Solinus. New Studies 3938032863, 9783938032862

Citation preview

Edited by Kai Brodersen

Solinus. New Studies

VA

Verlag Antik

Table of Contents Gaius Iulius Solinus ............................................................................................... ® Praefatio Zweder von Martels ............................................................................................. 10 Turning the Tables on Solinus’ Critics: The Unity of Contents and Form of the Polyhistor Barbara Pavlock...................................................................................... Paradox and the Journey in the Dedicatory Preface of Solinus’ Collectanea Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar.

© 2014 Verlag Antike e.K., Heidelberg Einbandmotiv British Library (London) MS Egerton 818, f. 2 (Presentation of a book). Miniature of a seated figure holding an open book and a standing figure offering it to him. Coluccio Salutati (1331-1406), who annotated this manuscript, has labelled the seated figure as Solinus, and the standing figure as Adventus. Cf. p. 204 n. 1. http://bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/ILLUMIN.A5P?Size=mid&IIUD=i2754

Einbandgestaltung disegno visuelle kommunikation, Wuppertal Satz Kai Brodersen, Erfurt Druck und Bindung Bosch Druck GmbH, Ergolding

Arwen Apps ......................................................................................................... ^2 Source Citation and Authority in Solinus Tom Hillard.......................................................................................................... 43 Ptosopographia shared by Pliny and Solinus: The question of Solinus’ Source(s) Frank E. R öm er....................................................................................................^5 Reading the Myth(s) of Empire: Paradoxographv and Geographic Writing in the Collectanea Francisco Javier Fernandez N ieto....................................................................... 90 Incidentes de una correcciôn geogrâfica de Solino a Plinio: La isla de Cos Caroline Belanger .......................................................................................... 96 Solinus’ Macrobians: A Roman Literary Account of the Axumite Empire David Paniagua...................................................................................................H 9 Iisdemfere uerhis Solini saepe sunt sententias mutuati: Solinus and late Antique Christian literature from Ambrose to Augustine - An old assumption re-examined Karin Schlapbach ...............................................................................................141 Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium and Augustine’s curiosa historia Félix Racine ........................................................................................................ 1^7 Teaching with Solinus: Martianus and Priscian

Gedruckt auf säurefreiem und alterungsbeständigem Papier Printed in Germany

Paul Dover ......................................................................................................... ^ How Heinrich Bullinger read his Solinus: Reading Ancient Geography in 16th-century Switzerland

ISBN 978-3-938032-86-2

Appendix (by Kai Brodersen) A Survey of the Contents of Solinus’ W ork............................... A Revised Handlist of Manuscripts transmitting Solinus’ Work Afterword.................................................................................... Bibliography................................................................................

www.verlag-aBtike.de

196 201

209 210

24

List of contributors Arwen Apps works at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia. Caroline Belanger is a PhD student at the University of St Andrews, UK.

Solinus - New Studies

Kat Brodersen is a classicist at the University of Erfurt, Germany.

K rÄ * %

£ £ £ £ Fer”

p'o fa so r

of

«K ~

d " Niet0 “ ” Anc” ' H “ ™

«“ ·>·. ·· * «

of

Tom Hillard reaches Ancien, H.stoty „ S t a * * , Universtty, Sydney, Austra-

Gaius lulius Solinus is an underrated polyhistor and rhe subjeer o f ,his volume. D a d P i s H i u r is -Juan de la Cierva' Research Fellow in Ladn Unguage and Literature at the University of Salamanca, Spain. ^ g Barbara Pavlocfe is a classicist at Lehigh University, Bethlehem PA, USA. C an ad a"” “ * ‘“ "™ Γ

» McGill Univers,tv, Montreal,

G m t “ Γ ί ς υ « ' ” " ” d “ dent h,S” “ « * « < * < * ·· University, Kann Schlapbach is a classicist a, the University of Ottawa, Canada. N l t t d a l d " M“ “ 1S “ “eht Ν“ ^ “ “ ,h' G“ " ™ » ' ° f Groningen, The

Preface Gaius Iulius Solinus

Solinus A dvento salutem (Prae/. 1.1) Cum et aurium clementia et optimarum artium studiis praestare te ceteris sentiam idque oppido expertus de benivokntia tua nihil temere praeceperim, e re putavi examen opusculi istius tibi potissimum dare, cuius vel industria promptius suffragium vel benignitas veniam spondebat faciliorem. (2) Liber est ad conpendium praeparatus, quantumque ratio passa est ita moderate repressus, ut necprodiga sit in eo copia nec damnosa concinnitas, cui si animum propius intenderis, velut fermentum cognitionis magis ei inesse quam bratteas eloquentiae deprehendes. (3) Exquisitis enim aliquot voluminibus studuisse me inpendio fateor, ut et a notioribus referrem pedem et remotis largius inmoranr. Locorum commemoratio plurimum tenet, in quam partemferme inclinatior est universa materies. Quo­ rum commeminisse ita visum est, ut inditos terrarum situs et insignes tractus maris, servata orbis distinctione, suo quaeque ordine redderemus. (4) Inseruimus et pleraque differenter congruentia, ut si nihil aliud, saltem varietas ipsa legentium fastidio mederetur, inter haec hominum et aliorum animalium naturas expressimus. Addita pauca de arboribus exoticis, de extimarum gentium formis, de ritu dissono abditarum nationum, nonnulla etiam digna memoratu, (5) quae praetermittere incuriosum videbatur quorumque auctoritas, quod cum primis industriae tuae insinuatum velim, de scriptoribus manat receptissimis. Quid enim proprium nostrum essepossit, cum nihil omiserit antiquitatis diligentia, quod intactum ad hoc usque aevi permaneret? Quapropter quaeso, ne de praesenti tempore editionis huius fidem libres, quoniam quidem vestigia monetae veterispersecuti opiniones universas eligere maluimus potius quam innovare. (6) Ita si qua ex istis secus quam opto in animum tuum venerint, des velim infantiae meae veniam: constantia veritatis penes eos est quos secuti sumus. (7) Sicut ergo qui corporum formas aemulantur, postpositis quae reliqua sunt, ante omnia effigiant modum capitis, nec prius lineas destinant in membra alia, quam ab ipsa ut ita dixerim figurarum arce auspiciumfaciant inchoandi, nos quoque a capite orbis, id est ab urbe Roma principium capessemus, quamvis nihil super ea doctissimi auctores reliquerint, quod in novum praeconium possit suscitari, ac supervacuum paene sit relegere tramitem decursum tot annalibus. (8) i\e tamen prorsus dissimulata sit, originem eius (quanta valemuspersequemur fide.

Solitius greets Adventus (Praef. 1.1) As 1 feel that you surpassed others by the clemency of your ears and vour diligence in the finest arts - and I do not say this thoughtlessly, since I very much experienced your benevolence -, I thought I ought to give to you the initial critique of this little work of mine, because your diligence promised a quicker assent, or your kindness easier forgiveness. (2) The book is prepared as an abridgement, restrained with moderation so that the multitude of sublets discussed is not extravagant, and the beauty of its style is not unfortunate. Read­ ing it closely one will discover that the book, instead of the gold leaves of elo­ quence, contains as it were the ferment of knowledge. (3) For this book, I stud­ ied several carefully selected books with the intention of keeping my feet away from the more common ones, and staying with the more remote ones The lamer part of the book is concerned with the record of geographical places; most of its subject-matter is more fit for that part, it seemed proper to mention them so that we should produce the famous places of the earth and tracts of the sea each in their order, observing the division of the world. (4) \\ e have inserted also a great many things that are different, though compatible so that, it nothing else, variety, at least, remedies the reader’s sense of distaste. Among these things we have portrayed the natures of men and other living creatures. Added are a few things on exotic trees, on the form of peoples living in the most remote places, on the different customs of hidden races, and also on sev­ eral other things worthy to be mentioned; (5) it seemed to be careless to pass over these things, the authority of which - and this 1 should especially like to recommend to your assiduity - flows from the best received authors. For what could be ours, since the diligence of the ancients has left nothing to stay untouched until our age? Therefore, I ask you, do not judge the trustworthiness of this edition on the basis of the present time, for, following the traces of the ancient stamp, we have preferred to select universal opinions, rather than to alter them. (6) So, if somehow you understand things otherwise than I wis please forgive my want of eloquence: the steadfastness of truth is found m the authors followed. (7) In rite same way as those, who endeavor to emulate the forms of bodies, first of all portray the head and do not begin to draw the other parts before they have made a beginning with the head: allow us also to take our start from the head of the world, that is from the city of Rome, although the best authors have left nothing that may be added to the praise thereof and it is almost superfluous to go by a path which has so often been traversed. (8) Yet in order not to remain silent about it, I shall put all my effort into following its ori­ gin. (Solinus, praefatio 1, translated by Zweder von Martels)

Unity of Contents and Form

Turning the Tables on Solinus’ Critics: The Unity of Contents and Form of the Polyhistor Zweder von Martels'

Over the last four or five centuries, public opinion has turned against Soli­ nus. His critics have been severe and his reputation has grown so bad that nobody today would dare consider the fruit of his long effort to be a masterwork. Yet, it surely would be called a small masterwork, if one thinks a little onger about the reasons for the enormous popularity this geographical work enjoyed for over a thousand years. Readers kept coming, generation after gener­ ation. At least 250 manuscripts and 85 editions are silent witnesses to this old prestige . For Solinus’ advocates, this is a good argument with which to turn t e tables on his critics. But there are also other reasons to look with a fresh eye at Solinus’ achievements. _ The nature of the attacks on Solinus was twofold. His book was condemned tor its silly and unoriginal contents, but also for the clumsy and bad style. A per­ vading change in scholarly perception since World War II has expelled the nega­ tive influence of arrogant and denigrating statements about Solinus by such well-known scholars as Th. Mommsen, E. Norden, E. Diehl, W. H. Stahl, C. Weymann and others.3 Conditions at present are favourable for a proper revaluation of Solinus. No longer are eyes directed by the laws of traditional aesthetics, and normative values and criteria, but they are focused rather more on the changes and the variation of cultural and intellectual traditions through the centuries. So we are better equipped to determine the function of such an extraordinär)· text as Solinus’ 'Polyhistor within its historical context. An important step forward to a better understanding of the contents of Solinus’ geographical compendium, is the recent study of K. Brodersen. He describes Solinus explanation of the geography of the world as distinct from his sources Pliny^and Pomponius Mela and innovative in the way it tries to ‘concep­ tualize space’ by changing the mode of description from the ‘linear mode’ required by the periplus to a description of ‘areas’ (with the indication of neighbours and directions), possibly inspired by the first geographical maps.4 In this paper, I intend to build on this new appreciation of the contents of Solinus’ work by looking at the rhetorical aspects of its form. In his dedicatory

letter to Aventus it becomes clear that Solinus is aware of the power of rhetoric and that he knows its rules. The same is true, to a certain extent, for the rest of his work, where attention is paid by the author to disposition, variation and moderation in order to ensure the attention of the reader. As introduction to this subject, I shall turn to a remarkable description composed by the renowned Italian humanist Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini (1405-1464). This is the description of the jewelled throne of Lady Fortuna, inspired by knowledge of gems and pre­ cious stones derived from Solinus. Piccolomini’s description is a compilation, and the problems he faced in composing that compilation were also those of Solinus, when he was making his compilation of Pliny, Mela and others. First, however, I have to pay some attention to the difficult conditions under which Solinus operated. The message of Solinus’ dedicatory letter to Avemus implies that it was no easy task to put together a reliable and attractive compendium of geographical information from remote sources. It is not difficult to imagine that he must have been confused by his sources, which were so full of uncertainties and of the most incredible and miraculous things from far, far abroad. Reading his dedication carefully, no reasonable person can doubt that Solinus was an intelli­ gent man. But he did not have the clear, modern, scientific methodology which makes it so easy for us to separate fact from fiction by means of personal obser­ vation or other instruments of verification. Solinus did just what similar authors had done before and others would do after him for a great many more ages when they were writing about abstruse subjects like meteorology, geographical matters, earthquakes, sun eclipses etc.1 If he had no means to travel and see for himself, he could not but rely on what other ‘trustworthy’ authors had reported and on what seemed to be, what he called, the ‘steadfastness of truth {constantia veritatis)r The shining success of Solinus’ book show's that his approach of truth was accepted as sound and safe. For many, the Polyhistor became a gold mine of knowledge, just as he wanted it to be. In his dedicator)7 letter, Solinus writes that readers of his compendium would discover that it contains ‘as it were the ferment of knowledge instead of the gold leaves of eloquence’. It is as if he is warning against the dangers of shining but hollow eloquence. He uses the exceptional juxtaposition bratteas

1

1 2 3

4

I wish to thank Arjo Vanderjagt and Tom Hillard for their observations and comments. Milham 1986, esp. 73, 75; cf. Brodersen 2014b. Γοί ^ = m?IeS ° f SUCh HarSh critklsm>see P- L. Schmidt 1995, 26; von Martels 2003 393-395; Apps 2 0 1 1 , 11 ; Brodersen 201 1, 71-72 Brodersen 2011, 72 87.

11

For this, see the following interesting quote about Ammianus Marcellinus from Fuhrmann 1994, 123: “Ammian, ein scharfer Beobachter, weiß klar und anschaulich wiederzugeben, was er selbst gesehen hat. Die Früchte seiner Lektüre hingegen haben schon immer bei seinen Lesern Kopfschütteln hervorgerufen: sie bestehen mitunter aus einem Gemisch von Trivialitäten und Imümern, insbesondere wenn es um Meteorologisches oder Geographisches, um Erdbeben, Sonnen- und Mondfinsternisse usw., geht.” 2 Solin., Praef. 1.12. For this concept of Constantia veriaiatis, see von Martels 2003, /173.

Unity of Contents and Form

Zweder von Martels

eloquentiae, confronting this with the equally exceptional phrase fermentum cognitionis1 used a few words earlier: Solinus, Prae/ 13: cui si animum propius intenderis, re/ut fermentum cmnitinnri magis ei inesse quam bratteas eloquentiae deprehendes? Reading it closely one will discover that the book, instead of the gold leaves o f eloquence, contains as it were the ferment of knowledge-

Emphasis is laid on the acquisition and growth of knowledge. The contra­ diction between hollow eloquence and fruitful knowledge reminds of the teach­ ing of Cicero and Quintilian. The following example of Cicero’s De oratore is a good example thereof: Cicero, de oratore 1.20: A c mea quidem sententia nemo poterit esse omni laude cumulatus orator, nisi erit omnium rerum magnarum atque artium scientiam consecutus: etenim ex rerum cognitione efflorescat et redundet oportet oratio. Quae, nisi res est ab oratore percepta et cognita, inanem quandam habet elocutionem etpaene puerilem. In my opinion, indeed, no man can be an orator possessed of everv praiseworthy accomplishment, unless he has attained the knowledge of everything important, and of all liberal arts, for his language must be ornate and copious from knowledge, since, unless there be beneath the surface matter understood and felt by the speaker, ora­ tory becomes an empty and almost puerile flow of words.123

In his dedication, Solinus does not speak out about eloquence, though this does not mean, as I shall show, that he himself abandoned the rules of rhetoric. Nevertheless, Solinus and an army of other compilators of his age were highly interested in the restoration of learning and scholarship. There was a clear sense that the acquisition of knowledge should be a priority.4

Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini’s Hunger for Knowledge The 15th century appears to be a turning point in the popularity of Solinus, exploiting him for his knowledge. According to Maty Ella Milham, this century saw an explosion of copies of his work with about one hundred extant manu­ scripts. Milham also states that, at the same time, Pomponius Mela caught up

1

2 3 4

The Library of Latin Texts (Brepols Publishers, update 2014), which does not con­ tain Solinus, provides nevertheless much contemporary material. It gives another more or less similar example: Arnobius, Adversus Nationes, Bk. 2, cap. 32, p. 104 (... eius enim cognitiofermentum quoddam est vitae ac rei dissociabitis glutinum . . Arnobius lived around 300 A.D. For the Latin preface see pp. 8-9. Trans. Watson 1878, 11 . Fuhrmann 1994, 93-98; see also Döpp 1988, 43-47.

13

with Solinus in popularity. As a result, Solinus, in the 16th century, was seldom printed alone or as first author in composite volumes.1 The most spectacular use that was made of his knowledge in the 15th century was undoubtedly by Columbus. The final chapters of the Polyhistor about the Islands of the Blessed were eagerly read by that famous seafarer. This and other material from Solinus became one of his arguments to continue to develop his exploratory plans. Since relatively little is known of the use of Solinus in the literature and learning of the 15th century,3 evert' new example is welcome, especially when it originates from such a staunch defender of Solinus as the Italian humanist Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini. Piccolomini (1405-1464) lived north of the Alps for more than two decades, where, shortly after his fortieth birthday, he began an ecclesiastical career. His diplomatic experience and talents brought him to the papal throne in 1458. Shortly before 1442, when he was crowned poet laureate by emperor Frede­ rick II, Piccolomini began to invest his learning and eloquence in the propaga­ tion of his educational ideals. For that matter, he also spoke out in favour of poemy which he called the ‘nurse of eloquence’.4 In his view, a poet should be intent on acquiring knowledge and learning. This possibly explains why he him­ self so often resorted to Solinus,5 whom he once praised as a ‘not unimportant

Î 2 3

Milham 1986, 75. Olschki 1941, 647; Flint 1992, 16-18, 20, 27,140; Dover 2013, 422. Milham 1986, 75: ‘We have to date many Solinus manuscripts but to date no account of his use in’the literature and learning of the Quattrocento, and we know surpris­ ingly few scribes or owners of codices ...’. Not mentioned by her is Miglio 19A,_ 141444; among other things, this article is about Cardinal Jouffroy s description ot the tiara of pope Paul II, for which he made use of descriptions of precious stones in Solinus. Jouffroy did in fact what Piccolomini discussed below had done a few dec­ ades earlier. See also Dover 2013. . 4 See his letter on poem' to Cardinal Zbigniew Olesnicki (October 27, 1453) m Wolkan 1909-1918,1 222-236 (99). 5 It is easy to find references to Solinus in Piccolomini. See, for instance, his letter on education to Duke Sigismund (December 5, 1443; (Wolkan 1909-1918 I 222-236 (99), on poem' to Wilhelm von Stein (June 1, 1444; Wolkan 1909-1918, 1/1 326-331 (144)), on poetry to Zbigniew Olesnicki (October 27, 1453); Wolkan 1909-1918, III 315-347), For his letter on Fortuna to Prokop of Rabenstein (June 26, 1444; W olkan 1909-1918 1/1 343-353 (151), see O'16 discussion below. Solinus was also the source for Piccolomini’s De menstruo (ed. Van Heck 1994, 114-115): Epygrammata XLIX (73): De menstruo). He also quoted Solinus at least thirteen times m his De Asia. For this, see also: Pius II, Commentarii return memorabilium que temporibus suis contigerunt (ed. Van Heck 1984, I 343 (27) (= Commentarii 5. 26): pontifexpostea narius otii paululum apud Tibur Asiam ipsam descripsit, ex Ptolemeo, Strabone. Plinio, Q. Curtio, Diio Solino, Pomponio Mela et aliis ueteribus auctoribus, que sibi ttisa sunt ad rei cognitionem idonea suscipiens.

Zweder von Martels

author {Sohms [...] nonfutilis auctor)} From this perspective, it is worthwhile to read what Piccolomini had to say about the task of the poet: Piccolomini, Opera Omnia (Basileae 1551; facs. 1967), p. 559: ... mulia et varia stin oportet eum qm sit poeta, banque tum bella gesta suum sit scribere, cum tempestates, cum tempora, cum locorum situs, cum personarum conditiones, cum maris stratus ante oculos hominum ponere habeat, cum virtutes laudare, vitiaque reprehendere debeat, quis non videt ad haec bene tractanda muttis artibus opus esse? Multas autem artes pauci sunt qui assequantur, idcirco et pauci sunt poetae. r Indeed a poet must know manifold and various things. For as his task is to describe the course of warfares, to submit to the eyes of men tempests, seasons, the location of sites, the conditions of personages, the extension of the sea, moreover to praise virtues and blame vices, who does not see that in order to treat these subjects well he must have a command of many arts? However, there are few who attain many arts· therefore there exist only few poets . .} ’

Piccolomini regarded eloquence as the common goal of both poets and prose authors. All invariably want to instruct, persuade, praise or blame, or pro­ vide pleasure. Like Solinus, Piccolomini was keen on acquiring knowledge and learning. His writings demonstrate· the power of erudition. The quotation above implies that description’ is a suitable instrument to convey knowledge and to impress at the same time. Piccolomini, therefore, often made use of this rhetori­ cal device. A good example is in his well-known letter ‘Dream of Fortune’.3 In this epistle of June 26, 1444 to Prokop von Rabenstein, the author recounts a dream in which he together with his friend Maffeo Vegio, a Latin poet, is wan­ dering through the realm of Lady Fortuna. Both men were in search o f their own happiness. On that occasion, they saw Lady Fortuna seated on her throne o twenty five precious stones. The lengthy description of this throne and dien ot each individual stone was obviously based on Solinus.4 Here follows the Latin text and its translation: Piccolomini Tractatus, ed. Cugnoni 1883, 280: (V) in medio solium erat peraltum lucens clam smaragdis, m n p n tm a lapides, ebur solia uestiebant: (2) sagadagemma, que m profundo nufratis canne noms se solet aânectere, ioamdissime uirens; (3) mirrhites coloris mitre, qui ad

See hi;\ Tractatus (ca. 1453), where Aeneas Silvius in a fictitious discussion with Bernardino of Siena says: Solinus tamen, nonfutilis auctor, originem Miti in habitabili nostra ponit a monte inferioris Mauritanie, qui oceano propinquat, et asserit ex K ik mox fieri lacum quem hiliadem dicunt, hilum uen lacu effusum bannis sorberi et cuniculis ceris abscondi, deinde in Usamnsi specte (sic) prorumpere ampliorem, mrsusqm subridere, nec seprius ostendere, quam post internatia itirnns extenti contingat Ethiopas (ed. Cugnoni 1883 280) 2 Plett 2012, 9. ’ 3 Van Heck 2007, 301-310, esp. 304-305. 4 According to Allen 1940, 4, Piccoiomini’s description of the throne o f Ladv Fortuna was based on the Etymologiae of Saint Isidore with some additions from Pliny and some from Alarbodus”.

