονόμος δὲ ἄριστος ἐὼν Θεὸς, ἠδ’ ἐλεήμων, ῥαπτας κείνῃ ἔδωκεν, ἐχέφρονας ἰητῆρας, δαιμόνιον θεῖόν τε γένος, πολυμήτιδι τέχνῃ (15) ῥήγματα πηγνύντας καὶ σχίσματα ἐκπλήθοντας ἐν δ’ ἄλλοις Ραφαῆλά σε ἀγχίνοον πόρε ῥαπτην ἐλλογίμου Θορίου γλυκερὸν θάλος ἐλλόγιμόν τε, ἰητροῦ τε σοφοῦ τε ποιητοῦ μελίγλωσσου, ἰητῆρα σοφὸν καὶ ποιητὴν μελίγλωσσον. (20) 14 On Thorius see GRELL 2008, Thorius, Raphael (d. 1625). That Nansius and Franciscus Thorius (Raphael’s father) must have been well-acquainted, is apparent from the inscription Doctiss. medico Francisco Thorio Franc. Nansius on a copy of the 1565 publication of De veteri et recta pronuntiatione linguae Graecae commentarius by Nansius’ good friend Adolphus Mekerchus. Clearly a gift of friendship. Many thanks to Raf van Rooy for pointing this out to me. See www.gazette-drouot.com/lot/publicShow?id=6516874 for a picture of the book’s title page with the inscription. 15 The Catalogus candidatorum qui gradum adepti sunt, 1575-1595 is preserved in Leiden University’s Special collections in the Archives of the Senate and Faculties (ASF 347). 16 The longer poem is in both copies followed by a shorter epigram of only two lines: Πᾶς θνητὸς νοσέων, ἔστω εὔελπις. ἰδοὺ γὰρ | Πὰρ Θεοῦ ἰητὴρ ἐν προθύροις Ραφαήλ, “To all that are sick, live in hope! Look and see, for sent by God there is a doctor at the door, Raphael.”

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ὅς χαλεπῇσι κεκλασμένα ἠὲ τετριμμένα νούσοις σώματ’ ἀναρράπτεις πολλῇσι δαημοσύνησι ὡς νέα φαίνεσθαι. Τόσσον σθένος ἴδμονι τέχνῃ. Timeless and without starting point in the unspeakable beginning, God created man. Because his soul was naked, he quickly covered it. And he wrapped it with clothing that was beautiful, but light and vulnerable, made from thin skin, tender flesh and bones that break easily. With knowing skill he connected everything. But such clothing wears off through use and with time, and if it is not attentively repaired, it perishes and turns into a worthless bundle of filthy rags. But then, the divine soul started to feel shame for wearing such filthy clothes, it looked up at its creator and asked him for a remedy against this shameful disgrace. As a good custodian, God took pity and gave the soul tailors, wise doctors of a godly, divine race and with the skill to find many remedies. They mend rips and expel schisms. You are one of them, Raphael, a quick-witted tailor, sweet child of the esteemed Thorius and well-esteemed yourself. The son of a wise doctor and sweet-voiced poet and a wise doctor and sweet-voiced poet yourself. With great proficiency you stitch up broken and torn bodies with terrible diseases so that they appear to be new again. This is the power of your wise art.

Only in the final part of the poem (17-23), Raphael Thorius is addressed and praised. The first part reads as a Christian parable about the creation of the art of medicine by God as an act of compassion, compensating for the weakness of the human body. Throughout, it uses the metaphor of the flesh and bones as the perishable clothes of the immortal soul and by analogy medical doctors are presented as tailors fixing tears. After addressing Thorius (17-20) as one of these doctor-tailors, the poem ends, as it were, with a three-line-summary: the essence of the metaphor is recapitulated, but now in the second person “you stitch up broken and torn bodies” (22). The climactic addition in the final line that the bodies as a result “appear new again” (23) is similar, in terms of general idea and expression, to the way Nansius and his friends like to describe their own scholarly activities as making ancient and damaged texts new again. The first line of the poem is almost an exact copy of the first line of Nonnus’ Paraphrase (1.1, Ἄχρονος ἦν, ἀκίχητος, ἐν ἀρρήτῳ λόγος ἀρχῇ), and in this respect certainly not an inappropriate opening for a new parable composition in Greek hexameters. For Nansius’ learned friends, familiar with Nonnus via Nansius’ work, the allusion must have been obvious. The biblical point of reference, however, is not John 1.1 (Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος…), but Genesis 1.1 and 27 (Ἐν ἀρχῇ…; καὶ ἐποίησεν ὁ θεὸς τὸν ἄνθρωπον…). Despite the strong connection in the first line, the Nonnian flavour, however, soon recedes into the background, both in terms of style, vocabulary and metre, except perhaps for a couple of Nonnian phrasings, including the closing words of the poem. – ἥρμοσεν αἶψα σκέπασμα (line 3) find its closest parallel in Dion. 48.120 (ἥρμοσε λευκὸν ὕφασμα)

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– ἐχέφρονας ἰητῆρας (line 14): Nonnus is by far the most frequent user of the Homeric adjective ἐχέφρων (in Homer one of the epithets of Penelope). The closest parallel for this particular combination at the end of a hexameter verse is probably Par. 9.98 (ἐχέφρονες ἠπεροπῆες). – ἴδμονι τέχνῃ (line 23) at the end of a hexameter line is an expression coined by Nonnus, with six occurrences in the Dionysiaca, one in the Paraphrase and after Nonnus one in the Nonnian poet Paul the Silentiary. Further witnesses of Nansius’ more general predilection for rare epic vocabulary and phrases are: – πολυμήτιδι τέχνῃ (line 15): πολύμητις is of course an epithet of Odysseus in Homer, but in this particular form it is only found in the Orphic Argonautica (line 126), also there in combination with τέχνῃ at the end of a hexameter line. – δαημοσύνησι (line 22): the word δαημοσύνη is first attested in Apollonius Rhodius and remains very rare (the TLG counts 17 attestations in total, among which the Orphic Argonautica and several glossaries). Nansius may, based on this poem, not yet fully qualify as a Nonnian poet, a label which Thomas Gärtner in this volume more convincingly applies to Nansius’ contemporary Matthaeus Gothius from the German humanist school of Ilfeld. Nansius’ occasional poetry, however, does clearly bear the mark of the accomplished Nonnian scholar he was.

XXIV. NONNOS VON PANOPOLIS IM PROTESTANTISCHEN PHILHELLENISMUS DES 16./17. JAHRHUNDERTS. ZUR NONNOS-REZEPTION BEI LORENZ RHODOMAN UND MATTHAEUS GOTHUS1 Thomas GÄRTNER

Am Ende des sechzehnten und am Anfang des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts gaben sich in Deutschland zwei geistige Strömungen die Hand, einerseits die lutherische Reformation, andererseits der Philhellenismus. Diese beiden Entwicklungen ergänzen und befruchten sich in geradezu idealtypischer Weise. Die Reformation drängt mit ihrem sola-scriptura-Prinzip zurück zu den ursprünglichen fontes und sucht die Überformung dieser durch eine Jahrhunderte alte verkrustete römisch-katholisch-lateinische Tradition rückgängig zu machen. Welche geistesgeschichtliche Richtung könnte sich hierzu besser fügen als der Philhellenismus, der das griechische Original gegenüber der lateinischen Imitation präferiert und die detaillierte Kenntnis der griechischen Sprache bis hin zur aktiven Beherrschung des dichterischen Idioms propagiert? 1. Nonnos-Rezeption bei Rhodoman Den höchsten Grad an Perfektion in altgriechischer Dichtung erreichten im frühneuzeitlichen Deutschland die Schüler des Michael Neander. Neander war ein Absolvent der Wittenberger Universität, der bei Luther und Melanchthon persönlich studiert hatte; er baute die alte Klosterschule in Ilfeld in der heutigen Landgemeinde Harztor zu einer einzigartigen protestantischen Kaderschmiede aus. Diese Klosterschule versteht sich gemäß parallelen Zeugnissen ihrer Absolventen, die auf ein einheitliches Selbstverständnis schließen lassen, als ein “Trojanisches Pferd”, allerdings nicht in dem negativen Sinne, den dieser Begriff gemäß dem Apolog der vergilischen Aeneis haben muß. Die Bezeichnung einer Schule als Trojanisches Pferd geht hingegen auf eine Formulierung bei Cicero, De oratore zurück, wo auf den elitären Charakter der Insassen des Pferdes fokussiert wird (meri principes, “nichts als Fürsten”) 2. So 1 Es handelt sich – abgesehen von Fußnoten und Textanhängen – im wesentlichen um den am 21. April 2018 in Gent gehaltenen Vortrag. Über wichtige Details konnte ich mich im Nachhinein noch mit Stefan Weise (Wuppertal) austauschen. Alle Übersetzungen stammen von mir selbst. 2 Cic. De or. 2.94: Ecce tibi est exortus Isocrates, [magister istorum omnium,] cuius e ludo tamquam ex equo Troiano meri principes exierunt; sed eorum partim in pompa, partim in acie

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versteht sich die Ilfelder Schule als einen Raum, aus welchem hochgebildete Elitekämpfer der Reformation ausschwärmen, in ganz Deutschland führende Stellungen besetzen und so der Reformation flächendeckend zum Durchbruch verhelfen. Das Gleichnis begegnet: (1.) in Rhodomans Autobiographie Bioporikon (vgl. unten Anm. 77) παντοδαποὶ δ’ ἐπὶ τῷδε λόγων σπόρον ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα δασσάμενοι κατὰ γαῖαν ἀγήνορα Τευτονιδάων Εἰφέλδης προιόντες, ἅτ’ ἐκ σίμβλοιο μέλισσαι Δαρδανίου ἵππου λαγόνων ἡρώϊος ἑσμός. (185) …/ ex variis missos terris, qui munera spargunt doctrinae loca per varia in Germanide terra, quos ut mellificis volucres emittit ab antris duratei vel equi partum schola docta Neandri. (185) … und nach diesem (sc. dem zuvor namentlich genannten Neander-Schüler) Leute von überallher, die die Saat der Wissenschaften hier und dort über die männerreiche Erde der Deutschen verteilten, von Ilfeld ausschwärmend, wie Bienen aus einem Bienenstock und der Heroenschwarm aus der Seite des trojanischen Pferdes.

(2.) in seiner Dichtung auf Ilfeld (vgl. unten Anm. 76) simile ab equo Troiano ὡς δέ ποτ’ ἐξ ἵππου βροτοχανδέος ἔνδοθι Τροίης νήριθμος τόκος ἦλθεν ἀριστήων μενεχάρμων, οἳ Δαναοῖς μέγα φέγγος ἔσαν καὶ Τρώεσιν ἄλγος· ὣς καὶ σῶν λαγόνων ὠδίνεται ἄσπετος ἀνδρῶν ἑσμὸς ἐπιστήμῃ κομόων καὶ χρήσιμος ἄλλοις, ἔνθεν σοὶ κλέος ὦρτο διηνεκές … ac velut heroum peperit densa agmina quodam instar montis equus clarae intra moenia Troiae, Troianis qui pestis erant, sed lumen Achivis: inlustres esse voluerunt. Die Worte “magister istorum omnium” wurden von Lambinus wohl zu recht getilgt. Daß Isokrates Lehrer aller zuvor Genannten (unter denen sich historisch wesentlich frühere Personen befinden), kann unmöglich behauptet werden. Aber auch Verbesserungsversuche mit oratorum oder historicorum wie “der Lehrer aller Redner” oder “der Lehrer aller Historiker” überzeugen nicht, da es eben sowohl frühere Redner als auch frühere Historiker als Isokrates gibt. Darauf wird im Kommentar von LEEMAN – PINKSTER – NELSON 1985, Cicero, De Oratori libri III z.St. (wo die einzelnen Versuche nachgelesen werden können) zurecht aufmerksam gemacht. Die Kommentatoren L.–P.–N. schlagen schließlich – paläographisch sehr ansprechend – magister istorum omnium, qui eius vor, übersehen dabei aber, dass die Bezeichnung von Isokrates als “Lehrer all derjenigen, die aus seiner Schule … hervorgingen” völlig tautologisch ist. Ein Isokrates sinnvoll lobender Ausdruck ergäbe sich vielleicht mit magister posterorum omnium, aber auch diese Form der Apposition wäre wohl nur eine schwächliche Vorwegnahme des folgenden eindrucksvollen Relativsatzes.

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sic etiam ex utero tibi plurima turba virorum doctorum prodit, quorum est opus utile multis. hinc aeterna tibi laus provenit … Und wie einst aus dem menschenfassenden Pferde im Inneren Trojas eine unzählige Leibesfrucht von kampfestüchtigen Elitekriegern kam, die für die Griechen ein gewaltiges Licht, für die Trojaner jedoch Schmerz waren: So wird auch aus Deinen (sc. Ilfelds) Seiten ein unbeschreiblicher Schwarm von Männern geboren, welcher prunkt durch sein Wissen und nützlich ist für die anderen – woher sich für Dich (sc. Ilfeld) weitreichender Ruhm erhob.

(3.) in seinem Hymnus Scholasticus (erstmals in: Physice sive potius syllogae physicae rerum eruditarum Michaelis Neandri, Leipzig, 1585) iudicia et testimonia sapientum de Ilfelda μαρτυρίην δέ τε πᾶσα βοᾷ χθὼν, ὥσπερ ἔοικεν Εἰλφέλδη γονίμοισι παλαιοῦ κεύθεσιν ἵππου. ὡς γὰρ τοῦδ’ ἔκθρωσκε μενεκλόνον ἄνθος Ἀχαιῶν εὐκλείην Δαναοῖσι φέρον, Τρώεσσι δ’ ὄλεθρον, ὣς θάλος Ἑρκυνίης πεπνυμένον ἔνθεν ὀροῦον βάρβαρα δυσσεβίης τ’ ἀδαημοσύνης τε κραταιῶς ἤθε’ ἀπημάλδυνε καὶ ὑμῖν κῦδος ἀέξει. omnis proclamat regio, ceu Palladis ille quod sit equus docto praegnans Ilfeldia fetu. nam velut exsiluit flos armiger inde Pelasgum ad decus aeternum Danais Troiaeque ruinam, sic florem Hercyniae mittit sacer ille recessus, quo cadat impietas et barbarus intereat mos vestraque laus totum resonet cantata per orbem. Das ganze Land legt lauthals Zeugnis ab, daß Ilfeld dem gebärenden Schoß des alten Pferdes gleicht. Wie nämlich aus diesem die kampferprobte Blüte der Griechen hervorsprang, die den Griechen Ruhm, den Trojanern aber Verderben brachte, so stürzte von hier (sc. aus Ilfeld) die geistbeseelte Elite des Harzes hervor und vernichtete kraftvoll die barbarischen Unsitten der Gottlosigkeit und des Unwissens und vermehrt Euren Ruhm (gemeint ist der Ruhm der angeredeten Herren von Hohnstein).

Der bedeutendste Schüler Ilfelds war mit Sicherheit Lorenz Rhodoman3. Rhodoman ist der modernen klassischen Philologie vor allem als Textkritiker zu Diodor und Quintus Smyrnaeus bekannt. Weniger bekannt ist sein eigenes dichterisches Schaffen. In episch-jonischen, teilweise auch dorischen, Hexametern, denen meist versweise entsprechende lateinische Paralleldichtungen zur Seite gestellt wurden, verfasste er nicht nur Epen bzw. Epyllien über 3 Vgl. meinen Überblicksartikel GÄRTNER 2016, Lorenz Rhodoman; ferner: GÄRTNER 2017, Lorenz Rhodoman – ein homerisierender Dichter. Die einzige Monographie über Rhodoman ist veraltet, aber sehr materialreich: LANGE 1741, Vita Rhodomani.

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klassische Stoffe (die bei einem zeitgenössischen Publikum, wenn sie anonym ediert wurde, teilweise als antike Texte durchgingen), sondern auch umfängliche Dichtungen über protestantische Stoffe, etwa einen Lobpreis seiner Ilfelder Schule, ein theologisches Lehrgedicht, eine Luther-Vita, einen Katechismus in Frage- und Antwortform und eine Gesamtdarstellung der Geschichte Palästinas von der biblischen Erschaffung der Welt bis hin zur Gegenwart Rhodomans4. Daneben treten kleinere Gelegenheits- und Widmungsschriften in geradezu unübersehbarer Zahl; hervorzuheben ist unter diesen ein Hymnus scholasticus, der die Schulbildung preist und die gesamte Menschheitsgeschichte seit dem biblischen Buch Genesis bis hin zur Ilfelder Schule als eine Aneinanderreihung berühmter Schulgründungen versteht (siehe oben Text Nr. 3). Ein einziges unter seinen großen, epischen Projekten gelangte nicht zur Vollendung, nämlich die Germanis, welche die Geschichte des deutschen Volks besingen sollte, die ohne Zweifel in dem Reformator Luther und den geistigen Errungenschaften der Reformation gipfeln sollte5. Welchen Bezug hat Rhodoman nun zu Nonnos von Panopolis? Eine der kleineren dichterischen Arbeiten Rhodomans ist seine Autobiographie mit dem Titel Bioporikon6. Hier beschreibt Rhodoman seinen Aufstieg aus höchst bescheidenen Verhältnissen und insbesondere seinen ihm an der Ilfelder Schule von Neander verordneten Lektürekanon (Text im Textanhang, 3.1). Dieser wird metaphorisch geschildert als eine unter Anleitung Neanders in einem bescheidenen Kahn unternommene Lesereise durch den Ozean der griechischen Literatur. Ziel dieser Reise war es, dass Rhodoman sich die bedeutendsten griechischen Autoren zu vertrauten Freunden machte, mit denen er “ohne Dolmetscher (also ohne lateinische Übersetzung) verkehren konnte” (V. 164 διχ’ ἑρμηνῆος ὁμιλεῖν); eine “nachahmende Übung” (V. 167 μιμήτειρα … ἄσκησις nach einer einleuchtenden Konjektur) sollte seine aktive Sprachkenntnis fördern. Der Katalog der auf dieser “Lektürefahrt” bereisten Autoren umfasst (Vv. 160-164) Homer, Hesiod, Theokrit, Oppian, Pindar, Nonnos, Gregor von Nazianz und Herodot. Der zuletztgenannte Herodot hat als einziger Prosaiker natürlich eine Sonderstellung. Innerhalb der Dichter steht Nonnos offenbar in einer vermittelnden Position zwischen den zuerst genannten heidnischen Dichtern und dem Christen Gregor von Nazianz. Das Attribut θέσκελα zu seinen Gesängen könnte in die Richtung weisen, dass Rhodoman hier schon an die Versifikation des Johannes-Evangeliums durch Nonnos dachte; wahrscheinlicher scheint jedoch, dass das Attribut eher konventionell im Sinne “göttlicher

4 Genaue Titel und Publikationsdaten finden sich unten in der Übersetzung von Gothus’ Brief an Rhodoman (Textanhang 3.2.1). 5 Hierzu unten Anm. 78. 6 Vgl. unten Anm. 77.

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Gesänge” gemeint ist; in diese Richtung weist auch die lateinische Parallelfassung grandis carmine Nonnus. Ohne Zweifel gehört also für Rhodoman die Kenntnis und aktive Beherrschung des Nonnos zu seiner sprachlichen Ausbildung. Ich nenne nur ein prominentes Beispiel aus Rhodomans Dichtungen. Wenn Rhodomann innerhalb seines Hymnus scholasticus (der eigentlich eine Widmungsvorrede zur Physik seines Lehrers Neander ist) das Werk Neanders den Herren von Hohnstein darreicht (1585), so tut er das mit der Wendung “nehmt die Schrift des Neander entgegen und umarmt sie mit liebender Hand”. Rhodoman, Widmungsformel im Hymnus Scholasticus: τοὔνεκα σὺν γεραρῇ κλειηδόνι καὶ τὸ Νεάνδρου δεξάμενοι σύγγραμμα φίλῳ πηχύνατ’ ἀγοστῷ ἐκ χερός, ἣ πάτρῃ γλυκερῆς θ’ ἅμα ποιμέσι πάτρης αἰὲν ὅλῃς πραπίδεσσι τελέσματα χρηστὰ μενοινᾷ. blando igitur iunctum vestra cum laude Neandri excipias scriptum, fratrum trias optima, vultu e manibus, gratis quae demeruisse laborant officiis patriamque simul patriaeque parentes. Deswegen empfanget zusammen mit Eurem ehrenvollen Ruhm auch diese Schrift Neanders und umfaßt sie in liebevoller Umarmung; sie kommt aus einer Hand, die immer für ihr Vaterland und zugleich für die Hirten ihres lieben Vaterlands aus ganzem Herzen glückliche Vollendung anstrebt.

Die Junktur ἀγοστῷ πηχύνειν ist gemäß Thesaurus Linguae Graecae dreizehnmal belegt – immer in den Dionysiaka des Nonnos7. An exponierter Stelle bezeichnet Rhodoman also den humanistischen Akt der Dedikation eines Fremdwerks durch eine eigene Dichtung mit einer nonnianischen Junktur, die immer im Sinne liebevoller Umarmung und insbesondere im Kontext der Umarmung kleiner Kinder verwendet wird. Bereits früher hat Rhodoman diese Junktur verwendet, nämlich am Ende seines Protreptikon (erstmals 1582)8, eines Einleitungsgedichts zu dem Werk Chronicon seines Lehrers Neander; dort wendet er sich wahrhaft protreptisch an einen individualisierten jungen Leser und führt ihm den Augenblick vor Augen, wo ihn, nach Ende der Lektüre auf dem Gipfel seiner Bildungsbemühung angelangt, die personifizierte Tugend liebend in die Arme ihrer Weisheit schließt. τοὔνεκεν, ὦ νέος, ὅστις ἐπιστήμης ἐρατίζεις, ὄμματα δεῦρο κόμιζε καὶ οὔατα καὶ φρένας αὐτὰς, ὡς σκέψῃ πινυτοῖσιν ὁμῶς ἄλλοισιν, ὅ γ’ ἀνήρ 7 Nonn. Dion. 3.340; 3.398; 8.187; 9.95; 12.378; 13.176; 14.152; 17.207; 20.354; 33.144; 36.80; 36.220; 41.403. 8 Vgl. unten Anm. 38.

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οἷόν σοι φάος ὦρσε μαθήματος, οἷον ὄνειαρ. (135) ἢν δ’, ὅσα τοι σπείρει πινυταῖς φρεσὶν ἠδὲ φυτεύει, εὖ σύ γε καρπώσαιο, τάχ’ οὔρεος αἶπος ἱκάνεις, ἔνθα σε πηχυνέει σοφίης ἐρατοῖσιν ἀγοστοῖς9 ὑψιθαλὴς Ἀρετή, ταλαεργῷ δ’ ἀμφὶ καρήνῳ κύδεος ἀθανάτου στέψει θάλος, ὥς ποτε φήσῃς (140) νημερτῶς· “πυκινῇσιν10 ὑπὸ γραφίδεσσι Νεάνδρου χρυσείης γενεῆς μέρος ὄλβιον ἔστιν ἑλέσθαι.” iccirco, iuvenis, discendi quisquis amore tangeris, huc oculos, aures, ipsam arrige mentem, ut bene cognoscas aliis cum pluribus, hic vir ad doctas quantum lucis tibi suscitet artes. quod si, quae studio serit et tibi plantat amico, sedulus ipse metes, facile ad fastigia montis ascendes, ubi te Virtus pulcerrima dulci amplexu excipiens industria tempora laudis flore coronabit nunquam morientis, ut olim affirmes: “fidi certe monimenta Neandri aetatis referunt, quae dicitur aurea, partem.” Deswegen, mein lieber Jüngling, der Du nach Wissen strebst, richte hierher (auf Neanders Werk) Deine Augen und Deine Ohren und auch Deinen Verstand selbst, damit Du zusammen mit anderen Verständigen in den Blick bekommest, ein welches Licht der Lehre und einen welchen Gewinn Dir dieser Mann (Neander) erwachsen ließ. Wenn Du aber deinerseits einmal gebührend all das abgeerntet hast, was er für Dich in seinem kundigen Sinne sät und pflanzt, so gelangst Du schnell zu dem hochragenden Berg, wo Dich die in der Höhe blühende Tugend in die lieblichen Arme ihrer Weisheit schließen und um Dein von Mühen belastetes Haupt den strahlenden Kranz unsterblichen Ruhmes winden wird – so dass Du einstmals treffend sprechen wirst: “In der Tiefe der dichtgefügten Schriften Neanders kann man einen glückseligen Teil des Goldenen Zeitalters erringen.”

Und auch später, in seiner Palaestina (1589)11, greift Rhodoman noch einmal auf dieselbe Junktur zurück: Im neunten und letzten Buch dieses Werkes wird das Ertrinken Friedrich Barbarossas in einem kleinarmenischen Fluß während eines Feldzuges (in Analogie zur Hylas-Episode bei Apollonius Rhodius) so gedeutet, dass eine in Liebe zu Friedrich entbrannte Flußnymphe diesen in ihre Arme schließt (φίλῳ πηχύνατ’ ἀγοστῷ). … ἔνθα κε πάσῃ (345) ἀντολίῃ φάος ὦρτο καὶ εὖ Σολύμοισι φάεινεν, εἰ μὴ Χριστοσεβέσσιν ἀναπνείουσι μεγαίρων δαίμων Νηϊάδας ψυχροῦ κατὰ βένθεα Σέρρου φλέξε πόθῳ καλοῦ σημάντορος. ὃν μία λάβροις νηχόμενον ῥοθίοισι φίλῳ πηχύνατ’ ἀγοστῷ (350) 137 ἀγαστ. ed. 141 πικν. ed. 11 Vgl. unten Anm. 79. 9

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καί μιν ὑποβρύχιον σφετέροις θαλάμοισι πέλασσε ψυχὴν ἀθανάτοις μὲν ὁμέστιον· αἶα δὲ μήτηρ σῶμα Τύρου κατὰ νηὸν ἑοῖς σπλάγχνοισι κάλυψε. quam felix oriens, Solyme quam clara fuisset! Christicolis genius sed respirantibus auram invidet et Nymphas gelidi sub vortice Serrae urit amore ducis tam nobilis. ergo per amnem dum natat, una virum geminis complectitur ulnis et stricte tenet et mersum sub fornice condit. hinc admixta deis anima est, corpusque recepit terra parens, Tyrus in fano quod sedula condit. … wo denn für den ganzen Orient ein Licht (der Hoffnung) sich erhoben hätte und trefflich über Jerusalem scheinen würde, wenn nicht ein böser Dämon, der den aufatmenden Verehrern Christi neidisch gesonnen war, die Flußnymphen in der Tiefe des kalten Serros mit dem Verlangen nach dem schönen Monarchen in (Liebes)Brand versetzt hätte. Diesen umfasste eine von ihnen mit liebendem Arm, als er in den reißenden Wogen schwamm, und brachte ihn unter Wasser in ihr Brautgemach. So gelangte seine Seele zur Tafel der Unsterblichen; doch seinen Leib barg Mutter Erde in ihre Eingeweide bei einer Kirche in Tyros.12

Apollonius Rhodius ist unzweifelhaft das motivische Vorbild, doch eine Facette für die sprachliche Ausgestaltung liefert die hier besprochene nonnianische Junktur. Darüber hinaus lässt sich hier sogar die Imitation einer bestimmten nonnianischen Szene wahrscheinlich machen: Dion. 12.375-379 (ein betrunkener Satyr verfolgt eine Naiade) ἀμφὶ δὲ πηγάς (375) ἄλλος ἐγερσινόοιο μέθης ἑτερόφρονι παλμῷ ὑδρηλὴν ἐδίωκεν ἀνείμονα Νηΐδα κούρην, καί νύ κε νηχομένην λασίῳ πήχυνεν ἀγοστῷ, εἰ μή μιν φθαμένη βυθίῳ κεκάλυπτο ῥεέθρῳ.

In beiden Szenen machte eine Naiade durch ihre Wassergewalt eine beinahe eingetretene Handlung zunichte (der Umschwung eingeleitet mit εἰ μή), und das Partizipium Präsens von νήχεσθαι ist jeweils dem Objekt der Umarmung beigegeben; die “Bedeckung” eines Körpers durch ein Element (Erde bzw. Wasser) schließt jeweils die Szene. Jedoch ist die Naiade bei Nonnos das Opfer und kann sich gerade noch dem erotischen Zugriff eines zottigen Widerlings entziehen, während sie sich bei Rhodoman ihrerseits in den schönen König verliebt und durch ihr Eingriffen dessen weiteres Kämpfen zugunsten des Christentums vereitelt. Der belanglosen lasziven Szene bei Nonnos tritt eine fast tragisch zu nennende heilsgeschichtliche Perspektive bei Rhodoman entgegen: Das erotische Verlangen irgendeiner Naiade verhindert einen durchschlagenden Kreuzzugserfolg. Bei Nonnos rettet sich schließlich die bedrohte 12

Zu dieser Stelle vgl. WEISE 2016, Neualtgriechische Literatur, S. 135-136.

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Naiade in ihr feuchtes Element, bei Rhodoman liegt am Ende der hoffnungsvolle König in einem Grab unter der Erde. Das Attribut φίλῳ, welches λασίῳ bei Nonnos ersetzt (und auch im Hymnus Scholasticus der nonnianischen Klausel vorausgeht), hat ebenfalls Parallelen in den Dionysiaka, nämlich die Attribute φιλίῳ (8.187; 20.354) bzw. φιλήτορι (3.398) zu ἀγοστῷ. Und noch ein viertes Mal verwendet Rhodoman dieselbe Junktur, nämlich in einem dorischen Widmungsepigramm zur Grammatik des Nicodemus Frischlin (1589), und zwar wiederum von einer allegorischen Figur, der Poiesis, welche die neue Grammatik Frischlins innig in den Arm nimmt (τῷ δὴ γραμματικὰν θερμῷ Ποίασις ἀγοστῷ | πηχύνει). Rhodoman, Epigramm zu Frischlins Grammatik (in: Nicodemi Frischlini Grammaticae Graecae cum Latina vere congruentis pars prima …, Helmstaedt, 1589) Laurent(ii) Rhodomani Doricum πολλοὶ γραμματικοί, πολλῶν δέ τε ποικίλον ἔργον· ὧν τινὲς ἐκπρεπέες καί τινες αὖ μέτριοι. ἐντὶ καί, ὧν πόνος ἐστὶν Ἀρήϊος ἐς κενὸν ἔρρων, πλὴν ὅτι τῶν παίδων ἐκπλανάοντι νόας. τὼς πάντας Φρισχλῖνος ὑπέρβαλεν, ὅσσον ἄριστοι (5) τὼς μετρίως, ὅσσον δ’ οὐτιδανὼς μέτριοι. γραμματικὰν γὰρ τεῦξε τελεσφόρον, ἅν τις ἰάπτων μωματῆρι λόγῳ Μῶμος ἂν αὐτὸς ἔῃ (an ἔοι  ?). παύρως γὰρ κανόνας συνετοῖς ἐπέεσσι συνάπτει, λαμπρὰ δ’ ἀπ’ ἀρχαίων τῶν παραδείγματ’ ἔχει. (10) ὅττι δὲ θωυμάσιον καὶ θέσκελον ἔργον ἐφάνθα, Αὐσονίαν μίξαις Ἑλλάδι πρᾶτος ἄγει. τίς προτέρων διξᾶς οὕτω πειράσατο τέχνας εἰν ἑνί; πειραθεὶς κάρρονα τίς τελέσει; τῷ δὴ γραμματικὰν13 θερμῷ Ποίασις ἀγοστῷ (15) πηχύνει, τόσον οἱ κόσμον ὅτ’ ἠμφίεσεν, εὐχομένα Φρισχλῖνον ὀνείατα14 τοῖα πορίσδειν τέχναις κἠν ἑτέραις, ἇν κορυφὰς ἀνέβα, ὡς ὅ γε τεχνολόγων πάντων περιέσσεται, ὅσσον καίνυται εὐεπίᾳ πάντας ἀοιδοπόλως. (20) Es gibt viele Grammatiker, und von vielen existieren vielfältige Werke; einige von diesen (Grammatikern) sind herausragend, und einige wieder mittelmäßig. Es gibt auch solche, deren kämpferische Anstrengung im Nichts endet; sie tun nichts, außer den Sinn der Kinder in die Irre zu führen. Sie alle übertraf Frischlin in dem Maße, in welchem die besten die mittelmäßigen und in welchem die mittelmäßigen die nichtsnutzigen übertreffen. Denn er schuf eine zielführende Grammatik; wenn diese jemand mit tadelnden Reden schmähte, so wäre er wohl Momos persönlich. Denn er fügt wenige Regeln in klugen Formulierungen zusammen und verfügt 13 14

15 -καὶ ed. 17 ὀνείταα ed.

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über glänzende Beispiele für diese (Regeln) aus den alten (Schriftstellern). Der Grund, daß sein Werk erstaunlich und geradezu göttlich wirkt, ist der: Er hat als erster Römisches mit Griechischem gemischt und führt es zusammen an. Wer von den früheren (Grammatikern) versuchte sich so an beiden Künsten in einem Werk? Wer wird sich daran noch versuchen und Besseres zustandebringen? Deshalb also ergreift die Poesie diese Grammatik mit warmer Umarmung, weil sie ihr so großen Schmuck umlegte; dabei wünscht sie, daß Frischlin ebenso gewinnreiche Erfolge auch in den anderen Künsten hervorbringe, deren Spitzen er erreicht hat; denn er wird ebenso deutlich den Vertretern aller möglichen Einzelkünste überlegen sein, wie er durch seine Sprachkunst alle Dichter übertrifft.

2. Nonnos-Rezeption bei Gothus Obwohl man an vielen Stellen bei Rhodoman den Eindruck hat, dass sich sein verkünstelter epischer Stil durch Homer und allenfalls Quintus Smyrnaeus als ausschließliche Vorbilder nicht hinreichend erklären lässt, ist Rhodoman dennoch nicht der nonnianischste unter den Schülern Neanders. Dieser Rang kommt einem weniger bekannten Dichter zu, dem aus dem thüringischen Ellrich stammenden Matthaeus Gothus15, zu. Gothus profilierte sich vor allem durch drei große griechische Dichtungen: zunächst die “Geschichte von Leben und Lehre des Jesus Christus, seiner Aposteln und Schüler” in zwei Büchern großzügigen epischen Zuschnitts (das erste über Christus, das zweite über seine Schüler bis zur Zerstörung von Jersualem unter Titus); dann einen Katechismus und eine theologische Lehrdichtung mit dem Titel Θεολογίας σύνοψις. Von der Historia, dem Werk über Christus und seine Schüler, ist lediglich eine Baseler Ausgabe von 1573 nachzuweisen16. Es muß jedoch eine zweite Auflage gegeben haben. Das wissen wir aus einem Briefwechsel zwischen Gothus und Rhodoman, der in einer 1621 posthum in Leipzig erschienenen Ausgabe von Gothus’ Katechismus und seinem Lehrgedicht17 mitveröffentlicht ist (Texte im Textanhang, 3.2.1 und 2). Dieser Briefwechsel datiert auf das Jahr 1586 (dies das Datum des Gothus-Briefs, Rhodomans Antwort ist 15 In den kargen Ausführungen von LIZEL 1730, Historia poetarum, S. 128-129, zeigt sich eine gewisse Armut an biographischen Kenntnissen über die Person des Gothus. Zuletzt hat LUDWIG 2016, Das protestantische Bild, S. 258 Anm. 39 (Literaturhinweis von Stefan Weise), die Leichenpredigt des Andreas Cocus auf Gothus aus dem Jahr 1620 (Christliche Leichpredigt bey der Sepultur des weyland ehrwürdigen, achtbarn und wohlgelahrten Herrn Matthaei Gothi …, Leipzig, 1620) sehr ergebnisreich für dessen Biographie ausgewertet. Verwiesen sei auch auf das schöne Portrait des Gothus, welches der Leichenpredigt vorangestellt ist, und das darunterstehende, angeblich von Gothus selbst stammende Totenepigramm: “Pectore Christianus, Romanus et indole Graius, | Sanguine Germanus, nomine Gothus eram.” 16 Περὶ Χριστοῦ καὶ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ ἄλλων τινῶν ἁγίων μαθητῶν Χριστοῦ τε καὶ τῶν ἀποστόλων αὐτοῦ βιβλίω δύω. id est: Historiae vitae et doctrinae Iesu Christi, apostolorum et discipulorum eorundem libri duo … a Matthaeo Gotho Elrichensi, Basel, 1573. 17 Κατηχητικὰ σὺν ἀντιθέσει τῶν ἐναντιουμένων, Pietatis puerilis et doctrinae catecheticae expositio; item Θεολογίας σύνοψις, Theologiae Christianae synopsis … per Matthaeum Gothum Elrichensem. Accessit nunc etiam Latina interpretatio, Leipzig, 1621.

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undatiert, wird aber kaum wesentlich später erfolgt sein). Rhodoman hatte dem Gothus von seinem damaligen Schulort Walkenried ein Exemplar seiner Sonderausgabe der Troja-Rede des Dion Chrysostomus (1585) geschickt. Gothus bedankt sich und sendete als Gegengabe die Zweitauflage seiner drei großen, eben aufgezählten Werke. Diese Zweitauflage, die auf 1586 oder 1585 datieren dürfte18, ist heute bibliographisch nicht mehr nachzuweisen. Gothus erklärt, dass auch diese Zweitauflage noch unter dem Einfluß seines Lehrers Neander erschienen ist, und nennt als ihre Besonderheit, dass er alle Musen (also sämtliche drei Werke) mit einem lateinischen Mantel bekleidet hat; die uns vorliegenden Erstausgabe (von der Historia 157319, von Katechismus20 und Θεολογίας σύνοψις21 1574) waren noch ohne lateinische Übersetzung. Gothus drückt diesen Umstand präzise so aus (Text im Textanhang, 3.2.1, Vv. 61-62), dass er die “Jungfrauen” (also die Musen), die er unter Beratung seines Lehrers Neanders gezeugt habe22, nunmehr allesamt neu gegürtet und geschmückt habe mit einem lateinischen Mantel23, zumal sie ja jetzt gemeinsam ans Licht drängen. Die Hinzufügung einer lateinischen Übersetzung oder Parallelversion wird also innerhalb der Metaphorik so motiviert, dass man junge Mädchen ja nicht ohne angemessene Bekleidung an das Licht der Öffentlichkeit treten lässt, besonders dann nicht, wenn sie gemeinsam gehen. Vielleicht kaschiert diese dem Geist des Philhellenismus, der Rückkehr zur griechischen Quelle, eigentlich zuwiderlaufende Motivation einfach die Tatsache, dass der Drucker die 18 LIZEL 1730, Historia poetarum, S. 129, der von Gothus’ Werken nur die Historia und den Katechismus kennt, nennt von letzterem einen Neudruck 1586. 19 Vgl. oben Anm. 16. 20 Κατηχητικὰ σὺν ἀντιθέσει τῶν ἐναντιουμένων, Pietatis puerilis et doctrinae catecheticae expositio … a Matthaeo Gotho Elrichensi, Frankfurt, 1574. 21 Θεολογίας σύνοψις, Theologiae Christianae synopsis … conscripta per Matthaeum Gothum Elrichensem, Frankfurt, 1574. 22 Zu solcher Sexualmetaphorik innerhalb einer Werkdedikation ist die Susanna des Martin Crusius (Martini Crusii poematum Graecorum libri duo …, Basel, 1567) zu vergleichen. In seinem hendekasyllabischen, deutlich an Catull 1 orientierten Widmungsgedicht aus dem Jahre 1555 deutet Crusius das Gedicht als seine Tochter, die er allerdings ἄγαμος gezeugt habe (nicht wie Gothus seine “Mädchen” unter dem Einfluß seines Lehrers Neander) und für die er nun einen geeigneten Ehemann (d.h. Widmungsadressaten) suche (während Gothus Rhodoman nur als “Kritiker” bemüht, der die angemessene “Kleidung” der “Mädchen” überprüfen soll). Vgl. unten Textanhang 3.7: Die Widmung des Martin Crusius an Jacob Fabricius. 23 Vgl. Rhodoman über die zweite Auflage von Luthers deutscher Bibelübersetzung (Luther-Vita 1603-1606; zu deren bibliographischen Daten vgl. unten Anm. 74): καὶ τότε καὶ βίβλῳ θεοτευχέϊ χεῖρα πελάσσας | δεύτερον ἀγχίνοον Γερμανίδος ἔνδυε φωνῆς | πέπλον στιλπνότερον καὶ φέρτερον, ἢ ὅτε πρῶτον | βιβλία Γερμανῶν ὁμοχειλέα παισὶν ἔθηκε. atque tunc etiam cum libris divinis admovisset manum | solertem secundo, induit (eis) Germanicae loquelae | vestem nitidiorem et praestantiorem, quam ubi primum | biblia Germanorum labiis accomoda fecit. “Und damals auch, als er der von Gott geschaffenen Bibel zum zweiten Mal seine kundige Hand näherte, legte er ihr einen strahlenderen und besseren Mantel der deutschen Sprache um als zu dem Zeitpunkt, als er zum ersten Mal die Bibel mit den Kindern der Deutschen gleichsprachig machte.”

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drei langen griechischen Werke nicht herausgeben mochte ohne eine das allgemeine Verständnis absichernde lateinische Parallelfassung. Gothus preist Rhodoman mit dem gebührenden Respekt als den bedeutendsten Schüler Ilfelds und zählt einige von dessen Werken auf: die Luther-Vita, die Historia Ecclesiae, seine Dichtung über Ilfeld, das autobiographische Bioporikon, auch noch im Entstehen begriffene Dichtungen wie die unvollendete Germanis und die Palaistine, ferner Rhodomans Katechismus-Versifikation24. Dabei wird Rhodoman aber selbstverständlich als ein homerisierender Dichter dargestellt; (Text 3.2.1, V. 21) er schmückt das von ihm Gesungene mit den Blüten der homerischen Muse (Ὁμηρίδος ἄνθεσι Μούσης). Demgegenüber charakterisiert Rhodoman Gothus in seiner (kürzeren) Antwort anders. (Text 3.2.2, V. 2). Er begrüßt Gothus nicht nur als “glänzenden Propheten Christus” (Χριστοῦ, Γόθε, φαίδιμε κῆρυξ), sondern auch als “kunstvollschmückenden Arbeiter in der metrischen Rede” (ἐργατίνη μετρικοῦ δαιδαλόκοσμε λόγου); ins Auge springt der Neologismus δαιδαλόκοσμος. Das von Gothus geäußerte Lob seiner eigenen dichterischen Bedeutung sucht Rhodoman dagegen zu verkleinern (Text 3.2.2, Vv. 13-14); er bezeichnet sich als Wasserblase auf einem Fluß, die vom nächsten Regen zerstört wird, und seine eigenen Werke als “Fehlgeburten”, die ihrer Mutter Schmerzen bereiten, aber keine Freude machen (Vv. 15-16). Er gratuliert Gothus nachdrücklich zu der Zweitausgabe seiner Werke; diese betrachtet er (Vv. 25-26) als “einen allgemeinen Nutzen für die Knaben, damit sie den Charakter des Nonnos nachahmen, dessen Grazien Dir Deine Werke vollenden” (παίδων ξυνὸν ὄνειαρ, ἵν’ ἤθεα μιμήσωνται | Νόννου, τοῦ Χάριτές σοι τελέουσιν ἔπη). Dann geht Rhodoman noch weiter und bezeichnet Gothus als Reinkarnation des Nonnos selbst (Vv. 27-28): “Die redegewaltige25 Muse des Verstorbenen siedelte sich in Deinem Sinn an und ordnet alles dem Ruhme Christi unter” (Μοῦσα δ’ ἀποφθιμένου μεγαλήγορος εἰς φρένα σεῖο | νάσσατο καὶ Χριστοῦ κύδεϊ πάντα νέμει). Das Griechische (in der lateinischen Parallelversion wird Christus im zweiten Teilsatz etwas anders selbst Subjekt) wird man so deuten müssen, dass Nonnos hier nicht nur derjenige Dichter ist, der in Gothus wieder auflebt, sondern auch derjenige, der diesem die christliche Ausrichtung seiner Dichtungen vorgibt. Also wird Nonnos hier (in noch eindeutigerer Weise als im Lektürekatalog von Rhodomans Autobiographie, wo er neben Gregor von Nazianz steht) wegen seiner Evangelienparaphase als ein christlicher Dichter verstanden. Insofern die Erstausgabe der Dionysiaka erst 1569 erfolgte, liegt es nahe, dass sowohl Rhodoman als auch Gothus, die zu

24

Biographische Angaben unten in den Anmerkungen zum Gothus-Brief. μεγαλήγορος im positiven Sinne gemäß LSJ nur bei Longin. 8.4. In der lateinischen Parallelfassung heißt es grandi | carmine. Damit variiert Rhodoman die lateinische Fassung seines Bioporikon (Textanhang 3.1), 5.162: grandis carmine Nonnus. 25

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Beginn ihrer Ilfelder Schulzeit also nur die Evangelienparaphrase lesen konnten, Nonnos immer noch primär als christlichen Dichter betrachteten26. Bevor abschließend kurz auf die Historia des Gothus selbst eingegangen wird, sei hier noch ein auktoriales Zeugnis über diese Dichtung besprochen. Bereits im Jahr 1573, also noch vor den Erstausgaben seiner drei großen Dichtungen, hat Gothus ein biblisches Buch versifiziert, nämlich den Daniel  27 – allerdings in lateinischen Hexametern. Diesem Gedicht ist neben einer Vorrede aus lateinischen Hendekasyllaben auch ein als Protreptikon bezeichnetes griechisches Gedicht vorangestellt, das sich an die Schule von Ilfeld wendet (Text im Textanhang, 3.3). Eine wichtige Funktion dieses griechischen Gedichtes ist sicherlich darin zu sehen, eine Entschuldigung dafür auszusprechen, dass der Daniel eben noch nicht auf griechisch verfasst ist. Gothus schließt mit folgenden Worten (Text 3.3, Vv. 29-32): “Es dauert nur noch kurze Zeit, und ich will euch ein anderes, besseres Werk (ἄλλο | φέρτερον) darbieten, welches in griechischen Rhythmen den Schulkindern Christus, die lebensrettende Hoffnung der Welt, und den seelenraubenden Wolf des italischen Landes (also den Papst) vorführen wird.” Hiermit wird sicherlich hauptsächlich auf die Historia angespielt, die noch im selben Jahr 1573 als erstes der großen griechischen Werke des Gothus erscheinen wird. Allerdings ist zuzugeben, dass in diesem epoiden Werk, welches auf die Zeit vor der Zerstörung Jerusalems unter Titus begrenzt ist, wenig Gelegenheit gegeben ist, gegen das römische Papsttum zu polemisieren. Entweder will Gothus durch den letzten Vers nur die orthodoxe lutherische Ausrichtung seines kommenden Werkes bekunden, oder ihm schweben tatsächlich papstfeindliche Ausfälle vor, die dann eher in seinen beiden späteren Werken, dem Katechismus und der Θεολογίας σύνοψις, Raum finden werden. Auf jeden Fall kann man aber diesem Einleitungsgedicht eine weitere wichtige poetologische Aussage entnehmen, die sich auch auf die Historia übertragen lässt. Denn zuvor rechtfertigt Gothus die Tatsache, dass er eine weitere Versifikation des Daniel vorlegt, obwohl er bereits zwei dichterische Vorläufer hat (Text 3.3, Vv. 4-9): einerseits seinen eigenen Lehrer Neander (bei dessen Daniel-Dichtung es sich gemäß der Formulierung in V. 6 “mit knappen Versen ein Buch tiefen Reichtums besingend”, στοίχοις παυροεπέσσι βίβλον βαθύπλουτον ἀείδων, eher um einige Memorialverse gehandelt haben dürfte), andererseits die ausführliche Daniel-Versifikation des aus dem thüringischen Heringen stammenden Georg Koch (1569)28, ebenfalls eines Ilfeld-Schülers 26 Stefan Weise erwägt die Möglichkeit, dass es in Ilfeld bereits vor 1569 eine Abschrift der Dionysiaka des Nonnos gegeben habe. Zu dieser Frage vgl. WEISE 2019, Der Arion. 27 Paraphrasis historiae Danielis prophetae …, Leipzig, 1573. Einige Bemerkungen hierzu bei LUDWIG 2016, Das protestantische Bild, S. 258-259. 28 Vgl. Anm. 101.

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(Vv. 7-9); im Anhang zu dieser Versifikation des Daniel durch Koch finden sich übrigens einige der frühesten poetischen Verse des Lorenz Rhodoman. Daß Gothus trotz dieser Konkurrenz nun eine dritte Versifikation hinzufügt, rechtfertigt er folgendermaßen (Text 3.3, Vv. 16-18): “… und ich glaube nicht, dass ein Mensch, mag er mit dem schärfsten Verstand gesegnet sein, das gewaltige Werk des großen Propheten in ordnungsgemäßer Weise hinreichend (ἅλις) in seiner Dichtung singend verkünden kann”. Also ist die versifizierte biblische Vorlage so reich, dass sie niemals durch einen versifizierenden Dichter erschöpft werden kann; dieser bearbeitet vielmehr den Bibeltext immer weiter “mit dem edlen Antrieb eines wissbegierigen Herzens” (V. 22). Übrigens sagt Gothus im Prooemium seiner KatechismusVersifikation (Text im Textanhang, 3.4.1) ganz parallel, dass “keiner der sterblichen Menschen die göttliche Lehre vollständig wissen kann, obwohl er durch glänzenden Verstand weit über andere hinausragt” – damit ist also auch eine weitere Katechismus-Versifikation neben vielen anderen (wie etwa auch derjenigen von Rhodoman) gerechtfertigt. Der Gedanke, dass die Versifikation eines biblischen Stoffes diesen niemals erschöpfen kann, sondern immer nur die Weiterarbeit “eines wissbegierigen Herzens” bedeutet, eignet sich auch hervorragend dazu, zu rechtfertigen, dass Gothus nach der Paraphrase des Johannes-Evangeliums durch Nonnos nun ganz im Geiste des in ihm gewissermaßen reinkarnierten christlichen Nonnos eine neue metrische Fassung der Vita Christi vorlegt. Denn genaugenommen deckt das erste Buch von Gothus’ Historia ja einen Stoff ab, der durch Nonnos bereits behandelt worden ist. Allerdings überlappt Gothus seinen spätantiken Vorläufer beidseitig: Am Schluß setzt er ein zweites Buch über die Apostel und Schüler Christi hinzu, und an der Spitze seiner Historia steht ein an Christus gerichtetes, um Inspiration bittendes Prooemium, welches keine Entsprechung bei Nonnos hat, der einfach mit dem Logos des Johannes-Evangeliums beginnt. Bereits in diesem Prooemium (Text im Textanhang, 3.5) zeigen sich nonnianische Tendenzen, insbesondere durch nicht weniger als drei Neologismen innerhalb der Bitte um Inspiration. Insbesondere die Wortschöpfungen εὑρεσιμόλπων (“gesangerfindend”, V. 9) und μυθοτόκον (“worterzeugend”, V. 12) darf man in diesem Kontext der Inspirationsbitte geradezu als auf die poetische Inventio autoreflexiv zurückbezogen betrachten. Hier soll aber nicht ausführlicher das Prooemium der Historia behandelt werden, sondern vielmehr ein kurzer Blick auf die Versifikation von Johannes 1.8 geworfen werden, wo es über den Täufer Johannes heißt: “Er war nicht das Licht, sondern er sollte zeugen von dem Licht.” (in der Septuaginta: οὐκ ἦν ἐκεῖνος τὸ φῶς, ἀλλ’ ἵνα μαρτυρήσῃ περὶ τοῦ φωτός; im Textanhang in der rechten Spalte neben dem Gothus-Text).

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Wenn wir die dichterischen Behandlungen dieses Bibelverses bei Gothus (Text 3.5, Vv. 36-38) und bei Nonnos vergleichen, so sehen wir, dass die Übereinstimmungen kaum zu verlarven sind (der Nonnos-Text findet sich ebenfalls im Textanhang neben den Gothus-Versen): Nonnos sagt οὐ μὲν κεῖνος ἔην νοερὸν φάος; bei Gothus dagegen heißt es οὐκ ἄρα κεῖνος ἔην φάος. Also tauschte Gothus die Anschlußpartikel aus, blieb aber bei dem dichterischen κεῖνος statt des prosaischen ἐκεῖνος der Septuaginta und folgte vor allem der Junktur κεῖνος ἔην mit dem charakteristischen prothetischen Epsilon der epischen Sprache; dann ließ er das anapästische Attribut νοερόν unter Beibehaltung des daktylischen Metrums weg. Die Auslassung dieses Attributs führt dazu, dass die komplett übernommene Wendung ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον (mit dem jonisch gelängten μοῦνον) bei Gothus anders als bei Nonnos nicht mehr in der Versklausel steht. Zwei Verse später verwenden beide Dichter das nur poetisch bezeugte προκέλευθος vom Täufer Johannes; dieses Wort wird jeweils im Vers von seinem Genitivattribut umschlossen (φάεος … ἀκηρύκτοιο bei Nonnos, ἀτρεκίης … ἐπουρανίης bei Gothus). Da alle diese Übereinstimmungen mit epischem Vokabular bzw. mit epischer Morphologie verbunden sind, ist eine deutliche Einwirkung des Nonnos auf Gothus hier evident. Auffällig erscheint allerdings, dass Gothus die bei Nonnos auf ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον folgende pompöse Formulierung nicht adaptiert: Bei Nonnos heißt es “sondern nur damit er für alle öffnen sollte seinen von Gott kündenden Schlund” (ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον | πᾶσιν ἀναπτύξειε θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα). In vornonnianischer Dichtersprache heißt ἀνθερεών “Kinn” (so schon bei Homer)29 oder “Hals; Nacken”30. Die mit dem nonnianischen Idiom “ἀνθερεών im Sinne des Artikulationsorgans Mund”31 verbundene Wendung θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα spart Gothus völlig aus; er beschränkt sich auf die Formulierung “sondern damit er nur sage unerschüttliches Zeugnis über das untadelige Licht” (ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον ἐνίψῃ | μαρτυρίην περὶ φωτὸς ἀμύμονος ἐμπεδόμυθον). D.h. Gothus baut die kühne nonnianische Wendung über den “gottesverkündenden Schlund” des Täufers gewissermaßen zurück in Richtung der schlichten Bibelwendung ἀλλ’ ἵνα μαρτυρήσῃ περὶ τοῦ φωτός. Doch dieser scheinbar simplifizierende Rückbau des nonnianischen Bombasts zeigt in Wirklichkeit nur, wie planvoll Gothus mit dem Nonnos-Text umging. Am Anfang seiner Θεολογίας σύνοψις, des theologischen Lehrgedichts, verwendet Gothus die in seiner Historia ausgelassene nonnianische Wendung mit geringer Variation von dem neuzeitlichen Propheten Luther (Text im Textanhang, 3.6.1). Über diesen heißt es in V. 13 “er vergoß den klingenden Schall 29 30 31

LSJ s.v. 1. LSJ s.v. 2. LSJ s.v. 3.

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seines von Gott tönenden Schlundes” (χεῦε θεογλώσσοιο λιγὺν θρόον ἀνθερεῶνος). Evidentermaßen variiert hier die Junktur θεογλώσσοιο … ἀνθερεῶνος das nonnianische θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα32. Dieselbe Junktur verwendet Nonnos zwar auch vom göttliche Wahrheit verkündenden Munde Christi33, aber nur an der ausgeschriebenen Stelle bezeichnet sie den “gottesverkündenden Mund” eines Propheten, nämlich des Täufers Johannes. Etwas später in seiner Historia variiert Gothus dann die nonnianische Ausdrucksweise wieder im ursprünglichen Zusammenhang des Täufers, als dieser sich mit den Pharisäern auseinanderzusetzen hat (Joh. 1.26): “Er öffnete selbst seinen furchtlosen von Gott angetriebenen Schlund, in kundiger Weise ein für Christus Zeugnis ablegendes Wort zusammenstrickend” (ἄτρομον αὐτὸς ἔλυσε θεόσσυτον ἀνθερεῶνα | Χριστῷ ἐπισταμένως ἐπιμάρτυρα μῦθον ὑφαίνων). Daß bei Gothus Luther intertextuell mit dem biblischen Propheten Johannes in Verbindung gebracht wird, fügt sich auf das beste zu der Eingangspartie der Θεολογίας σύνοψις, wo Luther als ein letzter Elias (V. 10 Ἡλίας πύματος) bezeichnet wird, der dem greisen Kosmos seinen Schwanengesang singt (V. 14 κόσμῳ γηραλέῳ τε μέλος κύκνειον ἀείδων). Auch in Rhodomans Luther-Vita erscheint der Reformator als singender Schwan34, allerdings gegen Ende der Vita und im Kontext des Verfassens seiner eigenen letzten Schriften35. Genesis explicatio, cygnea L(utheri) cantio, absoluta (1545): ἐν δ’ ἄρα θαυμασίοισι πονήμασι36, οἷς νόον αὐδῆς ἥπλωσε ζαθέης, νέατον καὶ φέρτατόν ἐστι κύκνου θ’ οἷον ἄεισμα προθεσπίζοντος ὄλεθρον γράμμα, τό τ’ ἠγαθέοις πρώτην ἐνὶ γράμμασι βίβλον ἐκφράζει γεραρῆς37 ἐνοπῇ πολυθαμβέϊ ῥήτρης. μηνὶ τὸ γὰρ τριτάτῳ σφετέρης προπάροιθε τελευτῆς ἔμπεδον εἰς τέλος ἦγε, τὸ χαίρειν δ’ εἶπεν ἀκουσταῖς.

32

Als eine weitere Imitation der Nonnus-Partie sei eine hagiographische Dichtung aus dem Ilfelder Schülerkreis zitiert, die Historia Beati Laurentii martyris Graeco carmine conscripta (Leipzig, 1582) des Heinrich Eckstorm. Hier heißt es über den zuvor gefolterten Heiligen Laurentius: αὐτὰρ Ἴβηρ ἐπέτασσε (ἐπάτασσε ed.) θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα | κ’ ἀντίθεον Δέκιον τοίῳ προσπτύξατο μύθῳ.“Aber der Iberer öffnete seinen gottverkündenden Schlund und sprach den gottfeindlichen Decius mit folgender Rede an.” Hier wird eine Antithese zwischen dem nonnianischen θεηγόρος ἀνθερεών und dem in unepischer Weise verwendeten ἀντίθεος (LSJ s.v. 2) erstrebt. Die hergestellte Junktur πεταννύναι ἀνθερεῶνα ist laut Thesaurus Linguae Graecae ebenfalls auf Nonnos beschränkt (Dion. 47.643; Par. 3.94; 6.141; 8.47; 21.93). 33 Nonn., Par. 6.141 und 8.47. 34 Die Vorstellung des Lutherschwans ist äußerst verbreitet; letztlich ist sie schon in der Prophetie des Jan Hus angelegt, deren Assoziation mit Luther insbesondere durch Bugenhagens Leichenpredigt vermittelt wird. 35 Zu den bibliographischen Daten von Rhodomans Luther-Vita vgl. unten Anm. 74. 36 πονήμασι: an -σιν? 37 γεγ. ed.

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caeterum inter admiranda eius opera, quibus mentem vocis divinae explanavit, postremum et optimum est et veluti cycni mortem suam vaticinantis cantio scriptum, quod primum in scripturis sacris librum stupendo senilis eloquentiae sermone enarrat. hoc enim tertio ante exitum suum mense ad absolutum finem perduxit et auditoribus suis (tum) valedixit. Unter den bewunderungswürdigen Studien, mit welchen er den Sinn der Heiligen Schrift erklärte, ist die jüngste und beste und gewissermaßen der Gesang eines Schwanes, der seinen Untergang vorausahnt, diejenige Schrift, welche das erste Buch innerhalb der Heiligen Schrift erläutert mit der staunenswerten Eloquenz eines redegewandten Greises. Denn diese Schrift führte er im dritten Monat vor seinem Tode zu einem beständigen Ende, und damit sprach er den Abschiedsgruß zu seinen Zuhörern.

Bei Gothus dagegen ist nicht an den bevorstehenden Tod Luthers, sondern an ein nahendes Weltende gedacht. Wenig später (in Vv. 19-29) heißt es, Luther verbreite den Samen des Heils noch, bevor dann (in Kürze) Christus selbst wieder vom Himmel herabsteigt. Mit dieser Vorstellung, dass die lutherische Reformation dem Weltuntergang kurz vorausgeht, unterscheidet sich Gothus tendenziell von Rhodoman, der in Luther und der Reformation eher die Initialzündung für eine glänzende irdische Zukunft sieht, in welcher Deutschland bildungs- und wissenschaftsmäßig eine führende Position übernehmen soll38 (wenngleich Rhodoman andererseits in Luther auch einen möglichen Quell kriegerischer konfessioneller Auseinandersetzung sieht). Rhodomans Autobiographie Bioporikon, Vv. 250-252 Ὁμοφροσύνη γὰρ ἅμ’ ἐσθλῷ (255) ᾤχετο Λουθήρῳ γαίης ἄπο, καὶ τάχ’ ὀρίνθη Δῆρις ἀνηκέστων πολέμων ἱερεῦσι καὶ ἀρχοῖς. Concordia ad astra Luthero functo comes iverat, inde ciebat mystis et ducibus longum Discordia bellum. … denn die Eintracht wich zusammen mit dem edlen Luther von der Erde, und sogleich erhob sich bei Priestern und Herrschern die Zwietracht in Gestalt unkontrollierbarer Kriege.

Ein anderer Unterschied zwischen den Lutherbildern von Gothus und Rhodoman besteht darin, dass Gothus (wenig später in der Θεολογίας σύνοψις, vgl. Text im Textanhang, 3.6.2) die lutherische Theologie mit spätmittelalterlicher

38 In seinem Protreptikon (erstmals in: Chronicon sive epitome historiarum … Michaelis Neandri …, Eisleben, 1582) entwickelt Rhodoman die Vorstellung, dass die Reformation und der ihr folgende Aufschwung der Wissenschaften geradezu ein neues Goldenes Zeitalter bildet, welches den durchgängig deszendenten Lauf der Geschichte durchbricht.

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Mystik, insbesondere mit Johannes Tauler und der vermeintlich von diesem stammenden Theologia Teutsch, in Verbindung bringt, während Rhodoman in seiner Luther-Vita Luther eher in der Tradition von papstfeindlichen Reformationsvorläufern wie dem bömischen Jan Hus und dem italienischen Girolamo Savonarola sieht. Zu Jan Hus: ὅτ’ εἰς πέρας ἔτρεχεν ὥραις χειμεριναῖς ἐνιαυτὸς ἀοίδιμος, ὅν ῥα πάροιθεν εἶδεν, ἐπεὶ φαίδρυνε θεοπρόπος ὄμματ’ ἀήτης, Χούσιος ἐμπεδόμαρτυς ἐν εὐσταχύεσσι Βοημῶν ἀλλογενῶν πεδίοισιν, ὅτ’ ἐν πυρὶ φαίδιμα γυῖα σμύχετ’ ἀλιτρονόοισι κακορραφίαις ἱερήων εἵνεκ’ ἐτητυμίης, ἣ δύσφορον ἄχθος ἀλιτροῖς. τοῖα δὲ μαντιπόλοις39 ὑπὸ νύγμασι θέσπισεν ἥρως· cum ad finem curreret horis hibernis celebris ille annus, quem ante praeviderat prophetico eius oculos illustrante spiritu Hussus, constans veritatis testis, in ubere Bohemorum alienigenarum terra, cum nobilia ipsius membra igni absumerentur nefariis sacerdotum insidiis propter veritatem, quae intolerabile onus est impiis. tale autem fatidico instinctu oraculum edidit vir ille heroicus: vaticinium Hussii de Luthero: 1415 “νῦν μὲν χῆν’ ὀπτᾶτε πυρὸς μαλερῇσιν ἀϋτμαῖς, εἰ δ’ ἑκατὸν λυκάβαντας ἑωσφόρον ἅρμα περήσῃ ἀκαμάτου Φαέθοντος, ἐλεύσεται εὔπτερος ὄρνις, κύκνος χιονόμορφος ἱεὶς μελίγηρυν40 ἀοιδήν ἐκ λαιμοῦ ταναοῖο, βίῃ δ’ οὐ καύσεται ὑμῶν.“ “nunc quidem fervido ignis aestu41 anserem assatis; postquam vero centum annos terminaverit lucifer currus Solis indefessi, veniet pernix ales, candidus cygnus, mellisonum carmen emittens ex collo protenso; is neutiquam viribus vestris comburetur.” … als das berühmte Jahr zu winterlicher Jahreszeit in sein Ziel lief, welches zuvor Jan Hus (voraus)gesehen hatte, da der prophetische Hauch seine Augen hellsichtig machte, der zuverlässige Zeuge (Gottes) in den fruchtbaren Feldern der fremdländischen Bömer, als seine strahlenden Glieder durch die böswilligen Listen der (Papst)priester im Feuer geschmort wurden – nur wegen seiner Wahrhaftigkeit, die immer eine unerträgliche Last für Frevler ist. Folgendes aber prophezeite der Held unter dem Stachel seiner mantischen Regung: “Jetzt grillt ihr eine Gans im gewaltigen Gluthauch des Feuers: Wenn aber der die Morgenröte bringende Wagen des 39 40 41

παντ- ed. -ον ed. astu ed.

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unermüdlichen Phaethon hundert Jahre durchlaufen hat, dann wird ein (anderer) wohlbeflügelter Vogel kommen, ein weißgestaltiger Schwan, der seine honigtönende Stimme aus seinem langen Hals verströmet – und er wird sich nicht durch Eure Gewalt verbrennen lassen.”

In der Formulierung Rhodomans wirkt wohl die vielfach nachgedruckte Leichenpredigt Bugenhagens auf Luther nach (Wittenberg, 1546); hier lautet die Prophezeiung: “Ihr bratet … jetzt ein Gans,| Gott wird aber einen Schwan erwecken | den werdet ihr nicht brennen noch braten”. Besonders spiegelt sich in εἵνεκ’ ἐτητυμίης Bugenhagens Formulierung “welcher umb der warheit willen | getödtet ist”. Zu Girolamo Savonarola: ᾧ κλεινῷ λυκάβαντι Θεοῦ δι’ ἐτήτυμον ἠχῶ μάρτυς ἀεξιφόνοις ὑπὸ δήνεσιν Ἀντιχρίστου σὺν δισσοῖς ἑτάροις ἀμαθύνετο Σαυανορωλᾶς, θεῖος ἀνὴρ, ᾧ πνεῦμα θεοπρόπον ἵζανε θυμῷ καὶ δαὲν ἀνθρώποισιν ἐτήτυμα θέσφατα φαίνειν. quo celebri anno propter veram Dei confessionem sanguinariis Antichristi consiliis assertor (veritatis) Savanorola duobus cum sociis cremabatur, vir divinus, in cuius animo propheticus spiritus residebat, docens eum vera hominibus oracula pandere. in welchem berühmten Jahr wegen seines wahrhaftigen Bekenntnisses zu Gott der Zeuge (Gottes) Savanorola durch die mordlüsternen Listen des Antichristen (d.i. des Papstes) zusammen mit zwei Gefährten eingeäschert wurde, der göttliche Mann, dem prophetischer Hauch in seinem Sinne wohnte, ein Hauch, der es verstand, den Menschen wahre Orakel vor Augen zu führen.

Solche Unterschiede im Reformationsverständnis zeigen natürlich, dass jeder einzelne Schüler von Ilfeld für sich genommen – und vielleicht sogar in erster Linie – ein lutherischer Theologe war. Darüber hinaus haben die Ilfeld-Schüler aber eben die sie vereinende Besonderheit, dass sie ihren jeweiligen Standpunkt in der zeitgenössischen Konfessionsdebatte durch differenzierte und sie selbst differenzierende Bezugnahmen auf antike griechische Dichter formulierten: Rhodoman primär als Homeride, Gothus dagegen als Nonnianer. 3. Textanhang 3.1. Rhodoman, Bioporikon (1585) 143-167: Rhodomans Lektüre der griechischen Literatur studia Ilefeldae αὐτίκα δ’ Ἑρκυνίδων προσπτύξατο κύδιμος ἑσμός κυδῆναι δώροισί με παντοίοισι μενοινῶν,

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hic mox Hercynidum placide complectitur agmen, divitiisque ornare suis me naviter ardent; poesis Graeca εἴτε μοι Ἑλλήνων πινυτὸς λόγος εἴτε Λατίνων (145) εἴτε καὶ Ἑβραίων θυμάρμενος. ἀλλὰ θεάων κῆρ ἀμὸν μία θέλξε καὶ εἰς ἑὸν ἥρπασεν42 ἄντρον ὡς λάτριν οἰκίδιον καὶ Ἰωνίδος ἤθεα Mούσης σκῆψεν43 ὑπὸ πραπίδεσσιν. ὅσ[σ]ον44 δ’ ἀπὸ θέλκτρον ἀοιδῆς ἡμετέρης κνίζει πινυτόφρονος ἦτορ ἀκουστέω, (150) οὐ σαφές. ὅττι δ’ ἐπέων τερετίσμασι θυμὸν ἴηνα νύμφαις ἡμεδαπῇσι, φατίζεται, εἰ τόδ’ ἀληθές. seu placeat Graii sapientia sive Latini sive etiam Hebraei sermonis. at una dearum occupat amplexus45 castumque abducit in antrum devinctumque sibi reddens me nectare Musae imbuit Ioniae. sed quas mea carmina doctis auribus illecebras pariant, non dicere promptum est. saepius at nymphis quod venerit inde voluptas Hercyniis, memorant, si non palpantur, amici. D. Neandri fida sedulitas in explicandis bonis auctorib(us) σὴ χάρις, ἐσθλὲ Νέανδρε, τεὸν κλέος, εἴ τι λοχεύω χρήσιμον ἠδὲ Θεῷ καταθύμιον Ἑλλάδι Mούσῃ. σῇς γὰρ ὑφ’ ἡγεσίῃσι καὶ οὐ βρίζουσι κελεύθοις46 (155) γλώσσης ἐξεπέρησεν Ἀχαιΐδος ἄσπετον οἶδμα λέμβος ἐμὸς τετόρων ἐτέων κατ’ ἐΰδρομον ὁρμήν καὶ κέλσας λιμένεσσιν ἐμοὶ γνωτούς τε φίλους τε θῆκεν, ὅσοι γραφίδεσσιν ἐν Ἑλλάδι πρῶτα φέρονται, Ἰλιάδος γενέτην, Ἄσκρης ναστῆρα παλαιῆς, (160) βουκολικῶν μήστωρα καὶ ἵστορα φορβάδος ἄγρης καὶ λυρικὸν βασιλῆα καὶ ᾄσματα θέσκελα Νόννου Γρηγορίου τ’ ἐπὶ τῷδε θεόφρονος, ἐννέα βίβλους Ἡροδότου πλείους τε, δίχ’ ἑρμηνῆος ὁμιλεῖν si pueris aliquid Graiis pario utile Musis acceptumque Deo, tua laus est tota, Neander. qui dum solicito clavum mihi corde gubernas, exigua immensum cymba confecimus aequor Graiugenum, quater in sese dum volvitur annus. in portu excipiunt, socio et dignantur amore auctores Graii scriptis ad sidera noti, Iliados pater atque senex Ascraeus et inter

42 43 44 45 46

147 ἥρπασεν scripsi : ἡσπασεν ed. : an ἔσπασεν ? 149 σκῆψεν scripsi : σκέμψεν ed. : πέμψεν Ludwig 149 ὅσον scripsi : ὅσσον ed. 147 amplexus ed. : an amplexu[s] ? 155 κελεύθοις ed. : num κελευσμοῖς?

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rex lyricos et, qui venatus versibus aptat, et Siculus vates et grandis carmine Nonnus et sacra Gregorius pangens Musaeque diserti Herodoti pluresque alii, quos ore loquentes cognitio et usus Graecae linguae τῶν τε λόγους γραπτοῖσιν ὑφάσμασι μιμήσασθαι. (165) πολλὰ γὰρ ἐνθάδ’ ὕφηνα μίτις47 εὐηχέσι Mουσέων, ὥς μοι μιμήτειρα48 λόγους ἄσκησις ὀφέλλοι. agnovi patrio versusque effingere Achivos assuevi calamo; cui multa negocia feci, cognitio ut crebro linguae mihi cresceret usu. Sogleich aber zog mich der ruhmvolle Schwarm der Harzmusen an sich heran und verlangte mich mit allerlei Geschenken zu ehren, mochte mir die kundige Rede der Griechen oder die der Lateiner oder auch die der Hebräer am Herzen liegen. Aber eine einzige von den Göttinnen betörte mein Herz, zerrte mich wie ihren privaten Diener in ihre Grotte und heftete mir die Idiome der jonischen Muse tief in die Brust. Wieweit die von meinem Gesang ausgehende Betörung das Herz eines gelehrten Hörers rührt, bleibt ungewiß. Aber es wird behauptet, daß ich den einheimischen Musen durch das Zwitschern meiner Lieder das Herz wärmte – wenn dies denn wahr ist. Dir ist es zu danken, edler Neander, Dein Ruhm ist es, wenn ich mit meiner griechischen Muse etwas Nützliches und Gott Gefälliges gebäre. Denn unter Deiner Führung und schlaflosen Wegweisung (?) hat mein Kahn im geschwinden Lauf vierer Jahre die unsägliche Flut der griechischen Literatur durchlaufen, an verschiedenen Häfen angelegt und mir alle diejenigen zu Bekannten und guten Freunden gemacht, die durch ihre Schriften in Griechenland die ersten Preise gewinnen: den Vater der Ilias (Homer), den Bewohner des alten Askra (Hesiod), den Erfinder der Bukolik (Theokrit) und den Kenner der nährenden Jagd (Oppian) und den König der Lyrik (Pindar) und den göttlichen Gesang des Nonnos und zudem denjenigen des gotterfüllten Gregor (von Nazianz), die neun Bücher Herodots und noch weitere – so daß ich mit ihnen ohne Dolmetscher verkehre und deren Sprechweise mit dem Gespinst meiner Schriften nachahme. Denn vieles habe ich hier gesponnen mit den wohltönenden Fäden der Musen, damit mir nachahmende Übung die Rede verbessere.

3.2. Briefwechsel 3.2.1. Gothus an Rhodoman (1586) αἰδεσιμωτάτῳ49 καὶ ἐπιστημονεστάτῳ ἀνδρὶ, κυρίῳ Λαυρεντίῳ Ῥοδομάννῳ, τῶν ἐν λόγοις ὄνομα καὶ κῦδος μέγα τι κτωμένων πολλῷ λαμπροτάτῳ, κήρυκι τοῦ λόγου θεανθρώπου καὶ φιλομούσου, νεότητος τῆς ἐν σεμνῷ Οὐαλκερόδης 47 48 49

166 μίτις ed. 167 μιμήτειρα Lutz Lenz : μίου μήτειρα ed. αἰδαισιμοτάτῳ ed.

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κοινοβίῳ ἐπιστάτῃ αἰδοιοτάτῳ, ποιητῶν τῶν ἐφ’ ἡμῶν ἁπαξαπάντων εὐφυεστάτῳ, κυρίῳ μου καὶ φίλῳ ἀρχαίῳ, μεγάλου δίκην ἀδελφοῦ τιμητέῳ ἤγαγε Βαλκερόδηθε Δίων καλὸς ἐκ σέθεν ἡμῖν ἀσπασμὸν θαλερῆς ἔμπλεον εὐμενίης. ἠσπασάμην δ’ ἄρ’ ἔγωγε τεῆς ἀσπασμὸν ἰωῆς, δῶρα50 λαβὼν φιλίαις χερσὶν ἀγαλλόμενος, ὦ Μουσῶν ἐρατῶν κλέος ἄφθιτον, ὦ Ῥοδόμαννε (5) κλεῖν’, ἀστὴρ ἀνδρῶν φαίδιμε μουσοπόλων, ᾧ νόον ἠϋμαθῆ δωρήσατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη, τεχνίτην τε σοφῶν ἵστορα θῆκε51 λόγων. ἦ ῥά νυ Κεκροπίης μεθέπεις πρεσβήϊα γλώττης, Αὐσονίης τε κραδᾷς πηδὸν ἀναμφιβόλως, (10) ὅττι τεὴ γλυκίων μελικηρίδος ἔπλετο φωνή καὶ τά σου ἀμβροσίης ἡδύτερ’ ἐστὶ μέλη· θεῖον ὅσοις52 Λουθῆρον ἀνέκραγες, οἷσι λίγῃνας53 Ἰσραηλιγενέων τὴν πάλαι ἱστορίην, οἷσι καὶ Ἰλφέλδην ἐσαφήνισας, ᾗχι Νεάνδρου (15) σεμνεῖον κυδροῦ λαμπρότατον τελέθει, οἷσι βίου ἰδίου πόρον εὖ ἥδιστά τ’ ἔδειξας Κρουσίῳ, ὃν δεῖξε54 Κρούσιος ἄμμι σοφός, οἷς καὶ νῦν μελετᾷς Γερμανίδα ποικιλόμορφον ἠδὲ Παλαιστίνην εἰς φάος ὀτρυνέειν55· (20) πρὸς τούτοις θαλεροῖσιν Ὁμηρίδος ἄνθεσι Μούσης χριστοβόου μέλπεις ἄρθρα πρόπαντα λόγου, εἰλικρινὴς ὅσα περ κῆρυξ ὀπὸς ὑψιανείρης ἀμφαίνεις κοινῇ μάνδρῃ ἐν ἠγαθέῃ, τὠυτά56 γ’ ἐφαπλώσας λίγα καὶ νεολαίῃ ἀγαυῇ, (25) χρήσιμος ἔν θ’ ἱερῷ χρήσιμος ἔν τε σχολῇ. ἦ ῥά νυ συγχαίρω σεμνοσπούδοισιν ἐρωαῖς ταῖς σέθεν, ἐκ κραδίης ὄλβι’ ἐπευξάμενος· τὴν φιλομοχθίην57 ἰθύνοι τ’ ἐσθλὸς Ἰησοῦς, ὥστε σὲ πάντα καλῶς πρὸς τέλος εὐκτὸν ἄγειν, (30) ὅσσ’ εἰς κοινὸν ὄνειαρ ὅλοις στήθεσσι μενοινᾷς ἔργα τεῆς παλάμης χρήσιμ’ ἀριστογράφου. ὧν διὰ καὶ τιμῆς σὺ πανάξιος, ἀξιάγαστος, φαιδρὸς ἐπιστήμην, φαιδρὸς ἰδ’ εὐσεβίην. ὡς σὺ Νεανδρείων γεραρώτερος ἦσθα μαθητῶν (35) ξυμπάντων ὀκτώ τ’ ἐννέα μὲν πρὸ ἐτῶν, ἀκαμάτῳ σπουδῇ Ῥωμαΐδ’ Ἀχαιΐδα τ’ αὐτός ὀξὺς ἀνιχνεύων, ἥλικας ἠδὲ δάων·

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

4 δεῖρα ed. 8 an ἵστορ’ ἔθηκε ? 13 an ὃς οἷς [exclamativum] (ut usus anaphoricus vocis οἷς servetur)? 13 an οἷς ἐλίγῃνας ? 18 an δεῖξε ? 20 an ὀτρυνέεις ? 25 an ταὐτά γ’ ? 29 an φιλομοχθίην ?