Unity of Contents and Form

15

colorem attritus nardi odorem spirat; (4) mitridas, que sole percussa uariis emicat caloribus [sic]; (5) tum pirhites, qui se teneri non sinit uehementius; (6) chaiachias grandinis candorem prefems; (7) echites uipereas habens maculas; (8) dionirias, qut sm natura fuscus est et mixtus aqua, st conteratur, uinum flagrat; (9) Veneris crinis, qui ruforum crinium faciem refert; (10) selemtes fulgore candido transluceas; (11) pyropus, qui flammas imitator; (12) mecomtes papamra exprimens; (13) mirmitites reptantem formicam, (14) calcoptongos ut era pulsata resonans, (15) siderites certis maleficiis incantatus discordias excitans, similisferro; (16)flagites, qui intra se quasi flammas estuantes ostentat; (17) antradas ut stella coruscam; (18) enhydros exsudans, ut clausam 'in eo putes fontaneam scaturiginem; (19) mehchites arabicus, crassius smaragdo uirens, infantum periculis resistens; (20)yris in Mari Rubro reperta, que aeris percussu caelestis arcus ex sese speciem 'weit- (21) andradamas nitoris aigentei animorum calentum impetus molliens et tumentes refrenans iras et contra molestias nemorum utilis; (22) federn aspectu eburneo, (23) et gratiarum conciliator achates. (24) incredibile est gemmarum, que Htic perlucent, si quis referat multitudinem. Ipsa Fortuna grandis matrona, duplicis aspectus, nunc blando vultu nunc terrifico, uestibus auratis gtmmatisqm altiorem thorum tenebat, oculisgrandioribus, sedpkmnque clausis. (1) In the middle then there was a very high seat, shining with brilliant emeralds; moreover the seat was inlaid with wonderful stones and ivory: (2) sagada, a jewel which usually attaches itself to the keel of ships in the depth of the Euphrates, which is green in a most pleasant wav; (3) mirrhites with the colour of myrrh, which, if it is made warm by rubbing, wafts the smell of nardus; (4) mithrkks which when it is Ht up by the sun shines forth with various colours [reading coloribus}; (5) then pirhites, which cannot be held tightly; (6) chalachias, which shines with a colour whiter than hail; (7 ) echites spotted like vipers; (8) dionisias, which naturally has a dark colour and, after it has been ground up with water, the glow of wine; (9) Venus hair which looks Hke red hair; (10) selenites shining whitely; (11) pyropus which imitates flames; (12) meconites expressing the likeness of a poppy; (13) mirmitites expressing the like­ ness of a creeping ant; (14) caicophthongos sounding Hke battered copper; (li>) siderites causing discord when it is bewitched with certain sorcery; it is similar to iron; (16) flogites which shows flames glowing as it were within; (17) anthracias glit­ tering Hke the stars; (18) enhydros sweating out so that you might think of a fountain; (19) melochites from Arabia, more deeply green than emerald, which protects chil­ dren from danger; (20) yris, found in the Red Sea, which reflected by a mirror pro­ jects itself as a rainbow; (21 ) silver shining andradamas, which calms heated emo­ tions, restrains anger and is useful against nervous disorder; (22 ) pederos looking like ivory, (23) and achates producer of loveliness. (24) YChat an incredible number of precious stones were there to be seen! Fortuna herself, a grand lady, again with a friendly, again with a frightening appearance, dressed in clothes decorated by gold and precious stones, sat on a higher seat with eyes greater, but mostly closed.

What does this text teach us about how Piccolomini incorporated elements from Solinus’ passages on precious stones? It is striking how much effort he puts into impressing his reader by Iris detailed knowledge of such a variety of interesting, precious stones. The description of the stones covers almost the entire passage on the throne of Lady Fortuna, but there is also a small introduc­ tion (1), which explains the place of the throne, and in conclusion there is (24) mention of the general impression the stones make and what Lady Fortuna her­ self looked Hke when she was sitting on her throne. These remarks form the framework for the depiction of the stones. Moreover, Piccolomini did exactly

what Solinus had done when he plundered his sources, above all Pliny and lie h . He took what best suited his purposes: two larger passages chiefly con­ sisting of contiguous descriptions of different stones and two isolated descrip­ tions, As most descriptions of Solinus were far too long for Piccolomini’s pur­ pose, he reduced them in size. Piccolomini uses 205 words, whereas Solinus uses 654! In some cases, this meant that hardly anything remained of the origina contents and context. An example is Piccolomini’s brief remark on the agate:

17

Unity of Contents and Form

Zweder von Martels

Piccolomini aimed at perspicuity. Instead of Solinus’ complex, tortuous and at times difficult Latin, he aimed at shorter sentences and replaced more com­ plex ones by simple participial or relative clauses. He also tried to avoid repeti­ tive thoughts of any kind. Here is an example of his replacement of a complex sentence by a short relative clause: Solinus 37.20: [...] Veneris crinis nitet nigro, internis ductibus ostentans ruforum cnmum similitudinem.

,, ■

The hair of Venus has a dark sheen, showing inside it the likeness ot red hair. Solinus 5.25-26: Achaten lapident Sicilia primum dedit in Achataefluminis ripis repertum, non mlem, cum ibi tantum inueniretur, quippe interscribentes eum urnae naturalibus sic notant formis ut cum optimus est uarias praeferat rerum imagines. Vnde anulus Pyrrhi regis, qui aduersùs manos bella gessit, non ignobilisfamaefuit, cuiusgemma achates erat, in quo nomm Musae cum insignibus suis singulae et Apollo tenens citharam uidebantur, non inpressis figuris sed ingenitis iSunc dutersis locisparet. * From Sicily came the first agate stone, found on the banks of the river Achates. Agate is of no small value if it is found there, for the intersecting veins inscribe natu­ ra shapes upon it. When it is the best, the images of many things are displayed. The ring of King Pyrrhus (who waged war against the Romans), which was not of obscure fame, came from there. Its gem was an agate, in which the nine Muses with tieir distinguishing marks, and Apollo, holding his cithara, could be seen. The figures place s" 01 Stamped there’ but Were made by nature· Now agate is found in other

Piccolomini 9: veneris crinis, qui ruforum criniumfaciem refert.

But at a certain time, he seemed to tire of paraphrasing, as in the following case: Solinus 37.22: Meconitespapauera exprimit. Meconites resembles poppies. Piccolomini 12: meconites papauera exprimens;

In general, though, Piccolomini seems not to be happy to leave Solinus’ words completely untouched. In some cases it is hard to see the reason for his changes:

Piccolomini 23: etgratiarum conciliator achates.

The following passage, too, gives an idea of the energy with which I iccoiomini abbreviated his model: Solinus 37.8-9: Sagda a Chaldaeis ad nos usquefluxit, haudfacilis repertu, ni ut perhibent ipsa se capessendam daret; namque ingenita spiritus efficacia supermeantes nattes e profundo petit et canms ita tenaciter adcorforatur, ut nisi abrasa parte ligni aegre separetur. 9 Ea sagda apud Chaldaeos propter effectus, quos ex ea sciunt, habetur loco principe, ceteris propter gratiam magis complacet jucundissime uirens. & Sagda has come to us all the way from the Chaldaeans. It would be by no means easy to find, if it did not, as they say, give itself up to be seized. For its inborn spirit seeks ships which pass over tem in the depths, and it joins itself tenaciously to their keels, it is difficult to take them off except by shaving away some of the timber. This Sagda, because of its known properties, is held in highest esteem among the Chaldaeans. It is green, and because of this charm, it is liked more than other stones. Piccolomini 2 : sagada gemma, que in profundo Eufratis earine nauis se solet admettre locunmssime uirens; ’1

1

This and the following English translations from Solinus are taken from Apps 201 1.

Solinus 37.12: Mithridax solepercussa coloribus micat uariis. Mithridax, when struck by the sun, flashes with many colours. Piccolomini 4: mitridas, que sole percussa uariis emicat calonbus iste,:

Better grammar could also be Piccolomini’s reason for adaptation, as m the following example where aquae m ixtus becomes aqua mixtus·. Sohn us 37.18: Dionysias fuscus est, rubentibus notis sparsus. Idem si aquae mixtus conteratur, nimm fragrat et, quod in illo ociore mirificum est, ebrietati resistit. Dionysias is duskv and sprinkled with red spots. This same, if ground up and mixe with water, is redolent of wine, and (what is a wonder with that scent) resists drunkenness. Piccolomini 8 : dionisias, qui sui naturafuscus est et mixtus aqua, si conteratur, ni,mm,flagrat;

Overseeing Piccolomini’s description as a whole, it is obvious that he made little effort to vary the order of descriptions found in Solinus. After Solinus 37 7-12 a number of stones mentioned by Solinus, such as Tecolit os, Hammocvrsos, Aetites and Zoroastres, were omitted, apparently for reasons of space. Likewise, Piccolomini then followed Solinus 37,16-18, Solmus 37.20-21 and Solinus 23.9 about the Pyropus:

Unity of Contents and Form

Zweder von Martels Solinus 23.9: Lusitanum litus floret gemma ceraunio plurimum, quod etiam Indicis praeferunt; hum stratum color est e pyropo; qualitas igni probatur; quem si sine detrimento sui perferat aduersum uimfulgurum creditur opitulari. The Lusitaman shore blossoms with a great number of ceraunium gems. These are pre erred to even the Indian variety. The colour of this ceraunium is like an alloy of go and bronze. Its character is proved by fire. If the stone endures flames without damage, it is thought to be a help against lightning. Piccolomini 11 : pyropus, quiflammas imitator fsicf

The description of the throne of Lady Fortuna closes with the stones found m Solinus 37.22-24, 33.20-23 and 5.25. This, m short, is how Piccolommi as a tireless paraphraser dug his precious stones from the rich quarr}· which Solinus was to him. This creative imitation appears to be one of his favoured methods both to acquire knowledge and to arouse admiration.

As I feel that vou surpassed others by the clemency of yW -ears and your diligence in the Finest arts - and I do not say this thoughtlessly, since I very much experienced your benevolence - 1 thought I ought to give to you the initial critique of this little work of mine, because your diligence promised a quicker assent, or your kindness easier orgiveness.

The inverted parallelism within this chiastic structure is functional: it places emphasis on the clemency of the dedicatee both at the start and the end of the sentence. What follows after this captatio benevolentiae is Solinus’ announcement that his book wffl be a compendium. The penultimate sentence, too, consists of a complex alternauon of subordi­ nate clauses and the main clause. By way of a comparison, Solinus indicates that the work commences with the ‘head’ of the world, i.e. Rome. Here again, he found a suitable rhetorical form: Solinus, Praef. 1.7 : Sicut ergo qui corporumformas aemulantur; postpositis quae reliqua sunt, ... ante omnia effigiant modum capitis, necprius lineas destinant in membra aha. ... quam ab ipsa ut ita dixerim fi'gurarum arce auspiciumfaciant inchoandi, nos quoque a capite orbis, id est ab urbe Ruma ... principium capessemus, quamids nihil super ea doctissimi auctores reliquerint, quod in nonum praeconium possit suscitari, ac supervacuumpaene sit relegere tramitem decursum tot annalibus In the same way as those who endeavor to emulate forms of bodies first of all por­ tray the head and do not begin to draw the other parts before they have made a beginning with the head: allow us also to take our start from the head of the world, that is from the city’ of Rome, although the best authors have left nothing that:maj be added to the praise thereof, and it is almost superfluous to go by a path which has so often been traversed.

The Eloquence of Solinus Piccolomini’s writings were highly praised in his times and they were read ong alter. Copies of his orations went from hand to hand. In the 19th century though, this fame was forgotten. Neo-Latin literature was then regarded as a feeble imitation of classical Latin. In the last half century, much changed. The eves of scholars and students opened to the Latin eloquence of renaissance humanists in general, and Piccolomini’s in particular. This cannot vet be said of solinus eloquence. Apart from Hyskell’s study of the Latinity of Solinus, almost ninety years ago, no attention has been paid to this subject.1 Yet, the opening sentence of his dedicator}· letter to Aventus proves that it is worthwhile to look at a few examples o f Solinus’ literary aspirations. The sophisticated complexity of that sentence immediately attracts the attention. The sentence commences wit two subordinate clauses, the second of which opens with ‘idque’. Then fol­ lows the mam clause, which ends with a third subordinate clause, structured by the con,unctions ‘vel’ and Vel’. Also striking in this long sentence are the uncommon juxtaposition of clementia aurium, the variation of words in general and especially, the chiastic structure that connects the first part of the sentence with the last one. Here below, the corresponding elements of each pair of this chiastic structure are consecutively underlined and italicized in the translation: Solinus, Praef. 1.1:

Not just here, but in the dedicator}· letter as a whole, the rhetoncal disposi­ tion is in accordance with the rules for such dedications. Peter Lebrecht Schmidt has demonstrated this with the help of Tore Janson’s study of Latin Prose Prefaces} Six parts can be distinguished:

Cum et annum dementia «Optimarum artium studiis praestare te ceteris sentiam idque oppdo expertus de benhmkntia tua nihil temerepraeceperim, e reputaui examen opusculi istius tibipotissimum dare, cuius rnlindustria promptius suffragium uel benignitas ueniam spondebat faciliorem.

1

Hvskeli 1925.

19

1. Captatio benevolentiae (the opening sentence discussed above) 2. Emphasis on text type (compendium) and on contents instead of eloquence 3. Dependence on particular sources

1

P. L. Schmidt 1995,27.

Unity of Contents and Form

Zweder von Martels 4. Summary of the contents of the compendium 5 Apology and justification for the addition of a small number of abnormal or inex­ plicable phenomena of the natural or human worlds, of which the truth is based on the authority of the authors. 6 . The announcement (in the form of a comparison with a draftsman) that the book begins with a description of the head of the world: Rome.

Solinus, also in other respects, tries to win the eyes of his readers bv giving them what they like to see. His compendium will not be a dull one. Varient’ should prevent boredom: } Solinus ft-®/ 1.4 (for the Latin text see p. 8): We have inserted also a great manv things that are different, though compatible so that, if nothing else, variety at least remedies the reader’s sense of distaste.

Solinus knows which subjects interest people and by summarizing these he incites the reader to visualize them: Solinus, Praef. 1.4 (for the Latin text see p. 8 ): Among these things we have portrayed the natures of men and other living creatures. Added are a few things on exotic trees, on the form of peoples living in the most remote places, on the different customs of hidden races, and also on several other things worthy to be mentioned.

If this does not persuade his readers, the authority argument will. This is the highest recommendation, preserved to the last: Solinus, Praef. 1.5 (for the Latin text see p. 8 ): It seemed to be careless to pass over these things, the authority of which - and this I should especially like to recommend to your assiduity - flows from the best received authors. For what could be ours since the diligence of the ancients has left nothing to stay untouched until our age?

All these passages demonstrate Solinus’ familiarity with rhetorical techmques. He does not forget his audience, neither in his dedicatory letter, nor in the / olykstor itself. The style of the latter is less elaborate, but the work as a whole follows the structure indicated at the end of the dedication. In many places, the reader is reminded of this structure by remarks such as the following at the end of his first chapter: & Solinus 2.1: Now, in order to return to my resolve, 1 must steer mv pen towards the commemoration of places. First, I will visit Italy ... Solinus also took care of not becoming long-winded. He brings the variation ie promised. Thanks to such qualities, reading this work remains interesting, though it is not always easy for Latinists of the 21st century. Solinus’ vocabulary is rich, and the way he expresses himself does not always sound familiar to our ears, which are accustomed to the authors of the Golden Age, Cicero and \ergil. By contrast, Piccolomini and the thousands who read Solinus in the

21

millennium after his appearance were trained in a much larger variety of authors. In those ages, complaints as to Solinus’ Latin did not occur. Our guide should therefore, be someone like M. A. Agnant, who, in 1847, next to a Latin edition, made the first French translation of Solinus. This is what he said of his style (Agnant 1847, vii): Le style de Solin, simple de plus souvent, s’élève quelquefois; de temps en temps même il a de l’élégance. Quelques expressions ne se rencontrent que chez lui; mais généralement eUes'sont si justes qu’elles paraissent nécessaires.

Solinus’ Golden Age Attempts to determine the date of Solinus’ work always seem to end in deadlock. Recently, Brodersen has again paid attention to this question He concludes that th e ‘cumulative evidence may point to the later 3rd century for at least the first version’. This conclusion cannot be separated from his hypothesis that the appearance of the first geographical maps around that date may have inspired Solinus’ depiction of the ‘areas’ of the world (with the indication of neighbours and directions). He uses the word ‘innovative’, when he compares Solinus’ wav of describing the world with that of Pliny and Pomponius Mela. He is also aware that this early date - before 300 A.D., that is - will make Soli­ nus a really innovative writer, too. This is because of the many neologisms and rare words in his work.3 Hyskell’s meticulous study of the Latimty of Solinus has shown the extremely high number of such words for a small book like the Polyhistor. Hyskell mentions a total of around 140 words that do not occur in the 3rd century. Most of these are found either after 300 and even much later or not at all in Late Antiquity.4 Unfortunately Hyskell did not explain this remarkable phenomenon. His conclusion implies that he accepted Mommsen’s idea that Solinus lived in the 3rd century, and certainly not later.

1 Brodersen 2011,64-67, 87. 2 Brodersen 2011,87-88. 3 Brodersen 2011,65. . . 4 This fondness of neologisms and rare words, which is characteristic of Solinus, can also be detected in the writings of 4th-century authors such as St. Jerome, Amnuanus Marcellinus and Macrobius, to mention a few. Counting just the nine pages of new nouns and adjectives used by Solinus and collected by Hyskell, I found that 37 of the total of 75 new nouns and adjectives were used by SoEnus alone and by no one else in Late Antiquity; that is a surprising 50 percent! These unique nouns and adjectives are the following: dextratio, niectatio, secubatio, redimitus, casura, accendium, bomdtum, eliquium, scalpurrigo, cultellulus, lapillulus, mitrula, quadrua, unguilla, bonacus (?),frica to r (.), mediali primitiva, permeabilis, pabulosus, lapidarius, spinulentus, amiculatus, auratilis favillacius, praecentorius, puellatorius,saxatilis, sirpicus, spontivus, stiricacns, turarius, vesperatis, largiusculus, pinguiusculus, nigricolor, nigrogemmeus, seings. See Hyskell 1925, 2-10.

23

Unity of Contents and Form Zweder von Martels

There are at least seven arguments for an earlier date ranging from the time after Vespasian until the end of the third century. These arguments are debat­ able.1 They are, to my view, less convincing than the linguistic one proposed by P.L. Schmidt who favours a date around the middle o f the 4th century.1 2 His argument consists in fact of many smaller ones. It is, to a large extent, based on Solinus’ use of many neologisms. Each counts as a separate argument, how­ ever small, for a date later than 300. These little ‘stones’ reinforce each other, forming an almost impenetrable wall. In addition, Schmidt mentions a number of other arguments based on Solinus’ style, themes, contemporaries etc. If we pronounce the contents and language of the Polyhistor innovative, we may forget that the author’s aim was not innovation, originality or any other such positive, modern, quality, but the increase of traditional ‘knowledge’. We should not overlook Solinus’ own words in the dedicatory' letter to Aventus: ‘Following the traces of the ancient stamp, we have preferred to select universal opinions, rather than to alter them {innovare)'. As said before, it was Solinus’ wish to bring his readers to judgment through knowledge derived from author­ itative, ancient writers. This conservatism was part and parcel of his age.3 Apparendy he had not the faintest idea that his description of the world was ‘innovative’, or that his geographical approach differed from that of Pliny and Pomponius Mela. It is not unthinkable that this ‘new’ way of looking at the world had grown gradually after the first maps had come on the market towards the end of 3rd century'.45An incubation period of several decades was needed, before this new way of viewing became more or less automatically accepted. So­ linus himself seems not have been aware of this change in looking at the world. Furthermore, in his second dedicatory' letter, Solinus explains that many people had ‘hurried to snatch up the trifle’ with which he ‘laboured’ and that ‘incorrect versions widely circulated’.3 If this is true, and assuming that he had written before 300, how is it to be explained that his work left no trace before, around fifty years later, Ammianus Marcellinus began to borrow from Solinus? Here begins the long Golden Age of his popularity. Servius, Donatus,

1

2 3 4 5

Brodersen 2011, 04-67, 87. A number o f these arguments is rejected bv P. L. Schmidt 1995, 31-32. Debatable is also the argument which links Solinus’ remark about the silk wearing men with the age of Emperor Eilegabalus (Solinus 50.3). In her unpub­ lished commentary of Solinus, Arwen Apps rightly mentions Solinus’ indignation, for he wrote: This is the silk permitted for common use to the detriment of strictness. Because o f it, lust for luxury persuaded in the first place women, and now even men, to exhibit rather than to clothe their bodies’. Searching the word sericus (silk) in The Library' of Latin Texts (Brepols Publishers, update 2014), I find a number of passages in Ambrose and Jerome, where wearing silk is judged negatively for similar reasons. This might be seen as another example of Solinus’ sympathy with Christian views. P. L. Schmidt 1995, 32-33. Fuhrmann 1994, 83. Brodersen 2011, 87-88. Trans. Apps 2011; for the Larin text, see Mommsen 1895, 217. 217.

Aügus»«, M—

' cape».,

of SevUle. M.ciao an» » » V

Jen knew and used him.1 AU this suggests that Solinus that earUer period m whic « found the right eloquence, the ngnt

“j“ ■2

SS-™

”“ on that it was that o f Otus It w h i r r s ,beÜeVed’ what 15 stated in ^ i e m records, that the body of Orestes which was disinterred by command of an oracle, was seven cubits in height.