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ὣς58 σύ γ’ ἀριστεύεις ποιητῶν ἔξοχος ἄλλων, πότνια νῦν ὁπόσους Τευτονὶς αἶα τρέφει, (40) ἥλιος ἐν νεφέεσσιν, ἐν ἀστράσι φωσφόρος ἄλλος, δένδροις δ’ ἐν χλοεροῖς δάφνη ἀριστόκομος. τῷ καὶ τηλεφαοῦς αἴγλης σέο πυρσὸν ἰάλλεις, φύλλα τε σῆς δάφνης παντόσε γῆς θαλέθει, ὥστε φιλελλήνων σε διΐπτασθαι στόμα πάντων (45) πρὸς νότον ἠδ’ ἄρκτον πρός τ’ ἠῶ59 ἠδὲ δύσιν, οὕνεκεν εὐσεβίην τ’ ἀρετήν τε δαημοσύνην τε τιμὴ ὀπηδεῖ ἐῢς καὶ φάτις εὐρυκλεής. εὖ γ’ οὖν προφρονέως, ἄνερ αἰδεσιμώτατε, σεμνῇ φροντίδι καὶ παλάμῃ πάντα δίωκε θοῇ (50) ἔργα, τά τ’ εἰς ὄφελος κοινὸν βροτέοιο γενέθλης60 εἴς τε Θεοῖο κλέος χρήσιμα τεκτανέεις. σπεῦδ’ ἄγε καρπαλίμως61 ἐπὶ τὸν κολοφῶνα τίθεσθαι, σεῖο πόνων ἡμᾶς ὡς62 ἀπολαυέμεναι. τοῦτο ποιῶν63, φίλος ὢν, πολὺ φίλτερτος ἔσσῃ ἅπασιν, (55) οἷσι πολυγλώσσεως64 θερμὴ ἐνῶρτο ποθή. νῦν δὲ δὴ εἰς τεὸν65 οἶκον ἐμὰς ποτιδέχνυσο Μούσας, εὐμενὲς ὄμμα φέρων ταῖς ἔπι προφρονέως. παρθενικάς ποτ’ ἐγὼ ταύτας ἐφίτυσα66 Νεάνδρου ξυνοῦ παιδευτοῦ βουλῇ ἀριστονόου· (60) ζῶσα δὲ καὶ κόσμησα νέον Ῥωμανίδι χλαίνῃ ξυμπάσας, κοινόν γ’ εἰς φάος ὀρνυμένας. δέχνυσο, καί μοι Ἀρίσταρχός τις ἐναίσιμος εἴης, μῶν κόσμος ταύταις ἄρκιός ἐσθ’, ὁρόων· σεῖο δ’ ἀφ’ ὑψιφαοῦς σέλαος σπινθῆρα τιταίνοις, (65) ἡβαιόν περ, ἐμαῖς παρθενικαῖσι νέμων, ὄφρα τεῆς Μούσης προποδηγίδα δᾷδα φερούσης μᾶλλον ἐμαῖς κούραις ἀσφαλὲς ἴθμα πέλῃ καὶ χάρις ἕσποιτο σφίσιν, εἰς φάος αὖθις ἰούσαις, Χριστῷ καὶ θαλεροῖς67 παισὶν ὑπηρετέειν, (70) ὅττι τιτυσκομένῃσι προκείμενος οἶος ὑπάρχει παντὶ λόγῳ πάσαις τ’ ἐν μελέτῃσι σκοπός, Χριστὸν ὅπως κατὰ γαῖαν ἀοιδῇσι68 κλείωσι, δείξωσίν θ’ ἁπαλοῖς δόγματα θεῖα νέοις. κλῦθί μευ, ὦ ξυνῆς μέγα πατρίδος ἄστρον ἀρούρης, (75) ὦ Ἑλικωνιάδων ἱερομύστα θεῶν· κλῦθί μευ, ὦ Ῥοδόμαννε, χαρίζεό τ’ οὐκ ἀέκητι 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68

39 46 51 53 54 55 56 57 59 70 73

ὡς ed. an πρός θ’ ἕω ? γενέθλεις ed. καρπολίμως ed. ὥσ’ ed. : an ὥσ ? an ποῶν ? an οἷς πολυγνωμοσύνης ? εἰς ὸν τεοἶκον ed. fort. [ἐ]φίτυσα vel ἐφύτευσα. θελεροῖς ed. an ἀοιδῇσι ?

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εὔφρονά σοι κραδίην ἶφι φυλαξαμένῳ69 λοίσθιον εὐδαίμων τε καὶ ὄλβιος ἡδυπαθής τε ζώοις εἰς Πυλίους εὖ, Ῥοδόμαννε, χρόνους. (80) τῆς αὐθεντίας σου ἐν ἁπαξάπασι χρήσει καὶ κτήσει Ματθαῖος Γόθος, ἱερῆς ἐκκλησίας τῆς ἐν κλυτῇ Στολοπέργῃ διδάσκαλος, Αὐγούστου κβ. α. φ. π. σ. reverendo ac doctiss(imo) viro dn. Laurentio Rhodomanno, eruditionis gloria longe clariss(imo), verbi caelestis praeconi et studiosae pietatis, in sacro Walcerodensi coenobio antistiti dignissimo, poetarum nostri saeculi omnium nobilissimo et c(etera), dn. et amico meo veteri, fratris loco honorando, sal(utem) et felicitatem abs te Walceroda missam, Rhodomanne, salutem attulit integro plenus amore Dion. quam tum chara fuere tuae mihi verba salutis, tam tua sunt animo munera grata meo, o Heliconiadum decus immortale sororum, inter laurigeros gloria prima viros, cui dedit ingenio claro florere Minerva carminaque artifici pangere docta manu. non dubium est etenim: tibi tota scientia linguae suppetit Ausoniae totaque Cecropiae, cum tua melle novo vox dulcior atque deorum ambrosia tua sint carmina grata magis: in quibus et divi celebras monumenta Lutheri, Israeligenae gentis et historiam, et quibus Ilfeldae celeberrima numina cantas, tecta Neandrinae sunt ubi clara scholae, et fastos quibus ipse tuos scite atque venuste Crusio et hinc nobis Crusius enumerat, queis opus egregium Germanida tradere luci atque Palaestinam te tua cura tenet: quin et Maeonii senis e viridante Thaleia pingis doctrinae singula membra piae, vocis apostolicae quae praeco fidelis aperte Christiadum populo conveniente doces, quaeque iuventuti tenerae simul ordine pandis, praeco Dei pius et gymnasiarcha probus. gratulor ergo tuis studiis et pectore toto, cursus felices dent tibi fata, precor: conatusque tuos clemens moderetur Iesus, claudere quo possis singula fine bono, quae modo cunque pie communem fingis in usum docta reperta tuae, scripta diserta, manus. laudibus idcirco digna est et honore perenni ingenii probitas dexteritasque tui. namque Neandrinos quondam velut inter alumnos unus prae cunctis suspiciendus eras, pervigili studio Latiae Graiaeque Camaenae

69

78 φιλαξαμένῳ ed.

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munera vestigans, teque aliosque docens:70 sic hodie cunctos superat tua fama poetas, quotquot alit gremio Teutonis ora suo, Lucifer astra inter velut, inter nubila Phoebus, arboreumque inter laurus opaca genus. hinc procul amotas tangit tua laurea terras, atque nitet famae splendor ubique tuae: hincque tuum ad boream zephyrumque eurumque notumque nomen doctorum pervolat ora virum. semper honos nomenque bonum studia ampla sequuntur, et sua virtuti laus solet ire comes. euge igitur pergas operis incumbere mente intenta et promta, vir venerande, manu, quas hominum generi struis in commune, Deique in laudes multa sedulitate paras. perge, inquam, propere: colophonem impone, fruamur ut studii posthac utilitate tui. hoc ubi praestiteris, tu in amore et in ore fereris omnibus, in Musas quos rapit acer amor. nunc vero nostras ne dedignare Camaenas suscipere haud durus sub lare, quaeso71, tuo. has ego progenui quondam monitore Neandro, qui nos Pieriis imbuit auctor aquis: et Latio cunctas decoravi nuper amictu, publica cum vellent per fora carpere iter. suscipe, Aristarchumque age non invisus72, et omnes perspice, num tali veste decenter eant: deque tua fac luce parum scintilla coruscet virginibusque meis praevia monstret iter, quo, tua Musa meis si praeferat alma lucernam, tuta queant firmo corpora ferre gradu, gratiaque in lucem rursum comitetur euntes, ut Christo et praestent munia grata scholis: hunc etenim solum tota ratione modoque, ad quem contendant, proposuere scopum, scilicet in terris celebrent ut carmine Christum et iuvenum monstrent dogmata sacra choro. gratificare mihi, patriae lux inclita nostrae, o Heliconiadum mysta verende deum: gratificare lubens operam, Rhodomanne, petenti rite tuam, tota qui tibi mente cupit. quod superest, precor, ut sis felix atque beatus et vivas Pylii tempora longa senis. Excell(entiae) t(uae) deditissimus Matthaeus Gothus, sanctae ecclesiae, quae Stolbergae est, praeceptor, xx. Aug. anno 1586.

70 71 72

38 decens ed. 58 quaesto ed. 63 an invitus ?

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An den ehrwürdigsten und verständigsten Mann, Herrn Lorenz Rhodoman, dem bei weitem glänzendsten unter allen, die in der Wissenschaft großen Namen und Rang erworben haben, Verkünder des Wortes vom Gottmenschen und der Musenliebe, respektiertem Vorsteher der Jugend im ehrwürdigen Kloster von Walkenried, dem begabtesten der gesamten Dichterschaft unserer Zeit, meinem Herrn und alten Freund, den ich wie einen älteren Bruder zu ehren habe: Dein schöner Dion73 hat uns von Deiner Seite aus Walkenried einen Gruß voller blühenden Wohlwollens mitgebracht. Ich begrüßte also meinesteils das Grußwort Deiner Stimme und nahm stolz Deine Gabe mit freundlichen Händen auf. Du unsterblicher Ruhm der lieblichen Musen, berühmter Rhodoman, glänzender Stern unter den Menschen, die sich mit den Musen beschäftigen, dem Pallas Athene klugen Verstand schenkte, Dich zu einem kundigen Meister der weisen Rede machend. Fürwahr, so führst Du nun den ersten Rang in der griechischen Sprache und bewegst das Steuerruder der lateinischen ohne Unsicherheit, weil Deine Sprache süßer als eine Honigwabe und Deine Lieder angenehmer als Ambrosia sind: In ihnen besangst Du den göttlichen Luther74; in ihnen verkündetest Du die alte Geschichte der Israeliten75; in ihnen verklärtest Du auch Ilfeld76, wo sich die hellstrahlende ehrwürdige Schule des ruhmvollen Neander befindet; in ihnen stelltest Du den Weg Deines eigenen Lebens treffend und sehr anmutig dem Crusius dar, den dann der weise Crusius wiederum uns darstellte77; in ihnen bemühst Du Dich auch jetzt, die vielgestaltige Germanis78 und die Palaistine ans Licht der Öffentlichkeit vorantreiben79. Zusätzlich zu diesen (Werken) besingst Du mit den sprießenden Blüten der homerischen Muse alle Gliederungspunkte der christusverkündenden Darstellung80; all diese verkündest Du als ein reiner Prophet

73

Rhodoman übersandte Gothus seine Ausgaber der Troja-Rede des Dion Chrysostomos: Homerus confutatus a Dione Chrysostomo … a M. Laurentio Rhodomanno …, Rostock, 1585. 74 Luther-Vita: ΛΟΥΘΗΡΟΣ ἤτοι ΑΠΛΗ ΕΚΘΕΣΙΣ ΤΟΥ ΤΕ ΒΙΟΥ ΚΑΙ ΤΗΣ ΚΑΤΗΧΗΤΙΚΗΣ ΔΙΔΑΧΗΣ ΤΟΥ ΛΟΥΘΗΡΟΥ … ὑπὸ ΛΑΥΡΕΝΤΙΟΥ ΤΟΥ ΡΟΔΟΜΑΝΟΥ. Lutherus sive expositio simplex vitae, doctrinae catecheticae et certaminum Lutheri … autore M. Laurentio Rhodomanno …, Oberursel, 1579. 75 Historia ecclesiae sive populi Dei … conscripta et exposita carmine Graeco a Laurentio Rhodomanno …, Frankfurt, 1581. 76 Ilfelda Hercynica … descripta carmine Graecolatino a M. Laurentio Rhodomanno …, Frankfurt, 1581. 77 Bioporikon (subskribiert 1582), in: M. CRUSIUS, Germanograeciae libri sex, Basel, 1585, S. 348-355; deutsche Übersetzung mit kommentierenden Bemerkungen: LUDWIG 2014, Der Humanist L. Rhodomanus. Gothus reflektiert auf die Besonderheit, dass das Bioporikon zunächst Crusius gewidmet war und dieser es erst in seiner Germanograecia bekannt machte. Zugleich spielt die Formulierung βίου ἰδίου πόρον auf den Titel Bioporikon an. 78 Das Projekt der Germanis wurde schließlich von Rhodoman aufgegeben; er betrachtet seinen großen Katechismus von 1589 (vgl. Anm. 80), wie aus einem diesem beigegebenen Epigramm hervorgeht, als Ersatz für das nicht zustandegekommmene Werk. Zu diesem Epigramm vgl. unten Textanhang 3.8. 79 ΠΟΙΗΣΙΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΙΑΝΗ. ΠΑΛΑΙΣΤΙΝΗΣ ΗΤΟΙ ΑΓΙΑΣ ΙΣΤΟΡΙΑΣ ΒΙΒΛΙΑ ΕΝΝΕΑ. Poesis Christiana. Palaestinae seu historiae sacrae libri novem … autore Laurentio Rhodomano, Frankfurt, 1589 (zu dieser Zeit erst im Entstehen begriffen). 80 Der große Katechismus Rhodomans erschien erst 1596 (ΘΕΟΛΟΓΙΑΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΙΑΝΙΚΗΣ ΚΑΤΗΧΗΣΙΣ. Theologiae Christianae tirocinia, carmine heroico Graecolatino in V libros digesta … a Laurentio Rhodomano, Leipzig, 1596), doch enthielt bereits das zweite Buch der Luther-Vita von 1579 (vgl. Anm. 74) einen kürzeren Katechismus, und Rhodoman scheint seine Entwürfe,

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der menschenerhebenden Lehre in der gemeinschaftlichen heiligen Schafhürde (d.i. in der Kirche), und dieselben erläutertest Du auch vernehmlich der stolzen Jugend, gleichermaßen förderlich im kirchlichen Bereich wie in der Schule. Und so freue ich mich jetzt also über die Vorhaben Deines heiligen Eifers und wünsche ihnen von Herzen Glück; möge Deine geliebten Mühen der edle Jesus vorwärtstreiben, so daß Du alles erfolgreich zu seinem erwünschten Ende bringst, was immer Du an nützlichen Werken Deiner trefflich schreibenden Rechten zum allgemeinen Gewinn aus ganzer Brust beabsichtigst. Deshalb verdienst Du auch jegliche Ehre und Bewunderung, glanzvoll gleichermaßen an Wissen wie an Frömmigkeit. Denn Du warst ehrwürdiger als alle Neanderschüler zusammen vor 17 Jahren81, da Du in unermüdlichem Eifer Römisches und Griechisches selbst scharfsinnig erspürtest und Deine Altersgenossen darüber belehrtest. Und so hast Du Deine Spitzenstellung, herausragend vor allen anderen Dichtern, die das erhabene Deutschland jetzt nährt, die Sonne inmitten der Wolken, unter den Sternen ein weiterer Morgenstern, und unter den grünenden Bäumen ein trefflich beblätterter Lorbeerbaum. Deshalb verbreitest Du auch das Feuer Deines weitstrahlenden Glanzes, und die Blätter Deines Lorbeers sprießen bis in alle Länder, so daß Du durch den Mund aller Philhellenen fliegst82, südlich, nördlich, im Orient, im Okzident; daher folgt Deiner Frömmigkeit, Deiner Tüchtigkeit und Deinem Verstand herausragende Ehre und sich weit verbreitender Ruhm. Verfolge nun trefflich guten Mutes, hochgeehrter Mann, mit erhabenem Sinn und schneller Hand alle nützlichen Werke, die Du zum allgemeinen Nutzen des Menschengeschlechtes und zum Ruhme Gottes errichten wirst. Auf, bemühe Dich, schnell ihren Schlußstrich zu ziehen, damit wir die Frucht Deiner Mühen genießen können. Indem Du dies tust, wirst Du, der Du schon beliebt bist, noch viel beliebter bei all denen sein, in welchen sich das heiße Verlangen nach vielsprachiger Bildung regt. Jetzt aber nimm meine Musen in Dein Haus auf, freundlich Dein wohlwollendes Auge auf sie richtend. Einstmals habe ich diese jungen Damen auf den Rat unseres gemeinsamen Lehrers, des herausragenden Geistes Neander, gezeugt83; erst jüngst habe ich sie allesamt mit lateinischen Mänteln gegürtet und geschmückt, zumal sie sich ja jetzt gemeinsam ans Licht der Öffentlichkeit begaben84. Nimm sie auf und sei mir ein trefflicher Aristarch (d.h. Literaturkritiker); sieh zu, ob sie über eine hinreichende Bekleidung verfügen. Mögest Du von Deinem hochleuchtenden Schein einen Funken, wie klein auch immer, aufscheinen lassen und meinen jungen Damen widmen, damit meine Mädchen, wenn Deine Muse als Führerin ihnen die Fackel trägt, um so mehr festen Tritt haben und ihnen Anmut eignet, wenn sie sich erneut ans Licht begeben, um Christus und den heranwachsenden Kindern zu dienen; denn bei ihrem Streben haben sie in allen Reden und Bemühungen einen einzigen Zielpunkt vor Augen, daß sie Christus auf der Welt mit ihrem Gesang wie man im Folgenden erfährt, sowohl in der Kirche als auch in der Schule zu Unterrichtszwecken verwendet zu haben. 81 Vor 17 Jahren, also im Jahr 1569, war Rhodoman am Ende seiner Ausbildung in Ilfeld. 1570 bezog er die Universität Rostock. 82 Anspielung auf das “Grabepigramm” des Ennius (fr. var. 18 volito vivus per ora virum), das in der lateinischen Fassung (notumque | nomen doctorum pervolat ora virum) deutlich anklingt. 83 Die “Zeugung” bezieht sich auf die Erstausgaben (von der Historia 1573, von Katechismus und Θεολογίας σύνοψις 1574). 84 Dies bezieht sich auf die verschollenen Zweitauflage (wohl 1585 oder 1586), die alle drei großen griechischen Werke des Gothus mitsamt lateinischer Übersetzungen enthielt.

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verherrlichen und den zarten Kindern die göttlichen Weisungen zeigen. Erhöre mich, Du gewaltiges Gestirn unseres gemeinsamen Vaterlandes, Du heiliger Geweihter der Göttinnen vom Helikon; erhöre mich, Rhodoman, und gewähre Dich mir bereitwillig und gefällig, der ich Dir mit aller Kraft immer ein wohlwollendes Herz bewahrt habe. Als letztes: Mögest Du, Rhodoman, glücklich, wohlhabend und angenehm ein gutes Leben bis zum Alter des Pyliers (Nestor) verbringen. Deiner Autorität in allen Dingen mit Haut und Haaren ergeben: Matthaeus Gothus, Lehrer der heiligen Schule im berühmten Stolberg, am 20. August 1586.

3.2.2. Rhodoman an Gothus Τῷ σεμνῷ καὶ πολυμαθεῖ κυρίῳ Ματθαίῳ Γόθῳ, ἐν τῇ καλῇ Στολοπέργῃ Χριστοῦ κήρυκι85 φιλαλήθει καὶ Μουσῶν ἐργάτῃ φιλοπόνῳ, ἀδελφῷ ἐν Χριστῷ διὰ παντὸς ἀγαπητέῳ χαίρειν καὶ εὖ πράττειν ἐν Χριστῷ γράμμα σεῦ ἀσπάσιον, Χριστοῦ, Γόθε, φαίδιμε κῆρυξ, ἐργατίνη μετρικοῦ δαιδαλόκοσμε λόγου· ἦ γὰρ ἀναιθύσσει φιλίην, ἣν εἴκοσι βόσκει εἰς τόδε νῷν σταθεραῖς εὐφροσύνῃσιν ἔτη. οὔτ’ ἄρα μιν τμῆξεν μακροῖς διὰ πείρασι χῶρος (5) οὔτε περιπλόμενος τέρμασιν οἷσι χρόνος. τὴν γὰρ ἀκινήτοισιν ἐπὶ στερέωσε θεμέθλοις δέσμα Νεανδρείου σύζυγα γυμνασίου. πάντα μὲν ἱμερόεντα τεῆς ποικίλματα δέλτου86, οὕνεκ’ ἀριστονόου σύμβολ’ ἔρωτος ἔχει. (10) ἀλλά μοι87 αἰνεῖσθαι λίην βάρος εἵνεκα μικρῆς ἰδμοσύνης, ὀλίγης τ’ εὐεπίης88 χαρίτων. τίς γὰρ ἐγώ; φλυκτὶς, τὴν ἐν νώτοισι ῥεέθρων ὑετὸς ἐμφυσόων αἶψα διεσκέδασε. τέκνα δ’, ἃ σὺ89 ζηλοῖς, ἀμβλώματα, τοῖς ἔπι μήτηρ (15) ὠδῖνας μὲν ἔχει, τέρψιος οὐδὲν ἔχει. τύνη δ’ αὖ πολὺ μᾶλλον ἐπάξιος ἄμμιν ἐπαίνων, ᾧ Θεὸς εὐτυχίην δῶκεν ἐπ’ εὐγραφίῃ, ἐκπονέειν τόσα καλὰ, φόως τ’ εἰς κοινὸν ἰάλλειν, χάρμα Θεῷ, πλήθει τ’ εὐμαθέων ὄφελος. (20) καὶ νῦν ἱστορίην Χριστοῦ λογάδων90 τε μαθητῶν, σύν τε κατηχισμῷ θευλογίης μερίδας δεύτερον ἐκπέμπεις· ἄγαμαι, σέβομαι, μακαρίζω εὐχόμενος, τάδε πάνθ’ ὡς τέλος ἡδὺ λάχῃ· παίδων ξυνὸν ὄνειαρ, ἵν’ ἤθεα μιμήσωνται (25) Νόννου, τοῦ Χάριτές σοι τελέουσιν ἔπη. Μοῦσα δ’ ἀποφθιμένου μεγαλήγορος εἰς φρένα σεῖο 85 86 87 88 89 90

κύρυκι ed. 9 δέλπου ed. 11 an ἀλλ’ ἐμοὶ ? cf. 17 τύνη δ’. 12 εὐεπίῃς ed. 15 σὸ ed. 21 λογάθων ed.

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νάσσατο καὶ Χριστοῦ κύδεϊ πάντα91 νέμει92. ἄξιος οὖν φιλίης καὶ γνώσιος, ἄξιος ἐσθλῆς κλῃδόνος, ἣ πάντων σ’ ἐν στομάτεσσι φέρῃ93. (30) αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ φιλότητι τεῇ πάνθ’ ἅρμενα94 ῥέζειν ὁρμαίνω, καθ’ ὅσον μοι σθένος ἕψετ’ ἀεί. εὐδαίμων εἴης, μηδ’ ἔκλιπε κῆδος ἀοιδῆς, θειολόγος περ ἐών· καί μ’ ἐρόωντα φίλει. littera grata tua est, Christi, Gothe, praeco fidelis, qui pangis variis carmina docta modis: nam qui bis denos nobis duravit ad annos sincere, constans hac renovatur amor. non locus hunc potuit95 spatiis divellere, tempus non potuit longis hunc abolere moris. nititur hic etenim stabili fundamine, nobis vincla Neandrinae quod posuere scholae. sunt mihi, quae scribis, numeris iucunda disertis omnia: nam fidus significatur amor. sed grave, quod nimia vehitur tibi laude facultas artis et eloquii, quae mihi curta domi. nam quid ego? bullam dicas, quam spumeus inflat et mox in summa dissipat imber aqua. foetus miraris nostros? miraris abortus, vulnera qui matri, gaudia nulla ferunt. tu potius laudandus eras, qui numine dextro non male promulgas, quod bene condis, opus. plurima solerter cantans feliciter edis, quae sunt discipulis commoda, grata Deo. iamque catechismum sacroque e dogmate summas et Christi comitumque illius historiam divulgas iterum. cur non tibi grater et optem,96 ut finem capiant optima cepta bonum? dulciloquum pueris imitari est utile Nonnum, cuius blanda tuum Gratia texit opus. Musaque defuncti subiit tua pectora grandi carmine, fructum omnem sed tibi Christus habet. hinc, ut clarescas et ameris ubique, merentur, docte vir, ingenii dona venusta tui. quae faciunt, ut te firmo complectar amoris officio, quantum copia nostra sinit. sis felix, Christique licet sis praeco, quod edas carmen ama: et redama, quem tibi tradit amor. t(uus) amicus Laur(entius) Rhodomanus 91 92 93 94 95 96

28 πάνδα ed. 28 an νέμει ? cf. Lat. 30 an φέρει ? 31 an πάντ’ ἄρμενα ? 6 patuit ed. 23 opem ed.

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Dem ehrwürdigen und vielwissenden Herrn Matthaeus Gothus, “warheitsliebendem” Verkünder Christi und arbeitsamem Musendiener im schönen Stolberg, einem stets liebenswürdigen Bruder in Christus, wünsche ich Glück und Wohlbefinden in Christus. Dein Schreiben ist mir willkommen, Gothus, strahlender Verkünder Christi, schmuckreicher Arbeiter in der metrischen Rede; denn es erneuert fürwahr die Freundschaft, welche uns beiden nunmehr eine Zeitspanne von zwanzig Jahren bis jetzt in standhafter Zuneigung nährt. Weder die räumliche Distanz hat sie also durch die weiten Entfernungen noch die Zeit im Laufe ihrer Jahre spalten können. Denn die verküpfenden Bande der Schule Neanders haben diese auf unverrückbare Sockel gegründet. Alle bunten Grüße aus Deiner Feder sind hinreißend, da sie Bekundungen wohlwollendster Freundesliebe bieten. Jedoch bedeutet es mir eine allzu gewichtige Gunstbekundung gelobt zu werden wegen meines geringen Wissens und meiner dürftigen Beredsamkeit. Denn wer bin ich schon? Eine Wasserblase, welche auf der Oberfläche eines Gewässers der Regen aufbläht und sogleich wieder zerplatzen läßt. Die Kinder aber, die Du glücklichpreist,97 sind Fehlgeburten, für welche die Mutter zwar Schmerzen erleidet, aber von denen sie keinen Genuß hat. Du jedoch verdienst vielmehr Lob von uns, dem Gott glückliches Gelingen bei Deiner ausgezeichneten Schriftstellerei gegeben hat. So viele schöne Werke mühsam zu verfassen und ans Licht der Öffentlichkeit zu senden, ist eine Freude für Gott und dient dem Nutzen für die Gemeinschaft der Gelehrten. Und jetzt gibst Du die Geschichte von Christus und seinen auserwählten Jüngern und zusammen mit dem Katechismus die Abschnitte der Theologie zum zweiten Mal heraus: Ich bewundere es, verehre es, preise es glücklich – und wünsche, daß all dies zu einem glücklichen Ende findet. Es dient dem allgemeinen Nutzen der Knaben, damit sie den Stilcharakter des Nonnos nachahmen, dessen Grazien Deinen Worten die Vollendung geben. Und die redegewaltige Muse des Verstorbenen (d.i. des Nonnos) hat sich in Deinem Sinne angesiedelt98 und gibt dem Ruhm Christi den Vorrang vor allem. Würdig also bist Du der Freundschaft und Bekanntheit, würdig des edlen Ruhmes, der Dich durch aller Münder trägt. Ich aber will der Freundschaft mit Dir jeglichen Dienst erweisen, soweit mir immer die Kraft dazu zur Seite ist. Mögest Du glücklich sein, und laß niemals von der Sorge um die Dichtung, obwohl Du ja eigentlich Theologe bist – und liebe mich, wie ich Dich liebe.

97 Genaugenommen hat Gothus die Dichtungen Rhodomans nicht als dessen “Kinder” bezeichnet; offenbar spinnt Rhodoman hier die Metaphorik des Gothus, der seine eigenen Werke als Musen bzw. jugendliche Töchter umschreibt, weiter. 98 Die Vorstellung des Übertritts der Seele eines antiken Dichters in eine zeitgenössische Persönlichkeit begegnet auch in Rhodomans Epigramm auf Friedrich Taubmann (in: Fr. TAUBMANN, Schediasmata poetica innovata, Wittenberg, 1619). Dieses Epigramm findet sich unten im Textanhang 3.9.

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3.3. Gothus, Vorwort zum Daniel (1573) Eiusdem ad scholam Ilfeldensem προτρεπτικόν ἱστορίην Δανιῆλος ἀγακλειτοῖο προφήτου ἡμῖν τετραθέλυμνα κυβερνητήρια κόσμου ἀμφαδὰ κλαγξαμένην Ἑβραΐδι μύστιδι φωνῇ, ἥν ποτε παντοδίδακτος ἐπεξύνωσε μαθηταῖς Ἰλβέλδης ἱεροῖσιν ὑπὸ σκοπέλοισι Νέανδρος (5) στοίχοις παυροεπέσσι βίβλον βαθύπλουτον ἀείδων, ἥν τε Κόκος μετέπειτα κλυτῆς ὑποεργὸς ἀοιδῆς Ἑλλάδος αἰγλήεντι περιχλαίνωσε χιτῶνι θείῃς φραδμοσύνῃσι διδάκτορος ὑμετέροιο· ταύτην νῦν καὶ ἔγωγε Λατινίδος ἦχον ἰωῆς (10) φθεγξαμένην προφόωσδε θορεῖν ἡρωΐδι ταρσῷ προὐτρεπόμην, ὅτι πάμπαν ὑπὸ στήθεσσι πέποιθα οὔτινα ῥηϊδίως γλυκερώτερον ἔμμεναι ἄλλην δέλτον, ἐπεσσομένων τὸ πάρος γραφθεῖσαν ἀοιδοῖς, πνεύματι παφλάζουσιν ἀειγενέταο τοκῆος· (15) οὐδέ κεν ἔλπομαι ἄνδρα, κεκαδμένον ἀκροτάτῃ περ ἰδμοσύνῃ, τοσσοῦτον ἔπος μεγάλοιο προφήτου δυνάμεναι99 κατὰ κόσμον ἅλις μελέεσσι λιγαίνειν, ἄρτον ἕως πέψειεν100 ἐπὶ χθονὶ πουλυσοτείρῃ δυστήνου βιότοιο ταμὼν πλόον αἰνοθύελλον. (20) ἔμπης καὶ πρέπον ἐστὶ τὰ θέσκελα μηχανάασθαι γράμματα σπουδαίῃ κραδίης φιλοπευθέος ὁρμῇ. ἀλλά νυ, γυμασίοιο Νεανδρείοιο παλαισταὶ, Κασταλίδων θέλγητρα θεοῖό τε σεμνὸς ὅμιλος χρυσοκόμου, Δελφῶν ἱερὸν πέδον ἀμφιέποντος, (25) ἠπεδανὸν σπούδασμα φίλῃ ποτιδέρκετε γλήνῃ καὶ νύμφαις δότε τοῦτο μελύδριον ὑμετέρῃσιν, ὄφρα φιλοξείνοισι περισφίγξωσιν ἀγοστοῖς, εἰ καὶ τυτθὸν ἔῃ· παῦρος χρόνος ἐστὶ, καὶ ἄλλο φέρτερον ὔμμι φέρειν ἐθέλω, ῥυθμοῖσιν Ἀχαιοῖς (30) Χριστὸν ὅπερ παίδεσσι βιοσσόον ἐλπίδα κόσμου καὶ λύκον Αὐσονίης γαίης ψυχάρπαγα δείξει. Die Erzählung des berühmten Propheten Daniel, die uns die vier Säulen der Führungsmächte über die Welt vernehmlich in der hebräischen Sprache der Eingeweihten verkündigt hat, welche einstmals der allgelehrte Neander seinen Schülern unter den heiligen Felsen von Ilfeld vermittelte, indem er in kurzen Merkversen dieses Buch mit seinem tiefen Reichtum dichterisch wiedergab, und welche (Georg) Koch101 dann, (Neanders) Mitarbeiter im berühmten Musengesang mit einem glanzvollen griechischen Gewandt ummantelte auf das göttliche Geheiß 18 δυνάμεναι scripsi : δυνάμενον ed. 19 πέψειεν Stefan Weise : πέψοιεν ed. 101 Ionas propheta Graeco heroico carmine redditus a Georgio Coco Heringensi, Leipzig, 1567. 99

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Eures Lehrers hin – diese Erzählung ließ nun auch ich, die nunmehr im Klang der lateinischen Sprache spricht, ans Licht vorspringen mit heroischem Fuße; denn ich bin tief in meinem Herzen gänzlich davon überzeugt, daß kein anderes Buch, das zuvor geschrieben wurde von den Propheten der Zukunft, welche da schwärmen vom Geiste des ewig zeugenden Gottvaters, leicht größeren Liebreiz entfalten werde (als das Buch Daniel), und ich glaube, daß kein Mensch, mag er auch mit dem schärfsten Verstandt ausgestattet sein, die so gewaltige Verkündigung eines großen Propheten füglich in seinem Lied hinreichend besingen kann102, solange er jedenfalls Brot zu sich nimmt auf der viele (Menschen) erhaltenden Erde und die gräßlich bestürmte Irrfahrt des unseligen Menschenlebens angetreten hat. Und dabei ist es trotzdem auch ziemlich, die göttlichen Schriften (immer wieder) zu bearbeiten mit dem edlen Antrieb eines forschungswilligen Herzens. Doch jetzt, ihr Ringkämpfer von Neanders Gymnasium, Freude der Musen und edle Gemeinde des goldhaarigen Gottes (Apoll), welcher den heiligen Boden von Delphi umwaltet, blickt auf meine schwächliche Bemühung mit freundlichem Blick und gebt dieses Liedchen Euren Musen, damit sie es in ihre gastfreundlichen Hände schließen, wenn es auch geringwertig ist. Es währt nur noch kurze Zeit, und ich will Euch etwas anderes Besseres darbringen, das den (Schul-)Kindern in griechischen Rhythmen Christus, die lebensrettende Hoffnung der Welt, und andererseits den seelenraubenden Wolf aus dem italischen Land (den Papst) darstellen wird.

3.4. Gothus, Katechismus (1574, lat. Prosaübersetzung 1621) 3.4.1. Auftakt zum Katechismus imploratio nominis divini μολπῆς ἀρχόμενος πραπίδων πτερὸν ἔνθεν ἀείρω πρὸς Θεὸν ἀστροδίαιτον, ὅλου νωμήτορα κόσμου, τρισσοπρόσωπον, ἔχοντα μίαν φύσιν εἰν ἑνὶ θεσμῷ· ἱκεσίῃ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸν ἐγὼ γουνάζομαι εὐχῇ, ὄφρα μοι ἰθύνῃ κραδίην καὶ ἐπ’ ἰσχὺν ὀφέλλῃ, (5) αὐτῷ ἀρεστὰ γράφειν καὶ ὀφέλσιμα παισὶν ἀείδειν· οὐδὲ λιταζομένῳ γὰρ ἐμοὶ τὸ πάροιθεν ἀπέστη θεῖα χαραξαμένῳ καὶ ἐναίσιμα μηχανόωντι. exordiens carmen meum animi cogitationes sustollo ad Deum caelestem, totius mundi rectorem, qui tribus in personis et una tantum essentia subsistit: eumque supplicibus ego precibus invoco, ut cor meum regat atque vires mihi sufficiat, ut possim ipsi grata puerisque cantare utilia. neque enim antehac, quum implorarem (eius opem), defuit mihi conanti scribere sacra molientique res honestas.

102 ἔλπομαι erfordert grammatisch eine Infinitivkonstruktion, die durch die Konjektur δυνάμεναι statt δυνάμενον gewonnen wird. Die einzige Alternative wäre, bei δυνάμενον ein εἶναι oder ἔσεσθαι zu ergänzen.

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apostrophe ad iuventutem, ut doctrinam catecheticam discant τῷ ῥὰ δαημοσύνην τε φρόνιν τέ μοι εὐθυπότητον καὶ σθένος103 ἱεραοιδὸν ἐπεὶ Θεὸς ἐγγυαλίξει, (10) παῖδες ἐϋχνοάοντες, ἐμῆς ἐπικέκλυτε φωνῆς· ἐστὲ φίλοι, σεμνῷ δὲ καὶ ἴδμονι104 δέξατε θυμῷ, ὅσσ’ ὑμῖν χρέος ἐστὶ μαθεῖν καὶ πᾶσι βροτοῖσιν αὔλιον ἐλδομένοις αἰώνιον εἰσαφικάνειν. κέκλυτε, πευκαλίμῃς105 τε νοήσατε πάντα μενοιναῖς, οἷα106 διδάγματ’ ὄρωρε κατηχήσεως ἐρατεινῆς· τῆς δ’ αὐτῆς ἡμέας107 τί μερίσμαθ’ ἕκαστα διδάσκει. ῥήμασι γὰρ παιδνοῖσι κατηχισμοῖο δίδαξιν ἐκθήσω φανερωπὸν ὑπ’ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδέσθαι, ἣν οὐδεὶς μερόπων ἐξίδμεναι ἔσθενεν ἀνδρῶν, (20) καίπερ ἐπιστήμῃ λαμπρῇ μέγ’ ὑπείροχος ἄλλων. proinde, quando et intellectum et scientiam veram et robur etiam ad canendum sacra Deus ipse mihi suggeret, auscultate vocem meam, optimi adolescentes: aequi estote et pio prudentique suscipite animo, quae oportet discere tam vos quam universos homines, qui aulam (coeli) aeternam ingredi desiderant. auscultate (inquam) et accurato108 studio singula perpendite, quae sint documenta dulcis catechismi et quid singulae eiusdem partes vos doceant. simplici namque narratione catechismi doctrinam explicabo, ita ut perspicua oculis (vestris) appareat, quam nemo omnium hominum exhaurire unquam potuit, quantumcunque illustri peritia caeteris praestiterit. commendatio catechismi summa παῦρα μέν ἐστιν ἔπη καὶ ὀλίζονα· θεσπέσιος δ’ ἴς παυρολόγοις ἐπέεσσιν ἐνείλεται Ὑψιμέδοντος. ἓξ ἄρα δηναρίοισι βίβλον πριάμεσθα τοσαύτην· ἧστινος οὐκ ἔμπης διδόναι μεγαλοκτεάνων ἕξ (25) κόσμων μυριάδες ἀντάξιον ὦνον ἔχοιεν109. pauca sane verba sunt et exigua: verum vis divina breviloquis latitat in verbis (Dei) in excelso regnantis. librum utique huiusmodi sex nummis emimus, quem tamen redimere sex locupletissimorum mundorum myriades digno precio non valerent.

103 104 105 106 107 108 109

10 12 15 16 17 15 26

σθείος ed. 1574. ἴθμοκ ed. 1574, ut vid. πευκαλίμαις ed. 1621. an ὅσσα ? an ὑμέας ? accurrato ed. ἔχονεν ed. 1574.

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Am Beginn meines Gesanges hebe ich die Flügel meines Geistes von hier zum im Himmel lebenden Gott, dem Herrscher über den gesamten Kosmos, dem Dreigestaltigen, der dennoch eine einzige Natur unter einem einzigen Gesetz hat: und ich bekniee ihn auch mit einem flehentlichen Gebet, daß er mein Herz leite und meine Stärke vermehre, ihm Gefälliges und den Schulkindern Nützliches zu singen: denn auch früher war er meinem Flehen nicht abgeneigt, als ich über Religiöses schrieb und Ehrenhaftes ersann. Da mir demnach Gott Wissen, vorwärtsstrebende Vernunft und Kraft zum heiligen Gesang verleihen wird, so vernehmt meine Stimme, ihr glattwangigen Knaben: Seid wohlgesonnen und nehmt mit respektvollem wie verständigem Gemüt all das auf, was ihr lernen müßt und alle Sterblichen, die in das Quartier der Ewigkeit gelangen wollen. Vernehmt es und bedenkt mit kundigem Streben alle Lehren, welche sich als Teil des lieblichen Katechismus vor Euch erheben, und ferner was uns die einzelnen Abschnitte desselben lehren. Denn ich werde Euch in kindgerechten Worten die Lehre des Katechismus auseinandersetzen, so daß Ihr sie deutlich sichtbar vor Augen erblicken könnt; diese Lehre vermochte noch niemand unter den sterblichen Menschen vollständig zu wissen, mag er sich auch durch glänzenden Verstand weit über andere hinausheben. Es handelt sich zwar um wenige und geringe Worte: aber die göttliche Kraft des Allmächtigen wickelt sich in diese wenigen Worte. Für sechs Denare also haben wir ein Buch dieses Umfangs gekauft; und doch könnten für dieses (Buch) sechzigtausend Welten mit all ihrem reichen Besitz keinen angemessenen Kaufpreis bieten.

3.4.2. Gegen Ende des Katechismus über Luther Apostrophe ad Deum patrem, cui debemus liberationem ab idololatria pontificia σοί, Πάτερ, εὔχαριν αἶνον ἀείδομεν, οὕνεκ’ ἀλάστου ταύτης ἐκ κακίης κ’ Ἀχεροντίδος ἐκτὸς ὁμίχλης ἵλαος εἰς προτέρην ἀνεσείρασας ἡμέας αἴγλην. tibi vero, Pater, gratiarum laudes canimus, quod intolerando isthoc e malo atque ex tenebris infernalibus ad pristinam (veritatis) lucem nos benigne reduxisti. tenebrae superiorum temporum, de quibus debeant moneri110 adolescentes ταῦτα μὲν ἀνδρομέων ἐπιτίμια δυσφροσυνάων θρησκείης τε τόσον σκότος οὐλοόν, ὅττι πάρος περ (5) λευγαλέῃς πτερύγεσσι μελῄνατο κόσμον ἀλήτην, ὤφελεν ἡμετέρης κραδίης ἀνὰ θυμὸν ἐγείρειν, ὦ φίλοι ἡβηταὶ, Χριστοῦ λάχος οἷσι μέμηλε, ὥς κεν ἀναστίλβοντα καὶ ἀμφαδὰ λαμπετόωντα ἀγγελίης σπινθῆρα μελίφρονος ἠδὲ καὶ ἄλλης (10) φέγγος ἐπιστήμης ἀγανῇ δέξησθε μενοινῇ, πολλὸν ἀγασσάμενοι μαλακόφρονα μῆτιν Ἄνακτος,

110

moveri ed. 1621.