The differences beuveen the two accounts are obvious - and they are more an stylistic. The body discovered in Crete was, according to Solinus 14 7 m long; according to Pliny, 20.5 m. (There is agreement on the srze of the body of Orestes .) Pliny has the body in Crete uncovered by the violence of an earth­ quake (not otherwise recorded - and perhaps suspect).2 Solinus adds prosopographical detail: “Lucius Flaccus legatus and even Metellus himself desired to see [the skeleton].” As it happens, we know that L. Valerius Flaccus was the legate of Q. Caecilius Metellus Creticus (cos. 69) in 68, during the war against the pirates of Crete, so there is no need to doubt the p U p ^ p h S

71

considered enough.1 But when I alluded above to what was missing, I had in mind the immediate context demanded by Solinus’ own language. Even Metellus himself (Metellum etiam ipsum)} Surely this was taken from a context which explained the etiam, making it clear that Metellus was Flaccus’ superior officer (the governor, in fact): consulem Metellum, ptvconsulem Metellum, imperatorem Metellum. Non solum legatum L. Flaccum, sed etiam imperatorum ipsum - if not non solum legatum, sed etiam Q. Metellum Creticum ipsum. Solinus has ineptly lifted this directly from a fuller source (definitely not Pliny, with whom he shares half the item) or from his own incomplete notes (not taken from Pliny). Either way, the passage demonstrates his readiness to provide —arbitrarily - fuller nomenclature and circumstantial detail when it was before him (which it obviously was on a number of occasions), without the intellectual rigour to apply this practice in a systematic way (even when his own sentence structure fairly demanded it). It will be clear that I am no apologist for Solinus, but I see Solinus as taking up a place in a literary tradition that precedes the elder Pliny. Faced with parallel material such as we have been focussing on here, material shared by Pliny and Solinus, we must allow that the material in Solinus goes back to an earlier source.2 One last item hold clues, to my mind at least, as to the way in which the material reached the pages of the Polyhistor. It concerns the ostentation of Lollia Paulina, the third wife of Caligula (for a few months in AD 39).3 Solinus 53.29: It is commonly known (vulgatum est) that Lollia Paulina, wife (coniunx) of the princeps Gaius, had a tunic of pearls valued at 40,000,000 sesterces. Her father Manilius himself despoiled regions of the Orient in his greed to obtain it, and

Z H f M etii1" " / h0"“ 5,’ n0te’ ? 15 n° C° mpulsi0n to W upon thÏ lus. Perhaps the preceding reference to the bellum Creticum was

1 [Solinus]journit une version unpeu différent etplus explicite. Schilling 1977

159

Ju ’i98! ’ f 55 [n°- 711’ rCgardmg Pljny’s account of an earthquake as ‘most dubious {molto dubbw), and thinking it a topos to rationalize the discovery He draws attention here to Phlegon’s report, based upon the authority of the o t h e Î Z nknown Theopompos of Sinope, o f an earthquake that must have occurred (if it occured at: alÇ■m the Cimmerian Bosphorus about the 2nd century to the middle of

1989 6ST regards it a!I molto

&i 61“ “ 24 CUblK ' * at λνου“ have been inflicted by tb eprinceps himself (see Bauman

’ ’ 132 on the case of C. Cornelius Gallus and further references) - though it was hardi)· an institution; Augustus specifically wanted it (sc. expulsion from his cir­ cle and confidence) to remain a private action (Suet. Aug. 66.2), albeit that, if Dio is to be trusted (53.23.6), expulsion from the domus Augusti meant - in the case of Gallus - expulsion from all the imperial provinces (governed by Augustus). If such mortal ramifications followed upon renuntiationes issued by members of the famiHa Caesam (i.e., Gams’ denunciation of Lollius, according to Plinv’s scenario), then the development of the pnncipate was moving on apace. So, the matter o f this difference is ot some importance. But who is to be followed: Pliny or Solinus?

1 Cf. Stout 2001, 77; Olson 2008, 87. - One thinks of the legends surrounding the gowns of Theda Bara in the 1917 film version of Cleopatra. A contemporary report gasped that one of her many revealing costumes “cost $1,000 a yard , and then com­ plained that the actress “seemed to be wearing only 10 cents worth”; Solomon 2001, 63, citing Genini 1996, 40. 2 Dio 53.23.6. 3 Did the Romans voice abbreviations qua abbreviations? I am not aware of any evi­ dence. This, of course, is unnecessary. A notarius, hearing “Marcus Lollius , might have scribbled “MLollius” in so indistinct a hand that a lector, coming to this later (and cold), may have read aloud “Manilius”.

chain of transmission.)1 By my reading of the evidence, Solinus may not have emerged from this inspection with his reputation as a scholar or a gentleman enhanced, but I COn sider it beyond doubt that he was not dependent upon what could be gleaned rom Pliny and/or Mela. This is far from saying with confidence that he was independent of Pliny, but it does mean, I would aver, that when he produces an item that differs from a parallel item in Pliny, that datum should be treated as having been derived from an earlier source (i.e., predating Pliny) and should be accorded the attention it merits on that account.

1

C3n PerhaPs be granted an even greater indulgence. I refer attain to GoldhUl 2009, 111 (cf. 112) on the overlap o v a l i t y and literacv even d u ^ t h e Second Sophistic ( a culture that privileges literacy in its dedication to paideia”): The anecedote is an oral form that can be written down, or it can be written down an t en recirculated orally. It crosses the boundaries between oral and literate in a way that shows the interdependence of both spheres.”

Reading the Myth(s) of Empire: Paradoxography and Geographic Writing in the Collectanea Frank E. Römer

C. Iulius Solinus is one the least widely known and least appreciated extant Roman writers of any stripe. The communis opinio is that he probably wrote his Collectanea in the late third or early- 4th century-.1 In it Solinus provided a some­ what idiosyncratic - because paradoxographical - summary- of the known world, the oikoumené, interspersed with traditional observations and excursuses illuminating origins, human and animal behavior, history-, the physical appear­ ance of far-off peoples, unusual practices among unfamiliar peoples, exotic plants and natural resources, and prodigies of various kinds - all measured by the standards of Rome and the Roman imperial experience. His book is based largely on lst-centurv works by the elder Pliny and, to a lesser extent, byPomponius Mela without, however, naming either one of them.2 The Collectanea circulated widely and proved to be of great interest in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period. Little can be known about Solinus, and so his work stands for the man. Solinus suggests that his work will be chorographic and, like Pomponius Mela, Pliny, and others, he presents his material as a journey (periplus) around the shores of the known world. Geography concerns itself with the study of the earth’s surface and with how humans and other animals use the earth in physi­ cal, biological, and cultural terms. Geographic writing is a subgenre of history-, and as such is an engaged form of writing in which the author presents his argu­ ments and evidence in a way that elicits the readers’ own opinions and reactions to the phenomena he describes. The Collectanea is a type of paradoxography, a genre that grew out of the popular science tradition that began early in the Hellenistic period and survived into Solinus’ day and well bey-ond. Although abbreviated, the work is neverthe­ less fairly described as encyclopedic in its vision, though in form and scope much attenuated from that of his unacknowledged chief source, the Naturalis

1 Mommsen 1895, vi-vii, prefers the 3rd century- (i.e., after 200 and prior to the 4th century); Warmington 2012, 764, “probable soon after 200,” which may perpetuate a common misreading of Mommsen; Fernandez Nieto 2001, 11-27, considers 290-350 as the likely timeframe; and Brodersen 2011, 67, suggests a possible date in “the later 3rd century- for at least the first version” and, on another major development, notes that Talbert 2010, 136, puts the “original” of the tabula Peutingeriana at ca. 300. 2 In his marginal notes to the text, Mommsen 1895 identifies the relevant passages of both authors at the point where Solinus is indebted to them; cf. also Brodersen 2015. On Solinus’ use of other authors see Apps 2014, 35-39.

Frank E. Römer

Histona of the elder Pliny.1 Even in this condensed form, the memorabilia in the Collectanea illustrate the power and greatness of the Roman Empire, but alwaw with a catch. 1 Ancient writers on geography and other technical subjects draw more atten­ tion today than in the past from literary and cultural historians. By contras^ scholars working on technical subjects have long mined these works for practi­ cal and theoretical information, and Solinus thus tends to have been left to the side. Broader interest, however, in ethnographic questions and in ancient con­ ceptions of in-groups and the Other now- draw specialists in literature and cul­ ture back to writers like Solinus. In what follows my remarks are limited prima­ rily to 1.1-52, where Solinus draws our attention to Rome as caput orbis, focusing on the founding of Rome and on both pre-Romulean and Romulean Rome (1.1-20); regal chronology (1.21-26); an outline of major synchronisms (1.27-30); a brief statement of how republican history culminated in the Augustan principate (1.31-33); the development of the calendar, which in its finalized form is hailed as the achievement of Augustus (1.34-47); and praise for the age of Augustus (1.48-52).1 2 At 1.53 Solinus turns his attention to human nature and to particular individuals, Roman or otherwise, as exemplars of human behavior, a discussion that he concludes definitively at 2.1: “I have said enough about mankind” (“De homine satis dictum habeo”).

The Prefatory Letter Fortunately, the book has prefixed to it a letter of dedication to one Adventus. Unfortunately, we cannot identify this Adventus with any certainty. As a result, the letter now stands as a preface to the work, identifying its target audience, and conveying the self-proclaimed characteristics of both the author and his text. Solinus emphasizes the selectivity and the brevity of what he has written, an opusculum which he identifies as a conpmdium (praef, 1-2). He reports that his work is derivative, that he has pored over numerous volumes but intends to compile unusual and little known data, purposefully minimizing what is familiar to his audience in favor of what is less well known (praef. 3) He notes

1

2

Naas 2002, II 235-393 treats the question of “un ‘inventaire merveilleux’, une ency­ clopédie paradoxographique?”, but Pliny generally has à positive view of empire, unlike Solinus who allows his readers to be more questioning in their approaches. Naas 2011 57-70, reprises and clarifies her ideas on paradoxes in Pliny under the headings of imperialism and the conquest of knowledge; why the mirabilia are in the Naturalis Histona·, mirabilia as praise of the empire; mirabilia, empire, and decline of knowledge; and mirabilia as compensation - all of which are worth reviewing before turning to Solinus. In regard to mirabilia, a closer examination of Solinus’ exact use of specific passages from Pliny would seem to be warranted. Ah this is treated under a single rubric, “the origin of the city of Rome.”

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

77

everv important question about early Rome has been investigated already the best qualified writers, and adds that he does not hope to contribute anyÏ i g new to what his predecessors have said. He was, then, an admitted comS e r demonstrably dependent on Pomponius Mela and, more heavily, on Pliny Su: Elder, but with intellectual and geographic interests of his own. Thus, despite his protests, his work is not unoriginal. As a handbook of unusual facts, ♦he Collectanea is also a reference book of paradoxography, and it is, by design, §oth incomplete and partial. Even as he depends on his predecessors, Solinus eschews rhetorical glitz (“bratteas eloquentiae”)1 in favor of a velut fermentum cognitionis, a “kind of stimulus for thinking” praef. 2).2 Solinus expected his eLaged readers to be thinking their way through his presentation with data he selected and shaped for this purpose (praef. 2: liber ... quantumque ratiopassa est ita moderate repressus). He also alerts the reader to the organization and overall framework of the book; Solinus, Praef. 1.3: Locorum commemoratio plurimum tenet, in quam partemfem e inclinatior est universa materies. Quorum commeminisse ita visum est, ut inclitos terrarum situs et insignes tractus maris, servata orbis distinctione, suo quaeque ordine redderemus To record the places takes up most space; the subject matter, taken as a whole, basi­ cally slants more this way. It seemed good to record these places in such a way as to keep the division of the world and to account for famous regions on land and note­ worthy stretches of sea, each in its own place.

Solinus’ heterodoxy has produced what initially appears as a lopsided geog­ raphic and cultural inventory of the Roman Empire, with Rome as the caput orbis, and the rest of the world implicitly as its body (cp. praef. 7-8). In producing this picture, Solinus compares himself to an artist -who begins by copying the subject’s head before outlining the body: “Therefore ... we, too, will start from the head of the world [caput orbis], that is, from the city' of Rome, even though the most learned authors have left out nothing about it that could be built into a new encomium, and even though it may be all but superfluous to go back o\ er the path traversed in so many annals” praef 7: “ ... ergo ... nos quoque a capite orbis, id est ab urbe Roma principium capessemus, quamvis nihil super ea doctissimi auctores reliquerint, quod in novum praeconium possit suscitari, ac supervacuum paene sit relegere tramitem decursum tot annalibus”). This proce­ dure is exactly opposite to the approach of Pomponius Mela, who, on reaching the proper place for Rome in his narrative, lets the opportunity go: ... and Rome, long ago founded by shepherds, now a second book in itself if there is to be discussion on the topic” (Mela 2.4.60: “et Roma quondam a pastoribus condita, nunc si pro materia dicatur alterum opus”).

1 This claim is, of course, a topos of the genre, but it is neither inapt nor misleading. 2 Cognitio has à range of meanings - thinking, learning knowing - based on sense per­ ception or mental exercise. On literary' aspects of the dedicatory letter, see the analy­ sis of Pavlock 2014.

Frank E. Römer

Unlike Mela or Pliny, Solinus’ itinerary privileges Rome, starting with the city’s origin “lest it be hidden altogether” and asserting that “we will trace its origin as faithfully as we can” (praef. 8: “ne tamen prorsus dissimulata sit, originem eius quanta valemus persequemur fide”),1 and then begins by pres­ enting - but not resolving - conflicting ideas about the origins of Rome, includ­ ing, most interestingly, that there was a Rome before Rome, a Latin Valentia, which implicidy explains Evander’s use of R.hômê (Greek: “bodily strength, vigor”) when he arrived with his Arcadian settlers. It is fundamental to this work that the origin of Rome not be omitted even though the basic facts have already been established by his most distinguished predecessors. What Solinus hopes to provide remains velutfermentum cognitionis. Solinus’ unorthodox approach provides a revealing perspective on Roman ideas of the world and Rome’s place in it; and the Collectanea, which begins with, and is organized around, an extended description of Rome (1.1-52), amounts to a meditation on Roman power, including the power to hierarchize and cata­ logue data. Next, human nature and human behaviors are distinguished from animal and plant life (1.53-2.1), with the whole tableau set in a Roman context. Consequently, the chief feature of the work is its deliberate ethnographic point of view. The Collectanea is, as indicated above, a selective summary of the oikoumené, with a focus on history, the customs of nations, and the natural pro­ ducts of various regions, and Rome provides the standard by which the unusual and unfamiliar are to be judged in the Roman Empire.

1

There are three points to be noted: (a) Solinus begins with Rome, while Mela begins on the African side of the Columnae Herculis (Strait of Gibraltar), and (b) as a con­ sequence, in Mela’s narrative the place to discuss Rome occurs in the exact middle of Book 2, while in Solinus’ narrative it begins the work. Thus, Solinus focuses on Rome and its empire, while Mela downplays the'history' and place of Rome without ever losing sight of the Roman Empire as a whole, (c) Mela imagines his voyage dif­ ferently: Mela proceeds around the African and Asiatic shores of the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, and then the Mediterranean shore of Europe, back through the Strait, then northward along the European coast, around the imaginary Scythian coast and the rest of Asia and Africa until he concludes back on the African side of the Strait. In contrast, Solinus imagined a voyage that began at Rome, moved eastward to Greece up into the Black Sea, then the Caspian to the outer coast of Europe and westward to Britain, then south, and so on back into the Mediterranean, across North Africa, through coastal Asia, the interior of Asia, then back around Africa to the Strait (in short, following more or less the same route as Pliny). It should be noted that Talbert 2010, 87, urges that Rome was also vertically and horizontally at the center of the tabula Peutingenana, although the point cannot be proved since the surviving copy is incomplete. Also, see Batty 2000 on Mela’s Phoenician agenda, which sets his Chorographia apart in certain important wavs.

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

79

One Reader’s Response to the Parilia The Parilia was one of the most important days on the Roman festival calen­ dar, and according to the prevalent interpretation the Parilia marked the birth­ day of Rome. As such, it should be unambiguous in its significance, but that interpretation appears to be revisionist. Certain ambiguitates persist in Roman his­ tory7, especially around the beginnings of Rome: “The fact that long before Romulus certain cults existed in Rome has aroused questions of uncertainties [ambiguitates]" (1.7: “Ambiguitatum quaestiones excitavit, quod quaedam ibi multo ante Romulum culta sint”). Solinus’ account o f the Parilia is one way to approach and appreciate the author’s sense of the paradoxical and to under­ stand how the reader might react to reading his text. Hence each reader needs to dig deeper. For example, ancient scholars did not agree on the origin of the name Rome (1.1-6), and the designation of the Palatium, long the site of imperial residences, is derived from either the bleating of sheep {balatus), the pre-Roman goddess Pales, or the elusive and legendary Palanthus, daughter of Hyperboreus (1.15). After recounting various Greek traditions about the site of Rome before it was Roman, and after noting that these traditions are in fundamental agreement, So­ linus makes a strong and unambiguous claim, “ ... it is certain that the glory of the Roman name is indebted to that well-known propitious augury, especially since reckoning the years creates a hinge for the truth” (1.16: "... palam est prospero illi augurio deberi gloriam Romani nominis, maxime cum annorum ratio faciat cardinem veritati”). The curious expression “that well-known propi­ tious augury7” is proleptic and draws on the reader’s knowledge of Romulus and his founding of Rome, which Solinus will treat in what follows (1.17-20). There are additional paradoxes too. At 1.17, Solinus calls Varro auctor diligentissimus and cites him both for the foundation of Rome by7Romulus and for the claim that Mars and Rhea Silvia were Romulus’ parents, but Solinus notes as well what he seems to imply is the minority view (“nonnulli [adfirmant]”), namely, that Mars and Ilia were his parents, although in Solinus’ day this latter was the most widespread view in both popular and elite culture. Initially Solinus tilts the balance toward Varro’s- view about Romulus’ parentage (after all, he is auctor itiligentissimus), but then, without argument, goes on to attribute the ety­ mology7of the name Parilia to an anonymous “they7,” who take the position that the motherhood of Ilia is the reason for the festival. He does not resolve this discrepancy, but leaves it to his reader’s judgment. In his account of Romulus and the feast that commemorated his walling of the city (1.18-19),1 Solinus first describes the layout of Roma Quadrata, which

1 21 April is the festal day of both the Parilia and Romulus’ foundation of Rome. Beard 1987, 286, suggests “at the risk of oversimplification, that Plutarch’s symbolic narrative is (no doubt quite fortuitously) historical: that is, an early pastoral festival of the primitive Roman community became actively reinterpreted in the increasingly urban society of Rome into a festival of the city and its origin.” McCarthy 2004, 49-

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

Frank E. Römer

at one point extended to the top of the Scalae Caci on the Palatine Hill where Faustulus’ hut had been located. Faustulus was the foster father of Romulus and Remus, though Remus is never mentioned in the text. Our author then continues: Solin. 1,18-19: Ibi Romulus mansitavit, qui auspicato murorum fundamenta iecit duodeviginti

natus annos, X I k. Mai., horapost secundam ante tertiam [plenam], sicut L Tarruntiusprodidit mathematicorum nobilissimus, love in piscibus, Saturno Venere Marte Mercurio in scopione, Sole in tauro, Luna in libra constitutis. Et observatum deinceps, ne qua hostia Parilibus caederetur, ut dies iste a sanguinepurus esset, cuius significationem departu Iliae tradam volunt. Idem Romulus regnavit annos septem et triginta. There Romulus resided, and at the age of eighteen, under favorable auspices, he laid the foundations of the walls on 21 April, between 8 and 9 a.m. - exactly as Lucius Tarruntius, grandest o f mathematicians,1 revealed - with Jupiter being in Pisces; with Saturn, Venus, Mars, and Mercury in Scorpio; the Sun in Taurus; and the Moon m Libra. Thereafter the practice also was adopted that no blood sacrifice be offered at the Parilia, so that day might be ritually undefiled bv blood; they like to infer the meaning of this day from partus lliae, “Ilia’s birthing.

By Solinus day, the derivation of Parilia from partus lliae was accepted, and, by implication, the celebration o f Rome’s founding was carried back even ear­ lier, to the moment of Romulus’ auspicious birth from his mother Ilia, whose name also seems to recall his Trojan lineage. As soon as this connection to Ilia appears, we know that something is out of kilter: Solinus had seemed to slant his narrative in favor ot Varro’s interpretation, and nothing is said about Romulus inaugurating the walls on his own birthday, which now seems to be

55, focused on the tension in the poetic record, especially in Ovid, between the rustic shepherd’s festival and the urbanized festival of the natalis Romae. He concluded (55): By heavily Favoring the urban celebration of the pomerium over the traditional festival of the Parilia, Augustus hastened this displacement under the guise of reinstating the mos maiorum. The irony of the destruction of ancient tradition in the name of reestab­ lishing the mos maiorum was not lost on the educated poets of the time.” For McCarthy 2004 Augustus played a critical role in this transformation of the festival (see below, p. 82 n. 4). 1 The term mathematicus can designate what we mean by a mathematician or, alterna­ tively, an astronomer or astrologer. (Astronomy and astrology- were not so distinct from one another as they are today.) I take Tarruntius as a serious mathematician and astronomer, and it is clear from the language here that he also used his ability to cast the horoscope of Rome. Solinus fudges the record a bit to make his point; see Fernandez Nieto 2001, 132-133 n. 8, on Tarruntius. 2 After Hadrian changed the Parilia into the Romaea in celebration of the natalis Romae, probably in 121, the etymology of Parilia from partus Iiiae was virtually unquestioned.

81

the case. And why should “Ilia’s birthing” not include Romulus’ twin brother Remus, who is not mentioned at all?1 Pales was, moreover, the divine protector of shepherds and cattle, and the original Parilia was a shepherds’ festival.2 The most paradoxical feature of Soli­ nus’ account here is that he does not mention Pales by name or recall the shep­ herds’ festival, except with the vague and oblique reference to the possible deri­ vation of “Palatium” from the bleating of sheep that were induced to bleat dur­ ing the Parilia. Here the Parilia is linked to the overshadowing celebration of Rome’s founding, but the combined historical meaning remains unclear, in part, because of the revisionist reinterpretation of the festival, but also because events of the regal period and earlier depend on the synchronism of Greek Olympiadic dating (cp. 1.27-30). Two relevant points emerge. First, regardless of the origins of the pre-Roman settlement and of the name Rome, what is important is the gloria Romani nominis, and that glory- descends directly from the founding of the city by Romulus when he began its walls. Second, the ability to reckon time diachronkally, that is, historically, provides a way to order and comprehend events that have occurred in the past (just as it does, by implica­ tion, for events that individuals experience in their own lifetimes). Unresolved ambiguitates underlie, and inform, the paradoxical nature of Rome and, by extension, of the Roman world. In Solinus’ day, Romans were performing ancient rituals that had lost their meaning. Not to scrutinize Pales’

Beard et al. 1998,1 175-176, with n. 30: “The Parilia, like any- Roman festival, permit­ ted a multitude of competing explanations. Ovid offers no fewer than seven ... In this [Ovid’s] version the founding of Rome, the creation of th epomerium, and the kill­ ing of Remus all interconnect.” Based on Ovid, Lasti 4.721-862, Vanggaard 1971, 102-103, argues, inter alia, that the myth of the public cult (the founding of Rome) alluded to the killing of Remus, which was recalled symbolically through the sacrifice of a sheep. Vanggaard apparently wants to see the sacrifice as continuing and not being terminated as both Plutarch and Solinus assert. Rather, if there was such a sac­ rifice, it would seem to me to be a holdover from the Latin Parilia, a practice which would have been terminated so that the killing of Remus would not itself appear to be an impious sacrifice or an act of equally impious fratricide or civil war. In some versions of the myth, Romulus killed Remus; in other versions, someone else did it, acting on behalf of Romulus. Romulus cannot be - officially at least - impious, and so Ovid records (cp. Fasti 5.457-480) that Romulus pacified the ghost of Remus by plously creating a festival called the Remuria, which over time evolved into the more familiar Lemuria, a festival of the dead. 2 See Gjerstad 1976 for a still-useful overview of the basic linguistic, historical, and cultural problems and evidence for Pales, the Parilia, and the founding of Rome. But see also Feeney 2007, 91: “For a start, Rome was not founded anyway. The whole issue is a mitage. Large-scale processes over long periods of time eventually led to what we would call a civic organization on the hills beside the Tiber, but this is not a ‘founda­ tion,* certainly not in the terms preserved in the literary tradition.” Beard 1987 has a more interpretative methodological approach than Gjerstad in working out the basic ancient literary- evidence (identified beiow, p. 82 n. 4),

1

Frank E. Römer

82

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

Connection to Rome’s founding would be a dreadful lapse on the reader s part, for Solinus’ readers are always invited to scrutinize anything he presents, Lnder Augustus, the shepherds’ Parilia was concelebrated with Romulus laying the foundations of the wall, and Augustus apparently tried to revive rustic aspects of the festival as part of his restoration of the old order. If his effort was sin­ cere, in the long run he failed, 1 and the pastoral festival was completely over­ whelmed later on w7hen Hadrian added the Ludi Romani {ludi rircenses) to the fes­ tivities, now dubbed the Romaea (Ath. 8.361e-f), a process that was subversive and denied romanitas to things previously thought to mark it. At first the Parilia seems like a straightforward festival, but as usual a look beneath the surface reveals nuances and complexities that need to be ironed out. The first thing to be noted is the changing meaning of the festival. The Romans talked about their festivals, and thus they explained to themselves the changing meaning of the Parilia, thereby helping both to create and to reinforce that new7 meaning as their own urban society evolved over time.' At least three phases of development are remembered by our most important Roman era sources.4 In addition, a fourth, pre-Roman, festival may be detected behind the three attested phases. In moving from the Latin shepherds communal festi­ val to that of the Roman civic celebration, a prior festival may be inferred, in which shepherds, individually or in very small groups, may7have celebrated their divine patron and protector Pales, perhaps even while sacrificing one of their own sheep, out in the countryside surrounded by their flocks. But let us look more carefully at the Parilia in connection with Roman time. There was a Rome before there was a Rome. It was the Rome of Evander, the Arcadians, and the shepherds. And there was a Rome before that, the Rome of the shepherds, the Valentia that motivated Evander to translate its name into Greek as Rhômê. It was an unwalled setdement, and Romulus transformative

1

2 3

4

Based on the literarv politics of the day, and especially on Ovid s account in Fasti 783-862, McCarthy 2004, 49-55, argues that “The foundation of Rome is shown to be a disruption of the idyllic pastoral world the Romans so romanticized, and it therefore destroys the way of life they pictured as the source and cause of the noble mos maiorum” He concludes (55) that Augustus, as re-founder of Rome, was not sin­ cerely trying to revive the pastoral festival but was highlighting the city s original foundation in connection u7ith his own re-founding of it (see also above, p. 79 n. 1). On the Romaea, see Beard et al 1998,1 362-363. Beard 1987, 287: “The constant story-telling, questioning, interpretation and reinter­ pretation around Roman festivals prevents the significance of the festival from becoming fixed. Only when the story7-telling stopped would the dead hand of ortho­ doxy lock the meaning of the ritual into the concerns of one moment of Roman his

toIT·”

-

V,

Dionysius of Halicarnassos, Roman Antiquities 1.88.3; Ovid, Fasti 4.721-862, Plutarc > Romulus 12.1-2; and Athenaeus, Sophists at Dinner 8.36le-f = 5.1c. Needless to say, only Ovid wrote in Latin, but see Beard 1987, 276-277, on all four authors as v a able external sources for the Parilia.

83

contribution was to lay the foundation of the walls (the pomerium in Ovid’s account) that would mark off the city7.5* At bottom, there is something prob­ lematic about this festival in its Augustan guise as a celebration of the founding of the city. Solinus says nothing about the Parilia as a shepherd’s festival and nothing about Remus e\7en in connection with the partus Iliae·. “Thereafter the practice also w7as adopted that no blood sacrifice be offered at the Parilia so that day might be ritually undefiled by blood; they like to infer this practice itom partus lliae, ‘Ilia’s birthing”’ (1.19). It is possible that the practice of sacrificing a sheep, which already occurred during the shepherds Parilia,1 2 was terminated to prevent the sacrifice from coming to symbolize the death of Remus and therefore impiously recalling the equally impious act o f fratricide and, effectively, of civil war that characterized the city s founding (above, p. 81 n. 1). The merging of the pastoral and urban festivals creates a paradox, and the elimination both of Remus and of the sheep sacrifice resohes the problem. In addition, we should not forget that the com­ munal shepherds’ festival of the Latin Parilia is pre-Romulean, and that the act of sacrificing a sheep may well have originated in the rural countryside with pri­ vate pastoral practices that even antedated organized Latin communities. By the Augustan period, the Parilia had become primarily an urban festival, though Augustus probably tried to revive its pastoral aspects, and by the timeHadrian instituted the Ludi Romani and usurped the day, the shepherds’ festival was completely out of the picture and barely even a memory in Solinus’ time. Ancient literary7sources stress the historical time and circumstances in w'hich festivals originated, with the idea that the origin reveals something precise and clear about the celebrants. To this point, we have been talking about an impor­ tant date, 21 April, on the Roman ritual calendar. The ritual calendar and its communal interpretation give shared meaning to Rome and Roman history by the constant process of interpretation and reinterpretation that it generates. This ritual calendar evolves over time and, as it does, it constitutes the most impor­ tant means of projecting romanitas, that is, the shared and changing images of Rome and Roman history- that represent “Roman time”3 and, for that matter, “Roman space.”4 But the scientific solar calendar also obviously has a leading role to play in this process since the ritual calendar is inscribed within it.

1 Beard et ah 1998, 176: “So for Ovid, the ancient festival which marks the foundation ot Rome also evokes a primitive pastoral golden age lodged in the verv origins of the imperial city7.” ' 2 Cp. Calpurnius Siculus 2.60-63; and see Vanggaard 1971, 98-99. I follow Beard 1987, 287-288: "... one important aspect of the ritual calendar at Kome (and of the exegesis that went with it) w-as its capacity to project Rome and Koman history, and to adapt the image projected. The [ritual] calendar was one wav Λ (and a changing wav) of representing ‘Roman rime’.” eeney-2°07, 1: "... Roman conceptions of rime and space are inextricably linked”; * 21 d: the Romans’ special obsession with time had itself also been the proCt ot etlcounters with new parts of the world and new technologies.”

Raading the Mvth(s) of Empire

Frank E. Römer

The “Augustan” Calendar1 The importance of scientific calendrical reckoning cannot be denied. Lucius Tarrundus calculated the exact day and hour that Romulus inaugurated his pro­ ject (1.18). The year had not yet been identified in the text, but that too would follow (1.27-32) through a process of synchronism based on Greek Olympiadic dating and Roman counting A.U.C. (ab urbe condita, “from the founding of the city”). Chronology provides “a hinge for the truth” (1.16), and so, most unusu­ ally, Solinus embeds a history of the Roman calendar early in the work (1.3447). The problem is that, in this instance, the calendar neither resolves nor elim­ inates the confusion about early history since it is not used retroactively to clear up past ambiguities. So, the question remains, what is the point of Solinus’ lav­ ishing so much attention on calendrical issues in general if the calendar itself is of so little use to him? The presence of the reformed solar calendar in the Collectanea has two main functions. One is to define a borderline between the Republic and the Empire and to demonstrate Rome’s new imperial organization and power. In the hands of Julius Caesar the development of the calendar rounds out the histon' of the republic, and m the hands of Augustus it introduces the new imperial venture. The paradoxical result is that what we call the Julian calendar is better described in Solinian terms as the Augustan calendar. It is Augustus, after all, who receives full credit from Solinus for the reformed civic calendar (1.34 and 44-47). The other function is to recognize the nature and claims of Rome’s scientific achievement as part of Rome’s superior knowledge. In his presentation of the calendar Solinus straddles the line ^between the demands of literary geography and those of scientific geography.* He is a literary geographer - an armchair geographer, if you will - not a scientific one, but he knows that scientific geog­ raphy has its own important contributions to make. He then brings to the genre of chorography a new way to represent space and places in his narrative, and it

1

2

Feeney 2007, 184-189, describes Augustus’ real accomplishment in the calendrical fash. He says (189 with nn. 97 and 98): “The revolutionary Julian calendar, with its new [Augustan] use in constructing the Principate’s part in Roman practice, played a profoundly important role in the integration of the regime into the changing religious and ideological patterns of post-Republican life. In adding all these meanings to the dense semiotic displays of the Roman year, the new fasti progressively redefined the meaning of what living as a Roman now meant. The period of Augustus’ rule was when the greatest part of this work on the fasti was done; Rüpke well points out that much of the impetus for addition and elaboration died awav as the regime consoli­ dated itself and the reign of Augustus became itself a foundational period in its own right.” Literary geography tends to be narrative in the way that Solinus’ account of the memo­ rabilia is organized. Scientific geographic writing is based on mathematics and astron­ omy, and it is generally unconcerned with a narrative component.

85

• this pattern of scientific foci that warrant the presence of the calendar’s his­ tory in the Collectanea. On the literary side, Solinus makes only one apparent incidental use ot this eformed civic calendar. He expresses the birthday of the world, natalis mundi, in !he calculation of the Egyptian priests, as occurring “between 20 and 22 July .3 2 13). Given the original oddity of a four-month Egyptian year, as Solinus describes it (1 -3 4 ), he naturally expresses this calculation in terms of the reformed Roman calendar; in imperialistic terms, Caesar co-opted Greek sci­ ence and surpassed Egyptian scientific accomplishment. 1 Otherwise Solinus makes no notable use of the Caesarian calendar, and it never replaced for him the various synchronisms that facilitated the telling of history12 - the Trojan War Olympiadic dating, the Roman literary tradition of counting A.U.C., none of which is calendrical in the strict sense.3 These chronographic devices allow for synchronisms that are the tools of narrative structure, and these chronographic tools raise for the reader the ambiguitates involved in comparing cultures and cultural data, which is the underlying principle of the author’s liter­ ary strateg\r and of his paradoxographical method, and which also is the basis for the reader’s exercise of judgment. Ironically, the scientific calendar is used to set a synchronistic boundary in highlighting the period of Roman history that Solinus most wants to emphasize, and with some assurance we can now say what that period is. It is the entire his­ tory of Rome from its founding through its re-founding under Augustus down to the end of the Julio-Claudian dynasty (r. 27 BC-AD 6 8 ). When Solinus refers to Roman citizens anywhere in the Collectanea, with one minor exception

1

Not surprisinglv, the point is both paradoxical and polemical. Historically, Caesar s calendar commission, headed by the Greek astronomer Sosigenes, adapted for Roman use the actual Egyptian solar calendar of 365 days. 2 Feeney 2007, 24-25 and ch. 2, notes that synchronisms occur at different times in different cultures. As Culture B emerges, it organizes the cardinal events of its own history into a linear order; as Culture B then moves further onto the world stage, it attaches its account to that of the prevailing Culture A, and so on with Culture C etc., until gradually a more unitary' view is built up. But what determines the point o contact - the similarity of the events? The similarity' of character in the leading play­ ers? Or something else entirely? 3 Feeney 2007, 140-141, on A.U.C. dating. Because of his subject we might have expected Feeney to make some use of Solinus’ history of the calendar and, in particu­ lar the reformed calendar as published by Caesar and perfected by Augustus (1.3452), but he does not. Instead, Solinus appears only in a footnote (p. 246 n. 83), the content of which is owed to another scholar, DeCazenove, who is credited only with showing that nostra tentpom in Solinus means Roman reckoning based on the Trojan War and that temporagraeca refers to ORmpiadic dating. 4 Feeney 2007, 12, reminds us that the problems of synchronisms created by historians in antiquity' ought to be weighed more carefully by historians working today as they tty to sort out and unravel the events of the past.

Frank E. Römer

(Suetonius Paulinus at 24.15), he names only individuals from the Republic or the early Julio-Claudian period. 1 And again, with a single exception, the only emperors identified by name are Julio-Claudians, the exception being Vespasian who is mentioned to tag the date of an event synchronistically rather than for any specified personal achievement of his own (29.6).12 Thus, in the narrative structure the calendar bridges the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Empire, with the Augustan principate being both the fulcrum and the highpoint of Roman history in the Collectanea. Augustus stabilized and secured Roman imperium (1.32) and created the ideology and precedents that characterized the imperialism of Rome and its legitimacy (cp. 1.32-33). The point is both political and ideological, but, from the perspective of someone writing in the late 3rd century, there is also a sense of relief and a significant element of praising “the good old days.”34* On the scientific side, there is always a question whether or not a map was included in an ancient geographic text. No map appeared in ancient editions of Pomponius Mela or Pliny, and even Ptolemy’s Geographia, which is essentially a . listing of mapping coordinates in eight books, probably circulated without maps. While the original publication of the Collectanea did not contain a map, its author did have a map in mind as he wrote, and, like Pomponius Mela and Pliny, he helped his reader to imagine one too. What exactly this map may have looked like, however, is anyone’s guess, since the image no doubt will have var­ ied from reader to reader, but this map in the text did have some noteworthy

Solinus names Paulinus for being the first commander, in 41-42, to cross the Atlas Mountains, echoing Pliny \ H 5.14, who also specifies Paulinus as dux. In otherwise naming only individuals of the republican and early imperial past, Solinus is himself exercising a kind of variation on the republicanizing Augustan ideal. 2 There may even have been an unspoken reason for naming Vespasian. Perhaps, à la Pliny, Solinus thinks of Vespasian as starting ail over again after the collapse of the Julio-Claudian dynasty under the catastrophic Nero (r. 54-68); cp. Naas 2002, 70-73, on “l’ancrage augustéen des Flaviens.” In her overall conclusion (p. 475), Naas also sums up this idea in relation to Pliny’s encyclopedia in the following way: “C’est donc un monumentum de l’Empire que Pline realise, un bilan qui s’est avéré le pendant culturel du contrôle établi par Rome sur son Empire: la tutelle administrative instaurée par Auguste et reprise par les Flaviens, soucieux de renouer avec les valeurs du début du principat, trouve un écho dans ΓΛΉ, en premier lieu par les prises de position politiques et morales de Pline. Dédiée à Titus, ΓΛ7/ offer au princeps et à l’empereur Vespasien une mise en ordre du monde connu.” 3 I thank Veit Rosenberger for emphasizing this last point with me at the Conference on Solinus’ Collectanea in June 2013. 4 That view of a Geographia without maps is being challenged. See Stückelberger/Grasshoff 2006, whose important new' edition of the Geographia includes the first-ever full collation of the text and maps of the underappreciated Codex Seragliensis GI 57 (13th century), and they hope to produce a facsimile edition of this codex.

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

87

haracteristics in describing space. Solinus uses compass directions to locate one place in relation to another (e.g., 2.19, 5.2, 11.4), but breaks up the linearity of his imagined periplus with his two excursuses on Italy as an area. (2.51-52). His descriptions of the Aegaeus sinus (11.1-2) and the Creticus sinus (27.1-2) also defy the periplus model; he marked the northern, western, and southern celestial plagae1 and innovated in the use both of mediterraneum to name the mare internum and of Oriens to designate “the Orient,” both terms we still use in the same way today. Much later editions of the Collectanea contained drawings and maps, but the mental map that Solinus had in mind, however imperfectly con­ ceived, can only' be deduced from the text. It should be noted that his text sig­ nificantly influenced the 13th century Christian mappamundi from Hereford. What is important about that connection is that “a close study of Solinus’ geog­ raphy can show how the book which made Pliny’s geography accessible through a text... may also be connected with the idea of presenting space in a map” ' I would add here only that Solinus’ account of the reformed Roman calendar also embodies the same type of mathematical and astronomical calculations on which scientific mapping developed, and that is the technical reason Solinus gave so much space to calendrical history in general and to the reformed Roman calendar in particular. Bv any7 standard, the Julian calendar —or Augustan calendar, to put it in Solinian terms - is a hallmark of the Roman imperial accomplishment, as it is still in use today after the Gregorian adjustment of 1582. The calendrical reform of Julius Caesar permanently solved the problems of calculating the astronomi­ cal'year, even if, in Solinus’ view, it took Augustus to perfect the reform (1.4547).'

1

1 Brodcrsen 2011, 74-75. 2 Brodersen 2011, 79-84, for a careful analysis on the significance of plaga and its celestial connection in the Collectanea. 3 In addition to the passages cited in the two preceding notes, the content of this para­ graph to this point is entirely ow7ed to Brodersen 2011, 84-86, for his discussion of the evidence on “Mediterranean” and "the Orient”; and 86-87 for the overview, w7ith the quotation taken from 88, where he also cites Westrem 2001, xxx, on the connec­ tion to the Hereford map. For clarity7’s sake Solinus actual expression is “Mediterranea maria” (18.1) in the plural, a common w7ay of referring to all the indi­ vidual seas (Tyrhennian>Adriatic, Aegean, etc.) that collectively make up the Mediter­ ranean; cp. Römer 1997, 35 n. 8 on Mela 1.1.6, for the interchangeability7of mare and maria as terminology to describe the Mediterranean.

Raading the Myth(s) of Empire

Frank E. Römer

Empire and Happiness The fact that the Augustan principate was the high point of the Roman Empire does not mean that Augustus was beatus (happy).1 Typically, underly­ ing realities are ambiguitates because they are rarely, if ever, as the surfact appears. In the case of Augustus, “who ruled the world virtually without prece­ dent, such great adversity - and so much of it - is found in his life that it is not easy to determine whether his life was more tragic or more blessed (ibeatior).”123 At 1.127 the author summarizes what belongs under the heading of happi­ ness (fekatas). An unhappy, but not inapposite, allusion is made to Cornelius Sulla, who “was called Felix more than he was happy felix)”} This allusion ties together the two parts of the long bipartite discussion about the origin of Rome (1.1-52) and about human nature (1.53-127) This link is reinforced by the description of Marcus Agrippa, Augustus’ indispensable right-hand man, who exemplifies happiness (exemplum felicitatis), but whose happiness was “not so unobstructed that he endured less adversity than good fortune (secunda)”,56 Paradoxically, all three of these men were considered happy in one sense or another, but the lives of all three were, on balance, less than happy. All these comments are as much about the nature of human life as about the individuals m question. Their political and psychological implications for those concerned are inescapable, but their paradigmatic value for human activity can­ not be denied: “ ... no one has yet been found who should be considered right­ fully happy (fekx)”.b If we need a geographic moral to this meditation, that moral can be found in the concluding words of 1.127: “in fact, the only person the Delphic oracle ever judged happy (beatus) was Aglaus who, as owner of poor ground in the least productive comer of Arcadia, was found never to have set foot outside his clump of inherited dirt.”7

1

Beatus has the meaning of “happy,” “blessed,” or “fortunate.” The question of Augustus’ happiness is a mist on the logos of Solon and Croesus as described in Herodotus 1.30-33, which has its own long history as a paradigm in Greek and Roman historiography. 2 1.48: “qui paene sine exemplo rerum potitus est, tanta et tot in vita eius inveniuntur adversa, ut non sit facile discernere, calamitosior an beatior fuerit”. 3 The words for happiness (felicitas) and happy (beatus, felix, fortunatus) have significant semantic overlap, and all have connotations of divine activity7. 4 1.127: “dictus potius est quam fuit felix”. 5 1.66: “nec tamen usque eo inoffensae ut non plura adversa pertulerit quam secunda”. 6 1.127: necdum repertus est, qui felix censeri iure debuerit”. 7 1.127: “Solum certe beatum cortina Aglaum iudicauit, qui in angustissimo Arcadiae angulo pauperis soli dominus numquam egressus paterni cespitis terminos invenitur”. This oracle is set in historical time before the meeting of Solon and Croesus and rep­ resents the oracle’s response when King Gyges of Lydia put to it the same basic question that King Croesus asked Solon, but the sources for Gyges’ oracle are all much later than Herodotus. See Fernandez Nieto 2001, 189 n. 209.

89

Conclusion

A compendium is, in effect, a kind of abridged encyclopedia, and as such it categorizes and controls knowledge, and assists the reader in sharing that con1 1 jn theory, to have control over the subject matter of the Collectanea is to Imow what is possible and what is not possible within the bounds of the Roman Empire· As a handbook of unusual data relevant to the empire, the author’s announced project is paradoxical, and the literary agenda of the Collectanea problematizes early Roman history, Roman time, and ultimately Roman imperial ide­ ology in ways his models did not. Solinus challenges the reader by his deliberate partiality and incompleteness, that is, by the fundamental ambiguitas inherent in a handbook of unusual facts. In being both condensed and allusive, the narrative of the Collectanea, embody­ ing that same ambiguitas, then subverts itself. The technique of depending on the ■reader’s cognitio means that each reader brings distinct, individual interests and knowledge to bear in reading Solinus’ account of the Roman world. O f course, not all readers will have identical interests and knowledge to fill in the gaps, but how many could not notice the absence of Remus from “Ilia’s birthing ? V hat reader could not notice the absence of blood sacrifice on the day of the Parilia?2 And what reader could miss the irony that Augustus, the founder of the great Roman Empire, was not, strictly speaking, a happy man (beatus)! To understand the Collectanea is to know the limits of possibility within the Roman Empire, but Solinus’ book does not engender the same kind of triumphalistic effect that Pliny produced in his encyclopedia.- Instead, his paradoxographical method foregoes the veneer of persuasive rhetoric in favor of leading readers to formulate their own reflective, meaningful questions about the historical circumstances and ideology of Roman imperium. In view of the var­ ious crises that marked the 3rd century, we would not expect the same kind of triumphalism to issue from the likes of Solinus who was writing near the end of that century. If we now7 take the idea of a geographic moral to the story one step further, this time for Solinus paradoxical Collectanea as a whole, then we may paraphrase its final paradoxical lines (56.19) this way: fortunately or unfor­ tunately, even the Insulae Fortunatae4 sometimes stink.

1 See Murphy 2004, 49-73, on knowledge as a commodity. 2 Cp. above, p. 81 n. t. 3 Naas 2002, 460-472 on Pliny’s triumphalism; likewise, Murphy 2004, 129-164, who treats both triumphal geography in Pliny and the triumphal nature of much geographical language in general. 4 Considered a kind of paradise or Garden of Eden and identified as the Canary Islands off the west coast of Africa.