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talis autem poena stultitiae ac coecitatis humanae ac tantae religionis perniciosae tenebrae, quae olim alis suis ominosis stolidum mundum denigrarunt, sensus animorum nostrorum debebant expergefacere, o dilecti adolescentes, qui Christi coheredes esse cupitis, ut reaccensam111 et palam coruscantem dulcis evangelii lucem et una aliarum quoque doctrinarum puritatem reverenter habeatis, multum amplectentes Dei clementem voluntatem, Lutherus οὕνεκεν ὑστατίης γενεῆς ὑπὸ πεῖρας ἄτρεστον, πάντας ὑπερβρίθοντά τ’ ἀριστοπόνοις ἀρετῇσι καὶ πίστει, Λουτῆρον112 ἀλίγκιον ἀθανάτοισι (15) στῆσε μέσον θνητοῖσι σὺν ἠϊθέοισιν ἑταίροις, κρυπτομένην ψεύδεσσιν ἀναλλαμπρῦναι ἰωήν θεσπεσίην, παππᾶ113 τε θεήμαχον οἶστρον ἀμέρδειν, μή που ὑπερφοσύνῃ114 θεοθαρσέος ἡγεμονείης σκῆπτρον ἀφ’ ἡμετέρης χθονὸς ἐκκρούσαντες ἴδητε (20) παρθρώσκειν ἐτέρωσε πρὸς ἄλλων ἕδρανον ἐθνέων, ὅσσα θεουδείης ζυγὸν εὖ ἴσασι ταλάσσαι, καὶ πάλιν ἀγλαόπυρσος ἁγνῶν λαμπτὴρ ἐνοπάων εἰς χάος αἰσχροκύκητον115 ὀλίσθήσειε, καὶ ἡμεῖς δύσωμεν πανόλεθρον ἄχος, κρυόεσσαν ὁμίχλην (25) παππώων λογίων καὶ ἑκούσιον ἀμφαγαπῶντες δύσμορον ἀτμενίην, τῆς κεν ζυγόδεσμον ἀπ’ ὤμων σπουδῇ προὐβαλόμεσθα Θεοῦ βασιλῆος ἀρωγῇ. quod sub finem postremae (mundi) aetatis magnanimum et omnes (alios) praeponderantem heroicis virtutibus et fide, divis immortalibus similem Lutherum statuit medios inter homines cum suis impigris collegis, ut obrutum mendaciis illustrarent verbum divinum et impiam papae rabiem reprimerent, ne forte contemtu (vestro) regni divini scceptrum regionibus nostris excutiatis et videatis alio (illud) emigrare ad sedes aliarum gentium, quae utique iugum pietatis recte ferre noverint, et sic clarissimum lumen doctrinae coelestis denuo ruat in foedissimum tenebrarum chaos, atque nos in angores aeternum exitiales demergamur, (ubi) tetram caliginem traditionum papalium et ultroneam amplectemur servitutem infaustam, cuius iugum ab humeris nostris vix multo labore Dei beneficio reiecimus. 111 112 113 114 115

9 re accensam ed. 15 Λουθῆρον ed. 1621. 18 πάππου ed. 1621. 19 ἀτιμίῃ ed. 1574, metri causa reiectum. 24 αἰσχροκύτητον ed. 1621.

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Dir, Vater, singen wir huldvolles Lob, weil Du uns gnädig aus diesem unerträglichen Elend und dieser infernalischen Finsterns in den früheren Glanz hinaufgezogen hast. Diese Strafen für menschlichen Unverstand und die gewaltige verderbliche Finsternis der Kirche, die zuvor mit ihren gräßlichen Flügeln die irrende Welt einschwärzte, sollten den Willen unseres Herzens wieder erwecken, meine lieben Jünglinge, denen am Erbe Christi gelegen ist, daß ihr den wiederaufleuchtenden und deutlich strahlenden Funken der honigsüßen Botschaft und auch das Licht der übrigen Erkenntnis mit freundlichem Wollen aufnehmt, in großem Respekt vor dem mildtätigen Heilsplan des Herrn; denn gegen Ende des letzten (menschlichen) Geschlechts erhob er den furchtlosen, alle anderen mit seinen vorzüglichen Tugenden sowie in seinem Glauben übertreffenden, den Unsterblichen ähnlichen Luther in die Mitte der Menschen, zusammen mit dessen kraftvollen Gefährten, auf daß er die unter Lügen verborgene Stimme Gottes wieder zum Strahlen bringe und den gottfeindlichen Stachel des Papstes vernichte, damit ihr nicht einmal infolge Eurer Verachtung gottvertrauender Führung das Zepter der Herrschaft aus unserem Land verstoßt und es anderswohin zu den Sitzen fremder Völker fortgleiten seht (diese alle [Fremdvölker] verstehen es wohl, das Joch des Gottesrespekts zu ertragen) und dann die hellstrahlende Leuchte der reinen Worte (Gottes) wieder in das schauderhafte Chaos zurückgleite und damit wir nicht in verderblichen Kummer versinken, indem wir uns mit der schrecklichen Finsternis der Papstweisungen und dem unseligen (Papst)dienst freiwillig abfinden, deren Joch wir doch mühsam von unseren Schultern fortgeworfen haben mit Hilfe Gottes des Herrschers.

3.5. Gothus, Auftakt zur Historia (1573) περὶ τοῦ τῶν ἀνθρώπων σωτῆρος, τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ Ναζαρέως ἐκ σέθεν ἀρχομένη πάλιν εἰς σὲ λελήξεται ᾠδὴ, Χριστὲ μάκαρ, κλυτὸν ἔρνος ἀειγενέταο τοκῆος, ὑμέτερον μεγαλαυχὲς ἐπὰν κελάδωμεν ἀοιδαῖς εὐρὺ κλέος, κλυτά τ’ ἔργα, τάπερ μογεροῖσι βροτοῖσιν οὐρανόθεν καταβὰς πάλαι εἰς χθόνα βωτιάνειραν (5) πατρὸς ἐφημοσύναις ἀγαπήνορος ἐξετέλεσσας. τοὔνεκεν ὑμετέρης μεμνημένος αἰὲν ἀρωγῆς εὐπορίην, κούφην τε διδῷς μύθοιο πορείην καὶ χαρίτων πλήσειας ἐμοὶ κέαρ εὑρεσιμόλπων· ἱροῦ δὲ πραπίδεσσιν ἐμαῖς στάξειεν ἀήτου (10) ὑψόθεν ἀφνειῇσι116 γλυκύρροος ὄμβρος ἐρωαῖς, καὶ νόον ἰθύνων καὶ μυθοτόκον φλέβα θάλπων, μὴ θρυλέω μελέων ἀνεμώλια νηΐδι γλώττῃ μηδὲ παρεκβαίνω νημερτέος ἀτραπιτοῖο ἀφραδίαισι νόου. μερόπων γὰρ ἐπισφαλὲς ἴθμα· (15) ῥεῖα δ’ ἐπιπταίσειε λίθῳ πόδα πεζὸς ὁδίτης ὑψιμέδοντος ἄτερθεν ἀριστοκόμοιο ποδηγοῦ.

116

11 ἀφνενῇσι ed.

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in principio erat verbum. Ioan. 1. ἀφράστῳ λόγος ἦν θεοσύμφυτος αἰὲν ἐν ἀρχῇ· εἰν ἀρχῇ λόγος ἔσκε παρ’ ἥλικι Παμβασιλῆϊ, ἄμβροτος ἀθάνατον μεθέπων· λόγος οὗτος ἐτύχθη (20) ἐξ ἀρχῆς θεὸς αὐτός, ὁμὸν φάος εἰν ἑνὶ φωτί. πάντα δέ τοι τετέλεστο δι’ αὐτοῦ, ὅσσα καλύπτει ἄντυγος ἑπτάζωνος ἕλιξ ἴτυς ἀστεροέσσης. οὐδ’ ἀπονόσφι λόγου παντευχέος οὐδὲν ἐτύχθη, ἔμφυτος ᾧ ζωὴ φάος ἔπλετο κύδιμον ἀνδρῶν. (25) καὶ φάος ἐν σκιόεντι βροτοῖς ἀνεφαίνετο κόσμῳ ἄζοφον, οὐδ’ ἄρ’ ὅμως ζόφος οὐλοὸς ἤγκασεν αὐτό. πομπῇ θεσπεσίῃ δὲ προσήλυθε θαρσαλέος φώς γαῖαν ἐς αἰολόκοσμον, Ἰωάννην τὸν ἔειπον ἄνδρες. Ἰωάννης πάντων μερόπων ὄχ’ ἄριστος (30) κόσμον ἐς αἰολόμορφον ἐΰθροος ἤλυθε κῆρυξ, ἀμφαδίην περὶ φωτὸς ἵν’ ἐμπεδομάρτυρον εἴπῃ πᾶσιν ἐφημερίοις λόγον, οἳ ξύμπαντες ἐκείνου ὠτῶν πιστὰ θύρετρα σοφῇ χαλάσαντες ἰωῇ πίστιν ἀσυλήτοισιν ἐνὶ κραδίαισι φέροιεν. (35) οὐκ ἄρα κεῖνος ἔην φάος, ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον ἐνίψῃ μαρτυρίην περὶ φωτὸς ἀμύμονος ἐμπεδόμυθον, ἀτρεκίης προκέλευθος ἐπουρανίης λιγύφωνος. καὶ λόγος αὐτολόχευτος ἑοῦ πατρὸς ἡλικιώτης αὐτοφύτου καλὸς υἱὸς ἐτήτυμον ἔπλετο φέγγος, (40) πάντα βροτὸν νοεραῖς ὃ καθαίρει μαρμαρυγαῖσι γαῖαν ἐπερχόμενόν τε φαγόντα τε καρπὸν ἀρούρης. ἄνθορε δ’ ἀπροϊδὴς τροχοειδέος εἰς ῥάχιν αἴης παρθενικῆς διὰ γαστρὸς ἰὼν καὶ σάρκα παχυνθεὶς ἀνδρομέην· καὶ κόσμος ἀνεστήρικτο δι’ αὐτοῦ (45) κόσμος, ὃς οὐκ ἐνόησεν ἐπήλυδα νηΐδι θυμῷ τὸν γαίης μεδέοντα καὶ αἰθέρος ἡνιοχῆα. καὶ θεὸς ὡμίλησ’ ἰδίοις, ἴδιοι δὲ παρόντα νήπιοι οὐκ ἐγέραιρον ἀϊδρείῃσι νόοιο. Vv. 36-38, vgl Septuag. evang. Ioh. 1, 8: οὐκ ἦν ἐκεῖνος τὸ φῶς, ἀλλ’ ἵνα μαρτυρήσῃ περὶ τοῦ φωτός Nonn. Par. 1.20-23: οὐ μὲν κεῖνος ἔην νοερὸν φάος, ἀλλ’ ἵνα μοῦνον πᾶσιν ἀναπτύξειε θεηγόρον ἀνθερεῶνα καὶ φάεος προκέλευθος ἀκηρύκτοιο φανείη, ξυνὴν μαρτυρίην ἐνέπων θεοδέγμονι λαῷ. Über den Retter der Menschen, unseren Herrn Jesus Christus von Nazareth. Der Gesang, der mit Dir beginnt, wird wieder mit Dir enden, seeliger Christus, berühmter Sproß Deines ewig zeugenden Vaters, wenn ich Deinen großartigen weitverbreiteten Ruhm in meinem Lied besungen habe und Deine berühmten Werke, die Du für die beladenen Sterblichen vollendetest, nachdem Du einst vom Himmel auf die menschenernährende Erde herabgestiegen warst auf das Geheiß

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Deines mächtigen Vaters. Deshalb erinnere Dich immer an Deine und Deines Vaters Hilfe; gewähre mir Reichtum und Leichtgängigkeit der Sprache und fülle mir das Herz mit Anmut, die zugleich Worte findet. Möge des Heiligen Geistes süßströmender Regen mit seiner reichen Wucht aus der Höhe in meinen Sinn träufeln, meinen Verstand leitend und meine wortzeugende (Dichter)ader erwärmend, auf daß ich nicht mit unwissender Zunge ein nichtiges Lied daherschwatze und nicht durch die Unwissenheit meines Verstandes vom Pfad der Untrüglichkeit abweiche. Denn der Menschen Gang ist schwankend: Leicht kann der Wanderer zu Fuß ohne die wohlfürsorgliche Führung des Allmächtigen seinen Fuß an einem Stein anstoßen. Am unbeschreiblichen Anfang war stets das mit Gott zusammen entstandene Wort: Am Anfang war das Wort beim ebenso alten Allmächtigen, unsterblich einen Unsterblichen umwaltend. Dieses Wort wurde von Anfang an als Gott selbst geschaffen, ein gemeinsames Licht in dem einen Licht. Durch dieses Wort war wahrlich alles vollendet worden, was der gekrümmte siebenfach gegürtete Rand der sternenerfüllten Scheibe unter sich deckt. Aber ohne das allerschaffende Wort wurde rein gar nichts erschaffen; ihm wohnte das Leben inne, welches das ruhmvolle Licht der Menschen war. Und das Licht ohne Finsternis erschien den Menschen in der schattenreichen Welt, und also vermochte die verderbliche Finsternis es trotzdem nicht zu überwältigen. Auf göttliche Sendung hin näherte sich der Erde im strahlenden Kosmos ein mutiger Mann, den die Menschen Johannes nannten. Johannes, der bei weitem beste unter allen Menschen, kam in die vielgestaltige Welt als ein beredter Prophet, damit er öffentlich über das Licht allen Sterblichen verläßliches Zeugnis sage; diese sollten alle zusammen der weisen Stimme jenes Propheten die vertrauensvollen Riegel ihrer Ohren öffnen und dann den Glauben in ihren unbestechlichen Herzen tragen. Jener war also nicht das Licht, sondern er existierte nur, damit er zuverlässiges Zeugnis über das untadelige Licht spreche, ein helltönender Vorreiter der himmlischen Wahrheit. Und das aus sich selbst geborene Wort, der treffliche Sohn, der gleichaltrig mit seinem von sich selbst gezeugten Vater war, war das wahre Licht, das jeglichen Sterblichen, der über die Erde wandelt und von der Frucht des Ackers gespeist hat, mit seinen geistlichen Strahlen reinigt. So sprang es (das Wort) unvorhergesehen auf den Rücken der scheibenförmigen Erde, durch den Mutterleib einer Jungfrau wandelnd und herangewachsen mit menschlichem Fleisch; und die Welt lag gestützt auf ihm, die Welt, die den Ankömmling in ihrem unwissenden Geist nicht erkannte, den Herrn der Erde und Lenker des Himmels. Und so verkehrte Gott mit seinen eigenen Kreaturen; doch seine eigenen Kreaturen verehrten törichterweise den Anwesenden nicht, in der Unwissenheit ihres Sinnes.

3.6. Gothus, Θεολογίας σύνοψις (1574, lat. Prosaübersetzung 1621) 3.6.1. Auftakt zur Θεολογίας σύνοψις summam doctrinae Christianae ubique urget scriptura πάντῃ μὲν κορυφὴν γνωσιχρίστων διδαχάων θεῖαι προὐδείξαντο γραφαὶ γεραροί τε προφῆται καὶ Χριστὸς γραφίδων ἱερὸς σκοπὸς ἠδὲ μαθηταί,

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summam quidem Christianae doctrinae ubique scriptura sacra et sancti prophetae monstraverunt et Christus, qui scripturae sacer scopus est, ac discipuli (eius), Paulus apostolus καὶ στήθεσσι σέλας μεθέπων θεοφαέος αἴγλης, σκεῦος117 ἐὼν ἐκλεκτὸν ἰδ’ ὄργανον εὐάδος αὔρης, (5) τὴν κορυφὴν περίαλλα γραφῆς μέγας οὐρανομύστης Παῦλος ἐϋφθόγγοισιν ἀεὶ μύθοισι προδηλοῖ. et qui divinae lucis splendorem in corde gerebat quique vas electum fuit et organon Spiritus Sancti

Paulus, piis simper in epistolis eam ostendit. Theander Lutherus καί νύ κεν118 ἡμετέροισιν ἐν ἤμασι θυιάδι πομπῇ ἐσσυμένως119 προφόωσδε θορὼν θεοείκελος ἥρως Λουτὴρ120 Ἡλίας πύματος κόσμοιο, προφήτης (10) καὶ φωστὴρ καὶ κῦδος ὅλης Ἀλεμανίδος αἴης, δοῦλος ὁ θαυμασιεργὸς ἀειζώοιο κρέοντος καὶ κῆρυξ ζαθέων ἐτυμηγόρος ἀγγελιάων χεῦε θεογλώσσοιο λιγὺν θρόον ἀνθερεῶνος κόσμῳ γηραλέῳ τε121 μέλος κύκνειον ἀείδων. εἰς ἀγορὴν θεόληπτον ἀταρβέϊ προὔδραμε ταρσῷ, (15) τοῦτον ὅπως θησαυρὸν ἀσυλήτοισι σαώσῃ τεύχεσι καὶ παππᾶν ψυχηπεροπῆα φονεύων σκῆπτρον ἀϊστώσῃ Βαβυλωνιάδος βασιλείης, ἀμφὶ δ’ ἀνακτορίης θεοθελγέος ἂν χθόνα πᾶσαν ὄμπνιον ἡδυλόγων σκεδάσῃ σπόρον ἐννεσιάων, (20) Χριστὸς ἕως παλίνορσον ἀπ’ Οὐλύμποιο καρήνων κυδήεις ἔλθῃσι καὶ ἡμέας ἐκτὸς ὁμίχλης εἰς φάος οὐρανολαμπὲς ἄγῃ, δόξης τε πελάζῃ κοιρανίῃ, χάριτός τε μεταστήσειεν ἀπ’ αὐλῆς τοῦδε πονοπλήτοιο παρατρωπῶν βιότοιο (25) πρὸς ζωὴν πολύθεστον ἀτέρμονα πάμπαν ἄλυπον, ἔνθα περ ἀντιπόροισιν ἐν ὄμμασιν ἀμφαδὰ πάντα λεύσσομεν, ὅσσ’ ἔτι τῇδ’ ὁσίῳ κεκτήμεθα λαχμῷ ἐλπίδι πιστοσύνῃ τε θεόφρονι προσδοκόωντες. ac nostro sane tempore divino ductu promte in lucem prosiliens heros divinus Lutherus, ultimus mundi Elias, propheta et lumen et gloria totius terrae Alemanicae,

117 118 119 120 121

5 σκεῦας edd. 8 an καὶ ? 9 ἐσσομένως ed. 1574. 10 λουθὴρ ed. 1621. 14 an τι ? vix γηράσκοντι.

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servus ille Dei aeterni mirificus, praeco veridicus coelestis evangelii ore deiloquo doctrinam expressam sonuit, mundo senescenti cantionem cycneam canens. ecclesiam Christianam intrepido pede intravit, ut hunc thesaurum tutaretur validis armis, papaque animarum seductore occiso sceptrum regni Babylonici infringeret deque regno coelesti per terram universam foecundum semen suavisoni spargeret evangelii, usque dum Christus ab Olympi vertice denuo redeat in maiestate ac nos e tenebris ad lucem coelestem perducat inseratque regno gloriae et e regno gratiae translatos, ex hac scilicet laboriosa vita, traducat ad vitam optatissimam perpetuam tristitiaeque omnis vacuam, ubi intentis oculis palam omnia visuri sumus, quaecunque divino munere in hac vita possidemus hactenus in spe, pia fiducia (ea) expectantes. In jeglicher Hinsicht haben die Hauptpunkte der christlichen Erkenntnislehre bereits die Heilige Schrift und die ehrwürdigen Propheten dargelegt sowie Christus, welcher heiliger Zielpunkt der Schrift ist, und seine Jünger; ferner zeigt Paulus, der in seiner Brust den Glanz von Gottes Licht bewegt, der ein ausgesuchtes Gefäß ist sowie ein Werkzeug des Heiligen Geistes, als ein bedeutender Eingeweihter des Himmelreiches in besonderem Maße immer in wohlklingenden Worten die Hauptpunkte der (biblischen) Schrift auf. Und jetzt sprang in unseren Tagen auf göttliche Sendung hin plötzlich der gottähnliche Held Luther ans Licht hervor, der letzte Elias der Welt, ein Prophet und Leuchter und der Ruhm von ganz Deutschland, der wundertätige Diener des ewigen Herrschers und der wahrhaftige Verkünder der göttlichen Botschaften; er ergoß den hellen Klang seines von Gott tönenden Mundes, dem vergreisenden Kosmos seinen Schwangengesang singend. Furchtlosen Fußes stürmte er auf den Gott gehörigen Marktplatz (die Kirche), um diesen Schatz mit unentreißbaren Waffen zu bewahren, den seelentäuschenden Papst zu töten und das Zepter seiner babylonischen Herrschaft zu vernichten, bezüglich der beglückenden Herrschaft Gottes aber den fruchtbaren Samen der süßklingenden Weisungen (des Evangeliums) über die ganze Welt zu verbreiten – bis schließlich Christus in seinem Ruhm wieder von den Höhen des Olymp zurückkehrt und uns aus der Finsternis in das himmlisch strahlende Licht führt, uns dem Reich des Ruhmes nahebringt und aus dem Vorhof der Gnade fortbringt, uns von diesem mühsamen Leben abwendend, hin zum vielgewünschten, unbegrenzten, gänzlich ungetrübten Leben: wo wir dann von Auge zu Auge alles das deutlich vor uns sehen, was wir hier (in dieser Welt) noch nur durch eine göttliche Erbschaft kraft unserer Hoffnung besitzen, es in gläubigem Gottvertrauen erwartend.

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3.6.2. Θεολογίας σύνοψις: Luthers Hochschätzung des Johannes Tauler und der Theologia Teutsch Taulerus theologus magni122 spiritus καὶ δὴ καὶ μετὰ βίβλον ἁγνὴν θεοδείκτορος ὀμφῆς καὶ μετὰ Λουτῆρον123, θεόφιν μήστωρα μέγιστον, ὃς δύο ταῦτα τόσον μυστήρια σώφρονι τόλμῃ εὑράμενος νοέῃ τε καὶ ἐκπροτιθῇσιν ἐνωπῇ καὶ τόσον ὀτραλέως τάδε γ’ ὁρμαίνῃσι λιγαίνειν (5) ἰθὺ τιτυσκόμενος γραφίδων σκοπὸν οἶον ἄριστον, οὔτις ἐν ἀρχαίοισι καὶ ὁπλοτέροισι φανείη θειολόγοις, ὅτις εἴη ἢ Ἑλλάδος ἀστὸς ἀρούρης ἠὲ καὶ Ἑβραίῃ γλώττῃ σοφὸν ἦχον ἰάλλῃ ἢ καὶ Ῥωμαίων προφέρῃ124 καλαμόγραφον αὐδήν, (10) πλὴν ἑνός, ὅς πεφάτιστο κλυτῇ Ταυλῆρος ἰωῇ ac sane post sacrosanctae scripturae biblia et post Lutherum, bellatorem Dei maximum, qui duo haec mysteria tam prudenti ausu inveniat, assequatur et tam dextre explicet tamque diligenter ea interpretari studeat, in optimum scripturae scopum unice intendens, tum ex veteribus, tum recentioribus neminem reperias theologis, quicunque ille sit, sive Graecae telluris alumnus, sive is Hebraea lingua sapiens eloquium personet, sive etiam Romanorum scriptum proferat sermonem, praeter unum, qui celebri nomine Taulerus nuncupatur Theologia Germanica πλήν τε Θεηγορίης Γερμανίδος· ὣς125 γὰρ ἀκούει ἡ σελίς, ἣ δοκέει Ταυληριὰς ἔμμεναι αὐτή, οἷα φράσεις γνῶμαί τε λόγων τ’ ἰδίωμα διδάσκει. et praeter Theologiam Germanicam: sic enim appellatur iste libellus, qui videtur ipsius (quoque) Tauleri esse, sicuti phrases, sententiae et orationis idioma arguunt. Lutherus quanti fecerit Taulerum in initio renascentis evangelii τοῦτον Ταυλῆρον φιλίῳ πρόσπτυξεν126 ἀγοστῷ (15) Λουτὴρ127 ἐνθεότολμος, ὅτ’ ἤκμασε πρῶτον ἐν ἥβῃ εὐθαλερῇ, Χριστοῖο παλιμφυὲς αἰθέριον φῶς· καὶ χάριν Ὑψιμέδοντι γεγηθότι τείνατο θυμῷ 122 123 124 125 126 127

magnus ed. 1621. 2 λουθῆρον ed. 1621. 10 προτέρῃ ed. 1574. 12 ὡς edd. 15 an προσπτύξετ’ ? 16 λουθὴρ ed. 1621.

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τόσσης ἀντ’ αἴγλης, ἥν τ’ ἐξενόησε φανεῖσαν ἐν Ταυληρείοις ἀγορεύμασι Τευτονικοῖσιν, (20) ὅσσα κε τοσσατίῃ σπουδῇ διεμέτρεεν αὐτός, ὥς που ἀπηλεγέως λόγον αἰολόμυθον ὑφαίνων ὃν νόον ἐκμάττῃ Ταυληρείοις ἐπέεσσιν. εἰ δὲ καὶ οὐδενός εἰσι λόγου Ταυληρίδες ὠδαί ἠΰτ’ ἀϊδνοτάτου μονάχου καὶ ἀΐδριος αὕτως, (25) ὡς δοκέειν, ἀτὰρ ἔμπαγ’ ὑπείροχος ἔμμεναι ἀνήρ φαίνεται, ἀκρονόου κεκορυθμένος ἰσχύϊ πνοιῆς, πίστεΐ τε ζήλῳ τε πυρώδεϊ128 γνωμοσύνῃ τε δειξιθέων λογίων, τῇ ὑπὸ στήθεσσιν ἐρεχθείς μούνῳ Παμμεδέοντι κλέος καὶ δόξαν ὀρέγνυ, (30) ἄμμι δ’ ἐπισκίμπτει ῥεθέων αἰσχρωπὸν ἔρευθος. hunc Taulerum laetis amplexibus appraehendit Lutherus in Deo confidens, cum primum refloresceret vegeta velut pubertate, lumen Christi resuscitatum, laetaque mente gratias Deo egit tanta pro luce, quam animadvertit coruscantem in Taulericis concionibus Germanicis, quas quidem tanto studio diligentiaque perlegit, ut alicubi prolixum sermonem contexens aperte sensum suum verbis Taulericis exprimat. ac tametsi nullius putantur momenti Taulericae conciones, tanquam monachi obscurissimi et indocti prorsus, uti videntur, attamen excellentem fuisse virum apparet, supremi spiritus robore instructum, fide item, zelo ardente atque cognitione divinorum oraculorum, qua (cognitione) in corde perculsus laudem et gloriam omnem soli tribuit Deo omnipotenti, nobis vero (hominibus) faciei confusionem impingit. Und fürwahr, nächst dem reinen Buch der gottesverkündenden Stimme (der Bibel) und nächst Luther, dem bedeutendsten gottgesandten Walter, der diese zwei Geheimnisse (die zuvor behandelten Prinzipien von Sünde und Gerechtigkeit) mit so besonnenem Wagemut ausfindig gemacht und durchdacht und dem Anblick dargeboten hat und diese Dinge so bereitwillig auszuführen geneigt ist, geradewegs abzielend auf den einzig besten Zielpunkt der Schrift (Christus), – nächst diesen Instanzen dürfte sich niemand im Bereich der alten oder neueren Theologen zeigen, mag es ein Bürger Griechenlands sein oder einer, der seine Weisheiten in hebräischer Sprache ertönen läßt, oder auch einer, der in seinen Schriften die Sprache der Römer hervorbringt – abgesehen von einem einzigen, der den berühmten Namen “Tauler” trug, und abgesehen von der Theologia Teutsch; denn so wird die Schrift bezeichnet, die ihrerseits Tauler zu gehören scheint, wie es die Begriffe, Sentenzen und das Idiom der Sprache lehren. Diesen Tauler faßte der von Gottes Mut erfüllte Luther innig in seinen Arm, als er sich in blühender Jugend auf seinem Höhepunkt befand, Luther, das immer

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wieder erscheinende himmlische Licht Christi; und er entrichtete freudigen Herzens dem Allmächtigen seinen Dank für den gewaltigen Glanz, den er in den deutschen Schriften Taulers strahlen sah; und all diese (Schriften) durchmaß er selbst mit so gewaltigem Eifer, daß er wohl geradewegs, wenn er seine differenziert ausgedrückte Lehre entwickelte, seine eigene Auffassung in Taulerschen Worten ausdrückte. Und wenn auch die Predigten Taulers keine Anerkennung finden als Werke eines höchst obskuren und völlig unwissenden Mönches, wie man annimmt, so scheint er mir dennoch ein überragender Mann zu sein, ausgerüstet mit der Kraft einer scharfsinnigen Gottesinspiration, mit Glauben, mit feurigem Eifer und auch mit Kenntnis der Gott offenbarenden Prophetien; durch dies alles tief in seinem Herzen angestoßen, entbot er dem Allmächtigen allein Ruhm und Ehre – uns (Heutigen) dagegen erregt er Schamröte in den Gesichtszügen.

3.7. Die Widmung der Susanna des Martin Crusius an Jacob Fabricius. Μαρτῖνος Κρούσιος Ἰακώβῳ Φαβρικίῳ τῷ Χεμνικιεῖ χαίρειν ἐν Χριστῷ τῷ θυγάτριον ἑδνόω φίλον μου σπουδαίῳ γε νέῳ γάμον πρὸς ἁγνόν; σοὶ καλῶς, Ἰάκωβε. συνεχὲς (an συνν.  ?) γάρ πάντων μοι πλέον ἦς φίλος σὺ πιστός, ὡς Στούρμοιο129 κλυτοῖο ῥητορείας Ἀργεντινόθ’ ἄρ’ ἠκροώμεθ’ ἄμφω· νῦν δ’ αὖ Λευκορέης ἐνὶ πτόληϊ Φιλίππου πολυωνύμου μαθητής ὢν μέμνησ’ ἔτι μου μακρὰν ἀπόντος. καὶ δὴ κἀμὲ διδασκάλους τε κοινούς τῇ μούσῃ σέο σώφρον’ ἄρτ’ ἐκόσμεις, σώφρων αὐτὸς ἐὼν μάλ’ εὐσεβής τε. δέξ’ οὖν θυγατέρ’, ὥς πότ’ ἐστιν, ἀμήν, τεχθεῖσάν ῥ’ ἀγάμῳ περ εἰσέτ’ ὄντι· ἣν κἀν γράμμασι τὸ πρὶν ἐμνάου σοῖς. ἄπροικον δέ θ’ ἑ δέξ’ ἴσως τ’ ἄωρον, οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ σαόφρον’ ἠγμένην τ’ εὖ· οὗ δὴ καὶ χάριν ἂν φιλοῖς ἑ μᾶλλον. κέκλησθ’ οὖν ἀπὸ τοῦ σὺ μὲν φίλος μοι γαμβρός, τοὶ δ’ ἀγαθοὶ κάσεις σέθεν τρεῖς κηδεσταί· φιλίη δ’ ἐν ἄμμιν εἴη ἄρρηκτος. σὺν ἀδελφεοῖσι χαῖρε. Martinus Crusius Iacobo Fabricio Chemnicensi salutem in Christo cuinam filiolam locabo charam ad taedas iuveni bono pudicas? te recte video, Iacobe. semper prae cunctis aderas mihi fidelis, una nos ubi Sturmium per altum Argentina polivit arte fandi: 129

Στουρμίοιο ed.

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nunc et Leucorea studens in urbe clari discipulus bonus Philippi absentis procul es memor sodalis. nostros inde didascalosque meque ornabas modulis prius pudicis, existens pius et pudicus ipse. prolem nunc capias, utut sit, ergo, quam coelebs genui carensque nupta: quam scriptis etiam tuis petisti. sed sumas sine dote forsque nigram, at castam tamen optimeque cultam: hinc (par est) etiam magis130 placebit. tu posthac gener ergo sis amatus, at fratres mihi tres tui benigni affines: et amor sit inter omnes haud fractus. valeas tuique fratres. Martin Crusius sendet an Jacob Fabricius aus Chemnitz einen Gruß in Christus. Welchem tüchtigen jungen Mann soll ich mein liebes Töchterlein zu reiner Ehe vermählen? Passenderweise Dir, Jacob (Fabricius). Denn Du warst mir stets mehr als alle anderen ein zuverlässiger Freund, seit wir beide die rhetorischen Unterweisungen des berühmten (Johannes) Sturm in Straßburg hörten. Jetzt aber, da Du wieder in der Stadt Wittenberg als Schüler des vielbekannten Philipp (Melanchthon) bist, denke noch an mich trotz meiner weiten Entfernung. Und Du hast ja fürwahr auch mich und unsere gemeinsamen Lehrer gerade mit Deiner besonnenen Muse ausgezeichnet, selbst gleichermaßen besonnen wie fromm. So nimm nun also meine Tochter, wie immer es mit ihr steht, die ich zeugte, als ich noch unvermählt war; um diese hast Du ja auch schon zuvor in Deinen Schriften gefreit. Nimm Sie ohne Mitgift und vielleicht ohne jugendliche Schönheit, aber doch besonnen und unter guter Führung stehend: Deshalb wirst Du sie auch um so mehr lieben. So heiße denn von jetzt an mein lieber Schwiegersohn, und Deine drei trefflichen Brüder seien meine angeheirateten Verwandten. Möge zwischen uns unzerbrechliche Freundschaft herrschen. Lebe wohl mit Deinen Brüdern! Vgl. Cat. 1: Cui dono lepidum novum libellum Arida modo pumice expolitum? Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas Meas esse aliquid putare nugas, Iam tum cum ausus es unus Italorum (5) Omne aevum tribus explicare cartis Doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis. Quare habe tibi quicquid hoc libelli, Qualecumque; quod, o patrona uirgo, Plus uno maneat perenne saeclo. (10)

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3.8. Das Epigramm Rhodomans über seine nicht zustandegekommene Germanis Epigramma in Theologiae Christianae Epitomen Graecolatinum L(aurentii) Rhodomani πατρίδι Τευτονίῃ κλέος εὐεπίῃσιν Ὁμήρου131 ἤθελον ἀρτίζειν, τηλεδαποῖς ἰδέειν, ζηλοῦν τ’ ὀψιγόνοισιν· ἔην δ’ ἐν χερσὶν ὁ μόχθος, Μούσης δ’ εὐπνοΐαις ἔργον ἄεξε φίλον. ὦ Φθόνε, καλὰ δρόωσιν ἐναντίε, τίπτε μ’ ἐνικλᾷς; (5) σπεῦδε καὶ ἐξ ἀρετῆς τήκεο λοιγὸν ἔχων. ἀντὶ δ’ ἄρ’ ἱστορίης Γερμανίδος ἄκρα διελθεῖν οὐρανίης Σοφίης Χριστὸς ὄπασσε Θεός. carmine Maeonio patriae dum texere conor Teutoniae laudes, quae procul inde volent et bene postgenitos acuant, coeptumque benigno afflatu Musae iam mihi fervet opus: cur obstas, Livor, studiis, ut semper, honestis? perge: tibi virtus est tamen ipsa lues. heroa nam pro Germanide pangere summas coelestis Sophiae mi Deus, ecce, dedit. Meinem deutschen Vaterland wollte ich mit der Beredsamkeit Homers Ruhm bereiten, den Ausländern zum (bewundernden) Anschauen, den Nachgeborenen zum Nacheifern. Die Mühe war schon unter meinen Händen, und durch die gute Inspiration der Muse wuchs das mir am Herzen liegende Werk. O Neid, der Du immer denen, die Schönes vollbringen, im Wege stehst, warum nur lässt Du mich einbrechen? Mach nur eifrig weiter so und verzehre Dich, aufgrund (fremder) Tugend (eigenes) Verderben empfindend! Anstelle aber des historischen Germanis-Gedichtes gab mir Christus der Herr auf, die Hauptpunkte der himmlischen Weisheit (dichterisch) zu behandeln.

3.9. Rhodomans Epigramm auf Taubmann θαῦμα σοφῶν, Θαυβμανέ, φαεσφόρον ὄμμα ποιητέων, ἐκ πόθεν132 ἠφύσσω λιγυρῶν τάδε ῥεύματ’ ἀοιδῶν, εἴτε λύρην κρούεις εἴτ’ ἄλλο τι μέτρον ὑφαίνεις; τέχνη μέν σ’ ἤσκησε, φύσις δέ τοι ἄκρον ὄπασσεν, ἥντιν’ ἀπ’ οὐρανόθεν πλησίστιος οὖρος ἐπείγει. (5) γέννα γὰρ ὦρσεν ἀοιδόν, ἀπαρτίζει δέ τ’ Ὄλυμπος. τῷ μάλ’ ἐμῷ δίφησα νόῳ, τίνι σ’ ἰσοφαρίζω, ἡρώων ἐπέων ἐνὶ τέκτοσιν ἢ λυροεργοῖς. ὀψὲ δέ μ’ ἐξ ἀδύτοιο θεήλατος ἔχραεν ὀμφή· “ὥς ποτ’ ἐς αἰθέριον δόμον ἔσσυτο πλειὰς ἀοιδῶν, (10) ὧδε λόγων ταμίης γενεαῖς νεάτῃσιν ἔταξε· Καλλιμάχου ψυχὴν Θαυβμάνιον ἦτορ ἐνοικεῖν.“ 131 132

1 Ὁμείρου ed. 2 ἔκ ποθεν ed.

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Taubmann, Gegenstand der Bewunderung aller Weisen, lichtführendes Auge unter den Dichtern, woher nur hast Du diese fließende Beherrschung tönender Verse geschöpft, magst Du die Leier schlagen oder irgendein anderes Metrum stricken? Poetische Technik hat Dich zwar gewiß geübt, Deine Natur aber hat Dir den Spitzenrang gegeben, welche wiederum ein vom Himmel herabkommender die Segel blähender Wind vorwärtstreibt. Denn seine Herkunft treibt einen Dichter an, aber nur der Himmel bringt ihn zur Vollendung. Daher habe ich sehr in meinem Sinn nachgeforscht, welchem Dichter ich Dich gleichsetzen soll unter den Baumeistern der Heroenepen oder den Lyrikern. Ganz am Ende weissagte mir aber eine von einem Gott stammende Stimme aus dem Allerheiligsten: “Ebenso wie einstmals eine Pleiade von Dichtern in das Haus des Himmels emporfuhr, so hat jetzt der Befehlshaber über Wissenschaft und Kunst (Apoll) für die jüngsten (Dichter)generationen die Anweisung gegeben, dass die Seele des Kallimachos die Brust Taubmanns bewohnen soll.”

XXV. PAUL FRIEDLÄNDER AND NONNUS’ POETRY Domenico ACCORINTI “Die tollen Umstellungen, mit denen man meinen Freund Nonnos behelligte – was sind sie anders als der Versuch, den Barockpoeten der ‘klassischen’ Norm zu unterwerfen?”1

The German-Jewish scholar Paul Friedländer (1882-1968), who was a devoted pupil of Wilamowitz-Moellendorff and one of the most distinguished UCLA’s Professors of Classics, is well known for his volumes on Plato (2 vols., 19281930; 3rd ed., 3 vols., 1964-1975), which were translated into English (3 vols., 1958-1969) and Italian (1979; 2004). He also deserves mention for his pioneering works on Byzantine ekphrasis, namely Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius. Kunstbeschreibungen justinianischer Zeit (1912) and Spätantiker Gemäldezyklus in Gaza. Des Prokopios von Gaza ΕΚΦΡΑΣΙΣ ΕΙΚΟΝΟΣ (1939). But Friedländer has a prominent place in Nonnus studies too. Just recently Kay Ehling, in a very valuable small volume, Paul Friedländer. Ein klassischer Philologe zwischen Wilamowitz und George (2019), stated, referring to his 1912 article Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis, that “Friedländer ist aber nicht nur ein Pionier der Ekphrasisforschung, sondern auch ein Entdecker des spätantiken Dichters Nonnos”, also adding that “[w]ährend heute internationale Kongresse zu Nonnos abgehalten werden, galt seine Dichtung noch bis in die 1950er Jahre zu Unrecht als spätantikes Verfallsprodukt. Friedländer bestimmt dessen Schaffenszeit auf die Jahre zwischen 440 bis 490.”2 And I do not hesitate to say that he should also be regarded as one of the most perceptive interpreters of Nonnus’ poetry. For the pages he devoted to the Dionysiaca in his fine essay Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (1931) must be numbered among the most convincing readings of Nonnus’ poem. Probably Friedländer also intended to write a book about him. In fact, a conspicuous number (479 pieces) of his miscellaneous notes on the Dionysiaca, which are housed in UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3), shed light on the background work of this great scholar and on a large body of material that he assembled for a book that was never written.