La isla de Cos

Incidentes de una corrección geográfica de Solino a Plinio: La isla de Cos Francisco Javier Fernández Nieto

Dentro de la descripción del mundo griego que lleva a fin Solino en el capí­ tulo septimo de la Collectanea, nuestro autor dedica varios parágrafos (7, 16-20) al Atica y a Atenas, a las que califica de comienzo de la Hélade y añade que deben ser consideradas como la Grecia propiamente dicha (proprie itera Gratad). La des­ cripción del territorio - que está tomada del libro IV de la Historia Natural de Plinio - es muy sumaria, como todas las suyas, pues solamente alude a las rocas Escironias, a los montes áticos, a las fuentes de Atenas, al Areópago y a la lla­ nura de Maratón. El último apartado lo destina en su totalidad a mencionar algunas de las islas más cercanas al Atica, que enumera así: multae quidem imulae obiacent Atticae continenti, sed suburbanae feme sunt Salamis Sunium Ceos Coos, quae, ut Varro testis est, suptilioris nestis amicula arte lanificae scientiae prima in ornatufeminarum dedit. Resulta evidente que Solino compuso este pasaje siguiendo a Plinio, N H 4.62. Mas, como ya señalé en mis comentarios a la Collectanea} salta a la vista que nuestro autor deslizó un grave error confundiendo el cabo Sunio -que en Plinio se halla registrado como una mera referencia espacial para concretar la distancia que separa el Ática del islote denominado Helena- con una isla real. Esta equivocación geográfica pudo ser otra más de las que sintieron, sin duda, para despertar recelos hacia la fiabilidad de la obra soliníana, calificando a su autor como bastante propenso a los deslices, cuando en la misma línea del texto cabe encontrar una directa corrección a la negligencia cometida por Plinio res­ pecto a la isla de Cos. Estas oscilaciones de Solino, que tan pronto resbala como se muestra capaz de detectar y corregir un error de la fuente que extracta, cons­ tituyen seguramente la gran paradoja sobre las dotes literarias y culturales de nuestro autor y, según sabemos, son parte característica de la tarea de los com­ piladores. Conviene, por tanto, que examinemos más de cerca el asunto en cuestión. En N H 4.,62 el erudito romano nos indica que existen varias islas frente a las riberas del Atica, aunque carecen de asentamientos humanos y por dicha razón son desconocidas; acto seguido añade que no es éste el caso del litoral pertene­ ciente al distrito de Eleusis, puesto que delante del mismo se alzan la célebre Salamina y la isla de Psitalia, y luego incluye el dato de que la isla de Helene dista

91

cinco mil pasos del cabo Sunio.1 Sin embargo Plinio no se limita a cerrar su descripción ciñéndose a las islas inmediatamente cercanas a la región del Atica (Salamis, Psyttalia, Helene), sino que en la serie insular propiamente “subática” incluye asimismo a la isla de Ceos, aun cuando este pedazo de tierra, separado por unos 20 kilómetros del continente, pertenecía ya al grupo de las Cicladas y hubiera sido más conforme posponer su mención para el correspondiente lugar.2 No lo hizo así, sin duda porque él o su fuente no tenían clara la posi­ ción de Ceos, de manera que enlazando el pasaje anterior con la expresión adverbial dein podía entenderse que a continuación de Helene, a cinco mil pasos de ella (¿pero en qué dirección?), se encontraba Ceos, y que esta isla mantenía una posición paralela cercana a la costa del Ática (cuando realmente, para llegar a ella, hay que adentrarse hacia el sur del Egeo, en dirección a las Cicladas, de cuyo círculo exterior forma parte). ' Por qué razón Plinio menciona aquí a Ceos parece difícil de explicar, aunque no sería extraño que en la fuente consultada por él la isla apareciese ya como un elemento territorial muy próximo al Ática. En tal caso, semejante dato pudo ori­ ginarse a partir de un hecho histórico conocido, a saber, la entrega y reconoci­ miento por Roma a los atenienses de una serie de propiedades en el mar Egeo, siendo precisamente Ceos una de las más importantes.' En efecto, desde el siglo II a. C. Atenas disfrutaba ya de un dominio insular muy notable, configu­ rado por las islas de Delos, Imbros, Lemnos y Esciro. A estos cuatro territorios de ultramar fueron sumadas por el triunviro Marco Antonio, en el año 42/41 a. C., otras varias islas, entre las que se encontraba Ceos; dicha noticia procede de un texto de Apiano: Άθηναίοις δ’ ές αυτόν έλθοΰσι μετά Τήνον, Αίγιναν εδωκε καί Τκον καί Κέω και Σκιάθον καί Πεπάρηθον.4 En este conjunto debemos conta­ bilizar también a Salamina, que fue recuperada por Atenas en época de Augusto.5 Sabemos que aquellas islas en manos de los atenienses corrieron una suerte dispar, pues a lo largo de los dos primeros siglos del Imperio algunas lograron que el poder romano les concediese autonomía, disgregándose de Ate­ nas. No obstante, Ceos parece haber estado ininterrumpidamente bajo dominio

1.. conpluresque aliae ex adnerso Atticae, sine oppidis atque adeo ignobiles. Sed contra Eleusina clam Salamis, ante ea Psyttalia, a Sunio uero Helene L distand . 2 "...a Sunio uero Helene V distans, dein Ceos ab ea totidem, quam nostri quidam dixere Ceam, Graeci et Hjdmsam ...” En concreto, Plinio debería haber hablado de Ceos en ΛΉ 4.65-67 como una de las Cicladas propiamente dichas, pero no fue así {vid. infra). Si Solino hubiera extractado en este punto a Pomponio Mela, que tan sólo citó como suburbanas del Ática a las islas de Helene y Salamina, habría estado mucho mejor encaminado (Mela 2.95: in Atthide Helene est nota stupro Helenae, et Salamis excidio classis

Persicae notior), 3 4 1

Fernández Nieto 2001, 248 n. 413.

5

Acerca del dominio insular ateniense en época romana debe consultarse Graindor 1927. Appian, B.C. 5,8: “cuando los atenienses acudieron a él en busca de Tenos, les dio Egina, Icos, Ceos, Escíato y Pepáreto”. Cass. Dio 31.116; Strab. 9 C 394.

Francisco Javier Fernández Nieto

ateniense hasta alcanzar el reinado de Septimio Severo (fin. 11/com. Ill D.C.). Conservamos además una inscripción que documenta el envío al santuario de Delos de una dodécada de víctimas menores, encabezadas por un toro, por parte de la isla de Ceos (επενψαν Κεΐοι τήν δωδεκηίδα βούπρωρον ταύρον); se trata de un testimonio fechable en el siglo II d. C., cuando se estaba produ­ ciendo una renovación ateniense de las tradiciones religiosas para con el santua­ rio de Delos (άνανεώσαντό τε τά πάτρια πάντα), uno de cuyos exponentes consis­ tía precisamente en el envío anual de un sacrificio de doce animales.1 En épo­ cas posteriores Atenas acabó perdiendo todos sus dominios insulares, de suerte que Eunapio se hace eco de una curiosa anécdota protagonizada por el sofista Proairesio en el siglo cuarto de nuestra era (entre 340 y 347): debido a la alta estima en que era tenido por Constante I, antes de partir Proairesio hacia Ate­ nas decidió el Emperador hacerle concesión de una gracia; el gran retor pidió entonces que una serie de islas importantes pasaran de nuevo al dominio ate­ niense, para costear con sus aportaciones tributarias los abastecimientos de grano de la población de Atenas.2 El Emperador, conmovido, le otorgó aquel favor.34 ¿Influyó esta dependencia administrativa del lugar, su sujeción a Atenas, para que en algunos señalamientos geográficos de las islas egeas Ceos fuera des­ crita como un dominio suburbano del Ática, separándola de las Cicladas?-* En tal caso, esa transferencia debería de haber sucedido ya antes de que Plinio

1

2 3 4

Véase Holleaux/Dürrbach 1904, 187 s., V 62; Graindor 1934, 135. Aunque Dürrbach sugiere que la remisión de aquel grupo de doce víctimas “prouve qu’au moment oü les Athéniens renouvelaient d’anciennes traditions de piété á l’égard du sanctuaire délien par 1envoi de dodécades annuelles, d’autres cités s’associaient pour leur compte á cet hommage”, seguramente sería más correcto considerar la generosidad de Ceos no como un acto de asociación espontánea, sino como una colaboración conveniente inducida desde Atenas. Que la situación económica de Atenas no estaba muy saneada nos consta por el dato de que el orador Loliano convenció a los atenienses, en tiempos de Hadriano, para que no vendiesen sus posesiones insulares (se supone que Ceos incluida), como proyectaban: άντιλέγων δέ (se. ό ΑοΛλιανός) τοΤς Αθηναίοι; απορία χρημάτων βουλευομένοις πωλεΤν τάς νήσους (Philostr., Vit. Soph. 1.23). Eunap., Biot 492: ό δε βασιλεύς απιόντι πάλιν Αθήναζε δωρεάν αίτεΓν έδωκεν. ό δέ τής εαυτού φύσεως αξιον ήτησε, νήσους ούκ όλίγας ούδέ μικράς εις απαγωγήν φόρου κατά σιτηρέσιον ταΓς Άθήναις. ό δέ καί ταϋτα εδωκεν. Vid. Hertzberg 1875, 284. Semejante idea podría haberse originado, por ejemplo, a partir de! testimonio de Apiano antes mencionado (B.C. 5.8), donde refiere que los atenienses acudieron a los buenos oficios de M. Antonio para pedir la entrega de la isla de Tenos, una de las Cicladas. Pero el triunviro no lo consideró oportuno, aunque sí les concedió, según la enumeración del texto, Egina, Icos, Ceos, Escíato y Pepáreto. Aquella negativa a darles Tenos, unida al hecho de que Ceos aparece mezclada con otras cuatro islas no cicládicas situadas en distintos puntos del Egeo, pudo conducir a pensar que Antonio no había concedido a Atenas ninguna de las Cicladas.

La isla de Cos

93

redactase su obra y figurar en alguna de las fuentes consultadas para componer el libro 4- Dado el equívoco sufrido por Plinio a continuación -pronto lo examinaremos-, es muy probable que aquel dato figurase en Varrón, que cono­ ció sin duda la concesión de la isla a Atenas hecha por Marco Antonio que figura en Apiano; pero no cabe eliminar la posibilidad de que su información sobre Ceos como isla frontera al Ática procediese de otro de los autores que manejó para redactar ese libro, como fue Marco Agripa, o incluso Ateyo Capitón, que tal vez trató el tema de los dominios concedidos por el Estado a ciertas ciudades en alguno de sus libros sobre derecho público. Ahora bien, resulta a todas luces cierto que Plinio partió de un esquema geográfico que adju­ dicaba tan sólo diez islas al archipiélago de las Cicladas, y esta representación se descubre directamente en N H 4.65-67, donde se enumera el conjunto de miem­ bros del grupo cicládico: Andros, Tenos, Myconus, Siphnus, Seriphus, Delos, Thene, Syros, Paros, Naxus. Es evidente, por tanto, que ni Plinio ni Solino tuvieron en cuenta a Pomponio Mela a la hora de redactar sus respectivos pasajes (NH 4.62; 6567/Solinus 7, 20), aun cuando el naturalista romano menciona al autor de la Chorographia entre las fuentes explícitas del libro en cuestión. Si ambos estudio­ sos hubiesen recurrido en este punto a Mela habrían verificado que Ceos no figura ligada al Ática, como ya vimos (supra, n. 3), y que se encuentra en cambio situada entre las Cicladas, al igual que la isla de Sicino (que escapó también a Plinio). He aquí las islas que dan configuración al grupo cicládico en la obra de Mela (2.97), componiendo la cifra de doce (frente a la cifra de diez pliniana): Ceos, Skims, Siphnos, Seriphos, Phenea, Paros, Myconos, Syros, Tenos, Naxos, Delos, Andros, quia in orbem iacent Cyclades dictae. De todo lo cual cabría concluir, en suma, que Solino mostró aquí demasiada confianza en la autoridad pliniana y aceptó aquella segregación geográfica de Ceos, que pasaba de constituir una pieza del conjunto cicládico a adquirir la condición de isla suburbana del Ática. Señalemos en descargo de ambos que, probablemente, este desplazamiento no careció de motivo y pudo basarse en el hecho de que desde el siglo I a. C. los atenienses la tuvieron como su propiedad insular más próxima, después de Salamina. Sea cual fuere la causa del desliz de Plinio a la hora de encajar la situación de Ceos dentro de la descripción geográfica realizada en el libro 4, este defecto de apreciación y clasificación -perfectamente subsanable por el lector que cono­ ciese la nómina de las Cicladas- no revestiría mayor importancia de no haber sucedido que, inmediatamente después de haber incluido la isla en este punto de su relato, nuestro naturalista avala con su pluma un grave error, que no deja en buen lugar su crédito de exactitud ni su diligencia en apurar informaciones. La realidad es que, partiendo de la inmediata mención del nombre de Ceos y de los oppida de la isla, Plinio destina las últimas líneas de 4.62 para sacar a colación la noticia de que, según Varrón, en este lugar se confeccionaban vestidos femeni­ nos de gran finura: ex hac (se. Ceos) profectam delicatiorem feminis uestem auctor est Varrof 4 Sin embargo, esta información es incorrecta y, aunque pudiera ser ver-

Francisco Javier Fernández Nieto

dad que Varrón así lo hubiese anotado en una de sus obras, existían suficientes medios para haber desvanecido esta clara confusión, a saber, que el centro de producción de tales vestimentas no fue Ceos, sino la isla de Cos. Plinio mismo realiza en otro libro una detenida descripción tanto del gusano y de los capullos del bombyx,2 de los que se extraían finísimos hilos que se devanaban aprovechando un junco a modo de huso, como de la tenue tela tejida con ellos (la lla­ mada bombycina), con la que se fabricaban vestidos ligeros, muy propios del verano, usados por las mujeres e incluso por los hombres. Los trajes que se hacían utilizando tales tejidos eran denominados vestidos de Cos (Coae uestes), de textura muy fina y sutil, casi transparentes como el cristal (uitrea uestis), pues eran tan delicados y suaves que se decía que, aun revestidas con ellos, dejaban al des­ nudo a las mujeres. Teñidos con púrpura o bordados en oro alcanzaban mu? altos precios.3 Eran similares a ciertos tejidos confeccionados en Amorgos (denominados amorgeia, amotgina o amorgides) con las fibras obtenidas de un molusco marino bivalvo {Pinna nobilis L). Solino detectó certeramente que Plinio había sido víctima de un error y que aquel dato sobre las delicadas vestiduras correspondía realmente a la isla de Cos, no a la de Ceos. No dudó por ello en introducir el nombre preciso antes de cerrar la relación de las tres islas próximas al Ática - que para él fueron Salamina, Sunion (!) y Ceos -, escribiendo Coas detrás de Ceos: de este modo resti­ tuyó la procedencia de las uestes a su legítimo origen. Poco le importó, sin duda, incurrir en un nuevo traspié, ya que como resultado de su enmienda a Plinto, ¡convertía a la lejana isla de Cos, una de las Espóradas meridionales, frontera de la costa de Caria y de la ciudad de Halicarnaso, en suburbana del Ática! Que Solino se propuso aquí enmendar a Plinio y dejar de manifiesto su capacidad para salvar las imperfecciones halladas en sus modelos, aun a costa de afear nue­ vamente su propia credibilidad con un dislate geográfico (situar Cos junto al Ática), parece indiscutible. Ya señalé en el estudio preliminar a mi traducción que Solino fue a menudo capaz de corregir a sus modelos; y aunque “nunca toma grandes apartados de Plinio o de Mela, y suele limitarse a reproducir bre­ ves frases o series de palabras, a menudo las complemente con nuevos datos adquiridos en el mismo autor, pero en diferente libro, o leídos en otra parte”.4 En otras ocasiones, Solino corrigió abiertamente noticias transmitidas por su fuente. 5Debemos entonces fijar la atención en un nuevo detalle, a saber, que la redacción del pasaje soliniano sobre Cos (Coos, quae, ut Varro testis est, suptilioris nestis amicula arte lanificae scientiae prima in ornatumfeminarum dedit) nos proporciona mayor número de datos acerca de estos tejidos, desde el momento en que

214 Plinio, N H 4.62 = Varro, Fr. 363 Bip. 2 Plinio N H 11.76-78. Se trataba de una mariposa parecida al gusano de seda; era una variedad salvaje del mismo, que procedía de Asiría: vid, Beavis 1988, 140-147, 3 Richter 1929; Weber 1969/1970. 4 Fernández Nieto 2001, 52-55. 5 Fernández Nieto 2001, 55 n 91.

La isla de Cos

95

fecoge su aspecto y tamaño, así como la técnica del hilado y de la tela. Con su habitual intuición Mommsen ya advirtió en la edición de la Collectanea que el parágrafo 7, 20 dependía de Plinio, N H 4.62 auctus, y ese incremento de infor­ mación tuvo que haberlo tomado Solino, en mi opinión, de la obra de Varrón. Y al igual que sucede en otras partes de su miscelánea, cabe sospechar que Solino recurrió aquí también a la fuente original para tomar algún dato que no figurase en Plinio o para proceder a una redacción más precisa.1 Por último, sería sensato plantearse si Solino pretendió de esa manera demostrar que en la obra de Varrón figuraba, como cabía suponer, la forma deseable Cos, y que la falsa lectura Ceos derivaba de una copia imperfecta manejada por Plinio o de un fallo (visual o mental) de lectura del propio naturalista.“ Varias lecciones nos permite aprender, en definitiva, todo este proceso. La primera de ellas afecta a la confianza en la precisión de Plinio, cuyo vuelo enci­ clopédico queda nuevamente zarandeado jtor dos de sus pasos: uno fue el incluir a Ceos entre las islas fronteras del Ática y excluirla de las Cicladas; el otro, haber confundido Ceos con la isla de Cos y no haber caído en la cuenta de aquel error cuando redactó el libro 11. Tal vez se percató de ello, pero no reunió decisión para contradecir lo que él suponía autoridad de Varrón respecto a Ceos y optó por transmitirnos la imaginaria existencia de dos distintos lugares de pro­ ducción de los vestidos sutiles y transparentes que casi desnudaban a sus porta­ dores (Ceos en el libro 4, Cos en el libro 11). Muy distinta fue, en cambio, la actitud de Solino, que parece haber captado desde el primer momento la falta plíniana y no duda en reponer el nombre de Cos en el lugar preciso para asegu­ rar la pertinencia de cuanto se afirma a continuación, así como en cerciorarse de lo que realmente dejó escrito Varrón. Pero semejante acierto de nuestro compi­ lador, que debemos contabilizar entre sus pruebas de madura reflexión, queda empañado por el despropósito final: en vez de poner término a este párrafo con la frase sed suburbanae ferme sunt Salamis Sunion Ceos y acomodar la información sobre Cos en otra parte del tratado (e.g. en 11, 30-31), mantiene a Coos y los datos relativos a sus uestes en 7, 20, sin importarle transferir de un solo trazo aquella isla egea, situada frente a la costa anatólica, hasta las inmediaciones ribe­ reñas del Ática. ¡Formidable operación, aunque así se mecen las glorias y las miserias en la tarea del compilador!

1 Como la utilización del concepto suptiiis, que figura también en un escolio a Horacio a propósito de los vestidos de Cos: per cuius nimiam subtilitatem quaeque sunt interiora translucent (Ps.-Acro a Serm. I 2,101). 2 Ya señalamos en nuestra introducción que numerosos indicios apuntan a la posibilidad de que Solino recurriese en determinados casos a la obra de Varrón (en particular Antiquitates) y que se valiera de ella para incrementar o corregir pasajes de varia ascendencia: Fernández Nieto 2001, 42 y 49.

Solinus’ Macrobians

Solinus’ Macrobians: A Roman Literary Account of the Axumite Empire Caroline Belanger

Introduction Despite their enormous empire, the Romans were in many ways an inwardfocused people. Non-Romans were encouraged to urbanise and assimilate to Roman culture, and to separate themselves from any traditional customs that interfered with Roman ones. Clearly, the Romans did not usually think overly well of people who were different from them, and this is reflected in many Greco-Roman geographical texts, which locate wondrous and monstrous ani­ mals and humans in places distant from the Mediterranean.1 If we consider such descriptions only briefly, it is easy to dismiss them solely as the stuff of folktale, or to deride them as examples of ancient racism. But neither of these ways of thinking will really help us to understand how the Romans saw them­ selves or the world around them. Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium (“Collection of Noteworthy Items”) is one of these works, in Latin, from the 3rd/4th century CE. It describes won­ drous and far-away nations, animals, and gemstones each in their geographical place; the reader is informed in the preface that almost all of this information is derived from earlier authors, and that its focus is entirely on unusual or strange things. The Collectanea is little concerned with contemporary realities12 —it pres­ ents traditional literary descriptions, of varying levels of fantasy and realism. Yet an author’s writing must be influenced, even subconsciously, by his milieu; and Solinus incorporates older material in an original way in "his portrayal of the Axumites. This essay analyses the Collectanea’s, representation of the Axumites in order to discuss Roman literary perception of Romans and non-Romans. This will, in turn, highlight the Colkctanea’%uniquely favourable assessment of Axum, which is interesting in light of Solinus’ influence on European conceptions of geography and natural history' for the next thousand years.. The Collectanea describes more than sixty different peoples, and it approaches them with diverse attitudes. Although my goal is to look at its repre­ sentation of Romans and non-Romans, it would be unrealistic to examine such a high number of peoples, especially since there is little in-depth material for

1

2

Learned people were aware of the stereotype of Greek cultural superiority'; it was even expressed in Roman works such as Horace’s Epistle 2.156f, Graecia capta ferum mctorem cepit et artes intulit agresti Latio. Praefatio 3 and 5 inform the reader that the information is derived from earlier authors.

97

most of them. Between all these many depictions, there are too many impulses and influences at play to achieve a concise examination of so many peoples, in vastly different parts of the world, in an essay. For this reason, I approach the question by way of a case study. The portrayal of Axum provides a particularly interesting discussion for Roman knowledge about other cultures: it was an important late antique empire, it played an important role for the Roman econ­ omy, and it shared a religion (Christianity) and some aspects of culture in com­ mon with the Roman empire, yet it remained perched on the geographical and psychological periphery of Roman literary' consciousness. It is rarely mentioned by Greco-Roman authors, and so in his method of describing it Solinus toes the line between tradition and innovation. Axum, which flourished between the 1st and 7th centuries CE, was located in the vicinity of modern Eritrea and northern Ethiopia. It was a major power in the late antique Red Sea, largely due to its position as a middleman for trade between the Roman Empire, Inner Africa, and the Far East. The contact of this civilisation with Rome will be discussed in the first section of this essay. O f the utmost significance to this study is the fact that Solinus never calls the Axumites by any of the names that they used contemporarily for themselves. Instead, he calls them the Macrobian Ethiopians. In the following pages I will refer to them as Axumites, Ethiopians, and Macrobians, depending on the context. “Ethio­ pian” is a general term which can encompass the Axumites or Macrobians, but does not specifically refer to them (this terminology will be explained on p. 103104). The analysis of the Collectanea’s, association of the Axumites with the Macrobians, and what this means for its perception of them, will be addressed in section three. This is significant as it provides a possible view into both the author’s perceptions and the norms of his society: we see Solinus’ understand­ ing of the Axumites through a filter of Roman literary' culture.

Solinus’ Context: Roman Contact with Axum There was considerable military', economic, and cultural contact between Romans and Axumites throughout late antiquity. To speak only of the Roman side, there is good evidence that many Roman emperors and elites were aware of the economic and political situation of Axum, and that merchants operating in the area were very' familiar with the culture. The Romans hazarded some southern expansion around the turn of the common era - Cornelius Gallus attempted at least a nominal conquest in 29 BCE, during his Egyptian prefecture, and a praetorian expedition was sent into Ethiopia under Nero’s rule1 - but they never gained military' or economic con-

1

See Fitzpatrick 2011, 37-38, Munro-Hay 1996, 410, Desanges 1978, 323-324, and Whittaker 2004, 80-81. Pliny addresses southern expansion at ΛΉ 6.35 and 12.1.

98

Caroline Beianger

trol over Axum.1 Fitzpatrick argues that Roman imperialism was more con­ cerned with Arabia than Ethiopia, and that the Augustan literati favoured eastern expansion rather than southern.12 It is true that Virgil, in the ekphrasis of Aeneas shield, writes: “Actian Apollo, looking on from above, began to pull his bow. All the Egyptians, Indians, Arabs, and Sabaeans, terrified at this sight, turned in flight.”3 Note that Virgil does not mention the Ethiopi­ ans/Axumites. On the other hand, the Res gestae diui Augusti lumps Ethiopia and Arabia together: Under my command and auspices two armies were led at almost the same time into Aethiopia and the Arabia which is called Fortunate, and substantial enemy forces of both peoples were slaughtered in batde and many towns were captured. The army reached into Aethiopia as far as the town of Nabata, to which Meroe is nearest. The army advanced into Arabia as far as the territory' of the Sabei to the town of Mariba.”4 It is clear that, although its subjugation was never seriously undertaken, Ethiopia was at least within the horizons of Roman expansionist ambitions. Commerce thrived along the Red Sea, and it is in these terms of economic and cultural contact that we can see the most opportunities for detailed knowl­ edge of the Axumites to travel toward the Mediterranean. Roman elites, as well as various traders (probably mostly from the south-eastern provinces) had good reasons for seeking, end good access to, knowledge of the Red Sea area. As much as some Roman elites disdained the idea of commerce (a republi­ can ideal exemplified in the Lex Claudia of 218 BCE), long-distance trade was important to them, for their businesses and for their personal consumption.5 Eastern commodities were vert' popular, and some aristocrats invested in trade, as such, they had good reason (whether purely materialistic or business)

1 2 3

Van V'j-k Smith 2009, 342-343, Fitzpatrick 2011, 50-52, Munro-Hav 1996 410 Thorley 1969, 211. Fitzpatrick 2011, 50-52. Virgil, Am id 8.687-688; see also Parker 2008, 207-209, whose translation I use here.

(Actius haec cernens anum intendebat Apollo desuper; omnis eo tenore Aegyptus et Indi, omnis Arabs, omnes vertebant terga Sabaei.) Note that the Egyptians were to the north of Axum, and the Sabaeans inhabited South Arabia. 4

Resgestae diui Augusti 26.5 (trans, of the Latin text, Cooley 2009, 90). Note that Ethio­

pia here refers simply to the region south of Egypt, not as far south as Axum itself; I include it as it highlights that Roman expansionism never seriously (or successfully) eyed Axumite territory, despite some vague propaganda (see Cooley 2009, 225-228). 5 See Motley 2007, 83-89 and Fitzpatrick 2011, 41. Sidebotham 1996, 297, notes “the general laissetpfatre attitude of the Roman government towards commerce in general and the unwillingness to take great risks involved in the long and dangerous maritime commerce;” however, he notes that, in the 1st and 2nd centuries CE, the govern­ ment may have become in some small wavs direcdv involved in trade, “through the S o ) ”16™3' aC° V^ CS °^ t*le emPeror’s surrogates: his slaves and freedmen” (1996 6

Morley 2007, 85 and Fitzpatrick 2011, 53-54. See also Connors 2000, 225.

Solinus’ Macrobians

99

to have a working knowledge of the trade network. Solinus notes the popularity of eastern scents, which he says were unknown prior to Alexander’s victory over Darius and were shunned by the virtuous Romans of the Republic. “Later,” he writes, “our vices were victorious, and the pleasure of scents so pla­ cated the senate that they would even use them in dark prisons.” The monied “middle class”2 likewise consumed foreign commodities, and long-distance traders themselves probably would have belonged to this group.4 Monsoon seasons and dangerous seas probably meant that there were foreigners in all sorts of ports, where they could pick up information about the local people.5 Some long-distance traders were likely literate and educated,6 which places them as potential members of the Collectanea's audience: we can safely conjecture that some wealthy, literate traders might read a literary' geog­ raphical text as well as the more practical merchant handbooks like the Periplus maris Erythraei (Periplus or PME) and the Expositio totius mundi.' The extent to which they might believe the fantastical stories of a work like the Collectanea, however, is open to speculation. The Periplus reveals that already in the 1st century there was a lot of Roman trade in the Red Sea.8 The sea route between Egypt and Adulis seems to have been the most frequented by Romans/ although there were Greco-Roman merchants living not only in Adulis, but also as far as Socotra, Parthia, and India.10 Young suggests that the African trade route was of lesser importance than those toward Arabia and India, but it should certainly' not be downplayed.11 Socotra and Adulis were important trading stations, inhabited by Greeks, Indians, and Arabs alike; significantly, the Periplus mentions among the imports to Adulis “a little money ... for foreigners [i.e. non-Axumites] who live

1 46.3: Postmodum uicerunt nostra uitia et senatui adeo placuit odorum delicta, ut ea etiam in poenalibus tenebris uteretur. (Solinus Pliny, NH 13.24-25.) Translations are mine except where otherwise stated. 2 For a detailed discussion of the term as I use it here, see Mayer 2012, 1-21. 3 Motley 2007, 48. 4 Sidebotham 1996, 290, notes that private entrepreneurs “took the great financial risks and reaped the potentially huge monetary' rewards.” On some costs and risks associated with trade, see Morley 2007, 26-29 and 58-60. 5 Seland 2012, 75. The Periplus states that most sailing from Egypt to Adulis took place between January and September (PME 6 [Huntingford 1980, 22]). Traders could potentially end up spending some months in a port town, waiting for the weather to improve. 6 Morley 2007, 76-78 (“The Educated Trader?”). 7 Morley 2007, 32. 8 See Huntingford 1980 and Sidebotham 1996, 288. 9 Munro-Hay 1996, 410, Charlesworth 1924, 64, and Fitzpatrick 2011, 46. See also PME 4 (Huntingford 1980, 20). 10 See Seland 2012, 75, Sidebotham 1996, 295-297, and Curtin 1984, 99-100. 11 Young 2001, 32.

Solinus’ Macrobians

Caroline Belanger

there. 1 Strabo notes that 120 boats sailed annuali}' from Egypt to India at the time that he wrote his Geography (ca. 25 BCE), six times more than the number that dared such a journey “in earlier times.”2 The increase of available infor­ mation about the Red Sea that is apparent from the work of Strabo to that of Ptolemy (2nd century CE) also suggests an increasing Roman presence in Axum and South Arabia during those centuries.3 During and after the “3rd Century Crisis”, however, the Romans focused their trading efforts within the Red Sea, and the Axumites and Himyarites acted as intermediaries for further commerce.4 Lucian, Plutarch, and Porphyry record examples of Roman pleasure and scholarly trips from the Mediterranean to India in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Some travellers departed via the Red Sea, and this signifies a third type of potential Roman presence through Axum and South Arabia, after military' and economic: the (cultural/intellectual) tourist.5 Christian communities in Ethio­ pia, whether proselytising or local, also had contact with Rome, and particularly with Roman Egypt.6 Christianity only became the Ethiopian state religion after the king ‘Êzânâ’s conversion in the 4th century’,7 but it is likely that, along with Frumentius, there w'as a minority Christian presence in the preceding centuries

1 2 3 4

PME 6 (Huntingford 1980, 22). Strabo 17.1.13 C 798. See also Phillips 1997,450. Charlesworth 1924, 66. On the diminished sphere of Roman long distance trade, see Fitzpatrick 2011, 43. Seland 2012, 77, notes that the Romans also lost access to the Persian Gulf late in the 3rd century'. On the rise of Axumite and Himyarite power and their roles as trade intermediaries, see such authors as Sidebotham 1996, 289-300, Phillips 1997, 451, Se­ land 2012, 77, Desanges 1978, 345-346, and Fiaccadori 2010, 975. Wittkower 1942, 159-163, nicely summarises the direct Greco-Roman literarv contact and knowledge of eastern marvels through antiquity' and into the Roman empire. 5 Plutarch (Moralia 410a-b, trans. Babbitt 1969, 353) writes of Cleombrotus the Lacedaemonian, “who had made many' excursions in Egypt and about the land of the Cave-Dwellers [Τρωγλοδυτικήν], and has sailed beyond the Persian Gulf; his journevings were not for business, but he was fond of seeing things and of acquiring knowl­ edge, he had wealth enough, and felt that it was not of any' great moment to have more than enough, and so he employ'ed his leisure for such purposes; he was getting together a history-· to serve as a basis for a philosophy that had as its end and aim the­ ology', as he himself named it”. Lucian (Toxaris sire Amidtia, 57.27-34) writes of a Greek Cvmc, Demetrius of Sunium, who studied in Egypt under a famous sophist from Rhodes then in India under the Brahmins. Porphyry (Vita Platini 3.15f) says that Plotinus, too, went to India to study philosophy . See also McLaughlin 2010a 13-14. ’ & · 6

7

E.g. the Qérellos, the great Ethiopian theological work of late antiquity', has been shown to have been translated from a Greek text that was compiled in Alexandria (Bausi 2010, 287-288, and VCeischer 1971); e.g Ethiopian metropolitans during late antiquity' were appointed by the patriarch of Alexandria (Andersen 2000 33-381. Seland 2012, 82.

101

_ after all, if it is possible that the people of Socotra converted to Christianity in 52 CE,1 then it is also possible that some missionaries travelled the compara­ tively brief way down the Red Sea to Axum. Christian missionaries, tourists, and traders were all possible bearers of information about the Axumite empire.2 Lastly, it should be mentioned that there is evidence of eastern Roman (read: Greek) cultural influence on Axum, and that knowledge of Axum influ­ enced Greek literature in turn. Greek was a lingua franca throughout NorthEastern Africa, and material culture in Axum shows some influence from east­ ern Mediterranean cultures.3 Conversely, Greek literature like the Periplus and Heliodorus’ Aethiopica show that realistic information about the Red Sea was definitely' available at least to the Greek-speaking part of the Roman empire.4 And the Axumites did make it into some Latin literature by name: for instance, they' are mentioned by the Historia Augusta, in a list of peoples with embassies in attendance at Aurelian’s Triumph for his defeat of Palmyra.5 The scarce pres­ ence of Axumites in Latin literature is even more mysterious in consideration of such possible diplomatic missions. There are hardly any recorded, and all men­ tions are sparing and dismissive, but the existence of any records suggests possi­ ble further historical contacts. Another embassy to the Roman emperor is reported by Eusebius under the more general name of Ethiopian (Αίθιόπωυ),6 as part of an array of “foreign and astonishing” barbarians (although, of course,

1

2

3

4 5 6

Huntingford 1980, 103. Frumentius is credited with playing a pivotal role in the state conversion of Ethiopia, and considering that he was living in Ethiopia for some time before the Christian Church was officially established there ca. 330, we know that there was knowledge of Christianity' in Ethiopia prior to this moment. (For a discus­ sion of the Ethiopian tradition of the origins of Ethiopian Christianity, see Andersen 2000, 55-56.) See alsoTamrat 1972, 22-23. McLaughlin 2010b, 7-61, provides an excellent overview of the evidence for Roman contact with the far East and the sea routes from Egypt to India. O f particular importance here is his discussion of how Roman elites might have disdained mer­ chant accounts of far-off places, since merchants were social inferiors and perhaps had reputations for exaggerating (10). This could, naturally', slow the process by which such accounts made their way' to any authors, but particularly to those like So­ linus, whose research is based on earlier elite literature rather than contemporary news, and whose work is therefore an extra step away' from the potential merchant accounts. On Greek as a lingua franca, see Burstein 2008, 52-61, Hatke 2013, 75, Fitzpatrick 2011, 48-49, PME 5 (Huntingford 1980, 21). On the influence of Greek material cul­ ture, see Burstein 2008, 60-61, Curtin 1984, 100, Phillips 1997, 452. Tamrat 1972, 2122 posits that some of the 1st century king Zosales’ courtiers were “Greeks, Hellenized Greeks, or Syrians.” On the Aethiopica, sec Bowersock 2013, 60. This is particularly relevant because Heliodorus is thought to have written in the 3rd or 4th century, just like Solinus. Historia Augusta, Dittus Aurelianus 33. A widespread, generic name for “Africans (See p. 103 below).

Caroline Belanger

Eusebius wrote in Greek, not Latin).1 These amount to very few recorded dip­ lomatic missions, considering the proximity of Roman and Axumite empires and the various ways in which their peoples interacted. Likely there were more visits between the closer regions of Roman Egypt and Ethiopia than Ethiopia and Rome’s capital cities, but these would not necessarily be documented by central Roman authorities even if their impact was felt by the local elite. In light of this, who is to know how much more Roman-Axumite interaction went undocumented or has been lost? As Kaldellis argues, silence does not necessar­ ily signify ignorance;3 and taking note of this questionable silence, it is all the more important to search for traces of the Axumites in Roman literature. What­ ever the reasons may have been for the Romans to largely disregard the

Eusebius, Vita Constantini 4.7.1. E. g. the Greek inscription of Abratoeis in Philae (no longer extant) dates from 260 ■ CE and documents the visit of an Meroitic Ethiopian official (ψεντης (Βασιλέως Αίθιόπων) to Egyptian authorities. This is an example of a mission that seems to have gone otherwise unrecorded by Roman sources (Kaldellis 2013, 198 n 60). See Török/Hägg 1998, 1020-1023 for further information on the inscription and the dip­ lomatic mission surrounding it. Another Philae inscription, this one from 253 CE, by the Meroitic emissary Pasan demonstrates that the Meroites considered a visit to , Philae as a visit to the Roman emperor (Török/Holton Pierce 1998: 1000-1008), but this was obviously not true per se and may not have been considered as such by Romans documenting events in the central Roman empire. The Abratoeis inscription is additionally relevant here because although Török/Hägg makes it clear that it does not refer to an Axumite embassy to Rome, one scholar once confusingly wrote that it did. Mekouna 1981, 406, writes that there is a Greek-language inscription from Philae that documents “the visit in 360 of an Aksumite viceroy, a Christian named Abratoeis, to the Roman emperor, who received him with all the honours due to his rank.” Her statement is misleading in that almost all of it is conjectural or incorrect. The visit took place in 260, not 360; the inscription labels Abratoeis only genetically as an Ethiopian, and he has in fact been identified as a Meroite (Török/Holton Pierce 1998, 1009; Török/Hägg 1998, 1021); there does not seem to be any reason to mark him as a Christian, particularly since the inscription w7as located at the temple of Isis and mentions Isis and other unnamed gods; and the visit was to officials in Philae (Roman Egypt), not actually to the Roman emperor. 3 Kaldellis’ chapter “Byzantine Information-Gathering Behind the Veil of Silence” (2013, 26-43) tackles the same son of issue. Although he addresses ethnography m middle Byzantine literature, the discussion is relevant to the Roman silence (or, per­ haps better, the Roman whisper) regarding Axum. - Another interesting example of silence is the world map in the 12th century Liber Floridus in Wolfenbüttel, which has been argued to reproduce Martianus Capella’s 5th century world map (Uhden 1936, 99): yet despite the knowledge of Ethiopia that Capella certainly would have had from his use of Solinus, the region is depicted as a long expanse of nothingness, “the place of dragons, serpents, and very cruel beasts” (heus draconum et serpentium et bestiarum crudeliuni) —which does indeed come from Solinus 30.14 (Uhden 1936, 124)· In this case, we hftow that the author (Capella) had access to mote information, is almost silent on the subject.

1 2

Solinus’ Macrobians

103

Axumites in their literature, I hope to show Solinus’ originality'· in bending this tradition and finding a subtle way7to describe them in their appropriate place.1

Axum in the Collectanea rerum m em orabilium As the previous section showed, we have excellent reasons to maintain that there was Roman contact with the Axumite empire. But the Collectanea was sepa­ rated from much of this contact in two important ways. 1) It is literature, by7 which I mean that it was not written as a historical record. This would not in itself signify a lack of knowledge of the Red Sea, but also 2) It is part of a Latin literary tradition, rather than a Greek one, while Axum was primarily in contact with the Greek-speaking portion of the empire.2

What is Macrobian Ethiopia? The Cotledaneds descriptions of the Ethiopians reveal considerable knowl­ edge of the area - and considerable gaps in knowledge. In antiquity7, “Ethiopia” referred to the southern part of Africa, the furthest south on the continent that people were known to live. To Hesiod, all people of the far south were Ethio­ pian,· Herodotus writes that Ethiopia is “the most remote country stretching to the south-west of the inhabited parts of the world” (3.114). Isaac argues that the Greeks usually called all black people “Ethiopian;” Snowden emphasises that most classical perspectives on “Ethiopians” were derived from the area below Egypt, and that knowledge of that area “influenced attitudes toward dark or black Africans, regardless of the part of Africa from which they came.”4 Rennell, in 1830, explained that ancient writers designated all those countries as Ethiopia “which, for want of the means of discrimination,” they were “com­ pelled to comprize in one mass,” just as the British of his day did when refer­ ring to inland parts of North America or New Holland.5 Yet the first section

Cf. Solinus Praefatio 3: “It seemed right to recall these places thus, that we address the celebrated regions of lands and famous tracts of the sea each in its own place, with the distinction of the world having been maintained”/ ^ / ™ * commeminisse ita 'uisum est ut inclitos terrarum situs et insignes tractus maris, semata orbis distinctione, suo quaeque ordine redderemus. 2

Inglebert 1996, 550, reminds us that the fact that most parts of the empire attained citizenship m 212 does not mean that all its inhabitants immediatelv began to recognise an imperial community7and share their knowledge with each other i Keyser 2011, 45. 4 Isaac 2006, 36 and Snowden 1970, 113 (additionally, it is useful to look at 101-113 in order to understand the evolution and use of the rerm “Ethiopian” through GrecoRoman history). 5 Rennell 1830, 30.

Solinus’ Macrobians

Caroline Belanger

of this chapter showed that by the time of the Roman empire, Greeks and Romans had a better understanding of the Ethiopians than is suggested by this blanket term. The Collectanea does not mention Axum, but it does discuss the Macrobian or “long-lived,” Ethiopians, who live further east than the other Ethiopians, but not as far east as the deserted region that precedes the Arabian coast.1 The mention of the Arabian coast is significant because at least during the 1st cen­ tury, the coast around Rhapta was under the control of the Himyarite and Sabaean Arabs,12 and the Axumites did indeed live in an area between the inland Ethiopians and the desert/Arabian coast. Latin and Greek historiography favours the use of peoples’ ancient names over their current ones,3 so it is not remarkable to suggest that Solinus uses the term Macrobian for Axumite, for he might have assumed that Macrobian was their traditional name.4 Scholars have attempted to locate the Macrobians before, but this is complicated because the term Macrobian has been used at least since Herodotus.5 The “Macrobians” to whom Herodotus refers are different from the “Macrobians” of Solinus. Herodotus and Solinus are separated by around 800 years, and naturally civilisations and peoples changed over those centuries. Nonetheless, Solinus’ cultural and geographical description of the Macrobians matches Roman knowledgq of the Axumites during late antiquity. In many ways, Solinus’ description of the Macrobians is consistent with tra­ ditional Greek and Roman accounts. Ancient works tend to represent the Macrobians/Ethiopians as just, strong, and divinely blessed - some speak only generally of the Ethiopians, but in other texts the Macrobian Ethiopians are

1 2 3

Solinus 30.9, 30.12. Charlesworth 1924, 65; Munro-Hay 1991, 63. See, for example, Lozovsky 2000, 71-73, who outlines some difficulties in reconciling the timeless, traditional presentation and terms in Orosius’ Seven Books of History against the Pagans with the conditions of his own day. Though many terms he uses are anachronistic, Lozovsky notes significantly that “this seems to result from his overall purpose rather than from poor knowledge or hasty' use of unreliable sources. Orosius does not want his picture of the world to be contemporary ...” (73). This same argu­ ment can be applied to Solinus’ use of the term Macrobian. 4 Some scholars have described Herodotus’ Macrobian Ethiopians in the area of mod­ ern Ethiopia (Rennell 1830, 30 associates them with the Abyssinians, as does LSJ [see next note]; Van Wyk Smith 2001, 24, associates them with the Nubian Kushites) but many other scholars believe that Herodotus locates them further south than late antique scholars like Pliny, Mela, and Solinus do; for example. Diop 1974, 157, extends Herodotus’ Macrobians as far south as Zimbabwe, and Talboys Wheeler 1854, 520, writes that although the Macrobian Ethiopians “have been placed in the maritime region near Cape Guardafui ’ (which, note, is srill beyond Mela's desolate wastelands discussed below; see following note), he himself locates them “on the coast of the Erythraean ... far away to the south-east” (1854, 523). 5 LSJ s.v. μακρόβιος: “o f a half mythical, perh. Abyssinian, people, Hdt. 3.23”

105

ascribed these positive qualities and habits. Because of this, it is useful to bring accounts of both Macrobians and unspecified Ethiopians when they relate to Solinus’ description (which will be discussed after this outline of some earlier links in the tradition). The Macrobian king in Herodotus’ Histories, for example, tules a powerful kingdom of tall, beautiful, long-lived people, and has a strong sense of justice, exemplified in his angry and proud reaction to Cambyses’ deceptive, intelligence-seeking embassy:1 the characteristics of this king are attributed to all Macrobians in Solinus’ account, as we shall see below. As far back as Homer, the Ethiopians have been portrayed in Greek mythology' as having an unusually personal and favourable relationship with the Olympian gods; for example, Homer writes that the Olympians attend Ethiopian ban­ quets,2 Diodorus Siculus writes that the Olympians favour the Ethiopians for their pious feasts and sacrifices, and Aelian states that the gods bathe in Ethio­ pia3 - perhaps, we may speculate, in the same lake as the one that we shall encounter in the Collectanea. The attribution of so many positive characteristics suggests a kind of approval of the Macrobians/certain Ethiopians, and by extension, of the Axumites on Solinus’ part, even while he treats them in the same offhand, distant way as all the other barbarians, and even while maintain­ ing a distance between them as barbarians and Romans as custodians of human­ ness. Neither Pomponius Mela nor Pliny the Elder (as Solinus’ two main sources) seem to identify the Macrobians with the Axumites. Solinus attributes the Macrobians to a different and more specific location than either of his sources do, and it may be the case that he is the first one to use the term Macrobian to refer to the Axumites. Pliny says of the Macrobians only that they live near Meroë, on the African side of the Nile4 - this does not correspond to the Axumites. Mela is Solinus’ main source for the Macrobian description, but he does not situate them precisely. He writes that Ethiopians (not specifically Macrobians, though he mentions them vaguely in the course of the passage) occupy the land of Meroë on the Nile, and then he proceeds: “Nothing note­ worthy meets those who follow the shores eastward. Everything is a wasteland, defined by desolate mountains, and more a riverbank than an oceanfront. Alter that, there is a huge tract without inhabitants.’ 5 This geography is accurate (in

1 2

Herodotus 3.21. Iliad 1.423. See also Isaac 2006, 36,on the presentation of Ethiopians in Homer. MacLachlin 1992 describes how the Homeric fantasy of the Ethiopians persisted into the literature of the Roman era. 3 Snowden 1970, 146-147, suggests that Diodorus’ description was very influential to the classical image of Ethiopians as pious and just. He brought to my attention the passages from Diodorus Siculus 3.2.2-3.3.1 and Aelian, De natura animalium 2.21. 4 Pliny, N H 6.35.190. 5 Pomponius Mela 3.9.78: Ceterum oras ad eurum sequentibus nihil memorabile occurrit. Vasta omnia vastis praecisa montibus ripaepotius sunt quam litora. Inde ingens et sine cultoribus tractus (trans. Römer 1998, 125-126). See the map on p. 118.