1

Paul Friedländer, Letter to Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, 26 November 1916. EHLING 2019, Paul Friedländer, p. 21. For an appreciation of Ehling’s book, see ACCORINTI 2020, Paul Friedländer. 2

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After the first four sections, which attempt to sketch the biography and to reconstruct the personality of this philologist-archaeologist, my contribution will focus on Friedländer as a Nonnus scholar (section 5), and will discuss in particular his 1931 essay Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (section 6) and some of his unpublished notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca (section 7). 1. “Hier ist ein Professor Paul Friedländer” In a letter written from Marburg on 25 March 1921 to Stefan George, the German historian Friedrich Wolters (1876-1930), one of the prominent members of the George-Kreis,3 provides a faithful and vivid portrait of “ein Professor Paul Friedländer”: Hier ist ein Professor Paul Friedländer, aus der Berliner Gelehrtenfamilie, der Altphilologe noch jung sehr zugetan und sehr zurückhaltend, ehemaliger WilamowitzSchüler. Dieser hat einen aufsatz (etwa 2 bogen) über Plato geschrieben: ausgehend vom Alkibiades-dialog zeigt er in diesem alle keime auf zu den grösseren Gesprächen und lässt so das ganze werk Platos an den centralen kräften der tapferkeit und weisheit des maasses und der besonnenheit als einheit erstehen. Der wille zur staatserziehung bei den liebend gewonnenen jünglingen wird in einheitlicher sicht sehr deutlich. Es ist der erste versuch Friedländers mit den grossen wissenschaftlichen mitteln seines faches eine zusammenfassung über das fachliche zu geben, die sprache ist schlicht manchmal eher unbeholfen aber das ganze scheint mir zu lohnen.4

Paul Friedländer, who had studied under Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff in Berlin and under Franz Buecheler, Hermann Usener and Georg Loeschcke in Bonn,5 was at the time professor of classical philology at the University of Marburg, where he taught from 1920 to 1932.6 Wolters, who was associate professor of history at Marburg (1920-1923), speaks of his colleague as “a very devoted and very reserved” man and refers to Der Grosse Alcibiades. Ein Weg On Wolters see recently SCHLÜTER 2016, Friedrich Wolters; the Security Service of the SS and the Nazi Party considered him as “nationally oriented, partly influenced by national socialist tendencies”, see LOSEMANN 2007, Classics in the Second World War, p. 318. For the GeorgeKreis, see WINKLER 2005, Master and Disciples. 4 GEORGE – WOLTERS 1998, Briefwechsel 1904-1930, pp. 163-164 (164). On the relationship between the George-Kreis and classical philology, see GROPPE 2001, Die Macht der Bildung, pp. 640-650 (“6. Excurs: Die Rückkehr der Tiger und Panther. Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff und seine Schüler [Paul Friedländer, Karl Reinhardt, Werner Jaeger]”), who notes that “[e]ine umfassende Studie zur Bedeutung des George-Kreis für die Klassische Philologie steht noch aus” (640); HARTMANN 2016, Klassische Philologie. 5 See FRIEDLÄNDER 1952, Erinnerung an Georg Loeschcke. 6 On Friedländer see BÜHLER 1969, Paul Friedländer; GADAMER 1993, Paul Friedländer; CALDER III 1994, Friedländer, Paul; Calder III’s introduction in CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, pp. IX-XXII; BERNER – PAIT 2012, Friedländer, Paul; OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 597-672 (“Vom KZ Sachsenhausen nach Los Angeles – Paul Friedländer”); EHLING 2019, Paul Friedländer. 3

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zu Plato, the first part of his essay on the Platonic dialogue that was published in Bonn in 1921.7 Then he summarizes Friedländer’s interpretation of Plato’s Alcibiades 1 as a work that shows “all the germs” of the greater dialogues and has an educative value, also commenting on the language of his essay, “simple” but “sometimes rather clumsy”. Strangely enough, however, Wolters in this letter passes in silence over the question of the spuriousness of the Platonic Alcibiades 1. For, as is well known to Plato scholars, Friedländer vigorously defended the authenticity of Alcibiades 18 and seems to have finally persuaded Wilamowitz himself to reconsider Plato’s authorship.9 2. “The Credo of a New Generation” Only a few months later, on 4 July 1921, Friedländer would write from Marburg a 23 page letter to Wilamowitz, which William Calder III has appropriately named “The Credo of a New Generation” when he published it for the first time in 1980.10 It is worth quoting a passage from this impressive letter that is “one of the most important documents we have for the history of classical philology in the twentieth century.”11 Friedländer confesses to his revered master that “bin ich seit vielen Jahren im Kampfe gegen Sie oder vielleicht besser gegen den Wilamowitz in mir geworden”, a kind, if I may say so, of rebellion of the son against the father. His transition from classical philology to history and philosophy owes much to Nietzsche,12 and his interest in the 7 FRIEDLÄNDER 1921, Der Grosse Alcibiades. The second part of Der Grosse Alcibiades appeared two years later (1923). 8 CALDER III, referring both to a letter written from Friedländer to Wilamowitz on 7 December 1917 (no. 63) and to Wilamowitz’s reply to Friedländer on 12 December 1917 (no. 64), writes that “[b]y 12 December 1917 he has begun his defence of the authenticity of Alcibiades 1, though momentarily deterred upon learning from Walter Kranz that Eva Sachs has never read the dialogue and that Wilamowitz has dismissed it as ‘Schafmist’ (sheepshit)” (CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. XVI). 9 See the postcard sent from Wilamowitz to Friedländer on 31 March 1924 (no. 85), after receiving a copy of Der Grosse Alcibiades, zweiter Teil: Kritische Erörterung (1923): “Lieber Herr College. Mit dem Platon, der es nun wirklich zu sein scheint, haben Sie mir eine grosse Freude gemacht” (CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. 175). For the importance of Friedländer’s approach to the dialogue, see recently ARCHIE 2015, Politics in Socrates’ Alcibiades, pp. 39-44: “The commentator who seriously challenged the conventional reading with as much positive enthusiasm for the merits of the dialogue and Plato’s authorship of it as Schleiermacher expressed disdain and doubt, was the classical scholar and philosopher Paul Friedländer. The uniqueness of Friedländer’s commentary is that what was considered by previous commentators to be Alcibiades Major’s literary weaknesses and odd characterization of Socrates becomes a complex type of writing characterized by dramatic irony” (39-40). On the reception of the dialogue in Antiquity, see RENAUD – TARRANT 2015, The Platonic Alcibiades I. 10 CALDER III 1980, The Credo of a New Generation. 11 CALDER III in CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. XVI. 12 Nietzsche himself was repeatedly tempted to move from philology to philosophy, see BREAZEALE 2012, Nietzsche, p. 69: “Even during his student days at Leipzig, Nietzsche had toyed with the idea of switching from classical philology to philosophy, and the idea seems to have

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visual arts to the Swiss art historians Heinrich Wölfflin (1864-1945) and Jacob Burckhardt (1818-1897). But in recent years it is above all the poet Stefan George who has caused a drastic change in his life: Sie waren für mich in meinen jungen Jahren der entscheidende Mensch, ein wichtiges Stück Schicksal, weil Sie der weitaus stärkste Mensch waren und zugleich gütig und hilfreich wie kein anderer. […] Viel von dem Besten was ich habe, habe ich durch Sie. Aber was ich jetzt geworden bin – und das ist nun die Kehrseite – bin ich seit vielen Jahren im Kampfe gegen Sie oder vielleicht besser gegen den Wilamowitz in mir geworden. […] Soll ich die Namen nennen die diese Wandlung brachten, so sind das (‘natürlich’ werden Sie mit Recht bei den meisten sagen): Nietzsche, der seit meiner Jugend allmählich in mich eindringend meinen Gesamtblick auf das Leben bestimmte, dann im Besonderen meine Ansicht vom ‘Historischen’ formen half. Dann Wölfflin und hinter ihm Burckhardt, die eine mir ganz neue in der Philologie mir nicht gebotene Forderung an das Begreifen eines ‘Werkes’ stellten und in der bildenden Kunst die Erfüllung wiesen (bis zu einem gewissen Grade, wie ich jetzt sage). Es sind noch andere verwandelnde Kräfte zu nennen, im allgemeinen die ‘Philosophie’. Und in den letzten Jahren ist es George der die größte Erschütterung und die stärkste Umlagerung aller Kräfte gebracht hat. Damit haben Sie kurz angedeutet meinen Weg und Sie werden verstehen was ich vorhin den Kampf gegen den Wilamowitz in mir nannte. Vielleicht aber ist Alles dies jetzt zu einem gewissen Abschluss gekommen. Ich fühle dass Ihnen gegenüber meine Ungerechtigkeit schwindet die mich eine Zeitlang befing und bedrückte, und vor allem fühle ich dass es doch Gründe giebt in die solche Gegensätze gar nicht hinabgreifen sondern nur die Liebe und Dankbarkeit.13

3. From Marburg to Los Angeles Certainly, the twelve years he spent at Marburg, where he was in touch with the Protestant theologian Rudolf Bultmann, the literary critics Ernst Robert Curtius and Leo Spitzer, as well as with the philosophers Martin Heidegger and Hans-Georg Gadamer, were “the most productive of his life”.14 It was exactly in this period that Friedländer’s best-known work, his German Platon, was published in two volumes (1928 and 1930). After three years at the University of Halle (1932-1935) Friedländer was deprived of his chair by the National

reoccurred to him at Basel, for during his fourth semester there he unsuccessfully petitioned to be appointed to a recently vacated chair of philosophy and to have his own chair filled by his friend Erwin Rohde.” 13 CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, pp. 142-143 (Letter no. 75).. See SULLIVAN 1989, Political Hermeneutics, pp. 45-47; REBENICH 2008-2009, ‘Dass ein strahl’, pp. 134-136 and REBENICH 2014, Eduard Schwartz, pp. 421-422. 14 CALDER III 1994, Friedländer, Paul, p. 201; see OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 599-600; STIEWE 2018, Das geistige Klima im Marburg. Friedländer was Gadamer’s professor in Greek philology in Marburg: see SULLIVAN 1989, Political Hermeneutics, pp. 25-33; GADAMER 1993, Paul Friedländer and GADAMER 2012, Philosophische Lehrjahre, pp. 34, 42-43, 47-48.

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Socialist government for racial reasons15 and later (1938), after a stay in the USA, was even imprisoned in a concentration camp outside Berlin, KZ Sachsenhausen, until he was released through the intercession of Rudolf Bultmann.16 In 1939 he fled to Baltimore, where he was lecturer in Classics at the Johns Hopkins University (1939-1940),17 then he became lecturer in Latin (1940) at the University of California, Los Angeles,18 and “[o]nly in 1945 did one of the greatest Hellenists of his generation become full professor in Los Angeles”, as William Calder III remarks with bitterness.19 During his stay in California, he tried in vain to find employment both at the Martin Luther University of HalleWittenberg (1946) and at the Free University of Berlin (1950).20 The appointment of the National Socialist Werner Peek (1904-1994), the last pupil of Wilamowitz,21 to Friedländer’s chair in Halle in 1950 was surely a grotesque accident of fate.22 After his retirement (1949), Paul Friedländer, one of the German scholars in exile in America,23 and destined to remain among the most distinguished of UCLA’s Professors of Classics, continued to live in Los Angeles where he died in 1968 (Illus. 25.1).

15 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 601-611; see also WEISE 2011, Μοῦσα Ἁλληνική, pp. 424-425. 16 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 622-637. 17 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 642-649. 18 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 649-651. 19 CALDER III 1994, Friedländer, Paul, p. 201; see OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 659-662. 20 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 662-667. 21 HÖLSCHER 1995, Stromungen der deutschen Grazistik, p. 66 n. 1. 22 OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, p. 665 n. 242: “Die Kritik an Schadewaldt et al. erneuerte er auch gegenüber seinem früheren Schüler Friedrich Klingner im Januar 1947, nach Ablehnung des Rufes: ‘Schrieb ich Ihnen, dass ich vom Curator von Halle die Anfrage bekommen habe, ob ich auf meinen alten Lehrstuhl zurückkehren wolle? Ich habe ihm dargelegt, warum ich nein sagen müsse. (…) Ich habe dem Curator eine Reihe entscheidender Gründe genannt, denen ich noch gar manche hinzufügen könnte. Der bloße Gedanke solchen Nazis oder Crypto-Nazis wie Schadewald [sic!] begegnen zu müssen oder so unsicheren Figuren wie Regenbogen oder Jachmann oder gar einem Gesellen wie W.[erner] Peek – der, wie man mir schrieb, munter mit der Berliner Akademie und sie mit him Beziehungen hat (auch über diese Akademie könnte ich manches Trübe melden) – alles dies macht mir die Luft von Californien und den Anblick des ‘Großen oder Stillen Oceans’, wie wir den Pacific auf der Schule nennen lernten, erwünscht. Um von anderen Argumenten zu schweigen, die ich in jenem Absagebrief auseinandergesetzt habe.’ (Brief Friedländer an Klingner, 19.1.1947 […]). Vor diesem Hintergrund mutet es geradezu grotesk an (und wirft ein bezeichnendes Licht auch auf die Entnazifizierungspolitik der DDR, des ‘anderen [!] Deutschlands’), dass ausgerechnet der überzeugte Nationalsozialist Peek (NSDAP-Mitglied seit 1.1.1934, Landesleiter der HJ in Griechenland […]) 1950 auf Friedländers Lehrstuhl in Halle berufen wurde!” 23 Like Margarete Bieber, Karl Lehmann-Hartleben, Elisabeth Jastrow, Otto J. Brendel, Kurt von Fritz, Ernst Kapp, Paul Oskar Kristeller, Ernst Abrahamsohn, and Ernst Moritz Manasse. The histories of these ten German classicists have now been admirably reconstructed by OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler; see also the review by RÖSLER 2017.

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One can imagine how much he suffered from his academic isolation when one reads the preface to Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst (1969), the collection of his papers that appeared posthumously: Man kann sich kaum vorstellen, wie weit von echtem Austausch im Felde der klassischen Studien ich in Kalifornien gelebt habe. Seit der Emeritierung im Jahre 1949 (dies war damals ein absolutes Ende der Lehrtätigkeit) war leider der Austausch mit Studenten und auch Kollegen sehr erschwert, und es wahr trotz freundschaftlicher Beziehungen kein ausführliches Zusammenarbeiten mehr möglich. Briefwechsel mit den wenigen europäischen Freunden und Kollegen konnte das nicht ersetzen.24

4. Art History as Intellectual History: A “Philologe als Archäologe” Apart from his books on Plato, mention should be made of his Documents of Dying Paganism (1945), a study of the Hestia tapestry at Dumbarton Oaks and the Cybele panels in the Metropolitan Museum and in the Hermitage,25 and of his edition, with the collaboration of Herbert B. Hoffleit, of Epigrammata. Greek Inscriptions in Verse from the Beginnings to the Persian Wars (1948), both published by University of California Press. Last but not least, his companion books on Byzantine ekphrasis, Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius. Kunstbeschreibungen justinianischer Zeit (1912), a pioneering work,26 and Spätantiker Gemäldezyklus in Gaza. Des Prokopios von Gaza ΕΚΦΡΑΣΙΣ

24 FRIEDLÄNDER 1969, Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst, p. V. See also the review by LLOYD-JONES 1971, p. 409: “The moving experience of visiting in Westwood Park Cemetery, Los Angeles, the grave of Paul Friedländer, inscribed with Aristotle’s epitaph on Plato, is vividly recalled when one reads in the preface of this book [Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst], dated less than three months before the author’s death in 1968 at the age of eighty-six: ‘Man kann sich kaum vorstellen, wie weit von echtem Austausch im Felde der klassischen Studien ich in Kalifornien gelebt habe.’” 25 FRIEDLÄNDER 1945, Documents of Dying Paganism; see the reviews by HANFMANN 1946 and WILLOUGHBY 1945; MULRYAN 2011, ‘Paganism’ in Late Antiquity, p. 79: “Friedländer’s work (1945) is rather old, but his study is still useful for the different examples with pagan iconography he has gathered.” Friedländer’s interpretation of the two Coptic tapestries in New York and Leningrad as representations of Cybele in her lion-drawn car was debated by LENZEN 1960, The Triumph of Dionysos, who interpreted these textiles as a triumph of Dionysus; see also the reviews of Lenzen’s work by VAN HOORN 1962, SHODER 1961 and TURCAN 1961, p. 915: “D’abord identifiée avec Dionysos triomphant, la figure centrale, debout dans un char attelé de félins avait été interprétée par P. Friedländer comme celle de Cybèle, tandis que le personnage représenté à l’extrême droite du panneau, les mains liées derrière le dos, ne serait autre qu’Attis dont une ménade, partiellement visible sur l’exemplaire de l’Ermitage, tiendrait le membre tranché. Contre cette interprétation, qu’appuyait surtout la coiffure apparemment tourelée de la figure en char, V.F. Lenzen montre très justement que les courbes féminines de la poitrine conviennent à un dieu thélymorphe.” Later on (1959) Friedländer published another short piece on Hestia Polyolbos (FRIEDLÄNDER 1959, Hestia Polyolbos). 26 WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, p. 199.

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ΕΙΚΟΝΟΣ (1939), remain a milestone in the study of this literary genre.27 An important passage from the preface in the latter work deserves to be quoted here at length: Ich hoffe mit dieser Ausgrabungsarbeit am Schreibtisch der Kunstgeschichte einen Dienst zu leisten, Geschichte der Kunst zugleich, wie sich gebührt, als Geschichte der Kultur und des Geistes verstanden. Die Einheit der Altertumswissenschaft wird an einem neuen Beispiel sinnfällig, die Grenzen von Archäologie, Philologie und Geschichte erweisen sich wieder einmal als künstlich. So sei den der NurPhilologe wie der Nur-Archäologe gebeten, die Berechtigung dieser gemeinsamen Aufgabe zuzugeben. Der Philologe mache sich klar, dass, was hier geleistet wird, Interpretation ist, also seine eigenste Arbeit. Der Archäologe wolle erst Text und Kommentar durcharbeiten, ehe er an die Kritik der bildlichen Rekonstruktionen geht. Dass diese für sich allein nichts bedeuten, und dass sie auch als Verbildlichung des eigentlich Gemeinten sehr verbesserungsbedürftig sind, versteht sich von selbst. Aber ich habe niemanden gefunden, der sie besser hätte machen können.28

First, it attests how Friedländer conceived of art history as intellectual history in terms that seem drawn both from “Über Kunstbetrachtung”, a 1920 lecture by the Czech-born Austrian art historian Max Dvořák (1874-1921) published in his posthumous collection of essays Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte (1924): Die Kunst besteht nicht nur in der Lösung und Entwicklung formaler Aufgaben und Probleme; sie ist auch immer und in erster Linie Ausdruck der die Menschheit beherrschenden Ideen, ihre Geschichte nicht minder ihre Religion, Philosophie oder Dichtung, ein Teil der allgemeinen Geistesgeschichte.29

and from the preface to the sixth edition (1923) of Wölfflin’s Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe: The Principles arose out of the need to establish a firmer basis for art historical characterization – not for value judgments (these do not even come into it), but for the characterization of style. The latter is vitally interested, first of all, to know what form of visualization it is confronted with in each individual case. (It is better to speak of forms of visualization than forms of vision.) Of course, a form of perceptual visualization is not something external; it is also of defining importance

27 In his review of LAURITZEN’s 2015 Jean de Gaza, C. De Stefani, the last editor of Paul Silentiary (2011, Paulus Silentiarius), points out that “il volume aggiorna utilmente lo stato dell’arte su Giovanni di Gaza e ne situa l’opera con maggiore sicurezza nel contesto della scuola di Gaza, con importanti implicazioni di storia della cultura tardoantica; quanto all’edizione, esso costituisce in vari punti un regresso rispetto a quella di Friedländer, e non può essere valutato positivamente” (DE STEFANI 2017, Osservazioni critiche, p. 309). 28 FRIEDLÄNDER 1939, Spätantiker Gemäldezyklus, p. V. 29 DVOŘÁK 1924, Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte, p. X. On Dvořák’s view of Kunstgeschichte as Geistesgeschichte, see MARCHI 2003, Max Dvořák and more recently AURENHAMMER 2014, Inventing ‘Mannerist Expressionism’.

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for the content of that visualization, and in this much the history of these perceptual concepts is already also the history of spirit.30

Secondly, it reveals the attitude of Friedländer, a “Philologe als Archäologe”, to borrow the words of Kay Ehling,31 towards Altertumswissenschaft as an allabsorbing science of Antiquity, which erases the boundaries between the different disciplines, such as archeology, philology, and history. 5. Paul Friedländer as a Nonnus Scholar But Paul Friedländer who, together with Werner Jaeger (1888-1961), was a leading exponent of German ‘Third Humanism’ in the 1920s,32 should also be regarded as a Nonnus scholar. It goes without saying that his article Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis, which was published in the same year (1912) as his book Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius,33 displays great erudition and profound knowledge of late Greek poetry in placing Nonnus’ date between 440 and 490.34 Many Nonnus scholars know this and have benefited from its great learning. Hugh Lloyd-Jones himself, later referring to Friedländer’s article, appreciated “[h]is wisdom in leaving open the question of who invented the style and metre which we associate with Nonnus”,35 an issue that was thoroughly explored by Mary Whitby more than a quarter of a century ago.36 However, there is also another reason for returning to his paper, published after the completion of Ludwich’s edition of the Dionysiaca (1909-1911),37 and this has escaped many people. For if one takes a look at what he wrote there (more than a century ago!) on the future road map of Nonnus studies, namely the importance of framing Nonnus’ baroque poetry in contemporary literature and culture, one will immediately realize that Paul Friedländer might be considered the forerunner of the conferences on Nonnus of Panopolis in Context: Aber alles zu sagen, was über ihn zu sagen ist, erfordert ein Buch, das dann freilich nicht nur Composition und Vorlagen seiner Dichtung zu untersuchen, nicht nur 30 WÖLFFLIN 2015, Principles of Art History, p. 78. On Wölfflin and the Geistesgeschichte, see DILLY 1994, Heinrich Wölfflin. 31 On this aspect, see recently EHLING 2016, Ein Philologe als Archäologe (I thank the author for sending me a copy of this contribution) and EHLING 2019, Paul Friedländer, pp. 51-55. 32 FLEMING 2007, Fascism, pp. 349-353; STIEWE 2011, Der ‘Dritte Humanismus’; HORN 2017, Werner Jaeger’s Paideia; KIPF 2017, Paideia und die Folgen; NÄF 2017, Werner Jaeger. 33 Friedländer begins the preface to his book on John of Gaza and Paulus Silentiarius by implicitly establishing a link between these two works: “Die Beschäftigung mit dem Dichter Nonnos von Panopolis führte zu dem Kreis seiner Schüler und Nachahmer” (FRIEDLÄNDER 1912, Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius, p. III). 34 For Nonnus’ date, see most recently ACCORINTI 2016, The Poet from Panopolis, pp. 28-32. 35 LLOYD-JONES 1971, Rev. of P. Friedländer, Studien zur antiken, p. 410. 36 WHITBY 1994, From Moschus to Nonnus; see recently DE STEFANI 2014, The end of the ‘Nonnian school’. 37 LUDWICH 1909-1911, Nonni Panopolitani Dionysiaca.

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Stil und Kunst zu analysieren und in Wirkung und Wirkungsmitteln darzustellen hätte, sondern das – nach idealer Forderung – auch zeigen müßte, wie er in der Literaturentwicklung und zu der Gesamtkultur seiner Zeit steht, und wie seine Kunst sich zu anderen Barockperioden der Poesie wesenhaft und geschichtlich verhält.38

6. Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (1931) Habent sua fata libelli: a different fate was in store for the pages he devoted to the Dionysiaca in his fine essay Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (1931), the paper he delivered at the Naumburg colloquium Das Problem des Klassischen und die Antike (1930), where Werner Jaeger, Wolfgang Schadewaldt, Eduard Fraenkel, and other German scholars debated the ‘Third Humanism’ and the value of classical studies in Weimar Germany.39 For it has been generally neglected, and almost ignored by scholars who have nonetheless made important contributions to Nonnus studies.40 And yet the few pages on the Dionysiaca contained in this essay41 – it is a pity that this excellent article has not been included in his Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst (1969) – must be numbered among the most convincing readings of Nonnus’ poem. Friedländer attempts to define classical by contrasting it with pre- and postclassical.42 The ten examples he gives from postclassical poetry are the following: 1) Callimachus, Hymn to Apollo 1-8; 2) Bion, Epitaph on Adonis 1-6; 3) Seneca, Herc. fur. 898ff.; 4) Lucan, Phars. 2.1-4; 5) Lucan, Phars. 7.1-6; 6) Statius, Theb., B. 1, proem; 7) Nonnus, Dion., B. 1, proem; 8) Nonnus, Dion. 43.186-191; 9) Nonnus, Dion. 12.32-34; 10) Nonnus, Dion. 41.275ff. He contrasts, for example, Callimachus’ Hymn to Apollo with the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, and Seneca’s Hercules furens with Euripides’ Heracles.43 The last four examples Friedländer deals with in his paper all come from the FRIEDLÄNDER 1912, Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis, p. 43. JAEGER 1931, Das Problem des Klassischen und die Antike, with the review by SHOREY (SHOREY 1931, Rev. of W. Jaeger). See LANDFESTER 1995, Die Naumburger Tagung. 40 Just to give a few examples: the bibliographies by D’IPPOLITO 1964, Studi Nonniani; GIGLI PICCARDI 1985, Metafora e poetica, and HERNÁNDEZ DE LA FUENTE 2008, ‘Bakkhos Anax’ do not mention Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (1931), but only Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis (1912); SHORROCK 2011, The Challenge of Epic includes both FRIEDLÄNDER 1912, Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis and FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch in his bibliography, but cites only the first article (cf. p. 144 and nn. 113, 116; p. 145 n. 119); RIEMSCHNEIDER 1957, Der Stil des Nonnos, p. 46 n. 2 and STRING 1966, Untersuchungen, p. 136 n. 4 refer generically to Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch. 41 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, pp. 43-46, which FAUTH 1981, Eidos poikilon, pp. 23 n. 88, 28 n. 106, 34 n. 130, 87 n. 191, 180-181 (and n. 352) properly cites. See also EHLING 2019, Paul Friedländer, pp. 43-46. 42 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 33: “Man müßte versuchen, das Klassische mittelbar zu beleuchten, indem man das Vorklassische und das Nachklassiche ins Licht setzte.” 43 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, pp. 35-36 and 38-40, respectively. 38

39

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Dionysiaca and provide valuable insights into Nonnus’ poetry. I begin with the first, the proem to Book 1, from which he quotes some lines (11-15, 34-36a, 39-41a): Ἄξατέ μοι νάρθηκα, τινάξατε κύμβαλα, Μοῦσαι, καὶ παλάμῃ δότε θύρσον ἀειδομένου Διονύσου. Ἀλλὰ χοροῦ ψαύοντι Φάρῳ παρὰ γείτονι νήσῳ στήσατέ μοι Πρωτῆα πολύτροπον, ὄφρα φανείη ποικίλον εἶδος ἔχων, ὅτι ποικίλον ὕμνον ἀράσσω. (15) Ἄξατέ μοι νάρθηκα, Μιμαλλόνες, ὠμαδίην δέ νεβρίδα ποικιλόνωτον ἐθήμονος ἀντὶ χιτῶνος (35) σφίγξατέ μοι στέρνοισι … Εὔιά μοι δότε ῥόπτρα καὶ αἰγίδας, ἡδυμελῆ δέ ἄλλῳ δίθροον αὐλὸν ὀπάσσατε, μὴ καὶ ὀρίνω (40) Φοῖβον ἐμόν·44 Das Prooemium gibt die Verschmolzenheit mit dem Gegenstand, nicht das Gegenüber. Hier ist nun die ἔκστασις ins Groteske gesteigert: der Dichter in bakchischer Raserei, die Musen sind Glieder des bakchischen Chores, der Dichter in lebendiger Wechselwirkung mit diesen dionysischen Musen und Bakchantinnen, Mimallonen. Stark dynamische Imperative. Der Gleichklang ἄξατε τινάξατε hallt wie κύμβαλα in die Ohren. Das Ungeheure liegt nicht nur im Umfang des Gedichts, sondern auch in Raum, Zeit, Gestalten. Der Raum: Ägypten, Hellas, Asien bis Indien. Denn es geht nicht wie in klassischen Epos um eine Stadt oder ein Volk, sondern um das Menschengeschlecht, um das leidende Menschengeschlecht (δυηπαθέων γένος ἀνδρῶν VII 9). Mit Vorliebe dehnt der Raum sich zum Weltall. Typhonkampf, Phaethonflut sind Lieblingsepisoden.45

Friedländer’s reading is a very perceptive one and anticipates later interpretations of Nonnus’ epic. In particular, he notes a) the identification of the poet with his hero, Dionysus; b) the importance of space, time and shapes in 44 “Bring me the fennel, rattle the cymbals, ye Muses! Put in my hand the wand of Dionysos whom I sing. But bring me, as I am a partner for your dance in the neighbouring island of Pharos, Proteus of many turns, that he may appear in all his diversity of shapes, since I twang my harp to a diversity of songs. […] Bring me the fennel, Mimallons! On my shoulders in place of the wonted kirtle, bind, I pray, tight over my breast a dapple-back fawnskin … […] Give me the jocund tambours and the goatskins! But leave for another the double-sounding pipe with its melodious sweetness”. Here and elsewhere I give the text according to VIAN et al. 1976-2006, Nonnos de Panopolis; translations are from ROUSE 1940, Nonnos, Dionysiaca, occasionally modified. Friedländer follows Ludwich’s edition except for the iota adscriptum, one punctuation change (line 13), and two alternative readings: ἀειδόμενον at line 12 (ἀειδομένου Ludwich; cf. FALKENBURG 1569, Νόννου Πανοπολίτου Διονυσιακά, p. 863 “al. ἀειδόμενον” and MARCELLUS 1856, Nonnos, Dionysiaques) and ἡδυμανῆ at line 39 (ἡδυμελῆ Ludwich), this latter probably an emendation by Friedländer. 45 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 44.

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Nonnus’ poem; c) the new geographical46 and human context; d) Nonnus’ predilection for cosmic episodes (Typhon and Phaethon). As for the analogy between Nonnus and Dionysus and the blending of the late epic poet with his epic subject, it will suffice here to quote both from Wolfgang Fauth’s (1981) and from Robert Shorrock’s (2011) book, of which only the first acknowledges his debt to Friedländer: Eine Veränderung ist im Vollzug, – man könnte sagen: eine Verwandlung unter dem Einfluß des bakchischen Taumels. Indem der Dichter von den Musen die Attribute des ekstatischen Dienstes erbittet und empfängt, wird er – so möchte er den Leser glauben machen – selbst zum ausgelassenen Verehrer des Gottes, zum verzückten Mantiker.47 It is here, during his opening invocation to the Muses, that Nonnus first establishes an analogy between himself and the subject of his song, Dionysus […]. Right at the start of his epic, then, Nonnus has dissolved the traditional distance between epic poet and epic subject; he has entered into an open relationship with the subject of his poem.48

It also significant that Friedländer uses a key term such as ‘Verschmolzenheit’ to express the blending of the late poet with the subject (Gegenstand) of his poem. I suggest that Friedländer’s terminology grows from the development of late style and the visual language of Albert Erich Brinckmann (1881-1958), a pupil of Wölfflin. This German art historian, roughly the same age as Friedländer, in his 1925 book, Spätwerke Grosser Meister, contrasted Relation (“relationship”) with Verschmolzenheit (“coalescence”) to mark the transition from a mature to a late style as “das Entgleiten unendlich vieler Funktionen in einen Zustand der Funktionslosigkeit, wo völlig in sich ausbalanzierte [sic] Kräfte als Harmonie empfunden werden, wo die Verschmolzenheit an die Stelle der Relationen getreten ist.”49

46 On Nonnus’ use of space, see recently SHORROCK 2014, Crossing the Hydaspes, p. 209: “The distances covered by Nonnus’ epic are not, however, just literary, but literal. The poem opens on Pharos island off the coast of Alexandria in Egypt and concludes forty-eight books later on Olympus. The journey between these points takes us to the cities of Greece, Asia Minor, Assyria and to India and the borders of the known world. Our understanding of Nonnus’ use of space within his epic is closely linked to the way that Nonnus’ narrative is understood more widely (which is itself linked to perceptions of late antique poetry).” Cf. also KRÖLL 2016, Die Jugend des Dionysos, p. 205 n. 15, who cites FRIEDLÄNDER, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 44. 47 FAUTH 1981, Eidos poikilon, pp. 33-34 (and n. 130, where he refers to Friedländer). 48 SHORROCK 2001, The Challenge of Epic, p. 114. 49 BRINCKMANN 1925, Spätwerke, p. 34. On the genealogy of late style, see recently LUKE 2014, Kurt Schwitters, p. 12 (on Brinckmann’s invertierte Verschmolzenheit) and especially SMILES 2016, From Titian to Impressionism.

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The second passage comes from Book 43 (lines 186-191), where Nonnus (cf. Dion. 23.312-313) evokes cosmic desorder and celestial upheaval in the contest between Helios and Poseidon over Corinth (cf. Paus. 2.1.650): Ὑψώθη δὲ θάλασσα κατ᾽ αἰθέρος, Ὠκεανῷ δέ λούετο διψὰς Ἅμαξα, καὶ ὕδασι γείτονος ἅλμης βάψας θερμὰ γένεια Κύων ἐψύχετο Μαίρης, καὶ βυθίων κενεῶνες ἀνυψώθησαν ἐναύλων κύματα πυργώσαντες, ἱμασσομένοιο δὲ πόντου (190) οὐρανίῳ Δελφῖνι θαλάσσιος ἤντετο δελφίς.51 Das Meer schäumt bis zum Himmel, die Sternbilder agieren mit (wie bei Seneca). Die Tollheit des Naturvorgangs verkörpert sich sprachlich in der Verbindung des Antithetischen: λούετο διψάς, θερμὰ ἐψύχετο, der Meerdelphin begegnet dem Himmelsdelphin – παλίντονος ἀναρμοστία! Die Zeit. Nicht nur erstreckt sich die Erzählung über Generationen. Mit Vorliebe fixiert Nonnos eine ganz andere als die menschliche Zeit: die Weltzeit. Aion ist eine Lieblingsfigur, er bittet den Zeus für das leidende Menschengeschlecht um die Gabe des Weines. […] Die Gestalten sind zum allerwenigsten die Heroen des Epos, nicht gesteigerte Menschen, sondern Ungeheuer wie Typhon, Mischwesen im Gefolge des Dionysos, Farbige wie die Inder, kosmische Mächte wie Harmonia, Aion, Ophion, Herakles Astrochiton. Die Hauptgestalt Dionysos ist der bewegteste der griechischen Götter. Die Bewegung. Es wird nicht gegangen, sondern gerannt, gestürmt, gebraust […]. Es wird getanzt, gewankt und getaumelt. Es wird weniger gesprochen als geschrien, gebrüllt […]. Die wilden dionysischen Klänge bilden den Klangraum. Beisp. VII [sc. Dion. 1.11ff.], v. 11 und 39, 40 sind schwache Fälle. Die Sinnlichkeit. An Stelle des Natürlichen tritt das Lüsterne. Man hat den Eindruck einer Zeit, die statt der Nacktheit nur noch die Entblößung kennt. Viele Szenen, wo ein Gott eine Jungfrau belauscht. Der Wind hebt ihr Gewand, oder im Wasser sieht der Lauscher die ἄντυγα μαζῶν, ἄντυγα μηρῶν, ὄργια κόλπου. Das Handeln. Bei Homer und in der Tragödie herrscht jenes Ineinander von Freiheit und Notwendigkeit, das auch wir als eigentlich menschlich empfinden. Im einzelnen ist das, wie die Erörterung lehrt, gar nicht auf eine Formel zu bringen. Bei Nonnos herrscht eindeutig ein strenger Fatalismus. Alles Tun und Erleiden ist von Uranfang festgelegt. Auf den κύρβιες Ἁρμονίης [12.32, see below] stehen aufgeschrieben und gemalt alle Schicksale der Welt.52

50 The myth also appears in painted inscriptions in Roman Corynth, see LEPINSKI 2014, Painting Practices, pp. 86-87. 51 “The sea rose to the sky, the thirsty wain bathed in the Ocean, Maira’s dog found salt water at hand to bathe in and cooled his hot chin; the deep bottom of the waters was uplifted in towering waves, the dolphin of the sea met the dolphin of the sky amid the lashing surges!” Friedländer follows Ludwich’s edition except for the iota adscriptum and two punctuation changes (lines 186-187). At the end of line 191, δελφίν is probably a slip for δελφίς. 52 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, pp. 44-45.

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Even here Friedländer’s notes are both illuminating on the Dionysiaca and signal the way to later developments on Nonnus studies, by pinpointing six key concepts of the poem: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Verbindung des Antithetischen (“antithetical combination”) Zeit (“time”) Gestalten (“figures”) Bewegung (“movement”) Sinnlichkeit (“sensuality”) Handeln (“action”).

In a comparable way Margarete Riemschneider, in her essay on Der Stil des Nonnos (1957), identifies four principles characterizing Nonnus’ poetry: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Linie (“line”) Bewegung (“movement”) Scheinbild (“appearance”) Paradoxe (“paradox”).53

As is clear, Friedländer’s fourth and Riemschneider’s second feature (Bewegung) are identical, and Friedländer’s first (Verbindung des Antithetischen) and Riemschneider’s fourth principle (Paradoxe) have affinities.54 Friedländer also stresses the importance of world time (2. Zeit), as well as of cosmic figures such as Aion, the ancient god of Time,55 Typhon, Harmonia, Ophion, Heracles Astrochiton (3. Gestalten), and the cosmic fatalism present in Nonnus’ poem which he contrasts with the interplay of freedom and necessity in Homer and tragedy (6. Handeln). He even refers to sensuality (5. Sinnlichkeit). They are all themes which have later been taken over by scholars like Fauth, Vian, Lightfoot, and Newbold.56 In addition, of particular interest are the words παλίντονος ἀναρμοστία, “back-stretched discord”, which Friedländer uses to gloss the Verbindung des Antithetischen (1.), one of the salient characters of Nonnus’ poetry. Fauth, who RIEMSCHNEIDER 1957, Der Stil des Nonnos, pp. 48-68. Riemschneider draws (no reference to Friedländer) the fine distinction between antithesis and paradox: “Das Hin und Her, die Koppelung inhaltlich auseinanderstrebender Dinge ist auch die Triebkraft für das Aufspüren des Paradoxen bei Nonnos. Man hat seine Art antithetisch genannt. Antithese ist aber die Gegenüberstellung zweier, wenn auch verschiedener, so doch gleichgewichtiger Dinge. Bei Nonnos werden Vorstellungen in eins gesetzt, die sich gegenseitig ausschließen. Es findet dadurch ein ständiges Oszillieren statt: Bald schimmert die eine Seite stärker hindurch, bald die andere. Das ergibt eine erregendes Schaukeln der Vorstellungen, die gleiche Unstetheit und Unwirklichkeit wie bei Abbild und Vergleich” (RIEMSCHNEIDER 1957, Der Stil des Nonnos, p. 61). 55 See TAMER 2008, Zeit und Gott, pp. 145-181 (“Dahr und aion”). 56 See FAUTH 1981, Eidos poikilon, pp. 158-179 (“Kosmischer Kreislauf und chaotische Katastrophen”); VIAN 1993, Préludes cosmiques; LIGHTFOOT 2016, Nonnus and Prophecy, pp. 631634, 640-641; NEWBOLD 2016, The Psychology in the Dionysiaca, pp. 195-196, 200-201, 206-207. 53 54

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refers to Friedländer, reuses the same Greek expression without commenting on its philosophical derivation: Die παλίντονος ἀναρμοστία, das zwanghafte Aufeinanderzustreben des Gegenständigen, in oppositioneller Spannung, aber auch in einer gewissen konträren Affinität zueinander Befindlichen wird von Nonnos in gedanklichem Projekt oder in mythischer Reminiszenz vorgeführt als kosmische Extrapolation jenes inneren, psychisch-emotionalen τόνος, den der Einbruch des Dionysischen in seinem Umfeld erzeugt.57

However it is evident that Friedländer coined this formula by combining an enigmatic fragment of Heraclitus (quoted by Plato, Symp. 187a-b58) on the “back-turning” (or “back-stretched”) harmony of bow and lyre: 22 B 51 D-K οὐ ξυνιᾶσιν ὅκως διαφερόμενον ἑωυτῷ ὁμολογέει· παλίντροπος [v.l. παλίντονος]59 ἁρμονίη ὅκωσπερ τόξου καὶ λύρης They do not comprehend how, in diverging, it agrees with itself: a back-turning joining like that of the bow and the lyre60

with a passage from Plato’s Phd. 93c on harmony and disharmony in the soul: Τῶν οὖν θεμένων ψυχὴν ἁρμονίαν εἶναι τί τις φήσει ταῦτα ὄντα εἶναι ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς, τήν τε ἀρετὴν καὶ τὴν κακίαν; πότερον ἁρμονίαν αὖ τινα ἄλλην καὶ ἀναρμοστίαν; καὶ τὴν μὲν ἡρμόσθαι, τὴν ἀγαθήν, καὶ ἔχειν ἐν αὑτῇ ἁρμονίᾳ οὔσῃ ἄλλην ἁρμονίαν, τὴν δὲ ἀνάρμοστον αὐτήν τε εἶναι καὶ οὐκ ἔχειν ἐν αὑτῇ ἄλλην; Now what will those who assume that the soul is a harmony say that these things – the virtue and the wickedness – in the soul are? Will they say that this is another kind of harmony and a discord, and that the soul, which is itself a harmony, has within it another harmony and that the other soul is discordant and has no other harmony within it?61

The third and the fourth passage quoted by Friedländer come from Book 12 (lines 32-34):

FAUTH 1981, Eidos poikilon, p. 87. See BELFIORE 2011, Poets at the Symposium, pp. 160-162. 59 For a good discussion of Heraclitus B 51, see GRAHAM 2002, Heraclitus and Parmenides, pp. 30-31; HUFFMAN 2013, Philolaus’ Critique of Heraclitus, pp. 124-125; FINKELBERG 2017, Heraclitus, pp. 158-160. They all prefer παλίντροπος, “back-turning” (the reading of Hippol. Haer. 9.9.2, Plut. De tranq. anim. 473f and De animae procreatione in Timaeo 1026b, printed by Diels), to the variant παλίντονος, “back-stretched”, attested in Plut. De Is. et Os. 369b (see GRIFFITHS 1970, Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride, pp. 469-470), De tranq. an. 473f (ms. D) and Porph. De antr. nymph. 29.10, and preferred by KIRK 1954, Heraclitus and MARCOVICH 1967, The Fragments of Heraclitus. On Heraclitean harmony, see also ROBINSON 1987, Heraclitus, pp. 115116 and especially DILCHER 2013, How Not to Conceive. 60 Trans. FINKELBERG 2017, Heraclitus, p. 158. 61 Trans. FOWLER 1914, Plato. On psychic disharmony in Plato’s Phaedo, see WARREN 2006, Psychic Disharmony. 57 58

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κύρβιας Ἁρμονίης ἑτερόζυγας, αἷς ἔνι κεῖται εἰν ἑνὶ θέσφατα πάντα, τά περ πεπρωμένα κόσμῳ πρωτογόνοιο Φάνητος ἐπέγραφε μαντιπόλος χείρ.62 Auf den κύρβεις die Tierkreiszeichen als Archonten. Dort findet die HerbstesHore (Χρόνου θυγάτηρ) unter den Zeichen von Löwe und Jungfrau, was sie sucht: die Verwandlung des Jünglings Ampelos in die Rebe. Die Erschaffung des Weines bringt dem Leid der Menschen die Wende.63

and from Book 41 (lines 275b-278, 281b, 294-297, 339-341, 351-352): […] Ἡ μὲν ἐποιχομένη πολυδαίδαλον ἱστὸν Ἀθήνης κερκίδι πέπλον ὕφαινεν· ὑφαινομένου δὲ χιτῶνος (295) πρώτην γαῖαν ἔπασσε μεσόμφαλον, ἀμφὶ δὲ γαίῃ οὐρανὸν ἐσφαίρωσε τύπῳ κεχαραγμένον ἄστρων … Γίνεο θαρσαλέη, μὴ δείδιθι, μῆτερ Ἐρώτων· ἑπτὰ γὰρ ἐν πινάκεσσιν ἔχω μαντήια κόσμου, (340) καὶ πίνακες γεγάασιν ἐπώνυμοι ἑπτὰ πλανήτων. Τοῖς ἔνι ποικίλα πάντα μεμορμένα θέσφατα κόσμου (351) γράμματι φοινικόεντι γέρων ἐχάραξεν Ὀφίων.64 Aphrodite kommt ins Haus der Harmonia [275b-278], um sie über die Gründung ihrer Stadt Berytos zu befragen. Auf sieben Tafeln stehen die Weissagungen des Weltalls: v. 340. Jede Tafel steht unter einem Planeten. Aphrodite sucht und findet das Schicksal ihrer Stadt: sie wird “mit der Mauer der Gesetze die Städte umschirmen” […]. Zulezt: der Sinn des Handelns. Klassisch, sagt Hegel, ist “das sich selbst Bedeutende und damit auch sich selber Deutende”. In der klassischen Dichtung der Griechen hat jedes Handeln den Sinn in sich als Manifestation dieses Menschen, Heroen, Gottes. […] Wiederum bei Nonnos hat das Handeln oft seinen eigentlichen Sinn außerhalb seiner selbst. Es wirkt prototypisch oder symbolisch oder magisch. Aphrodite kommt ins Haus der Harmonia. Sie trifft sie webend wie Hermes die Kalypso bei Homer. Aber dieses Weben bedeutet bei Nonnos etwas: sie webt das Gewebe der Welt, ebenso wie ihr Haus nicht einfach Haus ist, sondern εἰκὼν κόσμου [“image of the universe”]: Beisp. X [41.275ff.], v. 278, 281. Und die Bilder, die sich einwebt, sind zwar Himmel und Erde wie auf dem Schild des Achill. Aber das bedeutet hier etwas ganz anderes. Himmel und Erde würde 62

“[…] the separated tablets of Harmonia. In these are recorded in one group all the oracles which the prophetic hand of Phanes first born engraved as ordained for the world.” Friedländer follows Ludwich’s edition except for the iota adscriptum. 63 FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 45. 64 “She [Harmonia] was then busy at Athena’s loom, weaving a patterned cloth with her shuttle. In the robe she was weaving, she worked first Earth as the navel in the midst; round it she balled the sky dotted with the shape of stars […]. Be of good cheer, fear not, mother of the Loves! For I have oracles of history on seven tablets, and the tablets bear the names of the seven planets. […] Upon these, ancient Ophion has engraved in red letters all the divers oracles of fate for the universe.” Friedländer follows Ludwich’s edition except for the iota adscriptum and one punctuation change (line 341). At line 296, Friedländer prints γαίης (γαίῃ Ludwich).

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zerfallen, wenn sie nicht webte. Und es könnte sein, daß der Sinn des Ganzen Epos in solcher Richtung zu suchen wäre. Gewiß ist, daß diese ungeheure Handlung sich von Homer durch zweierlei völlig scheidet: Sie ist in jedem aufs genaueste vorbestimmt. Und sie ist bestimmend für das Schicksal des ganzen Menschengeschlechts.65

In these last two examples, Friedländer’s attention is focused first upon the oracles engraved by Phanes “first born” on the tablets (κύρβεις) of Harmonia in the palace of Helios, arranged according to zodiac signs,66 and upon the metamorphosis of Ampelus into the vine in Book 12, a central episode in the Dionysiaca which has been carefully studied by Nicole Kröll.67 Secondly, he refers to another astrological passage in the Dionysiaca, the oracles engraved “in red letters” by Ophion on seven tablets (πίνακες) in the palace of Harmonia in Book 41, designated by the names of the seven planets. Friedländer once again here remarks the ‘postclassical’ (in contrast to Hegel’s concept of classical beauty) sense of action in Nonnus, since it is devoid of intrinsic meaning and is perceived as “prototypical or symbolic or magical”. Furthermore, Harmonia’s weaving of the cloth in the Dionysiaca represents something completely different from the loom of Calypso in the Odyssey (5.62), just as the images that are woven on her robe, earth and sky, play a different role from those on Achilles’ shield in Book 18 of the Iliad.68 For they are symbols of a predetermined action that determines the fate of humanity. Thus these few pages on the Dionysiaca, written by Friedländer on the occasion of the Naumburg colloquium Das Problem des Klassischen und die Antike, still offer extraordinary insight into Nonnus’ poetry. 7 A Book that was Never Written: Friedländer’s Miscellaneous Notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca That this scholar was familiar with the author of the Dionysiaca, also appears from two letters he wrote to Arthur Ludwich in 1908 on textual problems in Nonnus. Ludwich refers to these in the preface of his edition and quotes Friedländer in his apparatus criticus.69 Moreover, the correspondence between FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 46. See recently FINCHER 2018, The Tablets of Harmonia. 67 KRÖLL 2016, Die Jugend des Dionysos. See also CARVOUNIS 2018, Dionysus, pp. 46-50. 68 On the meaning of Dionysus’ shield in Dion. 25.380-572, see SPANOUDAKIS 2014, The Shield. 69 LUDWICH 1909-1911, Nonni, Dionysiaca (I), p. XVIII (cf. XXIV). Cf. 2.174 Κρονίης: “Χρονιης Friedlaender coll. 422”; 2.291 ἀστεροπαῖς ὀλίγαις: “αστεροπαις Κρονιδης sine lacuna Friedlaender” (see FRIEDLÄNDER, Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis, p. 55 and n. 31); 3.41 θέσπιδι Ῥείῃ: “θ. ριπηι Friedlaender coll. met. A 210” (correction printed by KEYDELL 1959, Nonni Panopolitani and CHUVIN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (III-V); 4.414 ἐκτὸς: “αργος P. Friedlaender”; 33.206 κοῦφος ἀνήρ: “κωφὸς ἀν. Friedlaender”; see GERLAUD 2005, Nonnos, 65 66

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Wilamowitz and Friedländer (1904-1931), which was edited some years ago by William Calder III and Bernhard Huss under the fascinating title of ‘The Wilamowitz in me’,70 also reveals Friedländer’s interest in Nonnus. He refers to the Egyptian poet in four letters written to Wilamowitz: nos. 24 (7 November 1910), 30 (18 January ), 56 (26 November 1916), and 80 (9 June 1922). Leaving out nos. 24 (a brief hint about “de Nonni aetate”) and 30 (on the Nonnian adjective ἑτερόπτολις, “of various cities”), the other two letters are most intriguing. In letter 56, in which Friedländer mentions his “friend” Nonnus, we find the main concepts of his essay Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch in an embryonic form: Ich spüre den Formen archaischen Denkens und Darstellens nach, das sich vom ‘klassischen’ durchaus entfernt. Das ‘Klassische’ aber ist das, was uns zunächst selbstverständlich ist und dessen Norm wir deshalb unbesehen sowohl auf das Primitive wie auf das Hochklassische anwenden. Die tollen Umstellungen, mit denen man meinen Freund Nonnos behelligte – was sind sie anders als der Versuch, den Barockpoeten der ‘klassischen’ Norm zu unterwerfen? Das eigene Recht des Primitiven und ebenso das eigene Recht des Nachklassischen (Barocken) zu erkennen und von hier aus auch das Klassische deutlicher zu erfassen – das hab ich mir seit langem zur Aufgabe gestellt.71

In Letter 80 he refers to his scholarly activity on Nonnus and his project of writing a book about him: Und morgen eröffne ich eine Societas philologorum, in der ich mit Dr. Klingner und meinen 2 nächsten Schülern Nonnos studieren werde. Sie wissen ja wohl, dass ich über diese Kunst noch einmal ein Buch schreiben muss.72

Unfortunately Friedländer never published a book on Nonnus.73 However, a significant number (479 items) of his miscellaneous notes on the Dionysiaca, which are housed in UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3),74 Dionysiaques (XXXIII-XXXIV), p. 241 n. 7 (without mentioning Friedländer); 33.276 κεφαλῇ δ᾽ ἐρύων Ludwich: “-λῇ δὲ δακὼν Friedlaender”; 38.207 οὐ στεροπὴν: “ὃς στερ. Friedlaender.” 70 CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’; see the reviews by HOLOKA 2000 and WHITBY 2000. 71 CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. 103. 72 CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. 167. On the Latinist Friedrich Klingner (1894-1968), a student of Friedländer, see LATHER 2012, Klingner, Friedrich; cf. above, n. 22. 73 CALDER III – HUSS 1999, ‘The Wilamowitz in me’, p. 167 n. 424 add this comment: “Although he published several articles on Nonnos, Friedländer never completed a book about him.” In fact, apart from the Nonnian section in Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch referred to, Friedländer published only an article on Nonnus, Die Chronologie des Nonnos von Panopolis (1912), and the review of von Scheffer’s translation (1934). 74 The “Finding Aid for the Paul Friedländer Papers, 1848-1976 LSC.1551” is available at url: www.oac.cdlib.org/findaid/ark:/13030/c8pk0gw1/. I thank Julianna Jenkins, University Archives Assistant at UCLA Library Special Collections, for permitting to photograph the notes, and Miriam Amico, Library Assistant II at Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles, who photographed on my behalf at UCLA (May 2014). A sincere thanks also goes to Stephanie Millon,

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shed light on the background work of this great scholar and on a large body of material that he assembled for a book that was never written. These pieces have no date, but all must be earlier than Ludwich’s edition of the Dionysiaca (1909-1911), since Friedländer generally follows the text of Koeckly (1857-1858). Most likely they were written in Berlin during 19031907 (1908 is the year of two Friedländer’s letters to Ludwich referred above). For among these papers we find a draft entitled “Euphorionea HERMANNO VSENER | SEPTVAGENARIO | D.D.D. | PAVLVS FRIEDLAENDER”, an unpublished article dedicated to Hermann Usener (1834-1905) on his 70th birthday,75 and a purchase receipt from Emil Ebering, Verlagsbuchhandlung und Buchdruckerei, Berlin NW. 7, Mittelstraße 29, dated 17 February 1906. As for content, many of these pieces touch on textual and stylistic issues in the Dionysiaca, a few of them concern parallels between Nonnus and other authors (Apollonius Rhodius, Euphorion, Homer, and Oppian). Friedländer’s handwriting is sometimes hard to decipher. Greek is written using the iota adscriptum and mostly without accents and breathings.76 Thus, in the last part of my contribution I will briefly focus on a selection of this interesting archive material. Some file cards record the collation, limited to Book 2,77 of the readings of F (Vindobonenses phil. gr. 45 and 51), the manuscript used by Falkenburg for his editio princeps published in Antwerp in 1569.78 Sometimes Friedländer also adds in pencil the same readings of L (Laurentianus 32, 16) and M (Monacensis gr. 94). Others contain Friedländer’s corrections in 2.291 (Κρονίδης: ὀλίγαις L), 4.414 (ἀργός: ἐκτός L), 33.206 (κωφός: κοῦφος L), 33.276 (δὲ δακών: δὲ λύων L), and 38.207 (ὅς: οὐ L), referred to in Ludwich’s apparatus criticus: Nonnos Text. II 290 [recte 291] ΑϹΤΕΡΟΠΑΙϹ ΚΡΟΝΙΔΗϹ ΑϹΤΕΡΟΠΑΙϹ ΟΛΙΓΑΙϹ Friedländers granddaughter, for permission (email, 15 August 2020) to publish photos of Friedländers miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. 75 The Nachlass of Usener contains “Zwei Untersuchungen zur griechischen Sage und Geschichte” (*S 2167), Friedländer’s tribute, dated Berlin, 29 October 1904, on the occasion of his 70th birthday (Usener was born on 23 October 1834), see url: www.ulb.uni-bonn.de/de/ sammlungen/nachlaesse/findbuecher-und-inhaltsverzeichnisse/usener. 76 While I have maintained Friedländer’s iota adscriptum, I have generally put accents and breathings in the transcription of his handwriting. German nouns have been regularly capitalised. 77 Lines 7, 15, 16, 17, 21, 23, 25, 26, 27, 30, 37, 38, 47, 53, 54, 55, 58, 65, 68, 81, 86, 90, 92, 95, 101, 107, 108, 109, 117, 119, 120, 125, 129, 131, 144, 145, 159, 160, 163, 167, 172, 175, 179, 181, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 193, 198, 199, 205. 78 See VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. LXV.

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[cf. Ludwich in app.] 525ff. […] XIII 383 […] IV 414. εκτος […] ἐκτὸς ἔπιπτε “tent. Cun. fort. vere” Graefe [cf. Graefe in app.]. […] ἈΡΓÒϹ ἜΜΙΜΝΕ ΕΚΤΟϹ Nonnos Text (Illus. 25.2) 33, 206 κοῦφος Koechly. leg: κωφός 276 κεφαλὴ δὲ λύων παλινάγρετον οὐρήν. leg: κεφαλῆι δὲ δακὼν παλ. οὐρ. ΔΕΔΑΚΩΝ ΔΕΛΥΥΩΝ παλινάγρ. […] Nonn. Text 38 [in pencil] 206/7 κύκνον ἔχει πτερόεντα καὶ οὐ ταχὺν ἵππον Ἀπόλλων ὃς στεροπὴν πυρόεσσαν ἀερτάζει γενετῆρος. codd. οὐ […]

None of these corrections, which have been proposed mainly for palaeographical reasons, was adopted either by Ludwich or by subsequent editors of the Dionysiaca. However, a few observations on Friedländer’s conjectures may be here useful. In 2.291 ἀστεροπαῖς ὀλίγαις κεκορυθμένος the correction Κρονίδης instead of ὀλίγαις avoids the lacuna stated by Koechly after v. 290 by inserting the subject of the participle κεκορυθμένος (cf. Dion. 8.247-249 Εἰ δὲ καί, ὡς ἐνέπεις, σέο νυμφίος ἐστὶ Κρονίων, | ἐλθέτω εἰς σέο λέκτρα σὺν ἱμερόεντι κεραυνῷ, | ἀστεροπῇ γαμίῃ κεκορυθμένος79). In fact Vian, who indicates the lacuna after v. 290 and keeps ὀλίγαις at v. 291 (cf. also Keydell in app.), conjecturally fills the lacuna as follows: “ qui n’a pour arme que quelques éclairs.”80 In 4.414 Ἀπαμηθεῖσα δὲ κόρση | σώματος ἐκτὸς ἔμιμνε Friedländer conjectures ἀργός (the meaning here should be “idle, lazy”, see LSJ, s.v. ἀργός [B], I.1) in place of ἐκτός (“without”, with gen.), but the adjective ἀργός is used by Nonnus only in 42.161 κύνες ἀργαί (“fleet hounds”; cf. Hom. Il. 1.50 κύνας ἀργούς, 18.283 κύνες ἀργοί and LSJ, s.v. ἀργός [A], I.1), while ἐκτὸς ἔμιμνε(ν) also occurs in the same sedes in 10.221. At 33.206 κοῦφος ἀνήρ there is no reason to emend κοῦφος (“eitel, töricht”, Peek 1968-1975, Lexikon, s.v.) to κωφός (“dull, obtuse”, see LSJ, s.v. II.5a), although Friedländer’s proposal is palaeographically plausible and makes 79 “Or if as you say, Cronion is your bridegroom, let him come to your bed with amorous thunders, armed with bridal lightning.” 80 VIAN 1976, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (I-II), p. 116.

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sense (cf. 25.423 κωφὸς [κοῦφος Graefe] ἀκινήτης ἐλελίζετο παλμὸς ἐρίπνης). In 33.276 Ὄφις δέ τις ἥσυχος ἕρπων | κεῖτο πεσών, κεφαλῇ † δὲ λύων † παλινάγρετον οὐρήν Friedländer’s correction δὲ δακών gives a satisfactory meaning (cf. 4.360 [sc. ὄφις] τὸν μὲν ὑπὸ στέρνοισι δακὼν χαροποῖσι γενείοις), but is paleographically unlikely (similarly to Keydell’s δὲ βαλών81). Finally, at 38.207 οὐ στεροπὴν πυρόεσσαν ἀερτάζει γενετῆρος Friedländer conjectures that ὅς must be read instead of οὐ probably on the basis of 10.303 καὶ στεροπὴν γενετῆρος ἀερτάζειεν Ἀπόλλων, where Apollo is given the thunderbolt of his father Zeus. However, in the case of Helios’ speech to Phaethon (38.196-211), it is evident that the father wants to convince his son not to drive his car, reminding him that “Apollo has a winged swan, not a running horse, lifts not his father’s fiery lightning” (38.206-207). Other suggested emendations in 9.47 (πλαζομένων: -ομένους L), 9.63 (αὐτόν: αὐτοί L), 9.257 (σύμπλοκος: -ον L), and 47.617 (ζαφλεγές: ἀφλεγές L), which are not mentioned by Ludwich in his apparatus criticus, do not hit the mark: Nonn. IX 47. πλαζομένων pro -ομένους? 63. αὐτόν pro αὐτοῦ sive αὐτοί 257. σύμπλοκος ἕδρηι? […] Nonn. Text 47, 617 (κεραυνοί) ζαφλεγὲς ἄσθμα χέοντες cod: ἀφλεγὲς [cf. Dion. 2.26 ζαφλεγὲς ἁρπαμένοιο σέλας μάστευε κεραυνοῦ] […]

In 9.47 Καὶ πλοκάμους βάκχευον ἐς ἠέρα θυάδες αὖραι | πλαζομένους there is no need to emend to πλαζομένων, for the text is sound, cf. 7.261 χαίτην | πλαζομένην ἀνέμοισι, 32.13, 42.83 πλαζομένης … ἐθείρης, 34.313 πλαζομένης … χαίτης. At 9.63 οὐδέ μιν αὐτοί | μητροφόνοι σπινθῆρες ἐδηλήσαντο κεραυνοῦ Friedländer’s αὐτόν (Koechly αὐτοῦ) is unjustified: it is μιν the object complement of ἐδηλήσαντο. In 9.257ff. Πολλάκι θεσπεσίῃ τριποδηίδι σύμπλοκον ἕδρῃ | αὐχμηραῖς τριέλικτον ὄφιν σπειρηδὸν ἐθείραις | ἥρμοσε Friedländer proposes to read σύμπλοκος, but the accusative σύμπλοκον agrees with ὄφιν. In 47.617 κεραυνοί | ἀφλεγὲς ἄσθμα χέοντες ἀδηλήτῳ Διονύσῳ Friedländer suggests ζαφλεγές (“shining, bright”, cf. 2.26 ζαφλεγὲς ἁρπαμένοιο σέλας μάστευε κεραυνοῦ), but there is no reason to doubt ἀφλεγές, cf. 45.100 ἀφλεγέες σπινθῆρες ἐχυτλώσαντο κεραυνοῦ (“[Dionysos] was bathed by lightnings which burnt him not”). 81

See GERLAUD 2005, Nonnos, Dionysiaques (XXXIII-XXXIV), p. 175.

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More interesting are the varied ‘entries’ which are listed in these file cards, because some of these seem to anticipate Wifstrand’s and String’s stylistic observations on Nonnus’ poetry82 despite their partly unsystematic nature. Here is a selection from Friedländer’s miscellaneous notes: “Αἴτια u. Etymologien” (8.10ff., 12.360-362, 13.124-126) Nonnos (Illus. 25.3) αἴτια u. Etymologien Semele ἀνέπλεκε κισσὸν … ἐπεσσομένηισι δὲ νύμφαις ὄψιμον ἀγχιτόκοισιν ἐπωνυμίην πόρε κίσσης ([…] κισσοῦ) VIII 10 ff XIII 124 Ὑάμπολιν, ἥνπερ ἀκούω Ἀονίης ὑὸς οὖδας ἐπώνυμον, ἣ περὶ μορφῆς αὐχένα γαῦρον ἄειρε καὶ ἤρισε Τριτογενείηι. XII 360 καὶ βοέοις ἀρύοντο κεράασιν ἀντὶ κυπέλλων μήπω φαινομένων, ὅθεν ὕστερον ἐξέτι κείνου θέσκελον οὔνομα τοῦτο κεραννυμένωι πέλεν οἴνωι.

“Allegorie” (on Nemesis in 48.375ff.) Nonn. Allegorie 48, 375 ff Nemesis: καὶ τροχὸς αὐτοκύλιστος ἔην παρὰ ποσσὶν ἀνάσσης σημαίνων, ὅτι πάντας ἀγήνορας εἰς πέδον ἕλκει ὑψόθεν εἰλυφόωσα δίκης ποινήτορι κύκλωι, δαίμων πανδαμάτειρα, βίου στροφόωσα πορείην [378-381] […]

“Änder.[ungen] a.[n] d.[en] Vorlagen aus verstechn.[ischen] Gründen” (Hom. Il. 2.497, 2.502 ~ Dion. 13.61-62 and Hom. Il. 2.520 ~ Dion. 13.128) Nonnos. Änder. a. d. Vorlagen aus verstechn. Gründen Ilias Β 497 Σχοῖνόν τε Σκῶλόν τε πολύκνημόν τ᾽ Ἐτεωνόν 502 Κώπας Εὔτρησίν τε πολυτρήρωνά τε Θίσβην Nonn. XIII 61. Εἰλέσιον καὶ Σκῶλον ἁλικρήπιδά τε Θίσβην ὅρμον ἐυτρήρωνα θαλασσαίης Ἀφροδίτης 1) […] πολυτρήρωνα / ἁλικρήπιδα 2) πολυτρήρωνα / ἐυτρήρωνα […] πολυτρήρωνα ἐυτρ. […] Il. B 520 Κρῖσάν τε ζαθέην καὶ Δαυλίδα καὶ Πανοπῆα Nonn. XIII 128 Κρῖσαν ἀειδομένην καὶ Δαυλίδα καὶ Πανοπῆα

“Contrad.[ictio] in adi.[ecto] ὀξύμωρον” (3.225, 4.11, 4.263, 4.321, 5.106, 5.595-596, 15.107, 17.26, 17.42, 17.119)

82

WIFSTRAND 1933, Von Kallimachos zu Nonnos, pp. 78-154; STRING 1966, Untersuchungen.

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Nonnos Contrad. in adi. ὀξύμωρον (Illus. 25.4) III 225 αὐτόματοι κήρυκες ἀναυδέες εἰσὶν ὀπωπαί. IV 11 σιγαλέοι κήρυκες ἐμαντεύοντο παρειαί IV 263 γραπτὸν ἀσιγήτοιο τύπον τορνώσατο σιγῆς· IV 321 σιγαλέης λάλον εἷμα δυσηλακάτου Φιλομήλης V 106 φθεγγομένη παλάμηισι σοφὸν τύπον ἔμφρονι σιγῆι V 595/6 αὐτομάτωι δέ | σιγαλέωι κήρυκι τύπον πιστώσατο μορφῆς (sc. dem Spiegel) XV 107 καὶ πολὺς ἐσμὸς ἴαυε λάλος νέκυς, ἠέρι πέμπων ἀλλοίης ἀχάλινον ἀσημάντου θρόον ἠχοῦς. XVII 26 ἔμφρονα νεκρὸν ἄναυδον […] cf. 124 [νέκυες ζώοντες]. XVII 42 ναίων οἶκον ἄοικον […] τεύχων δεῖπνον ἄδειπνον [17.51] XVII 119 νωθρὸν ἐπιτρέψαντες ἀκοιμήτωι δέμας ὕπνωι

“Doppelseitigkeit des Ausdrucks” (1.373, 2.97, 3.101, 3.144, 3.152, 3.400, 6.115-116) Doppelseitigkeit des Ausdrucks. εἵμασι μιμηλοῖσι νόθον χλαίνωσε νομῆα. ἀγχιφανὴς ἀγόρευσε μετήλυδι γείτονι νύμφη [sic] ἤιε φειδομένωι γαμίωι ποδὶ νωθρὸς ὁδίτης ὄχνη ἀγλαόκαρπος ὁμήλικι σύμφυτος ὄχνηι [sic] καρπὸς ἐπεθήλεεν οἴνοπι καρπῶι ἀγχιφύτωι μηρὸν ἐφαπλώσασα κεχηνότα γείτονι μηρῶι κτύπον ἀντικέλευθον ἐπιβρομέοντος ἀπήνηι . . . . κατερροίζησε Βορῆος

D I 373 II 97 III 101 III 144 III 152 III 405 [= 400] VI 115 f

“Etymologien” (κεράννυται ~ κέρας in 12.360-361) Nonnos Etymologien. κεράννυται / κέρας

12.360 f

“Komik” (1.37-38, 1.423-424, 1.507) Nonnos Komik 1, 37/8 […] νεβρίς βυθίῃ δὲ παρ᾽ Εἰδοθέηι καὶ Ὁμήρωι φωκάων βαρὺ δέρμα φυλασσέσθω Μενελάωι. […] 1, 423/424 Typhon ἀντιτύπωι ποιμένι δεξιτερὴν μίαν ὤρεγεν. cf. γελόων [426] […] 1, 507. ἔννεπε καὶ χαροπῆισιν ἐπ᾽ ὀφρύσι νεῦσε Τυφωεύς Parodie […]

“Metamorphosenschilderung” (5.316ff. [Actaion], 12.175ff. [Ampelus], 19.287ff. [Silenus]) Nonnos Metamorphosenschilderung V 316 ff Ἀκταίων, … σὲ μὲν λίπεν αὐτίκα μορφή

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XII 175 ff

499

ἀνδρομέη, πισύρων δὲ ποδῶν ἐδιχάζετο χηλή καὶ τανααὶ γναθμοῖσιν ἐμηκύνοντο παρειαί, κνῆμαι ἐλεπτύνοντο καὶ ἀγκύλα δοιὰ μετώπωι φύετο μακρὰ κόρυμβα … κεραίης καὶ στικτοῖς μελέεσσι νόθη ποικίλλετο μορφή καὶ λάσιον δέμας εἶχεν Ἄμπελος αὐτοτέλεστος ἑὴν ἠλλάξατο μορφήν καὶ πέλε νήδυμον ἄνθος· ἀμειβομένοιο δὲ νεκροῦ γαστὴρ θάμνος ἔην … ἄκρα δὲ χειρῶν ἀκρεμόνες βλάστησαν, ἐνερρίζωντο δὲ ταρσοί βόστρυχα βότρυες ἦσαν, ἐμορφώθη δὲ καὶ αὐτή νεβρὶς … ἀμπελόεις δὲ κόρυμβος ἔην δολιχόσκιος αὐχήν. […]

XIX 285 [numbering according to Graefe, Marcellus, and Koechly = 287 Ludwich et al.] (Seilenos) 290 [= 292]

καὶ ποταμὸς μορφοῦτο· δέμας δέ οἱ ἔβλυεν ὕδωρ χεύμασιν αὐτομάτοισιν· ἀμειβομένου δὲ μετώπου εἰς προχοὴν ἐπίκυρτον ἐκυμαίνοντο κεραῖαι etc. Σειληνοῦ δὲ χυθέντος ἀμειβομένη πέλε χαίτη εἰς θρύον αὐτοτέλεστον etc.

“Metonymisches gehäuft” (2.479ff., 7.19ff., 8.396, 13.483, 15.175ff., 25.489) Nonnos Metonymisches gehäuft (Illus. 25.5) cf Claudian Gigantom.? 50 ff II 480 [479] ff βροντὴν μὲν σάκος εἶχε νέφος δέ οἱ ἔπλετο θώρηξ καὶ στεροπὴν δόρυ πάλλε διιπετέες δὲ κεραυνοί | ἠερόθεν πέμποντο ὀιστοί. VII 19 ff ὅτε στροφάδεσσιν ἐρωαῖς ὀρχηστὴρ πολύκυκλος ἑλίσσετο λαίλαπι ταρσῶν νεύματα μῦθον ἔχων, παλάμην στόμα, δάκτυλα φωνήν. VIII 396 καὶ στεροπὴ πέλε μαῖα καὶ Εἰλείθυια κεραυνοί XIII 483 ἔγχος ἔχων στόμα θοῦρον, ἔπος ξίφος, ἀσπίδα φωνήν. XV 175 ff καί οἱ (Nikaia) … ἠλακάτη πέλε τόξον … … κλωστῆρες ἔσαν πτερόεντες ὀιστοί καὶ σταλίκων ξύλον ὀρθὸν … ἱστὸς Ἀθήνης XXV 489 (der [?] Lyder Damasen) τικτομένωι δέ οἱ ἦεν Ἔρις τροφός· ἔγχεα δ᾽ αὐτῶι μαζὸς ἔην καὶ χύτλα φόνοι καὶ σπάργανα θώρηξ

“Parallele Verse” (16.238-239, 16.298-299, 16.300-301, 16.354-356, 19.6-7) Nonnos. parallele Verse XVI 238/9 οὐ Σεμέλην ἱκέτευεν, ἕως ἐτύχησεν ἐρώτων οὐ Δανάην παρέπεισεν, ἕως σύλησε κορείην· XVI 298/9

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παρθένε χάλκεον ὕπνον ἐρασσαμένωι πόρες Ὕμνωι, παρθένε νήδυμος ὕπνος ἀπώλεσε σεῖο κορείην. 290/1 [300/301] οἰκτρὸν ἴδες γελόωσα δεδουπότος αἷμα νομῆος οἰκτρότερον στενάχουσα τεῆς ἴδες αἷμα κορείης XVI 354/6 ὤμοι παρθενίης τὴν ἥρπασεν εὔιον ὕδωρ “ “ “ “ ὕπνος ἐρώτων “ “ “ ἥρπασε Βάκχος ἀλήτης XIX 6. σὸν Στάφυλον Διόνυσε κατεύνασεν ὕστατος ὕπνος, σὸν Στάφυλον, Διόνυσε, Χαρωνίδες ἥρπασαν αὖραι.

“Pointen” (on 43.190-191, 44.154, 46.318-319) Nonn. Pointen XLIII 190/1 ἱμασσομένοιο δὲ πόντου οὐρανίωι δελφῖνι θαλάσσιος ἤντετο δελφίς83 XLIV 154 σήμερον αἰθαλόεντα μετ᾽ ἀμπελόεντα τελέσσω. 46, 318/9 νηδὺς Ἀγαύης παιδοκόμος με λόχευσε καὶ ἔκτανε παιδοφόνος χείρ.

“Stil. Identisches mehrmals (mit Verschränkungen)” (37.187ff., 10.196-197 [“chiastisch”]) Nonnos. Stil. Identisches mehrmals (Illus. 25.6) (mit Verschränkungen) 37, 187ff. σπεῦδε τέκος γενετῆρα τεαῖς ἀρετῆισι γεραίρειν· καὶ δρόμος ἱπποσύνης μεθέπει κλέος, ὅσσον ἐνυώ· σπεῦδε καὶ ἐν σταδίοισι μετὰ πτολέμους με γεραίρειν· ἄρεα νικήσας ἑτέρην ὑποδύσεο νίκην, ὄφρα μετ᾽ αἰχμητῆρα καὶ ἀθλοφόρον σε καλέσσω. X 196 chiastisch τίς σε πατὴρ ἐφύτευσε; τίς οὐρανίη τέκε γαστήρ;84 τίς Χαρίτων σε λόχευσε; τίς ἤροσε καλὸς Ἀπόλλων;

“Stilistisch. 2 gegensätzliche wieder variierend” (25.23-25) Nonnos stilistisch. 2 gegensätzliche wieder variierend. οὔποτε γὰρ μόθον ἄλλον ὁμοίιον ἔδρακεν αἰών Ἠώιου πρὸ μόθοιο, | καὶ οὐ μετὰ φύλοπιν Ἰνδῶν ἄλλην ὀψιτέλεστον ἰσόρροπον εἶδεν ἐνυώ |. [25.23-25]

Cf. FRIEDLÄNDER 1931, Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch, p. 44. Friedländer drew, below this line, the shape of the Greek letter chi, X (it refers to chiasmus). 83

84

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“Wirklichkeitsschilderung mit kleinen anschaulichen Einzelzügen” (23.105ff.) Nonnos Wirklichkeitsschilderung mit kleinen anschaulichen Einzelzügen. XXIII 105ff. […]85

“Wortraritäten” (on χάλις in 15.25, cf. Hippon. fr. 119 Degani) Nonnos Wortraritäten. XV 25. δυσμενέας δ᾽ ἐμέθυσσε χάλις ῥόος. Hippon. fr 67 (Hiller Anth86) [= 119 Degani] ὀλίγα φρονέουσιν οἱ χάλιν πεπωκότες. χάλις ὁ ἄκρατος οἶνος Et M.

“Wortspiele” (Ἁρμονίην/ἁρμονίην in 3.374-375, Ἐρίφη/Εἰραφιώτηι in 21.81, ἐπέρραφεν/Εἰραφιώτης in 42.315, λυσιμελές/ἐλύετο in 42.345, Δηριάδης/ δῆριν in 24.70) Nonnos Wortspiele ὄφρα κε Κάδμωι Ἁρμονίην ὀπάσειεν ἐς ἁρμονίην ὑμεναίων III 373/4 [recte 374-375] Nonnos (fig. 25.7). Wortspiele. Ἐρίφη δὲ συνέμπορος Εἰραφιώτηι XXI 81 ἀλλὰ δόλωι δόλον ἄλλον ἐπέρραφεν Εἰραφιώτης. XLII 315. λυσιμελὴς Διόνυσος ἐλύετο γυῖα μερίμνηι XLII 345 Δηριάδης ἐπὶ δῆριν ἐπώνυμον ὥπλισεν Ἰνδούς. XXIV 70.

“Zwei Parallelhandlungen m.[it] starker Differenzierung d.[es] Ausdrucks” (19.95-96, 19.104-105, 25.23ff.) Nonnos Zwei Parallelhandlungen m. starker Differenzierung d. Ausdrucks XIX 93/94 [95-96] υἱέα Βότρυν ἔπαυσε φιλοθρήνοιο μερίμνης καὶ κινυρῆς ἀλόχοιο Μέθης εὔνησεν ἀνίην. 102/3 [104-105] εὐχαίτην Ὑάκινθον ἀνεζώγρησεν Ἀπόλλων καὶ Στάφυλον Διόνυσος ἀεὶ ζώοντα τελέσσει. XXV 23 ff οὔποτε γὰρ μόθον ἄλλον ὁμοίϊον ἔδρακεν αἰών Ἠώιου πρὸ μόθοιο, καὶ οὐ μετὰ φύλοπιν Ἰνδῶν ἄλλην ὀψιτέλεστον ἰσόρροπον εἶδεν Ἐνυώ [ἐνυώ Graefe]. 85 Friedländer refers to Dion. 23.105-112, where Nonnus draws on Hom. Il. 21.301-302 πολλὰ δὲ τεύχεα καλὰ δα¨ικταμένων αἰζηῶν | πλῶον καὶ νέκυες; see SHORROCK 2014, Crossing the Hydaspes, p. 217. 86 Cf. HILLER 1890, Anthologia Lyrica Graeca.

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In another piece Friedländer, probably referring to Dion. 5.614-615, 14.143145, 14.201-202, wonders about the horned Centaurs: “Woher hat er seine gehörnten Kentauren? Hellenistische Kunst?” Here we recognize, once more again, the pupil of Wilamowitz who was converted by Loeschcke to archaeology during his year of study at Bonn (1902-1903), as Friedländer himself recollects in Erinnerung an Georg Loeschcke: “Werde ich nun eigentlich Philologe oder Archäologe?” fragte ich ihn (und mich) gegen Ende meines Bonner Studienjahres. “Sie werden Philologe mit starkem archäologischem Interesse!” war Loeschckes Antwort. Und so ist es geworden.87

Why did Friedländer not complete this book on Nonnus? We have reason to conjecture that it was because his career was twice interrupted by world wars: first in World War I, when he voluntereed for the German Army in 1914,88 and then in World War II, Friedländer lost his chair at Halle (1935), experienced the concentration camp at Sachsenhausen (1938) and emigrated to the USA in 1939. There is no doubt that the scholar of Byzantine ekphrasis would have been capable of writing an important volume on Nonnus too. It suffices to read Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch and take a look at his miscellaneous notes on the Dionysiaca preserved at UCLA’s Charles E. Young Research Library. But things did not work the way Friedländer wanted them to.89 Thus, beside the edition of Nonnus’ Paraphrase Joseph Golega was working on,90 we must regret that Friedländer’s book on the Dionysiaca too has never been published.91

87 FRIEDLÄNDER 1952, Erinnerung an Georg Loeschcke, p. 16. See also Ehling 2019, Paul Friedländer, pp. 15-16. 88 See OBERMAYER 2014, Deutsche Altertumswissenschaftler, pp. 598-599. 89 See also CALDER III 1994, Friedländer, Paul, p. 201 “The pity is that he could have achieved so much more if things had been different.” 90 KEYDELL 1972, Nonnos, c. 155 “Ta.: Dionys. Keydell 1959. Metab.: von Golega in Vorbereitung.” 91 I wish to thank my friend Mary Whitby for carefully reading my paper.