Solinus’ Macrobians

Caroline Belanger

a judgemental way). It is significant to our understanding of the Collectanea's Macrobians that while Pliny locates the Macrobians somewhere “on the African side” {in Africae parti) and Mela places them ambiguously in the vicinity of Meroë, Solinus explicidy states that they live east of Meroë but before the “deserted and barbarous solitudes [that stretch beyond] all the way to the Ara­ bian shores.”1 He is deviating from his sources here and introducing new information, and it follows that he has his own agenda: not only does Solinus’ geographic location of the Macrobians matches Axum in late antiquity, but in the following section it will become apparent that his descriptions match late antique Roman knowledge of the Axumites as well.12 As a result, I propose that at least in the Collectanea's use of the term, Macrobian Ethiopia represents the Asxumite empire.

Fact and Fiction in the Collectanea’s Macrobian Ethiopia Solinus gives considerably more attention to the Macrobians than to any other Ethiopians. Most receive a single summarising sentence, such as: “The 1Serbotae are tall, to twelve feet” (30.4), or “Also there are the Anthropophagi, whose name announces their custom” (30.7).3 The description of the Macrobians amounts to a paragraph, and they are the only Ethiopians described in positive terms as a civilised people. One paragraph is still relatively little information for a powerful empire,4 which suggests that perhaps the details of Axum itself held little allure for Latin speakers, but it also indicates that factbased information about Axum did travel north. The entry on the Macrobian Ethiopians is as follows: Solinus 30.9-11 : Ultra Meroërt super exoitum solis Macrobii Aethiopes meantur; dimidio enim eorumprotentior est quam nostra uita. Hi Macrobii iustitiam colunt, amant aequitatem, plurimum ualent robore, praecipua decentpulchritudine, ornantur aere, auro uinculafaciunt noxiorum. Cocus apud eos est Heliutrapeqa opiparis epulis semper refertus, quibus indiscretim omnes uescuntur; nam etiam diuinitus eas augenferunt. Est etiam ibidem lacus, quo perfusa corpora uelut oleo nitescunt.

1

2

3

30.12: ... desertae et inhumanae solitudines ad usque Arabicos sinus. Note that Pliny and Mela both use the periplus mode of description, while Solinus deals with entire areas (Brodersen 2011, 72-75). Hence when Solinus refers to the “Arabian shores” as a boundary, he marks an entire area of territory in which he is locating the Macrobians. Paniagua 2008, 116-119, in establishing Solinus’ passages on the Garamantian and Macrobian Ethiopians as a source for the Scholia in Itiuenalem uetustiora, likewise sug­ gests some originality in Solinus’ content and arrangement. 30.4: Serbotae longi sunt ad pedes duodecim·, 30.7: Sunt et Anthropophagi, quorum morem

uocamen sonat. 4

This is especially true in comparison to the Collectanea's lengthy descriptions of dis­ tant India and Taprobane, which encompass 52.1-54.11.

107

Ex hoc lacu potus saluberrimus, sane adeo liquidus est, ut ne caducas quidem uehatfrondes, sed ilicofolia lapsa ad fundum demittat laticis tenuitate. Beyond Meroëj beyond the appearance of the sun, the Ethiopians are called Macrobians, for their life is half again as long as ours. These Macrobians honour jus­ tice, love fairness, excel the most in strength, are particularly comely with beauty, are ornamented with bronze, and make chains from the gold of wicked people. Heliutrapeza is a place among them always crowded with sumptuous banquets, at which they eat all things indiscriminately; for they report that the food is even divinely enlarged.2 There is also a lake in the same place, where bathed bodies shine as though with oil. Drinking from this lake is very good for one’s health. The liquid is wholesome to such an extent that indeed it does not bear falling leaves, but the falling foliage plunges at once to the bottom because of the thinness of the liquid.

The Collectanea also lists some raw· commodities found within Ethiopian ter­ ritor)·. They are not attributed particularly to the Macrobians, but rather listed as generally existing in Ethiopia. Still, since many raw Ethiopian commodities trav­ elled to Adulis for international shipping, they are relevant to our discussion of Axum. The commodities include gemstones (30.16-17, 32-34), cinnamon (30.30-31), and three kinds of animals for the circus: the giraffe, the rhinoceros, and the cephus (30.19-21). Cephi are described as animals with human legs and hands, which “have not been seen more than once by our people” (30.20). Soli­ nus goes on to describe a number of other fantastical beasts in Ethiopia, but he does not claim that any others have been observed by Roman eyes. There are many inconsistencies between historical reality· and the Collectanea. Some of the animals and Ethiopian customs are surely the stuff of fantasy: we can safely say that there were never giant Ethiopian ants with lion feet (30.23), and probably the king of the Agriophagi Ethiopians did not only have one eye in the middle of his forehead (30.6). We must question the idealistic purity of the Macrobian lake, and the superhuman size of the produce. The gemstones described in the Collectanea are not mentioned in the Periplus, and Pliny’s Historia naturalis locates only one of them explicitly within Ethiopia.3 While it is possi­ ble that the Collectanea may be inaccurate in its association of these stones with Ethiopia, we may also suggest that the earlier authors had not known that cer­ tain gems were found in Ethiopia, and that Solinus, writing a couple centuries later, perhaps had more information available to him and reported more accu­ rately. Either way, even if a reader of the Collectanea doubts some of its claims, it

1

2 3

Cf. Herodotus 3.23: “Then they left the spring and were taken to a prison, where all the prisoners were shackled with golden chains; among these Ethiopians the rarest and most valuable substance of all is bronze.” Cf. the tradition of divine favour and godly banquets, above p. 105. The Historia naturalis mentions all four stones, though in different contexts; haematite, which Pliny identifies as an Ethiopian stone (37.25); and hyacinthus (37.41-42), dracontias (37.62), and chrysoprasus (37.20, 32, 34-5), for none of which he provides an explicit provenance .

Caroline Belanger

can get away with them because it states in the preface that it will focus on the wondrous and the lesser-known — in that case, who are we to argue, just because we did not know’ that chrysoprasus was produced in Ethiopia? We can also pick out several known historical elements from this passage. According to the Periplus and the Historia naturalis, cinnamon was produced in Ethiopia and exported from the north Somali coast.1 In parallel, the Collectanea asserts that cinnamon is grown in Ethiopia, and does not associate it with the Macrobians (who, as explained above, it describes in the area of northern Ethio­ pia, not in Somalia). The Periplus states that coppery metals were imported to Adulis and used for jeweller}7;12 the Collectanea concurs with this information in adding that the Macrobians are ornamented with bronze. The coast around Rhapta really was under Arab control for some time (Solinus’ Arabicos sinus). Axum really was a wealthy civilisation, and was in the vicinity of several lakes. It is impossible to know which (if any) real-world body of water Solinus refers to, but arguments could be made for such as Lake Tana, Lake Hayq, or Lake Midmar.3 Some of the Ethiopian animals are obviously real; some of the fan­ tastic ones may have been inspired by real sightings. After all, Solinus’ descrip­ tion of a giraffe sounds just as ridiculous as the cephus: he describes it with a neck similar to a horse, feet like a cow, a head like a camel, and of a shiny gold covered with white spots.4* Some of the traditions attributed to foreign peoples by ancient authors exist even now in modern African cultures. Huntingford points out that Strabo and Agatharkhides’ descriptions of the Troglodytae in north-eastern Africa include

PME 7-8 (Huntingford 1980, 23-24, 124); Pliny, NH 0.34.174. Strabo writes that cinnamon comes from the southern-most inhabited regions, parallel ro Taprobane (2.1.13-14 C 72), which does indeed, even by modern cartographical standards, indicate the area around Somalia. 2 PME 6 (Huntingford 1980, 21). 3 Kirwan 1972, 170-171, discusses Cosmas Indicopleustes’ 6xth-century report of gold expeditions, possibly to the area around Lake Tana. Such expedidons provide a pos­ sible source for stories about a great Ethiopian lake to travel north. Pliny does not mention a lake in the vicinity’ of the Macrobians; Mela is Solinus’ source here. Con­ cerning modern lakes with which Solinus’ lacus may’ be associated, Lake Tana is the largest in the vicinity, and therefore may have been worth remarking upon by travel­ lers; the Axumite court moved south to the area around Lake Hayq sometime after the city of Axum’s abandonment ca. 630, and there are a number of medieval churches there, showing its longstanding importance in Ethiopian tradidon (Ander­ sen 2000, 55-56); Lake Midmar is small but very’ close to the site of the city’. Because there are so many lakes in the area of the Axumite empire, and lacus can mean any’thing from a lake to a pond, it would be treacherous to make any claims about Soiinus’ meaning. 4 30.19: Quae locorum Aethiopes temnt feris plena sunt, e qiäbus quam nahm meant nos

Solinus’ Macrobians

109

some customs that are current among peoples in the same general vicinity7 of modern Africa: drinking blood mixed with milk, circumcision, grave cairns, and laughing during the burial.1 Solinus describes his “Trogodytae” differently (his term lacks of the -/-), following Pliny as is his wont.2 But perhaps there is also a Macrobian custom in the Collectanea that can be identified in modern African culture; perhaps Solinus’ claim that the Macrobians emerge shining from their lake is related to the modern Ethiopian practice of applying butter to the body and hair.3 He draws this from Mela (3.88; cf. Herodotus 3.234), but Pliny also records, on the basis of Theophrastus, that there is a spring in Ethiopia that is used to anoint people3 - which would result in people shining. While anoint­ ing with oil was common throughout the ancient world,6 it is possible that So­ linus is associating the Macrobian legend with a historical trend that somehow 'stood out in that area of late antique Africa, i.e. the use of butter on skin. While the historicity of Solinus’ passage can only be speculated on, it is useful to keep in mind that at least some elements of ancient ethnographical description are probably based in some fact, since the quantity of the Collectaneas outrageous claims can distract the reader from its potentially realistic descriptions. For the most part, the Collectanea reflects earlier literary’ traditions, not the realities of its contemporary world, but a case can be made for the identification of some his­ torical truths.

1

camelopardalem decimus, collo eque similem, pedibus bubulis, capite camelino, nitore rutilo, albis maculis superspersa.

1 Huntingford 1980,144-147. 2 Solinus 31.2, 56.9. 3 For widespread Ethiopian cosmetic and ritualistic use of butter on skin and hair, see Volker-Saad et al. 2007, 967; butter is also mixed with botanicals and used in topical medicinal treatments (Gedif and Hahn 2003, 158-159). 4 Mela 3.88: “There is a lake from which bodies, once they have been immersed, con­ tinue to shine as brightly as if they had been oiled” (trans. Römer 1998, 125); Herodotus 3.23: "... the [Macrobian] king took them [the spies] to a spring (κρήνην) whose water made anyone washing in it more sleek, as if it had been olive oil, and which gave off a scent like violets” (trans. Waterfield 1998, 178). Asheri (2007, 422423) writes of Herodotus’ entry’ that it is a “purely legendary’ element,” perhaps of Homeric origin, that Herodotus has rationalised; but it would fit with what we know of Solinus’ Macrobian selections from Mela and Pliny if he saw something significant in the lake itself and/or the shining bodies. 5 Pliny, ΛΉ 31.14.17; Polyclitus Lipari iuxta Solos Ciliciae ungui, Theophrastus hoc idem in

Aethiopia eiusdem nominis fonte. 6

E.g. Greeks and Romans applied oil to their own skins (Wright and Vickers 1996) and Roman cult images could be anointed with oil (Kiernan 2012; MacMullen 1981, 43-45); a few examples of religious anointing from Jewish tradition: Psalms 23.1-6; Numbers 4:16; Exodus 25:6.

110

Solinus’ Macrobians

Caroline Belanger

111

Analysis of the C ollectaneas Portrayal of the Macrobians/Axumites

The Collectanea as a Reflection of the Roman Superiority Complex

Now that the descriptions themselves have been discussed for what they reveal about the Collectanea’s knowledge of Axum, we must look closer at the nature of the source. We can see that this information would not be particularly useful for multicultural relations. It provides vague and exaggerated descrip­ tions, but not the sort of information that would prove practical for Romans attempting to communicate with people in the area of the Red Sea (for example, helpful information could describe native language, attitude to foreigners, qual­ ity of harbours). It fits rather into literature that the educated person might read in their leisure time, providing interesting facts (and factoids!) about the world, of the type that was valued in aristocratic culture.1 Literature like the Collectanea can reveal a lot about imperial culture, not only how non-Romans were perceived, but also how Romans perceived themselves. It is particular^ relevant because, at least in theory1, authors of leisure literature ■were not necessarily attempting to write official propaganda or world-class his­ tories.12 Perhaps, in this type of work, we may glimpse the stance that Romans took on Romanness and non-Romanness as it was current, rather than as they might posture for impressiveness in works that were written to create a certain impression for posterity (such as, for example, authors who attempted great and influential works of history, like Eutropius3). Connors argues that leisure liter­ ature reinforces the Roman reader’s sense of themselves as educated people and adds to their impression of Rome as “the centre of Empire;” she also reminds us that Roman geographical descriptions were subjective, imperial products.4 As such, this sort of literature is useful as a tool for examining Roman self­ perception. In some ways, what they believed to be true about other peoples is less important here than what they held onto for their own cultural validation.

The Romans regularly measured the rest of the world against their own cul­ ture and through their interpretatio romana.1 Imperialistic ideas pnliferated throughout the early empire, and Trajan’s wistful admission that he would invade India if only he were younger shows that these ideas were still quite present in the early 2nd century.1- The Collectanea is an example of that continued train of thought, even as the Roman empire during these years increasingly turned its attention to protecting, rather than expanding, its borders. If the works of Mela and Pliny can be considered “as texts of the pax Romana,”3 then that of Solinus, who uses them as his pri­ mary sources, can certainly be considered likewise. Solinus sets out his goals for the Collectanea in its first preface: to create a brief synthesis of the works of respected older authors and to focus on the description of far-off places. And yet, he begins with a rather detailed descrip­ tion of Rome. This is a very unusual way for a geography to begin - geographi­ cal treatises tend to start at the fringes of the empire and wind their way in, describing space in an anti-clockwise direction; even texts dealing with a local scale begin at the fringes of the given area and move inward anti-clockwise.4 While the Collectanea does move in an anti-clockwise spiral, it begins at the centre of its geographical scope. In his Historia naturalis, Pliny praises Italy, saying that it “was chosen by the divine inspiration of the gods to enhance the renown of heaven itself.”5 Given Solinus’ general indebtedness to Pliny (to say nothing of the longstanding urbs/orbis pun5), it is unsurprising that he inherits this perspective. Nonethe­ less, the way in which he emphasises this stance on Rome’s greatness - the fact that he places Rome at the centre of the world and the beginning of the Collectanea - is remarkable. The only other notable late antique geographical work to give Rome this sort of symbolic precedence is the Peutinger Map, which places Rome near the visual centre of the map. Solinus is thus quite

1

2

3

4

On the value of productive leisure time and the suitableness of literature for it, see Connors 2000, 209-214 and Pliny the Younger, Epist. 1.6, 1.9, and 9.36. See also, for example, Mayer 2012, 167, who remarks on the expectation that the elite will have detailed knowledge of myths and be able to reinterpret them wittily. He refers to domestic art, but the same principle holds true for literature. For example, Connors 2000, 215, writes that Phaedrus and Statius (authors of fables and poems, respectively) have “an understanding of otium as a productive and pur­ poseful relaxation which can restore an imperial official for the rigours of his duties, or ready a poet for the demands of the higher literary forms”. See Parker 2008, 223,and Lenski 2002, 187-196. Lenski 2002, 195, writes that Eutro­ pius and Festus deliberately encourage Valens in his eastern wars by comparing him to earlier commanders and emphasising that Rome has legal rights to the East. (“Eutropius and Festus were thus engaging in a historical discourse with very real political and military implications” - quite the opposite of literature for one’s relaxa­ tion time!) Connors 2000, 225-226.

1 2 3 4

5 6 7

Cf. Herodotus’ interpretatio graeca in his “ethnography of the fringes,” discussed in Kartunnen 2002, 457-474. Cassius Dio 68.29.1. On eastern imperialism in pre-Augustan and imperial Rome, see Parker 2008, 203-225 and Lenski 2002,188. Parker 2008, 211, see also 218 219, where he notes that Pliny the Elder’s description of the oikoumene in some ways associates the entire oikoumene with the Roman empire. See Salway 2012, 211, on how it’s rare for Rome to be at the beginning/centre of geographic descriptions. On 219-222, he discusses the Roman tendency to describe space in an anticlockwise direction. He gets this idea from Crawford 2003. On Pliny 3.5.39, see Humphries 2007, 35. See, for example, Parker 2008, 214-215. Ancient mapmakers often put Delphi, Jerusalem, or their own region at the centre of the map, but not Rome (see Salway 2012, 211, 216-217; Talbert 2012, 6, 179; and Irby 2012, 84). Cf. Ptolemy, who, in his attempt at scientific objectivity, puts the Per­ sian Gulf at the centre o f his oikoumene map (see Jones 2012, 127). On the other hand, Stahl 1962, 139, suggests that Solinus may be following Varro’s On Human and

Caroline Belanger

clear about his stance on the importance of Rome next to the rest of the world: Rome comes first. Additionally, although Solinus plans at the outset of the Collectanea to exam­ ine the origins of Rome, he finishes the first section saying that he has spoken enough of “humans.” This shows that this section is not just about the history of Rome - it is about the glory of Roman civilisation, which he virtually equates with humanity. After all, as Strabo writes, far-away peoples don’t really matter since they cannot affect Greek life1 - so although the Collectanea discusses vari­ ous peoples, they are not “human” in the way that Romans are; they are barbar­ ians. In a way, Solinus has conflated Roman history with humanness. Belief in the inherent superiority of Rome and Italy is a regular feature of Roman literature. Pliny attributes to Mediterranean humans a more balanced intellect and culture than he allows for the peoples who inhabit the more extreme climates to the north and south; to the peoples of the distant peripher­ ies he attributes natural savagery and dismisses the idea that they have any form of government.2 Strabo writes that the geography of Italy (and so, the Roman civilisation that stems from it) “is naturally well-suited to hegemony,” and implies that Rome’s acquisition of surrounding civilisations is necessary in order to instil law and order onto inferior cultures.3Just as Strabo and Pliny describe the geographical location of Rome as environmentally determining Romans to be ideal imperial rulers, so does Solinus suggest this by beginning the Collectanea with a chapter on Roman history, and equating Romanness with humanitas. This chapter is substantially longer than any other in the book: in Mommsen’s edi­ tion, it spans the first 31 pages of the text, out of a total of 216 pages and 56 chapters. This lengthy history of Rome contrasts with the atemporal, brief descriptions of the non-Roman-rest-of-the-world.4 Given this general picture, it is remarkable that this sense of Roman supe­ riority does not negatively affect the Collectanea's depiction of the Macrobians. Although it represents some Ethiopians as savage or foolish,5 it shows the Macrobians in a positive, even idealised, light. Mathisen, discussing Mela and

Divine Activities in this layout, although this work is no longer extant to prove or dis­ prove the theory. 1 This reference (Strabo 2.5.8 C 115-116) was found in Irbv 2012, 84. 2 Pliny, ΛΉ 2.80.190. Isaac 2006, 40, points out that this tacitly suggests that the Romans are suited to rule, and that this suitability derives from their geography. These sorts of associations between character and climate go back to Aristotle, on whom see Leunissen 2012, 510-512.

3 Strabo 6.4.1-2 C 286-288.. 4

5

On environmental determinism and the Roman depiction of themselves as ideal rul­ ers, see Strabo 6.4Λ-2 C 286-288, Isaac 2006, 35-36, Snowden 1970, 171-176, and Van Wyk Smith 2009, 338. For instance, there are some Ethiopians who follow the orders of a dog, which are interpreted from its movements (30.5).

Solinus’ Macrobians

113

Tacitus’ “catalogues of barbarians,” comments on “a genteel curiosity’ about the strange peoples who lived ‘out there,’ and a chauvinistic sense of how outland­ ish the names and customs of barbarian peoples provided a striking contrast to Roman values, and of how much better ‘we’ are than they.”1 The same sense of genteel curiosity is found in the Collectanea, but there is no chauvinism in Soli­ nus’ image of the Macrobians, who are not represented as inferior to the Romans.2 This is particularly relevant here because although much of Africa “presented to the Roman gaze a largely pejorative view of humanity,”3 clearly the superiority that the Romans felt themselves and their homeland to possess did not necessarily lessen a detached respect for certain other peoples, including the Macrobians.

Axum: Outside the Roman Sphere of Interest Having considered the imperialist Romano-centricity in which the Colleäanea is entrenched, it is unsurprising that Axum, despite being one of Mani’s four great civilisations and Rome’s most important trading partners,4 is described so succincdy. Indeed, little more attention is shown to the Persians, and cer-

1 Mathisen 2011, 19. Isaac 2006, 56, takes this idea further, arguing that the Greeks, with their “effort to find a rational and systematic basis for their own sense of supe­ riority and their claim that others were inferior,” were in fact proto-racist. 2 Kaldellis 2013, 10-11, argues against the idea that Roman ethnographical works are chauvinistic, pointing out that as early as Herodotus, many ethnographers “have emerged as admirers of barbarian culture, as authentic transmitters of barbarian points of view, and, crucially, as subtle (or even outspoken) critics of their own socie­ ties and dominant paradigms, moral and conceptual” (11). It is true that while the overall effect of the Collectanea is one of Roman authority, but this is not apparent in all of the individual descriptions. 3 Van W'vk Smith 2009, 344. 4 Mani Kephalaia 189.1 (trans. Gardner 1995). Munro-Hay 1991, 21: “The Persian reli­ gious leader Mani, founder of the Manichaean religion, who died in 276 or 277AD, is reported by his followers to have described the four most important kingdoms of the world as comprising Persia, Rome, Aksum and Sileos, the latter possibly China (Polotskv 1940, 188-189). This remark shows that Aksum’s repute was spreading in the contemporary world. It was about this time that the Aksumites produced their own coinage, an excellent way of bringing their country into prominence abroad, since only the greatest of contemporary states issued a gold coinage.” Note that the events Munro-Hay discusses are roughly contemporary to Solinus.