PAUL FRIEDLÄNDER AND NONNUS’ POETRY

Illustration 25.1: Paul Friedländer (1882-1968). After P. FRIEDLÄNDER, Studien zur antiken Literatur und Kunst, Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 1969, p. II.

503

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Illustration 25.2: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

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Illustration 25.3: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

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Illustration 25.4: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

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Illustration 25.5: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

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Illustration 25.6: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

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Illustration 25.7: Paul Friedländer, Miscellaneous notes on Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3). Photo: Miriam Amico. © UCLA Library Special Collections.

BIBLIOGRAPHY A.J.

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GENERAL INDEX

A Abydos, 30-31 Accorinti, Domenico, 3-4, 10, 17 Achilles, 78, 81, 87-88, 91, 157, 230, 426 – Shield of, 69, 386, 492 Actaeon, 5, 88-90, 102-103, 112 Aeacus, 88-90, 102 Aegina, 88 Aegipan, 122 Aelian (Claudius Aelianus), 217-220 Aelius Aristides, 323, 325 Aeschylus, 238 – Agammemnon, 269 – Persians, 277 Aesthetics, 335 ἄγαλμα, 336, 348 Agamemnon, 91 Agatharchides, 219 Agathias Scholasticus, 401-410, 416, 418 – Cycle, 401-407, 410-411, 419 Agosti, Gianfranco, 4-5, 7, 17, 19, 43, 46 Aigoceros, 121 Aion, 98, 489 αἴσθησις, 338 αἰτία, 331 Ajax, 229-331 Alexander the Great, 4, 201, 216-218 – Alexander historians, 214, 220 – Macedonian conquest, 201 Alexandria, 8, 21, 134, 202-203, 208 – Alexandrian age, 5 – Alexandrian Patriarchate, 7-8 ἀλεξίκακος, 426 Allegory, 227, 358 Allusion, 266, 355, 357-359, 367-368 ἀμήτωρ, 90, 94 Amicitia, 202 Ampelus, 18, 70, 98-99, 342, 492 Amphion, 386-387 – Lyre, 386-387 Amplification, 245-247, 263 Anica Juliana, 38 Anthologia Palatina, 23-25, 30, 35, 40, 415

Anthologia Planudea, 415 Anthology of Cephales, 23-24, 26 Antiquity of a city, 327-330 Antithesis, 273 ἀνύμφευτος, 95 Apatouria, 239 Aphrodite, 80-83, 89, 94, 97, 100, 103, 111-112, 117, 145-146, 327-328, 330331, 333 Aphrodisiac, 220 Apograph, 416 Apollinaris, 7 Apollo, 13, 138, 142, 359-360, 368-375, 378, 380 Apollonius of Rhodes, 124-125 – Argonautica, 172-173, 187 Apollodorus, 213 Apotheosis, 32 Aratus, 119-120, 122-123, 125-126, 128130 – Phaenomena, 119, 122-126, 129 Arcas, 127 Ares, 15, 78-79, 81-82, 84-85, 87, 90, 98, 101, 155 Argos, 18, 102 Ariadne, 91, 94, 97 – Crown (constellation), 130 Aristaeus, 88, 91 Aristophanes, – Frogs, 192, 269 Aristophanes the grammarian, 217 Aristotle, 218-221, 337 – On Dreams, 336 ἄρρητος, 270 Arrian of Nicomedia, 216 – Indian History, 235 Artemidorus, 213-214, 226 Artemis, 79, 83-84, 94, 96-97, 103-117 Arthaśāstra, 218 Asclepiades, 419 Ascra, 43-44 Asian culture, 196, 201, 209 ἀσίδηρος, 79 ἀσιγήτοιος, 45-46 Asses (constellation), 126-127

558

GENERAL INDEX

– Crib (constellation), 121 Associative logic, 122, 125, 130 Astacis, Lake, 18 Astronomy, 119 Athamas, 364, 368 Athena, 77-117 Athenaeus of Naucratis, 218 Athens, 78, 88-90, 99-100, 102 Atlantis, 146 Attica, 78, 90, 101-102 Auctores, 134 Augustine of Hippo, 233, 242 Augustus (Octavian), 146-149 Aura, 97, 103-117, 351-353 – and Eros / Peitho, 135-137 Aurality, 8 Autochthony, 329 Author portrait, 36-39, 41 Autumn (personified), 145 Avitus of Vienna, 227 B Babylon, 383 Bacchant, 6, 19, 222, 230, 238, 341-342 Baptism, 47, 242, 254, 299, 301, 304, 313-316, 319-320 Baroque, 4, 12, 17, 245, 253, 261 Bathing scene, 103-117 Bear (constellation), 121, 127 Beatrice, Pierfranco, 14 Boeotia, 239-240, 392 Berchman, Robert, 340 Berenike, 198, 202, 204-205 Beroe, 90, 94-100, 145, 149, 160, 236, 331-332, 345, 384 Berytus, 8, 11, 145-146, 149, 323-334 – First inhabitants, 327-329 Beirut. See Berytus Bellerophon, 135 Biblical tradition, 271 Big data, 169-192 – Oblique slicing, 170-171, 192 Bird (constellation), 219 Bootes (constellation), 122, 127, 128 Breastfeeding, 115-116, 228, 314, 320 Brinckmann, Albert Erich, 487 Brongus, 15, 98 Buecheler, Franz, 480-481

Bull (constellation), 122, 124-125 Bultmann, Rudolf, 478 Burckhardt, Jacob, 480 C Cadmus, 5, 20, 82-83, 85-86, 95-96, 100102, 121-129, 383-396 – Invention of the alphabet, 265-266 Calder III, W., 479, 481, 493 Callimachus, 5, 49, 62-63, 291, 362, 419 Callisto, 127 Cameron, Alan, 22 Cana, 18, 259, 298-304, 316 Cancer, 126-129 Capricorn, 122 Captatio benevolentiae, 423 Carrol, Lewis, 220 Cassandra, 269 Castelli, Emanuele, 30 Catalogue, 232, 236-237 Catasterism, 33, 121-130 Centaur, 502 Ceramics, 208 Chalcomedeia, 83, 94-95 Chaos, 388-389, 397 Chariclo, 103, 107-111, 117 Charioteer (constellation), 121-125 Charis, 81 Christ, 72, 259, 271-273, 276, 284, 291292, 311, 318, 439-446. See also Jesus Christianity, 4, 11, 14, 17, 22, 169, 207, 233, 402-403, 408-410, 412 – Christianisation of India, 205 – Christians, 7, 22, 120, 376 – Church (institution), 9, 300-301 – Context, 61, 189 – Conversion, 3-4, 14, 234-240, 298, 302, 309 – Imperialism, 233 – Tradition, 12, 17, 50 χρύσασπις, 94 Chthonic Beasts, 387-388 Chuvin, Pierre, 139, 195, 210, 216, 227, 231 Cicero, – Academics, 337 Cleitarchus, 219-220 Cleopatra, 148

GENERAL INDEX

Cognitive process, 380 Collart, Paul, 5 Colluthus, 162, 164-166, – Abduction of Helen, 163-164, 166 Comparison, 14, 229, 250-251, 330, 424. See also Simile Compounds, 344 – άιολο-, 344 – αὐτο-, 170, 187-189, 191-192 – δολο-, 344 – Hybridisation, 192 – νοο-, 344 – πολυ-, 170, 172-174, 179-180, 184187, 190-192 Constellation, 120, 122-130. See also asses, bear, bird, bootes, bull, charioteer, crab, crib, crown, goat, harp, kids, lyre, manger, ox-driver, swan, wain Cosmas Indicopleustes, 231-232 Cosmogony, 359, 388, 397 Crab (constellation), 126 Craterus, 404, 407, 409 Cronus, 123, 327, 394 Crossroads, 120, 206-209, 355-356 Curse lead tablets, 355 Curtius, Ernst Robert, 480 Ctesias, 214-215, 218 Cynocephali, 233 Cyril of Alexandria, 7-9, 11-12, 18 – Commentary of John, 301-302 D Damasen, 86 Danaus, 18 Danae, 137-140 Daphne, 360, 370-376, 380 δαφνήεις, 44-45 Dardanus, 383 Dawn, 363-365 Deiphobus, 91 Delos, 331 Delphi, 369, 385-386, 391-392 – Oracle, 375, 385, 392 Demeter, 81, 91, 145 Demodocus, 81-82 Deriades, 68, 90-93, 98, 134-135, 213, 222, 225 Desert, 48

559

Devil, 19, 366 διάνοια, 338 Dio Chrysostom, 435, 438, 440 Diomedes, 78, 87 Dionysiaca, 119-125, 130, 133-149, 441 – book epigram, 23-41 – Christian themes in, 17-18 – Episodic focus, 5, 54 – Gigantomachia, 20 – Literary recognition of, 3-4, 8 – Proems, 12-14, 27-30, 341, 486 – Size and scope, 169-170 Ps.-Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 323 Dionysius Periegetes, 213-216, 226 – Bassarica, 213-216 Dionysus, 4-6, 11, 13, 15-18, 20-22, 32-33, 78-103, 112-117, 121, 126-127, 130, 155-160, 213, 222, 224, 226-228, 331, 234-242, 357, 365, 367, 369-370, 375-381, 384, 386, 395-396 – and Deriades, 134-135 – Dionysism, 11 – Shield, 119, 386-387 Dioscorides, Pedanius, 37-38 – De materia Medica, 37 Dismembering, 58 Divination, 368, 371, 374 δολοπλόκος, 93 δολορραφής, 92 δόλος, 343 Donne, John, 219 Dousa, Janus, 425-426 Dreams, 359, 367-369, 371, 376, 379 Duc, Thierry, 5 Dvořák, M., 483 E Earthshaker, 159. See also Poseidon Echo (allusion), 269-271, 273-274, 276, 280 Echo (character), 267 Ecphrasis, 81, 88, 303, 325, 339 Eerie, 228, 231 Egypt, 7-10, 14, 195-199, 202-205, 207, 209-210, 224 – Religion, 356, 378 – Transits to the afterlife, 355 – Liturgy, 355, 362

560

GENERAL INDEX

Ehling, Kay, 477, 484 εἴδωλον, 337, 348 εἰκών, 336 ἔκφρασις, 324-327, 339, 477, 482, 502 Elektra, 394 Elenchus, 314 Eleusis, 89, 102-103 Elephant, 217-226, 231 Enargeia, 86, 96, 268, 339 Enceladus, 95 Encomium, – royal, 4-6, 13 – of a city, 323-324, 331-332, 334 Ennius, 49 Ephesus, council of, 8-9 Ephialtes, 95 Ephraim, 300-301, 307-310, 315 Epicureans, 339, 350 Epigram, 19-22 – Book epigram, 23-41, 423-426, 438, 474 ‐ Carmina adoptiva, 422-423, 425426 ‐ Fictional, 24 – Funerary epigram, 141-144, 401-419. See also Epitaph Epimedes, 49 Epiphany, 319-320 Epitaph, 406-408, 411-412, 415. See also Funerary epigram – Mock Epitaph, 30-32 ἑπτάζωνος. See seven zoned Epyllion, 5, 13 Eratosthenes of Cyrene, 119, 122-123, 126-127, 129 Erechtheus, 88-90, 96, 100, 102 Erigone, 18 Eris, 86-87 Eros, 6, 9, 135-140, 328, 330-331, 374 – Arrows, 137-140 Ethopoea, 312, 319-320 Eudocia, Aelia Augusta, 7 – Homeric Centos, 295-320 Euripides, 274 – Hippolytus, 266 – Iphigenia in Tauris, 266 Europa, 5, 94, 138-139, 165, 384 Eusebius of Caesarea, – Life of Constantine, 202 Eustathius of Thessalonica, 11

Exegesis, 7, 245, 254, 299, 313, 316, 411 F Falkenburg, Gerard of, 421, 494 φαντασία, 335-354 φάσμα, 340, 342 Fates, 148 Fauth, W., 487, 489-490 Femininity, 87, 97, 111-113, 277 Folklore, 296 Formulaic diction, 141-143, 151-168, 197, 418 Foundation of a city, 199, 330-331, 383397 Fraenkel, Eduard, 485 Friedländer, Paul, 477-502 Fringe states, 356 Frontispiece, 24, 37, 39 φύσις, 325, 329, 405 G Gadamer, Hans-Georg, 480 Gaia, 89 Galen (Claudius Galenus), 218 Gandhara, 216 Ganges, 214, 216, 223 Geisz, Camille, 59 Gender, 94-95, 297, 309 George, Stefan, 478, 480 Gerstinger, Hans, 5 Giants, 27-30, 32, 126, 385-388 – as Christ’s adversaries, 19, 21 – as Dionysus’ adversaries, 3, 68, 95 – as Heretics, 21 – as Indians, 21 Gigantomachy, 20, 28-30, 32 Gigli Piccardi, Daria, 4, 18, 263-264, 271, 335 Glaucus, 133 Gnoseology, 335 Gnosticism, 355-356, 359, 368 Goat (constellation), 122-123, 125 Golega, Joseph, 502 Gonnelli, Fabrizio, 4 Gothus, Matthaeus, 439-450

GENERAL INDEX

– Daniel, 442-443 – Historia, 439-446 – Katechismus, 439-443 – Θεολογίας σύνοψις, 439-446, 467472 Graeco-Egyptian magic, 355-381 Grapevine, 99-100, 102 Great Mother, 391 Greek anthology, 401-420 – Book 7, 402, 411 Gregory of Nanzianzus, 9, 16-17, 266, 276, 403, 412 Ground. See tertium comparationis H Hadot, Pierre, 350 Hallucinations, 336-337, 340, 342, 346 Hamadryad, 221-226 Hapax legomena, 342, 345 Hardie, Philip, 350 Harmonia (Cadmus): 85, 96, 165, 378, 384-385, 389, 394, 397 – Necklace, 385, 389, 394, 397 Harmonia (cosmic): 81, 83, 99, 145-147, 489 Tablets, 492 Harp (constellation), 121 Hecaerge, 105-106 Hector, 91 Heidegger, M., 480 Helicon, 43-44, 49 Heliodorus, – Aethiopica, 231 Helius, 82, 145-146, 331, 359-360 Hephaestus, 89, 95-96, 386-387, 397 Hera, 58, 84, 98, 101, 102, 115-117 Heracles, 216 – Astrochiton, 99, 489 Hermes, 82, 87, 91, 102 Hermetism, 355, 359 (Ps.-)Hermogenes, 323 Hernández de la Fuente, David, 6 Herodotus, 214-215 Hesiod, 355, 359 – Theogony, 43-52 ‐ Proem, 44-46 – Literary portrait in Nonnus, 43-45 Hierogamy, 389

561

Hipparchus, 128 Hippopotamus, 232 Hoffleit, H.B., 482 Holy Spirit, 301-302 – Epiphany, 47 Homer, 12, 15, 77-81, 84, 87, 89-94, 102, 180-184, 355, 357-358, 365, 370, 380, 401, 403, 405, 410-412, 414-415, 418419 – Iliad, 13-14, 77-78, 80-81, 83-85, 87-89, 91, 102, 133, 135, 138-139, 141, 172-173, 180-184, 187, 229, 304-306, 310-311, 411 – Odyssey, 13-14, 77-78, 81, 91, 102, 171-173, 180-184, 187, 296, 304306, 310-311, 411, 414 Homeric Hymns, 355, 358, 362 Homerocentones, 414. See also Eudocia Homeromanteîon, 358 Homophrosyne, 308 Horus, 359-360, 368 Humanist circles, 421 – Laurinus Circle, 421 Huss, B., 493 Hydaspes, 81-82, 98-99 Hyginus, 127 Hymenaeus, 89 Hypatius, 415 Hypnus, 376 Hypsistos, 368 Hypotext, 19, 293, 304, 308-309 Hyssacus, 94 I Iacchus, 13, 68, 113-117, 353 Icarius, 18, 102 Ieros gamos, 376 Ilfeld, 431-434, 441-442, 448 Ilion, 390-391. See also Troy Imitation, 119, 120 Immortality, 31-33, 39 Impressio, 337. See also φαντασία India, 194-211, 224, 383 – Trade, 199 Indians, 5, 19-21, 43, 214-216, 227-242, 341-344 – Leader. See Deriades Indus, 214, 218, 220

562

GENERAL INDEX

Inscription, 24, 30, 33-34, 36, 39-41, 141144. See also Epigram – Prophecies, 144-149 Inspiration, 12, 14, 45-48, 152, 341, 369370, 443 Interpretatio, 123 Intertextuality, 119, 180, 184-186, 302304, 308 Intratextuality, 303-304, 307 D’Ippolito, Gennaro, 161 Iran, 195-196, 205-207 Iris, 98 Ishtar, 220-221 Isidore of Seville, 362 ἰσοτέλεια, 80 Isotype, 393-394 Ithaca, 303-304, 310 J Jacob, 18 Jaeger, Werner, 485 Jason, 424 Jerusalem, 383 Jesus, 18, 21, 293, 296-320, 355, 364, 367-369. See also Christ – as Odysseus, 308-309 Jewish tradition, 50, 207 Jews, 18-19, 273 Johannes Tauler, 447, 470-472 – Theologia Teutsch, 447 John Chyrsostom, 300, 307 John of Gaza, 257 John the Baptist, 46 Judas, 18, 288 Julian the Egyptian, 401-419 Julius Caesar, 147 Jupiter, 147-149. See also Zeus Justice, 228, 332-333 Juvencus, 51 – Evangelorium Libri Quattuor, 51 K καινοπάλαιος, 423 Keydell, Rudolf, 3-5 Kids (constellation), 121-122, 125, 128 κλεψίνοος, 92

Klingner, Friedrich, 493 Kneebone, Emily, 184 Koinè, 245-246 Kröll, Nicole, 492 Kuhn, Andreas, 10 L Laodameia, 229 Lasky, Eduard Darius, 5 Latin literary tradition, 133-134 Latin panegyrics, 203 Lazarus, 18, 70, 277-279 Leiden University, 422, 425, 427 Leitmotiv, 29, 260, 344, 347-348 Leonidas, 419 Leto, 95 Leucus, 80-83 Levels of reading, 11 Lightfoot, Jane, 145-148 Literary allusion, 119-120 Livrea, Enrico, 6-8, 10, 16, 19 Lloyd-Jones, Hugh, 484 Loeschcke, Georg, 478, 502 Logos, 246, 248, 261, 269-270, 276, 279 Longinus, – On Sublimity, 339 Loxo, 105-106 Low Countries, 421-429 Ludwich, Arthur, 492, 494-496 Lutherian reformation, 431 Lycaon, 127 Lycurgus, 98 Lyre (constellation), 128-129 M Magical Hymns, 355-380 Mahabharata, 216, 224 Maiden at the Well, 296, 320. See also Samaritan woman Manger (constellation), 126-128 Mania, 368-370 Marcellus, Comte de, 4 Mark Anthony, 148 Martha of Bethany, 277 Marsyas, 98

GENERAL INDEX

μάρτυς, 271-273 Mary Magdalene, 18 Mary, mother of God, 19 Mary of Bethany, 277-278 Masculinity, 83, 87, 111-113 Megasthenes, 213-226 Melaneus, 18, 89, 237 Melanthius, 237, 239 Meleager, 419 μελισσόβοτος, 49 Mekerchus, Adolphus, 423 Menander Rhetor, 4, 323, 325, 331-334 Menelaus, 78, 89 Menoiceus, 230 Mesopotamia, 195, 207-209, 383 Metaphor, 245-261, 291, 337, 413 – Conceptual, 250 – Expressive function, 263-280 – Frame of reference, 264 – ‘I am metaphor’, 249 – In absentia, 249-252, 256 – In praesentia, 249-252, 256 – of hunting, 300-301 – of silent eloquence, 263-280 – of the body as clothes of the soul, 427 – of the doctor as a tailor, 427 – of the seal, 270-271, 278 – of the whip, 264, 276-277 – ‘worn’ or ‘dead’, 257-258 Metapoetic, 66 Metre, – Dactylic, 444 – Hendecasyllable, 442 – Hexameter, 283, 292, 355-381 – Nonnian metrical rules, 403 – Metrical position, 409-410 Miguélez-Cavero, Laura, 343-344 Milton, John, 221-222 μίμησις, 335-336, 339, 344 Miraculous healing, 289 Mirrors, 336-339, 343-354 Misperception, 341, 343-344, 346 Mithra, 365 Modaeus, 235, 240 Molineus, Petrus, 425-426 Morrheus, 83, 91-94, 228, 237 Musaeus, 163-166, 414 – Hero and Leander, 164-166 Muses, 44-46, 51, 440 – Epiphany, 44-46

563

– Invocation, 323 – Hymn to, 51 – of the deceased, 441 Mynah bird, 220 Myrrh, 373-376 Mythical cities, 390-391 Mythical pasts, 390 Mythic symbols, 356, 371, 378-380 Mysticism, 447 N Nansius, Franciscus, 421-429 Narcissus 335, 346, 349-354 Narrator, 27-28, 171 Nausicaa, 91 νήματα Μοίρης, 405-407 Nemesis, 113. See also Eris Neoplatonism, 7, 12, 19, 130 Nephilim, 21 Nereids, 221 Newbold, Roland, 335, 341, 344, 354 New Testament, 60 – John, 7-8, 12, 17-19, 46-51, 263-280, 298-304, 308, 311-312, 315-317 ‐ Hymn to Logos, 46 – Luke, 48 – Mark, 48 – Matthew, 48 Nicaea, 83, 96, 353 Nicander, 172-173, 180-186, 191 Nicodemus, 292, 297-298 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 479 Nike, 95 Nilakantha, 218 Nineveh, 383 Nizzola, Paolo, 5 Nonnus of Panopolis, 119-130 – and Aratus, 119-130 – and Hesiod, 43 – and Homer, 411-418 – and Julian, 401-419 – and Oppian, 191 – Apostasy, 3 – as literary classic, 32-33, 39-41 – Author portrait, 36, 39, 41. – Authorship of book epigram, 23-24 – Bishop, 8-12, 16, 22 – Conversion to Christianism, 3-4, 14

564

GENERAL INDEX

– Crossover reading of his works, 17-18 – Date, 484 – Epigram as self-presentation, 10 – Familiarity with Latin literature, 10, 133 – Identification with Dionysus, 486487 – Identity, 8 – Lost Gigantomachia, 28 – Late Antique Baroque, 4, 12-13, 17 – Manuscript tradition, 494 – Quaestio Nonniana, 3 – Unitary poetic project, 16 Nonnian poets, 401-419 Nonnian scholarschip, 421-429, 477-509 Nonnian School, 403 νόθος, 64, 343-344 νοῦς, 344 Nymphs, 220-226 O Occasional poetry, 426-429 – Graduation poetry, 422, 426 Ocean, 363-364 ὁδός, 282 Officina Goltziana, 421, 423 Oiagros, 90 Oinomaus, 100 Olympos, 121, 392-396 Opheltes, 157-158 Ophion, 489, 492 Opis, 105-106 ὀπίστερος, 285 Oppian, 172-173, 182-185, 187, 189-191 – Cynegetica, 172-173, 187 – Halieutica, 34-35, 172-173, 184, 187 – Pseudo-, 172-173, 187, 189, 191 Origen of Alexandria, 299-300, 302-303, 309, 311, 313 Orontes, 91, 142-144, 228 – and Ovid’s Phaethon, 142-144 Orpheus, 151-152 – Orphic Argonautica, 151-168 – Orphic Hymns, 355, 358, 362, 374, 405 – Orphic tradition, 345-347 – Orphism, 57, 359, 377-378

– Pseudo-, 152-161 Ostraka, 202-203 Ouatokoitai, 215, 232-233 Oupis. See Opis οὐρεσίφοιτος, 49 Ovid 11, 133-134, 142-144, 147-149 – Metamorphoses, 134, 136, 140 Ox-driver (constellation), 121 P Pagans, 120 παλινάγρετον, 70 Palthanor, 236 Pan, 94, 96, 98, 122, 364, 366, 368 Pandarus, 91 Pandaea, 216 Panopolis, 8-9, 19 Papyri Graecae Magicae, 355-380 παραβολή, 249 Paradise, 290-291 Paraphrasing, 246-261, 358 Paratext, 23-27, 40-41 παροιμία, 249, 251-252 παρρησία, 252 Parrot, 220 παρθένος, 58 – Phygodemnios, 375, 380 Paraphrase of John’s Gospel, 28-29, 263280, 443 – Actantial analysis of, 19 – and John, 44-51 – Choice for John’s Gospel, 12 – Literary recognition of, 3, 6, 8 – Nonnian authorship of, 3, 6 – Pagan themes in, 17-18 – Paraphrastic genre, 7 – Prologue, 12, 46 Parmenides, 49 Patroclus, 157 Paul the Silentiary, 257, 402 Peek, Werner, 481 Peleus, 88 Pelops, 100 Pentheus, 18-19, 95, 101 Penthesileia, 230 περιοχαί, 15, 33, 40-41 Persephone, 58, 80-81, 83, 345 Perseus, 87, 91, 93, 95, 101-102

GENERAL INDEX

Persia, 206-208 Personification, 325-326 Phaeton, 119, 142-144, 363-366, 379-381, 394 Phanes, 145-146, 492 Pharmaka, 378 Pharos, 19-21 Phasmata, 342, 353-354 Philhellenism, 431-475 Philomela, 266-269, 273 Philostratus, 219 – Life of Apollonius of Tyana, 231 Phlegius, 229 Phoebus, 145. See also Apollo Phthonos, 98 Pilgrim of Bordeaux, 302 Pindar, 222-223 Plato, 335-338, 358, 368, 370, 383 Pleiades, 155 Pliny, 197-198, 211, 213-220, 226 – Natural History, 197 Plotinus, 337-339, 344-350, 354, 376 – Enneads, 350 Plutarch, 217, 226 – Pseudo-, 217 ποικιλία, 13, 170, 314 – ποικίλος ὕμνος, 13 – poetics, 54 πολυειδία, 13 πολύμητις, 91 Polymers. See Compounds πολύτροπος, 170 Pompeii, 224-225 Poseidon, 89, 90, 96, 100, 236, 326-331 Possession, 368, 370, 381 Praise poetry, 422, 426 Preller, Antonius H., 10 Proclus, 340, 344, 348, 362 – Commentary on the Republic, 335 Procne, 266-267, 269 Programmatic interpretation, 55 προκέλευθος, 283 Promotional narratives, 204-205 Propertius, 49 Proteus, 13, 21, 55, 63 Protesilaus, 229 Protonoe, 235 Protreptikon, 442 Ptolemy, Claudius, 213-216, 396 Punica, 232

565

Purification rituals, 296 Q Quintilian, 323 Quintus of Smyrna, 49, 104, 153-154, 158, 172, 185, 443 – Posthomerica, 153-154, 172-173, 187 R Races, fabulous, 216-217 Raphelengius, Justus, 424 Red Sea, 199, 202, 208 Reflection, 66 – Self-reflection, 66 Resurrection, 18, 69, 72, 251, 277-278, 283, 299, 316 Rhodes, 331 Rhodoman, Lorenz, 431-459, 474-475 – Bioporikon, 434 – Historia Ecclesiae, 441 – Luther-Vita, 440-441, 447 Riemschneider, Margarethe, 489 Road, 281-294 – Geographic, 283-284 – Spiritual, 284 – As a tool of characterization, 281-294 – Jesus as, 290 Romanos the Melode, 301 Rome, 11, 134, 143, 146, 148-149, 194211 – Art, 224 – Decadence, 195-201 – Empire, 233 Route, – Land, 206-209 – Maritime, 195-201, 203 S Sacred animals, 391-392 – Cow, 391 – Prithvi, 392 Śālabhañjikā, 224-225 Samaria, 296-298, 301-303, 313

566

GENERAL INDEX

– Samaritans, 285-286 – Samaritan woman, 292-320 ‐ and Eve, 300, 304, 307-310 ‐ and Mary, 298, 301, 307, 310, 315, 320 ‐ and Nausicaa, 296, 308-309 ‐ and Penelope, 308-309 ‐ as a philosopher, 300, 317-318 ‐ Characterisation, 304 ‐ Female sinner, 298 ‐ Late antique reception, 299-301 Samothrace, 383-385 Sasanian Persia, 227 – Sasanians, 206-208 Satyrs, 126-127, 221, 437 Schadewaldt, Wolfgang, 485 Scheria, 303, 320 School teaching, 324, 334 Scylax, 214-215 Second Sophistic, 324, 334 Selene, 94, 356, 366, 368 Semele, 79-81, 94, 97-98, 101, 137-140 Septuagint, 60 Seven-zoned sky, 155-157, 386, 396 Sheppard, Anne D.R., 335, 339-340 Sherry, Lee Francis, 7 Shorrock, Rob, 53, 487 Sibylline Oracles, 181, 184-187 σιγή, 264-280 Silence, 253, 256, 260, 263-280, 407 Silius Italicus, 232 – Punica, 232 Simile, 263, 336, 432. See also Comparison Simon-Peter, 286-288 σιωπή, 264-280 Sirens, 159 Sitz im Leben, 24 Skelmis, 90, 100 Smyrna, 323, 325-326, 329-330 Socratic method. See Elenchus Sola-scriptura-principle, 431 Solon, 95, 100 Sophocles, 31 σουδάριον, 10-11 Source, 120 – Domain, 250, 252, 256-261. See also metaphor – Text, 245-246. See also hypotext Spanoudakis, Konstantinos, 10

Speech introductions, 161-168 Spitzer, Leo, 480 Staphylus, 79, 87, 157 Stegemann, Viktor, 4 Strabo, 213-214, 223 St. Christopher, 233 Stoics, 337-338, 340, 348, 405 St. Philemon, 240 String, Martin, 496 Sun, 360, 362, 371, 380. See also Helius σύγκρισις, 14, 94, 330 Symbolism, 245, 248, 260-261, 303, 309, 320, 340 Syncretism, – in the Hellenistic age, 356 – Pagan-Christian, 14-18 Synesius of Cyrene, 9 Systasis, 376 Swan (constellation), 129 T Tabula Peutingeriana, 210 Target domain, 250, 252, 257-261. See also metaphor Taurus, Mount, 15 Taxila, 219 Telemachus, 78 Telete, 353 Tenor, 250, 253, 256, 260. See also metaphor Tertium comparationis, 250, 252 Thebes, 5, 100-101, 155-156, 158, 383397 – Seven gates, 386 Theomancy, 84 Theophilus of Alexandria, 227-228 Theophrastus, 220 θέσις, 325 Thorius, Raphael, 422, 426-429 – Hymnus Tabaci, 427 Thureus, 228, 230 Tiresias, 101, 109-110, 112 Titans, 53, 86, 87, 343, 345-346, 348 – Disguised with chalk, 66 τόποι ἐγκωμιαστικοί, 4-5 τόπος, 323, 325, 328, 331-333, 403, 408, 412-413 Trade, 195-208

GENERAL INDEX

Transformation, 145 Troy, 78 – Trojan Cycle, 229 – Trojan War, 78, 87 τύπος, 273 – and ἀντίτυπος, 273 Tylus, 18, 69 Typhon, 53, 79, 82, 84, 95, 99, 120-127, 129, 139, 156, 228, 356, 366-367, 375, 384, 388-389, 395, 487 Tyrrhenian pirates, 342-343 Tyrus, 99 Typhoeus. See Typhon Typhonomachy, 119-120 U Ulysses, 78, 87, 91 ὑμνοπόλος, 426 Unio mystica, 376, 381 Usener, Hermann, 478, 494 V Varro, – Hepotmades, 37 Vault of heaven, 120, 122, 127, 129 Vehicle, 250, 252-253, 256 Vergil, 11, 37, 148 – Aeneid, 133-134, 141 – Codex, 37 Verhelst, Berenice, 341 Versification, 441-443 Venus, 147-148. See also Aphrodite Vian, Francis, 4-5, 43, 104, 110, 145-146, 272, 495 Virginity, 59-60 Virgin, 60 Visualization, 339 Vocative, 59 Vulcanius, Bonaventura, 425

567

W Wain (constellation), 127-128 Wax, 140, 337-338, 345 Weaving, 268 Well (Jacob’s), 296-320 Whitby, Mary, 484 Wifstrand, Albert, 496 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U. von, 477491, 493, 502 Wipszycka, Ewa, 9 Wölfflin, Heinrich, 480, 483-484, 487 Wolters, Friedrich, 478-479 Writing, 140-141 X Xanthus, 239 Y Yakṣas, 223 Yakṣis, 223 Z Zagreus, 5,13, 53-73, 81, 343-354 – Shape-shifting, 63 Zeus, 6, 9, 13, 19, 29, 32, 53, 57, 63-65, 78-102, 120-125, 127, 129, 159-161, 341, 343, 345-348, 384, 388-389, 392, 394-395 – and his lovers, 137-140 – Childhood, 327-330 – The Bringer of Rain, 223 Zephyrus, 124, 325 Zoroaster, 207 Zuenelli, Simon, 15, 19

INDEX LOCORUM

Aelius Aristides 1.10 Lenz – Behr, 326 1.12 Lenz – Behr, 327 1.18 Lenz – Behr, 326 1.25 Lenz – Behr, 329 1.39-48 Lenz – Behr, 333 1.357-360 Lenz – Behr, 330 17.3 Keil, 330 17.5 Keil, 329 17.9-10 Keil, 327 17.12 Keil, 326 21.15 Keil, 326 Anthologia Palatina 7.21, 31 7.54, 31 9.198, 31 9.523, 49 Apollonius of Rhodes Argonautica 1.496-502, 359 Aratus Phaenomena 10, 129 10-13, 129 93, 128 162, 123, 124 162-166, 122 166, 125 169-171, 124 230, 129 273-274, 129 282-299, 122 487-488, 129 679, 125 718, 125 892-908, 125 Aristoteles Poetica 1455a 32-34, 370

Arrian Anabasis 6.3.5, 235 Indian History 7.8-9, 235 8.1, 235 Callimachus Aetia Fr. 2d, 62 Fr. 643, 62 Hymn 3, 103-117 Hymn 4, 103-117 4.286, 45 Hymn 5, 103-117 Choricius Opera 18.1.1, 44 Colluthus Abduction of Helen 170, 163 267, 163-164 307, 163 331, 163 (Ps.-)Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ars rhetorica 1.1, 44 Eudocia Homeric Centos 1.1115, 310 Euripides Hippolytus 877-879, 266 Eusebius Ecclesiastical History 5.10.3, 238

570

INDEX LOCORUM

Gothus Daniel Proemium, 460-461 Gothus to Rhodoman, 450-457 Historia Prelude, 465-467 Katechismus Prelude, 461-463 About Luther, 463-465 ĬİȠȜȠȖȓĮȢ ıȪȞȠȥȚȢ Prelude, 467-469 Luther’s praise for Johannes Tauler, 470-472

Julian the Egyptian Anthologia Palatina 7.561, 404-405 7.562, 407 7.580, 412 7.586, 413 7.591, 415 7.592, 415 7.594, 408 7.595, 409 7.597, 406 7.605, 410 9.398, 415

Gregory of Nazianzus Carmina in se ipso 2.1.34.1 (P.G. 37.1307.2), 266 Carmina Moralia 1.2.3.58 (P.G. 37.637.7), 266

Magical Hymns 11, 361-363 11.19, 363-364 12, 373-374 13, 372 14, 372

Gregory of Nyssa Declamation on the martyr Theodor P.G. 46.757D, 266

Martin Crusius To Jacob Fabricius, 472-473

Heraclitus 22 B 51 D-K, 450 Hesiod Theogony 30-34, 45 114-116, 51 485-497, 327 Works and Days 639-640, 43 656-659, 44 Homer Iliad 1.526-527, 70 6.168, 133 6.299, 238 10.485, 252 Odyssey 8.462, 310 12.71-73, 153 John Chrysostom In Sanctum Joannem Precursorem 88, 258

Menander Rhetor 1.2.347-348 Russell – Wilson, 1.2.348-349 Russell – Wilson, 1.2.351-352 Russell – Wilson, 1.2.353 Russell – Wilson, 329 1.2.353-354 Russell – Wilson, 1.2.354-355 Russell – Wilson, 1.2.357 Russell – Wilson, 331 1.2.358-359 Russell – Wilson, 1.3.361-363 Russell – Wilson, 2.3.383 Russell – Wilson, 330 2.3.383-384 Russell – Wilson, Musaeus Hero and Leander 121, 163-164 171, 165 172, 163, 166 New Testament Acts 18.8, 234 John 1.1, 248, 428 1.1-1.18, 249 1.4-5, 254

325 326 326 328 329 331 333 327

INDEX LOCORUM

1.7, 48 1.19, 249 1.32-34, 47 2, 259 2.19, 249-251 2.21-22, 251 2.25, 279 3.1-2, 292 3.3, 254 3.9-10, 254 3.11, 254 3.12, 253 3.20, 279 4, 259 4.1-30, 296-297 4.10, 249, 254 4.32, 272 4.51, 272 5.36, 275 5.36-40, 253 6.35, 249, 253, 259 6.41, 249, 259 6.48, 249, 253, 259 6.51, 249, 259 6.53, 249 7.33, 254 7.37-39, 251 8.12, 249 9, 254 9.5, 254 9.6-7, 247, 255 10.1-5, 251-252 10.6, 249, 251-252 10.7, 249, 250 10.7-16, 252 10.9, 249-250 10.11, 249 10.14, 249 10.24, 252 10.25, 273 10.25-27, 253 11.20, 277 11.25, 249 11.40, 278 12.34, 254 12.42, 280 13.24, 276 13.26, 259 14.2, 253 14.6, 249

14.16, 281 15.1, 249, 259 16.25-30, 249, 251 18.1, 247 18.17, 288 19.18, 247 19.24, 247 19.38, 247 20.30, 271 21.7, 245 21.25, 270 Luke Preface, 52 1.34, 60 Mark 1.6, 48 4.10-12, 249 Matthew 3.4, 48 Nonnus Dionysiaca 1.11-15, 486 1.13-33, 63-64 1.15, 426 1.34-36a, 486 1.39-41a, 486 1.168, 127 1.171, 125 1.176, 395 1.178-179, 395 1.181-183, 395 1.251, 128 1.257, 129 1.346-348, 129 1.394-397, 389 1.398-399, 389 1.356-357, 125 1.448, 122 1.448-459, 121 1.448-451, 122 1.448-467, 121 1.451, 123-124 1.451-455, 126 1.452-455, 124 1.456-457, 125 1.458-459, 125 1.459, 126 1.460, 127 1.460-464, 122, 127

571

572

INDEX LOCORUM

1.461, 127 1.462, 127, 128 1.463, 129 1.464-465, 395 1.465, 129 1.465-467, 122, 128 2.132-133, 267 2.291, 495 2.708-709, 79 3.1, 158 4.32, 267 4.76, 162 4.230, 256 4.263, 265 4.267-273, 377 4.290, 45 4.293-297, 385 4.303-306, 385 4.327, 267 4.356-358, 387 4.408-416, 387 4.414, 495 4.455-459, 385 5.46-47, 386 5.49, 158 5.51-57, 386 5.62-63, 386 5.67-86, 386 5.85-87, 394 5.287-551, 103-117 5.594-598, 273-274 6.152-154, 80 6.155-205, 53, 56-57 6.169-170, 66 6.175, 67 6.290-291, 159 6.344-345, 162 7.115-116, 137 8.413-418, 79 9.47, 496 4.63, 496 9.232-234, 115 9.310-311, 115 9.257, 496 11.1, 158 11.253, 163 12.32-24, 490-491 13.3, 228 13.6-7, 234 13.19-20, 228, 234

13.75-76, 43 13.132-133, 45 13.201-204, 88 13.344-348, 85 14.225, 238 14.274, 228 14.414, 258 15.175-178, 83 16.146, 163, 167 16.149-154, 96, 167 17.313-314, 142 20.53-61, 86 21.10, 163 21.88-89, 238 21.275-277, 135 21.304-305, 135 22.71-78, 377 22.84-113, 238 22.257-258, 88 22.287-292, 89 23.52-75, 230 23.318, 228 24.146, 163 25.27, 423 25.259, 426 25.264-270, 27 25.451-552, 69 25.545-549, 71 26.94-97, 232 26.101-145, 115 26.257, 237 27.214, 234 27.301-305, 239 28.55-60, 229 28.284-287, 229 28.314-316, 123 29.253, 238 31.86, 228 31.93-94, 228 31.119, 53 31.242, 156 33.206, 495 33.276, 495-496 34.221, 228 35.27-30, 230 35.66-68, 378 35.300-335, 115 36.77, 116 36.48-50, 84 36.21-24, 85

INDEX LOCORUM

37.101-102, 142 37.320-323, 90 37.403, 163, 167 38.207, 496 39.72, 68 40.3-10, 92 40.34-35, 92 40.76-79, 93 40.80-81, 93 40.152, 235 40.234-238, 235 40.521-522, 99 41.14-154, 323 41.14-49, 324 41.18-27, 325 41.28-34, 327 41.51-142, 327 41.52-57, 329 41.58-64, 329 41.77-82, 330 41.85-90, 330 41.97-142, 330 41.143-154, 332 41.155-184, 331 41.273-275, 99-100 21.294-497, 491 41.294-295, 81 41.339-341, 491 41.351-352, 146, 491 41.389-398, 146-149 42.374-375, 97 42.519-520, 160 43.62-66, 237 43.186-191, 488 43.227-229, 236 46.16-18, 123 47.81, 258 47.617, 496 48.29-30, 68 48.41-43, 53 48.302-968, 103-114 48.573-606, 351-353 48.619-620, 135-136 48.834, 61 48.962-968, 68 48.962-978, 53 Paraphrase of John’s Gospel 1.1-7, 248 1.1, 270 1.13b-23, 47-48

1.22, 283 1.29, 283 1.45, 282 1.52, 259 1.54, 259, 282 1.132, 293 1.152, 285 1.172, 285 1.187, 285 2.23-24, 254 2.30, 259 2.39, 259 2.67-68, 285 2.95-96, 251 2.46-48, 259 2.102-110, 251 2.118-120, 279 2.120, 256 3.1-8, 292 3.15, 254 3.34-35, 260 3.48-51, 254 3.55, 254 3.57, 254 3.106, 279 3.130, 259 3.135, 257, 260 3.162, 260 3.172, 257 4.2, 259 4.18, 260 4.27, 259 4.30-31, 258 4.42, 254 4.29, 259 4.45, 259 4.60-61, 255 4.61, 260 4.69, 258 4.213, 257 4.142, 287 4.147, 257, 260 4.149-150, 272 4.225-226, 289 4.228-229, 289 4.233, 272 4.248, 257 5.140-141, 275 5.143, 253 5.143-145, 275

573

574

INDEX LOCORUM

6.35-36, 256 6.64, 256 6.67, 257 6.71, 257 6.128, 257 6.198-199, 257 6.206-209, 286 6.217, 258 7.17, 260, 279 7.26, 260 7.33, 254 7.78, 258 7.114, 257 7.124, 254 7.142, 257 7.143-153, 251 8.10, 260 8.190, 260 9.4, 255 9.7, 255 9.14, 255 9.23-24, 255 9.28, 255 9.29, 255 9.25-44, 247, 255 9.56-65, 247 9.73-77, 247 10.1-58, 252 10.14, 290 10.93-94, 273 10.87-89, 252 10.92-97, 253 10.117-118, 256 11.34-37, 290 11.65, 287 11.73, 277 11.91, 287 11.97, 260 11.101, 277 11.120, 260 11.136, 257 11.145, 278 11.160-165, 71 11.174, 257, 260 12.16, 260 12.30, 257 12.115, 260 12.132, 136, 254 12.161-162, 258 12.173, 280

12.183, 260 12.192, 258 13.96, 257 13.102, 257 13.105, 276 13.109-110, 259 13.125, 288 13.146, 257 13.152-154, 286 14.7, 290 14.20-24, 281, 290 14.95-96, 256 14.109, 260 14.111, 257 15.39, 257 16.92, 251 16.95-96, 251 16.111-112, 251 17.62, 260 18.1-7, 247 18.3, 260 18.38, 260 18.70, 287, 290 18.73-74, 287 18.82, 288 19.21-25, 247 19.29, 291 19.82, 260 19.91-100, 118-132, 247 19.140-144, 291 19.155-156, 260 19.178, 260 19.192-203, 247 19.204, 288 20.12, 287 20.26, 288 20.49, 260 20.81-82, 247 20.119, 260 20.139, 271 21.35-48, 247 21.36, 285 21.106, 257 21.138, 271 21.139-140, 270 Old Testament Genesis 1.1, 50, 428 1.3, 50-51

INDEX LOCORUM

1.27, 428 Isaiah 7.14, 60 (Ps.-)Orpheus Orphic Argonautica 47-48, 153 76, 163 594, 157 687, 153 769, 163 818, 163, 167 843, 163 1020-1021, 154 1277-1278, 160 Ovid Metamorphoses 2.327-238, 142-143 3.339-510, 350 15.822-833, 147-148 Philo Byblius 790 F 2 (FrGrH), 330 Plato Phaedo 81c-81d, 336-337 93c, 490 Pliny Natural History 37, 197 Plotinus Enneads 1.6.8, 350-351 3.6.7.21, 337-338

575

4.3.11, 347-348 4.3.12, 347 5.8.1, 347 Quintus Smyrnaeus Posthomerica 8.54-55, 153 12.178-179, 154 Rhodoman Bioporikon 143-167, 448-450 182-185, 432 250-252, 446 Cognitio et usus Graecae linguae, 450 Dichtung auf Ilfeld Simile ab equo Troiano, 432-433 Epigramm zu Frischlins Grammatic 1-20, 438-439 Epigramm über Germanis, 474 Epigramm auf Taubmann, 474-475 Hymnus Scholasticus, 433 Luther-Vita, 445-446 Zu Girolamo Savonarola, 448 Zu Jan Hus, 447 Vaticinium Hussii de Luthero, 447448 Rhodoman an Gothus, 457-459 Sophocles Ajax 292-293, 277 Antigone 1251-1252, 277 Strabo Geographica 15.3.2, 238

ABSTRACTS

List of all abstracts, sorted alphabetically on the name of the first author 1.

Paul Friedländer and Nonnus’ Poetry Domenico Accorinti The German-Jewish scholar Paul Friedländer (1882-1968), who was a devoted pupil of Wilamowitz-Moellendorff and one of the most distinguished UCLA’s Professors of Classics, is well known for his volumes on Plato which were translated into English and Italian. He also deserves mention for his works on Byzantine ekphrasis. But this philologist-archaeologist who, together with Werner Jaeger (1888-1961), was a leading exponent of German ‘Third Humanism’ in the 1920s, should also be regarded as one of the most perceptive interpreters of Nonnus’ poetry. For the pages he devoted to the Dionysiaca in his fine essay Vorklassisch und Nachklassisch (1931) must be numbered among the most convincing readings of Nonnus’ poem. Probably Friedländer also intended to write a book about him. A conspicuous number (479 pieces) of his miscellaneous notes on the Dionysiaca, which are housed in UCLA Library Special Collections (no. 1551, box 3), shed light on the background work of this great scholar and on a large body of material that he assembled for a book that was never written. 2.

“The Life, the Truth and the Straight Way am I” (Par. 14.20): Roads and Paths in Nonnus of Panopolis’ Paraphrase of John’s Gospel Halima Benchikh-Lehocine – Christophe Cusset From the aether – God’s realm – to man’s earth, from the lush Galilean Cana to Jerusalem where the will of God will take place and the main events unfold, through Bethany and its case of resurrection, Jesus walks, travels, treads. Never still, he “leads the heavenly chariot upon earth” (Par. 1.132), embodiment of the link between the Father’s divine world and that of the mortals. The double motif of the road (in every form or shape) and of those who tread it is omnipresent in Nonnus of Panopolis’ Paraphrase and clearly essential to the understanding of the poem. It gives rhythm to the narration through the numerous movements; it plays a big part in the definition of the interactions between narrative agents – who, for the most part, are characterized depending on whether they follow and share the road opened by and embodied in Jesus or whether they move away from, even oppose it. Last but not least, the motif is also crucial from a poetical point of view since it is one of the places where Nonnus’ lexical diversity and poetic inventiveness are the most evident, giving

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to the banal meta-poetical image of the road as a symbol of poetry a new breath. Thus, the hexametric rewriting of the evangelic prose becomes a road in itself, both a new poetical channel for the sacred word which must travel and a new exegetical path. 3.

Nonnus’ Dionysiaca and the Written Word Katerina Carvounis – Sophia Papaioannou This contribution examines the function of writing and the written word in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca through discussion of specific passages where writing features in messages and a catalogue, on tomb inscriptions to commemorate the past, and on inscribed tablets to reveal the future. In all these instances writing is used in a pointed and innovative way that encourages readers to think of corresponding uses in the Latin epic tradition and Ovid’s Metamorphoses in particular. It is argued that it is likely that Nonnus may have drawn inspiration on this tradition, which he has then shaped after the poetics of the Dionysiaca. 4.

Nonnus’ Poetic Activity as an Expression of a Unitary Ideological and Artistic Programme Gennaro D’Ippolito The proven simultaneity of the composition of Dionysiaca and Paraphrase of St John’s Gospel now definitively excludes any hypothesis of conversion or apostasy of the poet and reveals a Christian Nonnus, the author of both works. Full literary recognitions, of the Dionysiaca first, and then of the Paraphrase (no longer ‘Nonnus minor’), lead us to conclude that both poems are the result of a unitary ideological and artistic programme. The immense culture, both pagan and Christian, that emerges from these works perfectly suits a high prelate like Nonnus, bishop of Edessa, who undertakes a poetic rewriting of the most theological of the Gospels, presenting an exegetical amplification in accordance with Cyril’s theology, and at the same time writes a poem that compares two dominant religions in the late antique world, Dionysism and Christianity, and presents Dionysus almost as a forerunner of Christ. In line with poetics already expressed by Gregory Nazianzen (carm. 2.1.39), Nonnus pursues a highly educational and cultural purpose, on the one hand, emulating and renewing the great pagan poetry and showing in it the precursory aspects of Christianity, and on the other, creating authentic Christian poetry, such as to attract pagans too. The unity of design is demonstrated by the common adoption of an innovative hexametric form and a Baroque style, centred on variety and paradox, but also by an assiduous thematic correlation between ‘Evangelical’ features in the figure of Dionysus and ‘Dionysian’ elements in the presentation of Christ. Nonnus’ ambitious programme, also emerges from a series of evidences, such as the declarations of poetics explicitly formulated in the two

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proems of the Dionysiaca or the adoption of the periochae, a privilege reserved for canonical works, or finally a couplet (AP 9.198) presenting the poet and both his works. 5.

The City of Thebes in the Dionysiaca by Nonnus Nestan Egetashvili The foundation of a city has been given great importance in almost every ancient culture. According to ancient conceptions, a city echoed a model of the cosmos extant in the heavens. Precisely because of this, the emulation of celestial creations was only considered the lot of chosen people. Conceptions of the analogies between the heavens and the earth were widespread in the thought of almost every world civilization. For example, in Mesopotamia there was the belief that the heavens and the earth bore complete likeness to each other, implying that every terrestrial object corresponded to an absolutely identical object in heaven, created through emulating its ideal model. The very image of the cosmos itself is represented by countries, rivers, cities, or palaces. There were also some analogous concepts regarding the city widespread throughout the Mediterranean region as well, resulting in the foundation of a city turning into an important mythopoetic model in Greek myths. A city’s foundation in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca represents a creative act related in the same way to specific religious cults. Historically, this process can be mapped as a geographical trend going from the East to the West (Egypt and Phoenicia – Samothrace – Greece). This route is analogous to Cadmus’ journey and it might be really why Nonnus begins the Dionysiaca with a narration of Cadmus’ story. Nonnus highlights a number of special cities in the Dionysiaca – Thebes, Dardania, Beroe, Tyre, etc. – created on the basis of celestial examples. In this contribution I focus on one of the original cities described in the Dionysiaca: Dionysus’ hometown of Thebes. 6.

The Sound of Silence. Metaphors of Silent Eloquence in Nonnus’ Poetry Laura Franco Nonnus’ reworking of St John’s Gospel is predominantly based on the rhetorical technique of amplificatio, which results in the expansion of his model, mostly obtained by utilizing an extremely wide variety of metaphorical expressions. This contribution aims to analyse the metaphorical images of silence in Nonnus’ re-elaboration of the Fourth Gospel, which also appear in the Dionysiaca. Even though this topic has already been investigated, there is still place for further discussion, especially in the light of recent editions of the Paraphrase. Nonnus repeatedly employs various metaphors relating to silence to express deep pain, sorrow or great anxiety that cannot be described by words.

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Conversely, silence also represents the opportunity to describe the ineffable and it is often put in relation to the voice as well as the action of speaking or writing. The imagery of an eloquent or ‘roaring’, silence, a significant theme present in both Nonnus’ works, is as much influenced by the poet’s Classical and Hellenistic background as well as his familiarity with Christian literature. These different traditions and genres, merged together, coexist in the œuvre of the Panopolitan poet and produce an innovative mix of pagan and Christian themes. 7.

Nonnus and Callimachus. A Bathing Scene in the Dionysiaca Hélène Frangoulis In the last book of the Dionysiaca, Nonnus of Panopolis describes a scene during which Artemis, bathing in the company of her retinue of nymphs, is watched and insulted by one of them, the nymph Aura. Insolently comparing the virile forms of her virgin body with the overly feminine aspect of the goddess’s body, Aura questions the virginity of Artemis, thus drawing on herself the punishment of Nemesis. This passage, which must be compared with that of Actaeon spying on the bath of Artemis in the fifth book of the poem, is strongly influenced by Hellenistic poetry, and in particular by the Hymns of Callimachus. The purpose of this contribution will therefore be to analyze the Callimachean influence on this episode of Book 48 of the Dionysiaca, in which intermingle reminiscences of the Hymn to Artemis and the Hymn to Athena. 8.

Spicing Nonnus up: Commercial and Religious Crossroads and Nonnus’ Representation of the East Luise Marion Frenkel The absence of Mesopotamia and Iran on Dionysius’ route to India has been called by P. Chuvlin one of the most striking aberrations of Nonnus’ geography. This contributions argues that his choice of the land route and omission of these regions silences the challenges posed by the Sassanian Empire to local and imperial cultural and economic interests in these routes, as well as its rival Dionysiac mythology. The archaeological and textual evidence points to regular trade of Indian products in the urban context of Nonnus and his public. Nevertheless, features of contemporary Indian culture and a more realistic representation of social and religious characteristics are little attested in Greek and Latin literature. The late antique literary representation of Indian culture was steeped in classical narratives and religious traditions. It had developed parallel to the successes and reverses of Hellenistic and Roman imperial military, economic and cultural endeavours beyond their Eastern frontiers. The Dionysiaca is shown to be an epic historiagraphy in which the major urban centres are placed in a taxis that made them part of the extended Roman world, within its area of influence and control. Nonnus’ poetry offered an accumulation of data about various places on both sides of Persia with which the audience could

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develop a mental map of the Roman world dominion that countered the growing Sasanian Persianist discourse, and its claims over India. 9.

Nonnos in the German Protestants’ Philhellenism of the 16th/17th Century Thomas Gärtner This contribution analyzes the phenomenon of literary reception of Nonnos of Panopolis by two German protestant writers composing Greek poems one generation after Martin Luther, viz. Lorenz Rhodoman (widely known as critical editor of Diodorus of Sicily and Quintus Smyrnaeus) und Matthaeus Gothus, both alumni of the old monastery school of Ilfeld, which was transformed by Michael Neander into an elite school of Protestants. Rhodoman in his autobiographical writing enumerates the canon of classical authors he was ordered to read through by Neander, including Nonnos, and uses significant phrases typical of Nonnian diction; Gothus tries to imitate Nonnos on a broader level in his theological writings (including bible paraphrases as well as contemporary reformatory subjects) and is said by Rhodoman in his Greek epistle addressed to Gothus to have absorbed by metempsychosis the poetical soul of Nonnus himself. The writings of both authors may exemplify the coincidence of philhellenist and refomatory thinking in 16th/17th century Germany. 10. The Miracle Baby. Zagreus and the Poetics of Mutation Emma Greensmith In Book 6 of the Dionysiaca, Dionysus, not yet born, appears in proto-form in the figure of Zagreus. This baby ascends to Zeus’ throne, brandishes his weapons, and is torn to pieces by the Titans, transforming into a kaleidoscopic range of figures in an attempt to escape his aggressors. This is not, however, the end of Zagreus’ story. Nonnus tells us that he will soon begin again, finding new life as Dionysus (Dion. 6.175, τέρμα βίου Διόνυσος ἔχων παλινάγρετον ἀρχὴν). This baffling episode has received only passing treatment by scholars concerned with the Dionysiaca. In the most extensive recent discussion, Rob Shorrock (2001) has suggested that Zagreus represents an image of the early failed attempts of Nonnus as a poet, before he grows to poetic maturity in the later figure of the ‘real’ Dionysus. This contribution contends that Zagreus plays a more central, complex and continual role in forming the polymorphic poetics of Nonnian epic. I first consider the competing intertextual strands at work in the passage, and then suggest its resonances in the later books of the poem: Zagreus is named again at Dion. 44.213, but also has an embedded presence in the resurrection of Ampelus (Dion. 12), the exploits of Aeacus – grandfather of Achilles, another child ‘not yet born’ (Dion. 22) – and the birth Iacchus, Dionysus’ son (Dion. 44). Through these readings, I argue that Zagreus functions as a programmatic emblem not for the poet’s earlier ‘failed’ ambitions, but for the tensional aspirations which continue to drive the text. This is a figure through which Nonnus

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explores the complex intersections between classical mythology, traditional paideia, Orphic mysticism and Christian poetics; and also tests the limits of these intersections. He represents an author acutely aware of the dangers of poetic transformation, and who revels in exploiting the challenges of his project. Zagreus, like the Dionysiaca itself, requires a reading which insists on the confrontation of contradiction, the conceit of self-reflection, and the multiplicity of temporality, all embodied in the paradoxical miracle of ‘beginning again.’ 11. Nonnian Poets (?): The Case of Julian the Egyptian Arianna Gullo It is well-known that the poets of the Cycle, the sixth-century AD collection of epigrams by contemporaries that the poet and historian Agathias put together, arranged and published in Costantinople under the emperor Justin II, were deeply influenced by the poetry of Nonnus of Panopolis: yet, except for the old-fashioned monograph of Axel Mattsson (Lund 1942) and some hints in articles or books such as Averil Cameron’s work on Agathias (Oxford 1970), current scholarship still lacks a thorough study on the topic. My contribution aims to encourage to rethink the subject matter, exploring the case of the sixthcentury AD poet Julian the Egyptian, whose epigrams were originally included in the Cycle and, in the last stage of their textual tradition, were transmitted in the so-called Greek Anthology. Julian counts among the most influential late antique epigrammatists, and is one of the most important contributors to the Cycle: a native of Egypt, a former prefect, and a Christian, Julian consciously engages with earlier poetry. He supplied one of the largest and most varied epigrammatic corpora: he wrote votive, sepulchral, and ecphrastic poems, as well as epigrams of narrative and moral content. While imitating the great works of the past, and often dealing with classicizing topics, he refined his poems with his personal Witz and originality. This contribution will investigate the reception of Nonnus of Panopolis particularly in the funerary epigrams of this late antique epigrammatist. I will be looking especially at Julian’s engagement with Nonnus in terms of conventional topics, recurring motifs and formulas. The study will lead to the following, general questions: does it still make sense to speak of “Nonnian poets” for all the poets of the Cycle of Agathias, an assertion which has been taken for granted for many years, and if so, to what extent? 12. Nonnus’ Indians between Conversion and Acculturation Fotini Hadjittofi Nonnus’ Indians are presented in starkly conflicting ways: they are both barbarians plunged in spiritual darkness and depravity and, at the same time, not entirely dissimilar from Dionysus and his army. When the war ends, it appears that Indians are immediately and seamlessly integrated into the world of

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Dionysus. Seen under the light of Christianity’s ecumenical mission of salvation and enlightenment, Dionysus’ conquest of India can become a cipher for conversion to Christianity. It can, and has, also been argued, however, that Dionysus’ conquest of India stands in for the expansion of the Roman Empire and its acculturation of “barbarian” nations. This contribution attempts a reexamination of the central event of the Dionysiaca, Dionysus’ defeat of the Indians, against late antique ideas of religious and political assimilation. It examines, first, Nonnus’ complex representation of India and its people with an emphasis on comparisons which equate anonymous or inconsequential Indian characters with famous Achaeans, and then considers whether either the religious (conversion) or the political (acculturation) model – or both taken together – can provide adequate answers for Nonnus’ often elliptical narratives concerning the Indians’ fate after their defeat. 13. A Dionysian φαντασία? Echoes of Neoplatonic Gnoseology in Nonnus David Hernández de la Fuente The gap between real objects and their shadows, reflections, or images, is one of Nonnus’ favourite leitmotifs, together with the insistence on imitation, delusion and deceit through the senses. In parallel, the correspondence between imitation and realities in the relation between the sensible and intelligible worlds is one of the main concerns of Neoplatonic Gnoseology and Aesthetics from Plotinus’ Enneads onwards. Following some scholarly precedents and a current research line, this coincidence can lead us to ask ourselves how Neoplatonic views on representation affected Nonnian poetry, if at all. In this contribution I aim to investigate whether the Neoplatonic notion of φαντασία, a basic tool of the human soul dealing with different types of perceptions and mental activities, could explain the background of the Nonnian insistence on passages about faithful or deceitful rendering of reality through the senses. First, I will offer a summary of Neoplatonic views on imitation and φαντασία and how they could affect late antique Greek Poetry. Secondly, I will survey some selected passages of the Dionysiaca dealing with false and correct perception of reality and analyse their vocabulary and implications. And, thirdly, I will try to ascertain whether some of Nonnus’ key episodes and expressions regarding false and truthful imitation can be explained with the background of this philosophical notion. If our hypothesis is confirmed, we will be able to provide an explanation for this “obsession” of Nonnus, as a modern scholar has put it, in the context of the philosophical background of late antique Greek Poetry. 14. Nonnus and Graeco-Egyptian Magic: Crossroads, Poetic Confluences and Fringe States Flor Herrero Valdés The Greek Magical Papyri are always a surprising source of information. In the so called Greek Magical Hymns, collected by K. Preisendanz at the end of his

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edition of the Papyri Graecae Magicae, there can be found, along with complete verses of Homer, straightforward parallels and allusions to Nonnus’ Dionysiaca and the Paraphrasis of John’s Gospel. They are versified compositions that crown the syncretistic prayers of the spells of the Graeco-Egyptian magic. This contribution aims to gather and analyse the verses and references from the Greek Magical Hymns which can be linked to Nonnus’ poetry, in order to consider the possibilities and consequences of a reuse of his poetry or sources, along with Homer’s, in this unusual context – as esoteric lore. It is an opportunity to talk about how these two poets relate to each other, in this example and in the period of the Late Antiquity. Precisely, the main point of practicing magic was crossing boundaries and finding the best spot in crossroads from which better foreseeing all possibilities. It is not just a symbol or metaphor of the powers of its main divinities, such as Hekate or Hermes. Liminality is an important function of magic and a realm where also poetic and musical tools act: the place where the human being can undergo alteration of consciousness and changes in the state of mind, which allow emotional purification or mental clarification on one’s situation and vital approach to life. In such initiation or salvation practices, Nonnus makes a perfect candidate as a carrier of traditions, in two senses: his Orphic-Dionysiac content and the poetic form he used. We shall see the main characteristics of the traditional Greek hexametric song, as still alive and fashionable in this period of the Late Antiquity, and how, and luckily why, Nonnus and the Graeco-Egyptian magicians gladly made use of this genre. 15. Shape-Shifting Athena: On the Transformation of Homeric Characters in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca Nicole Kröll By choosing the Homeric character of Pallas Athena for a case study, this contribution aims at highlighting Nonnus’ literary play with traditional epic forms and their learned alterations and deviations from Homeric tradition. As the hypothesis for the present contribution, it is argued that, for his Dionysiaca, Nonnus of Panopolis follows the Homeric role model for Athena only in a restricted way and usually modifies her characteristic features in order to retain his own Dionysian atmosphere. The contribution attempts to answer the question whether Nonnus of Panopolis sketches the characters who appear already in Iliad and Odyssey as a Homeric blueprint or rather transforms them into Dionysian shape-shifters in order to meet the special requirements of his own narrative code. Therefore, Athena’s character traits, which can be traced both on the level of the narration realised by the narrator himself and on the secondary level of character speech,

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will be dealt with in eight sections covering (1.) Athena’s affiliation to the Olympic realm, (2.) her talent for weaving and handcrafts, (3.) her fighting spirit, (4.) her guidance and aid for mortals in battle, (5.) her ability to transform and disguise herself, (6.) her beauty and celibacy, (7.) her similarities to Dionysus and (8.) the association of her cult to the city of Athens and the region of Attica. 16. The Woman at the Well: Epic Variations of the Samaritan Woman in Eudocia’s Homeric Centos and in Nonnus’ Paraphrasis of St. John’s Gospel Anna Lefteratou This contribution is a comparative study of the reworking of the Samaritan Woman in the First Edition of Homeric Centos and in Nonnus’ Paraphrasis of St. John’s Gospel. It examines the exegetical milieu in which these two poems were composed and compares the two biblical poems in detail. Both poems, it argues, echo the eucharistic, baptismal, and wedding imagery also stressed in the exegetical texts but portray the Woman differently: whereas the I Homeric Centos focus on issues of ethopoiea and depict the Samaritan Woman as an eloquent matrona and, subsequently, a first apostle avant-la-lettre, the Paraphrasis stages the dialogue in a quasi-Platonic context and shows Jesus as a Socrates-figure extracting the confession of the Woman. 17. The Formulaic Diction of the Orphic Argonautica in Context. A Comparison with Nonnus’ Dionysiaca Alexandra Madeła This contribution discusses formulaic elements in the language of the Orphic Argonautica and investigates how they connect this work to other Greek poetic works in Late Antiquity, in particular Nonnus of Panopolis’ Dionysiaca. Through a series of short case-studies, it demonstrates that its anonymous author uses formulaic diction of various kinds; not only original Homeric nounepithet combinations, but also formulaic elements of speech which appear to have become formulaic only in Late Antiquity. Whereas the Dionysiaca rather avoids using the former, unlike the Orphic Argonautica, for certain nouns Nonnus develops a new system of epithets which centers around a single theme while taking many forms, in conformity with the poet’s motto of poikilia. The more “modern” formulas are occasionally shared by the Dionysiaca and the Orphic Argonautica. These connections can be considered conspicuous enough to warrant the suspicion of intertextual allusions, but without further evidence, no firm conclusions can as yet be drawn. For the moment, it might be a useful approach for further research to consider Nonnus and the author of the Orphic Argonautica as coming from the same poetical environment.

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18. How Nonnus Employs Aratus’ Astronomy in the Dionysiaca: A Case Study Arianna Magnolo This contribution aims to show Nonnus’ intertextual strategies by looking at the presences of Aratus’ Phaenomena in the Dionysiaca. In order to do so, I analyze a passage I consider particularly significant, i.e. Dion. 1.448-467, where Typhon promises Cadmus a series of catasterisms in exchange for his music. I argue that the Panopolitan places himself at the intersection point of a crossroads between two dimensions that are strictly connected to each other. The first one, vertical, enables us, in retrospect, to discover what Aratean elements attracted the author’s interest and how he incorporated them in his poem through refined games of variatio and interpretatio. The second one, horizontal, concerns the cultural (especially philosophical) context in which Nonnus works, that serves to explain the meaning of the employment of Aratus’ poem. The importance of such a study lies in the opportunity to understand and appreciate both Nonnus’ thematic and linguistic complexity, since it involves both thematic and linguistic analysis of a source that deals with a subject, i.e. astronomy, to which he devotes a lot of space in his work, in the light of the specific historical moment he lives. This context provided the author with the guidelines for the creation of a “Dionysian” astronomy. As innovation of the traditional astronomical genre, the latter represents one of the several manifestations of ποικιλία, as well as an attempt to lead ποικιλία to a sort of unity, in a Neoplatonic perspective. In conclusion, this contribution proves that Nonnus re-elaborates his model and finally outclasses it in order to build something new which leans on the philosophical background of his age. Therefore, it also allows us to better evaluate the relevance of Hellenistic poetry inside of a poem based primarily on Homer. 19. Nonnus of Panopolis between Poetry and Rhetoric: The Encomium of Berytus (Dion. 41.14-154) Cristiano Minuto The aim of this contribution is to analyse the encomium of Berytus, which opens Book 41 of Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, from a rhetorical point of view, in order to highlight the influence which the ancient school system has exerted on Nonnus. For this reason, specific attention will be paid to the relationship between the encomium at hand and the guidelines for the encomium of a city provided by the rhetorical manuals, with particular reference to Menander Rhetor’s two Treatises. At the same time, because the encomium of a city finds its first and more complete literary expression in Aelius Aristides’ speeches, some analogies between the topics developed by Nonnus in his encomium of Berytus and those appearing in Aelius Aristides’ encomia of cities will be underlined too.

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In the end, the analysis will show that the encomium of Berytus is an example among many of the complexity and rich poetry of Nonnus, poetry that includes different interconnected aspects, and that needs to be contextualized in the dynamic and thriving late antique era. The rhetorical interpretation here chosen helps to understand that Nonnus’ poetry should not only be appreciated in the light of previous literary tradition, but also as related to a strong and functional educational system, where the teaching of rhetoric had a pivotal role and left visible traces in all those who, like Nonnus, had their upbringing and education inside it. 20. The Lure of Paganism: Nonnus’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John and Hesiod’s Theogony Michael Paschalis Considering that the Paraphrase of the Gospel of John may have been written at approximately the same time as the Dionysiaca with its elaborate 44-line-long Proem, the reader is entitled to wonder if Nonnus considered attaching a Proem to it. Juvencus who introduced the genre had added a Praefatio to the Four Books of Gospels, in which he presented himself as Christian successor to Homer and Virgil. It is worth noting, however, that the Gospel of John in comparison to the Synoptics displays the longest and most elaborate Prologue (1.118), which Nonnus almost tripled in length (1.1-58). It has been pointed out that in this Prologue he accommodated his personal allegiance to the NicenoConstantinopolitan Creed. Did he also adapt it to the proemial conventions of high style hexameter poetry, the medium he was using to paraphrase John? The subject-matter of divine creation in conjunction with the so-called “hymn to Logos” opening the Gospel of John bring to mind Hesiod’s archetypal verse Theogony which begins with a long and elaborate hymn to the Muses (1-103); the insertion of the “mountain-roaming” John the Baptist in Nonnus’ Prologue evokes the insertion of the poet-shepherd on Mt Helicon in Hesiod’s Proem. Regardless of the intentio auctoris the competent reader may notice more parallels between the two texts: the baptism in Nonnus and the ritual bath of the Muses in the waters of Permessus and Hippocrene on Mt Helicon; the epiphany of the Holy Spirit and the epiphany of the Muses to the poet on “holy” Mt Helicon – the latter has been compared to the divine epiphanies described by the Hebrew prophets; John and the author as heralds of Logos on the one hand, and the Muses glorifying the gods and inspiring the poet to sing of themselves and the gods on the other. The reader is also called upon to interpret the striking description of John, as living “in thickets fed on by bees” (μελισσοβότῳ δ’ ἐνὶ λόχμῃ) and as “mountain roaming” (οὐρεσίφοιτος): both bees and mountains (cf. Mt Helicon above) were associated with poetic inspiration. Finally the reader is obliged to take into account

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that Hesiod is the only other poet, besides Homer and Pindar, that Nonnus remembers in the Dionysiaca, in a passage (13.75-76) which alludes to the epiphany scene of the Theogony. 21. Nymphs and Elephants: Nonnus’ Depiction of India Richard Stoneman The aim of this contribution is to survey the details of Nonnus’ depiction of India in light of the conclusion reached by Albrecht Dihle in 1964 that classical knowledge of India did not advance beyond what was contained in Megasthenes’ Indica. The main topics covered are the geography India of and its peoples: Dionysius’ Bassarica is an important source for these portions of Nonnus’ poem. Natural history is a subject that interested both Megasthenes and Nonnus: the latter has a long ekphrasis of the elephant at Dion. 26.295 (cf. 28.72), and also describes a variety of birds, as well as describing some remarkable stones, a regular feature of travel writing and paradoxography from Ctesias onwards, and among them are the many rich jewels and pearls associated with India. Nonnus seems to be writing in a well-established tradition, and has little new to add, despite increased knowledge of India in his period. In addition, Nonnus’ landscape is peopled with an extraordinary variety of nymphs – of trees and springs, of rivers and the sea. These may be aligned with such beings in the decorative motifs of fifth century art, but it is argued here that the appearance of the Hamadryad at Dion. 22.84-100 (for example) owes its inspiration to the common Indian artistic motif of the śalabhañjikā, the treenymph bending down from a branch. Examples of the motif in wood and ivory were known in the west by Nonnus’ time. Thus Nonnus’ very pictorial poetry may reflect familiarity with the arts of both east and west. 22. At a Long Leafy Table. Metaphors in Nonnus’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John Emilie van Opstall Nonnus’ Dionysiaca and Paraphrase are both written in epic hexameters and have a divine figure as protagonist whose symbol is the vine. Nonetheless, they are quite dissimilar. The exuberant style of the one, a freestanding creative work and a whirling epic on a pagan deity, is often characterized as baroque. The style of the other, an amplification and exegesis of a Christian text and an upgrade in verse of its model in Greek koinè prose, is much more restrained. It seems that the baroque spirit that is so typical of the Dionysiaca is tempered by the rules of the paraphrase and by the nature of the source text, the Gospel of John. Where do the text of the Gospel and the creative vein of the poet Nonnus meet? In this contribution I approach this question from a literary point of view by focusing on a specific poetic phenomenon: metaphors. Taking into consideration the restrictions and possibilities of the paraphrase, I analyse the form and function of theological and poetical metaphors in Nonnus’

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Paraphrase and compare them to metaphors in the Gospel of John on the one hand, and to Nonnus’ Dionysiaca on the other hand. 23. Nonnus in the Low Countries. Book Epigrams and Praise Poetry of and for Franciscus Nansius Berenice Verhelst Franciscus Nansius (1513-1595), a Flemish humanist, is known as one of the early editors of the Paraphrase and the first author of a scholarly commentary on the text. Like many of his learned friends he also wrote occasional poetry in Greek and Latin. This contribution focusses on the poetry that can be found in the margins of his work on Nonnus: book epigrams by Nansius, laudatory poems by his colleagues and a series of unrelated epigrammata, again by Nansius himself, which were added as an appendix to his second volume of notes on the Paraphrase, the so-called Curae secundae (1593). The poetry about Nonnus and Nansius sheds an interesting light on the reception of Nonnus in late 16th c. Holland, whereas the Nonnian features of Nansius’ own poetry add a creative dimension to his profile as a Nonnian scholar. 24. Big Data and Dionysiac Poetics Tim Whitmarsh Nonnus’ Dionysiaca is a difficult text to get a grip on, partly in terms of size (48 books and over 120,000 words), partly in terms of scope (a huge, kaleidoscopic, cosmic portrait of a deity across time and space), and partly in terms of context (given the changes afoot in the world of Late Antiquity: Nonnus was also, of course, the author of a paraphrase of the Gospel of John). This contribution approaches our author from a different angle: slicing him sideways, using data searches for unusual compounds and word forms, I attempt to take advantage of the vastness of Nonnian verbiage to contextualise him in relation to his generic and contemporary peers, and to try to see exactly on which crossroads he sits, and which ways he faces. 25. Nonnus, a Classic in the Making: The Book Epigram on the Dionysiaca (A.P. 9.198) Simon Zuenelli This contribution examines the anonymous epigram A.P. 9.198, primarily from a literary perspective. For the first time, a comprehensive analysis of its generic aspects is offered. The contribution argues that A.P. 9.198 has to be considered as a (real or fictional) book epigram for a Dionysiaca manuscript. Through analysis of the epigram’s generic references, a new reading of the poem is offered, arguing that the key message of the epigram consists of claiming the rank of a literary classic for Nonnus. Finally, the question of authorship is addressed, with the result that no firm conclusion can be drawn.

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268. A. BATMAZ, G. BEDIANASHVILI, A. MICHALEWICZ, A. ROBINSON (eds.), Context and Connection. Essays on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East in Honour of Antonio Sagona. 269. K. CIGGAAR, V. VAN AALST (eds.), East and West in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean III. 270. K. LEVRIE, Jean Pédiasimos, Essai sur les douze travaux d’Héraclès. Édition critique, traduction et introduction. 271. M. PIASENTIN, F. PONTANI, Cristoforo Kondoleon, Scritti Omerici. 272. A. HILKENS, The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle of 1234 and its Sources. 273. M. HONEGGER (ed.), Nubian Archaeology in the XXIst Century. 274. M. ABOU-ABDALLAH, L’histoire du royaume de Byblos à l’âge du Fer, 1080-333. 275. E. LIPIŃSKI, A History of the Kingdom of Israel. 276. L. SELS, J. FUCHSBAUER, V. TOMELLERI, I. DE VOS (eds.), Editing Mediaeval Texts from a Different Angle: Slavonic and Multilingual Traditions. 277. C. WAERZEGGERS, M. SEIRE (eds.), Xerxes and Babylonia: The Cuneiform Evidence. 278. K. D’HULSTER, G. SCHALLENBERGH, J. VAN STEENBERGEN (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras IX. 279. M.-J. ROCHE, Inscriptions nabatéennes datées de la fin du IIe siècle avant notre ère au milieu du IVe siècle. 280. W. CLARYSSE, A.I. BLASCO TORRES (eds.), Egyptian Language in Greek Sources. Scripta onomastica of Jan Quaegebeur. 281. J. BRETSCHNEIDER, G. JANS (eds.), About Tell Tweini (Syria): Artefacts, Ecofacts and Landscape. 282. J. LEEMANS, G. ROSKAM, J. SEGERS (eds.), John Chrysostom and Severian of Gabala: Homilists, Exegetes and Theologians. 283. A. PELLITTERI, M.G. SCIORTINO, D. SICARI, N. ELSAKAAN (eds.), Re-defining a Space of Encounter. Islam and Mediterranean: Identity, Alterity and Interactions. 284. E. DESPOTAKIS, John Plousiadenos (1423?-1500). A Time-Space Geography of his Life and Career. 285. J.-M. DAHMS, Die Särge des Karenen. Untersuchungen zu Pyramidentexten und Sargtexten. 286. A. BUCOSSI, A. CALIA (eds.), Contra Latinos et Adversus Graecos. The Separation between Rome and Constantinople from the Ninth to the Fifteenth Century. 287. E. LIPIŃSKI, A History of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and Judah. 288. M. CONTERNO, M. MAZZOLA (eds.), Intercultural Exchange in Late Antique Historiography. 289. A.R. WARFE, J.C.R. GILL, C.R. HAMILTON, A.J. PETTMAN, D.A. STEWART (eds.), Dust, Demons and Pots. Studies in Honour of Colin A. Hope. 290. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Catalogue des dieux et des offrandes. 291. D. OLTEAN, Devenir moine à Byzance. Coutumes sociales, règles monastiques et rituels liturgiques. 292. M.M. GROß, At the Heart of an Empire: The Royal Household in the Neo-Assyrian Period. 293. Å. ENGSHEDEN, Ancient Place-Names in the Governorate of Kafr el-Sheikh. 294. M.L. AGATI, Il De tragoedia “barocciano”. Una rivisitazione cinquant’anni dopo. 295. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Hymnes à Hathor et à Isis. 296. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Les structures décoratives du temple d’Hathor. 297. S.H. AUFRÈRE, C. SPIESER (eds.), Le microcosme animal en Égypte ancienne. De l’effroi à la vénération. 298. A. RIGO, Gregorio Palamas, Tomo aghioritico. La storia, il testo e la dottrina. 299. V.W.J. VAN GERVEN OEI, A Reference Grammar of Old Nubian. 300. A. MASSON-BERGHOFF, Le quartier des prêtres dans le temple d’Amon à Karnak. 301. R. AST, M. CHOAT, J. CROMWELL, J. LOUGOVAYA, R. YUEN-COLLINGRIDGE (eds.), Observing the Scribe at Work: Scribal Practice in the Ancient World. 302. V. BOSCHLOOS, B. OVERLAET, I.M. SWINNEN, V. VAN DER STEDE (eds.), Travels through the Orient and the Mediterranean World. Essays Presented to Eric Gubel.

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