114

Solinus’ Macrobians

Caroline Belanger

tainly no more to the Chinese.1 It is possible that the Romans simply didn’t much care about the Axumites. They were not Greek or Roman, they were far away, they didn’t pose a threat, and Rome did not plan any serious invasions of them:12 therefore, the Axumites may have been perceived as of little concern.3 Similar relationships between ancient civilisations may be held up as parallels to that of Rome and Axum. It is even possible that the Greeks felt this way about the Romans at one point. Marincola suggests: “It is very likely that before Roman involvement in Greece, the Greeks were content to see the Romans as merely a distant people with a tradition linking them to Troy. At the time, it didn’t really matter who the Romans were: only when they began to impinge on the Greeks did it become necessary' to define or redefine or recon­ figure them.”45The Romans inherited much of the Greek worldview, so per­ haps the Greco-Romans felt similarly about the Axumites in late antiquity. They were a good trading partner and, as Solinus’ Macrobian Ethiopians, they were linked to litejrary traditions attributing them divine favour and justice, but other­ wise it did not really matter who they were. Pharaonic Egyjpt had a similar relationship with Punt (in the same vicinity as Axum or perhaps modern Somalia3, but flourishing around 2500 to 600 BCE). Egypt traded with Punt for luxury' goods, which were mostly shipped by sea. Yet Egypt “had - and, in fact, needed - comparatively little knowledge of the areas with which it was not in direct (that is, land) contact, and the goods it desired from them were not always the products of those people who actually traded with Egypt.”6 This mirrors the relationship of the Roman and Axumite empires in late antiquity'. The Romans received luxury' goods and felt some lan­ guid acknowledgement of their trading partners, but perhaps since little knowl-

115

edge of Axum was required for the average Roman’s day-to-day life, such knowledge simply wasn’t prevalent. In line with the picture presented in earlier Latin literature, late antique Latin sources rarely mention Axum, and when they do it is with great brevity. The Axumites are not mentioned in most imperialist “catalogues of barbarians,” for example. Their omission does not indicate that the Romans considered them to be their equals in bumanitas\ it is more likely that, as mentioned above, they were omitted from most lists of barbarians because they did not pose a threat of invasion to Rome, and the Romans did not have immediate plans to invade them.1 The travel work of Palladius, probably from the first half of the 5th century, attests to this Roman perspective of Axum as small and non-threatening.2 He writes of a scholar who wants to get to India, but has a lay-over in Axum. This scholar spends some time first in Adulis, then in the city' of Axum, as he waits for a ship to take him to India. In Axum, he describes, as Desanges puts it, ”’un petit roitelet indien’, expression peu flatteuse qui dénote la faible importance du royaume à une époque que nous croy'ons être la première moitié du Ve siècle” and this is the only' literary7 mention of Axum that we have from the 5th cen­ tury.3 The 6th century' finds Cosmas Indicopleustes and others writing of the Red Sea area, but by that point we have gone far past Solinus in the 3rd/4th century'. Despite Mani’s high valuation of Axum, it seems that the late imperial Romans gave it little consideration. The Mediterranean was the meaningful centre of their world; India held an exotic allure as a far-off land of riches; regions on which the Romans didn’t have imperial designs simply drifted at the periphery' of their consciousness.4

The Symbolic Use of the Axumites as Macrobians in the Collectanea 1

2

3

4 5 6

The initial description of the geographic area of Persia/Parthia is dominated by anec­ dotes about Alexander’s conquests (45.8-49.12); however, on its return west from India the Collectanea discusses Persia and Parthia themselves, still giving more atten­ tion to geographical description than to culture (54.12-56.3). This in itself is a show of Roman superiority: the Persians are pushed to a secondary position even in the description of their own territory'. The Chinese are likely represented by the Seres, described brieflv as a reclusive, mercantile people (50.2-4). Natsoulas 2003, 658, notes that Roman and Axumite political and religious interests converged, as they were both Christian and too geographically distant from each other to compete directly for influence or territorv; indeed, Rome found it beneficial to encourage Axum in its attempt to dominate Himvar in South Arabia. Greeks and Romans were not racist in today’s sense of the word (they lacked words for the concepts of racism, prejudice, and discrimination, for instance), but they saw a clear distinction between Greeks, Romans, and barbarians (Isaac 2006, 33). See also Snowden 1970, 170. Marincola 2011, 353. Young 2001, 24. Phillips 1997, 425-426; see also Munro-Hav 1991, 16.

The imperialist Roman worldview implies that there is no compulsion to consider barbarians from an insider perspective; it simply perceives others through a Roman framework. This imposition of Roman norms onto non-

t

On “catalogues of barbarians” in Roman late antiquity7, see Mathisen 2011, 17-32. For more on the idea that the Romans did not perceive the Ethiopians as a threat (perhaps due to their mythological reputation as a pious and just people), see Jameson 1968. 2 Of course, this is in all likelihood a century after Solinus, when Axum was experienc­ ing a waning in its power and Himvar was experiencing a waxing (see Desanges 1969, 631). 3 Desanges 1978, 363. For more on this subject see Desanges 1969. 4 See Van Vyk Smith 2009, 339-340.

Caroline Belanger

Roman customs can reveal as much about a Roman author’s traditions and values as those of his subjects.1 Peoples on the peripher)· of the Greco-Roman world were regularly pres­ ented as uncivilised, as lacking humanitas, and thus, as mentioned above, as less than human. Some were savage or monstrous, and some were idealistically noble.12 These are clearly not accurate, nuanced depictions of these peoples: rather, the author is presenting his own “preconceptions and obsessions,” and revealing as much about himself as about his subjects.3 What the Roman author commends as moral or good behaviour in barbarians may be used to show up shortcomings that he perceives in Roman societ)·; conversely, judge­ ments of barbarians for “immoral” behaviour may reveal things that the author considers vitally present in Roman society. Characteristics of peripheral peoples can also highlight the author’s desires and dreads, or those of his society·: thus, lands of plenty reflect a desire for an easy life, and noble, pure peoples may reflect a “desire for the lost simplicity of the fabled golden age.”4 In all cases, the simplified view of non-Roman peoples in the Collectanea reflects an imperial Romano-centricity. To reiterate from p. 21*, they are static figures —they have no history·, and they receive only an atemporal description, stripped down to a few key adjectives.5 Yet in the Macrobians, we see some characteristics that the Romans admire, and some cultural desires: an esteem of justice, fairness, and strength; a desire for easier food, better health, and longer lives. This is really a flattering way for the Collectanea to refer to the Axumites. The Macrobians had long been a feature of classical literature, consistently rep­ resented in an admirable light, and Solinus sticks to the type. However, while authors throughout antiquity had located the Macrobians in different areas of south-eastern Africa, Solinus clearly locates his Macrobians in Axumite territor)·, at a point in time when the characteristics that earlier authors ascribed to Macrobians match up nicely with Axumite culture. By linking Axum to a people

1

2 3 4

5

Geertz 1973, 9, writes of ethnography: “what we call our data are really our own con­ structions of other people’s constructions of what the)· and their compatriots are up to.” Solinus seems unconscious of this, as he is bound up in his own perspective rather than trying to take on those of the barbarian peoples - but this ends up being especially useful for what it tells us about the author himself. Keyset 2011, 51, uses the terms “noble primitive” and “subhuman savage,” building on the concepts developed by Claude Lévi-Strauss. Alston and Spentzou 2011,206. Keyser 2011, 53. See also Kaldelis 2013, who argues that some late Roman ethnographical descriptions (such as those of Procopius) were used to criticise Roman society·. Cf. the analysis by Alston and Spentzou 2011, 211-218, of possible criticism in Tacitus’ Agricola. Merrills 2005, 26, writes: “As was the case with its enquiry into the past, Roman use of geographical sources naturally propagated a sense of timeless - and boundless empire.”

Solinus’ Macrobians

117

that have been traditionally represented in very positive terms, the Colletianea gives, as it were, a nod of respectful recognition to an important economic neighbour - an allusion that his contemporaries might very· plausibly have recognised - , even as it defers to Latin literary· tradition by mentioning them onlv briefly and associating them with an ancient name instead of a contempo­ rary one.

Conclusions Though surrounded by monstrous and wondrous fantasies, the Axumites are, as Macrobians, portrayed realistically. Their depiction is vague and some­ what impractical, as it is not meant to facilitate travel; it is idealised, but not unbelievably so. The Collectanea is informational literature, which provides Romans with a view of far-away places, and conveniently for us, offers a reflec­ tion of an imperial author’s perception of Romanness. This chapter hopes to have illuminated several aspects of the relationship between the Collectanea, Roman literary culture, and late antique Axum. The overview of Roman access to information about the Red Sea created a context for a discussion about the Roman wav of looking at the world, with Romans at the imperial centre as the ideal world rulers and with the non-Romans at the peripheries, usually repre­ senting extremes of possible human behaviours. The Macrobians are toward the positive end of this spectrum, though the Collectanea still relegates them, in accordance with Roman tradition, to the margins of civilisedness. The Collectanea's interest in the rest of the world is somewhat superficial and reflects no desire to understand other cultures, and its adherence to literary norms obscures what knowledge Solinus really had of the Axumites. Yet his associa­ tion of them with the ancient and eminent Macrobians is a high honour, sug­ gesting that in the real world, beyond literary· motifs, he did take into account some actual knowledge of the world.

Caroline Belanger

Appendix The countryside as described by Pomponius Mela and Solinus, and the vicinity of Axum as historically documented and as described by Solinus, super­ imposed on a modern map. Mela and Pliny’s descriptions of the geography (keeping in mind that their conceptions of the space looked slightly different) and Solinus’ general situating of the Macrobians are evidence that Solinus asso­ ciates them with the Axumites.

M aroe

/ Aduüs

mom&iverbwk

• thmOwatifr&nt

A X U M IT Ï8

/ )

I I !

, t

Desolate

*

Mountains

Healthy Lake7

-/ \ \ l'$ct without hiftabitanfs

Arabian Coast

Iisdem fere uerbis Solini saepe sunt sententias mutuati: Solinus and late Antique Christian literature from Am brose to Augustine - An old assum ption re-exam ined David Paniagua1

In his extensive and learned introduction to the revised (and augmented) critical edition of Solinus’ Collectanea rerttm memorabilium, Theodor Mommsen (1895) reviews those Late Antique and Early Mediaeval writers who had read and made use of Solinus in their works. They are introduced as compilatores Solini Collectaneorum. This thorough review is provided at the beginning of the second section of the introduction (pp. xxiv-xxix), dedicated to the Subsidia critica, where the intricate manuscript transmission of the work is also fully explored. Mommsen was very sceptical about Ammianus Marcellinus’ use of Solinus’ Collectanea in his Rrr Gestae, for which reason the starting point for his survey was Augustine of Hippo, moving from there to Martianus Capella, the Liber Genealogus, the Scholia to Vergil and to Lucan, Priscian of Caesarea, Jordanes, Isidore of Seville, and so on until reaching the Carolingian scholar Heiric of Auxerre. As far as later Fortleben is concerned, Mommsen limited himself to mentioning some names in passing: the Frankish monks Walafrid Strabo (in his mid-9th-century rhymed Vita S. Galli) and Adrevald of Fleury (in his Miracula sancti Benedicti, datable between ca. 865 and 877), the German chronicler Adam of Bremen (second half of the 11th century), the French encyclopedist Vincent of Beauvais (12th-13th century), John of Salisbury (12th century), and Guido of Pisa (12th century). Undoubtedly, this was quite a change with respect to his first edition12, published thirty years before, where all the attention paid to the expilatores Solini was reduced to a long paragraph on Servius, Priscian, Isidore, Capella and Augustine (pp. xxx-xxxi). Three and a half centuries before Mommsen’s epoch-making edition, in 1520, another milestone work on Solinus had been brought forth: the I» C. lulii Solini Πολυίστωρα enarrationes written by the Franciscan monk Giovanni Vellini (1448-1546), better known as Johannes Camers3. As a preamble to his work.

1 The following essay is part of the National Research Project “La evoluciôn de los saberes y su transmisiôn en la Antigüedad Tardia y la Alta Edad Media latinas II” (FFI2012-35134), 2013-2015, funded by the Spanish Ministerio de Economia y Competitividad (M1NECO). 2 Mommsen 1864. 3 Giovanni Luca Ricuzzi Vellini (1468-1546), also known as Camers or Camerte from his birth-place Camerino, in Italy, was professor of Philosophy in Padua and Vienna. His In C. hilii Solini Πολοίαζωρα enarrationes (1520) were published in Vienna per Joan. Singrenium impensis Lucae Alantsee. For a profile of Camers see Cardinali 2004, Dienbauer 1976, and Pasero 1933. Furthermore, some useful remarks on Camers’ approach to Solinus can be found in Dover 2013.

From Ambrose to Augustine

David Paniagua Camers composed a biographical portrait of Solinus. In this Vita Sotini., after naming a number of authors who had followed Solinus’ auctoritas, Camers remarked that the Doctores ecclesiastici Jerome of Strido, Ambrose of Milan, Augustine of Hippo and others, left unmentioned, had often reproduced infor­ mation taken almost verbatim from Solinus: Doctores praeterea ecclesiastici, Dhius Hieronymus, Ambrosius, Augustinus, item Doctiores alii, iisdemfere uerbis Solini saepe sunt sententias mutuati, Camers’ statement was unquestioningly accepted for centuries, passing from generation to generation of scholars almost as a commonplace. His biographical profile of Solinus opened the 1536 (?) Basel edition of Solinus and Pomponius Mela by Pedro Juan Oliver (198-202), and it appeared again preceding the text of Solinus in Del Rio’s Plantin edition, published in 1572 (23-27). There is no shortage of examples of scholars reproducing the same claim in the following centuries. J. Gerard Vossius (Vossius senior), for instance, echoes Camers’ remark about the three major Latin Church Fathers in his De historicis latinis when he says (Vossius 1627, 646): Hon dedignati tamen eum lectione et mentione sua, egrammaticis Macrobius, Senius, Priscianus, e .ST. Patribus, Hieronymus, Ambrosius, Augustinus. In the 17th century, Johann Albert Fabricius (1728, 511) openly claimed that the first author to mention Solinus was St. Jerome. In his celebrated Bibliotheca latma, he takes for granted that St. Jerome was the first author to praise Solinus:

121

have not searched too much”.1 Unfortunately, Camers did not substantiate his claim or provide any evidence supporting his words, and as a consequence we do not know why he maintained that Ambrose and Jerome had read Solinus. What this essay can do is try to find out if he was right.

1. Ambrose of Milan Even today it is still a vert' controversial issue to state which sources were used by Ambrose of Milan for his observations on natural history. The fact is that he made skilful use of ancient natural history' (pagan natural history, actu­ ally) in the framing of his Christian expositions and explanations. Through a perfectly conscious strategy of ‘appropriation’, the so-called interpretatio Chris­ tian^ was extended to the field of pagan science, and in doing so the tradi­ tional stream of non-Christian natural knowledge was assimilated and put at the service of a Christian rhetoric. A few years later, Augustine would turn out to be a master of this technique, but Ambrose already knew well how to exploit it for his own purposes. And, as a matter of fact, by means of this strategy- of ‘appro­ priation’ the Bishop of Milan produced what can be fairly considered a com­ pletely new interpretation of natural history, set in a Christian context and, therefore, intended for Christian readers and Christian minds. Some passages in Ambrose’s production reveal his mastery' of natural his­ tory. Ambrose had a good knowledge of what the Greeks and the Romans had written on nature, especially on zoology'. The clearest instance of this compe­ tence may be found, in particular, in the dies quintus and the dies sextus of his

e ueteribus nemo Solinum laudat ante Sanctum Hieronymum. And still in VCilliam Smith s renowned Dictionary of Greek, and Roman biography and mythology we can read (1849: 357): He (i.e. Solinus) is quoted by St. Jerome, St. Ambrose, St. Augustine. It was mid-19th century. Therefore, it can be asserted that the pre-Mommsenian Solinus was widely assumed to have been read, known and quoted by Ambrose, Jerome and Augustine. Naturally, Mommsen was perfectly aware of Camers’ statement, which indeed, as mentioned above, had become the communis opinio at the time. Never­ theless, he despised it and rejected it, because he couldn’t find any real quota­ tion, any particular parallelism, any proof of this supposed re-use of Solinus. Mommsen affirms: “no one has been able so far to demonstrate that any pas­ sage by Jerome or Ambrose has been taken from Solinus, neither do I know of any”; and, with his characteristic sarcasm, he adds “but I have to confess that I

1 The same passage is found in both his editions (Mommsen 1864, xxx; Mommsen 1895, xxv). The text reads as follows: “certos vero locos Hieronymi Ambrosiive ex Solino desumptos cum nemo demonstrarit, ego quoque nullos novi neque fateor multum quaesivi.” 2 On the concept of interpretation Christiana, see Inglebert 2001, and particularly his gen­ eral conclusions 555-556. Regarding the hexaemeral literature he states (555): “De même, les conclusions ne portent que sur une partie seulement des savoirs antiques qui furent réinterprétés par les chrétiens; d’autres domaines de l’érudition classique aurient pu être analysés - la météorologie, la zoologie, la botanique, l’anthropologie humaine, voire la médecine - , qui sont attestés dans les Hexamérons.”

David Paniagua Exameron , where he deals with God’s creation of all living creatures. It has been said that the Exameron is a singular Patristic work for the outstanding ores ence of scientific topics and for the accurate and brilliant descriptions given bv its author. Along the dies quintus God first created aquatic life (5, 1, 2-3): y subito aqua iussos fundebatur inpartus; generareflumi, umificare lacus, mare ipsum coepit dium» reptiliumgeneraparturire et secundumgenus effundere quodcmquefomauerat non exigui eurntes non caenosaepaludes uncabant, quin omnia datam sibi creandi adsumtrentpotestatem ...sed neaL quam multae spectes et nomina sint possumus manare, quae omnia in momento diuL· praeceptionis animatae sunt' e waters immediately poured forth their offspring as commanded bv God. The rivers were m labor. The lakes created life. The sea itself began to bear all manner of ten tries and to send forth according to its kind whatever was there created. The tint creeks and the muddy marshes were not without exercising the power of creation granted to them ... But we are unable to record the multiplicity of the names of all those species brought to life at the very moment of God’s command12.

From Ambrose to Augustine

123

the reader through his exposition like a tour guide in the ‘Museum of Creation’. This idea of showing the Creation as a spectacle is conceived and uttered by Ambrose himself (6,1, 2): imredimini mecum in hoc magnum et admirabile totius msihilis theatrum creaturae. enter with me into this mighty and wonderful theatre of the whole visible creanon.

Later on, God did the same in the sky giving life to the birds (5, 12). Alone the cites sextus God created all kind of living creatures (namely, quadrupedes serpentes, bestias terrae et pecora, et omnia reptilia) and, at the end, created man Ambrose cites Gen. 1:24-26:

Naturally, the colourful and vivid pictures of the animal kingdom are not displayed by Ambrose within this gallery just as a simple demonstration of the harmony of nature, which is in turn a reflection of the divine harmony of crea­ tion1. It serves especially to the purpose of identifying different moralizing behaviours to be taken as models by mankind and providing an exegetical key for the correct interpretation of their symbolism in the Holy Scripts . Therefore, in this natural environment, it would not be surprising at all to find Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium, one of most important w'orks of nat­ ural history in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, ”vademecum de culture scientifique” as Munk Olsen (1989-1990, 347) called it. According to Jerome of Strido (ep. 84, 7), Ambrose’s work was a compdation of Origenes’ Hexaemeron, but a kind of compilation where he rather fol­ lowed Hippolytus’ and Basil's opinions:

producat - mquit ~ terra animam uiuentem secundum genus, quadrupedes et serpentes et bestias terrae etpecora secundum genus et omnia reptilia ad genus. Etfecit Deus bestias terrae et omnia

nuper Ambrosius sic Exmmenn illius (sc. Ongenis) compiiaiiit, ut magis Hippolyti sententias Basiliique sequeretur.

Pb o Z n m m ^ °mnia repentia tenae adgnm ' E t M it DeM ψάα hma e' dkKit Dms:fa ^m u s

Unfortunately, the Hexaemera of Origenes and Hippolytus are now lost, but bv comparing Basil’s extant treatise and Ambrose’s text it is not difficult to real­ ize how indebted he was to the Greek Father. Ambrose reproduced extensively complete passages from Basil’s Hexaemeron in translation and, as Pepm (1964,

Let the earth’, says Scripture, ‘bring forth all kinds of living creatures, quadrupeds and crawling creatures and beasts of earth and cattle and all manner of reptiles according to their kind. And God made the beasts of the earth and every kind of cat­ tle and every kind of creature that crawls on the ground. And God saw that it was good and God said: let us make man’3. ■ T|1US’ the fifth ancl slxth day of the Exameron hold an extraordinary gather­ ing at all kind o f zoological species. Throughout these chapters, Ambrose leads

1 The edition of reference is Schenkl 1897. The spelling of the title Exameron (CPL instead ot the more usual Hexameron or Hexaemeron, is based upon the manuu n,Ptwradf 10n' THe homilies of the Exameron were likely delivered in 387 during Holy %eek; see Palanque 1933, 520, 759, Dudden 1935, 713, Savage 1961 ’vi n. 3 Banterie 1979, 13-14. However, the precise date of publication of the Exameron is not clear; for instance, Bardenhewer 19232, 498-510 places the work not before 389 since in Ex. 3, 1, 3 Ambrose affirms that the Church is in exultation and among the heretics there is grief and tears, which would imply the defeat of Arianism. But the TuSt m o L aCCepd ldM 1S that i( was written sometime between 386 and 390 see Schenkl 189 ,, vii, Mara 1991, 153; between 387 and 390, Paredi 1960 534. 2 Translation by J. Savage, slightly modified. 3 Translation bvj. Savage.

1 Cfr Nazzaro 1998a 324: “I Padri della Chiesa approfondiscono e arrischiscono il semimento cristiano della natura, diffondendolo tra i fedeli attraverso la predicazione. La natura si offre loro come un maestoso hbro di meditazione, in cui essi trovano conferma aile venta del dogma, incitamento alla pratica della virtu, esempio di abbandono fiducioso alia Prowidenza”. a 2 Nazzaro 1998a, 345: “L’Exameron, e, in particolare, le due omelie Ça T e 18) predi­ cate il venerdi santo e dedicate rispettivamente ai pesci e agli uccelli, nonche la prima parte del’ultima omelia, dedicata agli altri animali, [...] attesta la simpatia e 1affetto dl Ambrogio verso gli animali, dai cui comportamenti (saentificamente accertat, o legendari) ricava appropriati insegnamenti morali per l fedeli ; and (1998a: 35o). “L’interesse di Ambrogio per la natura è - come s’è visto- attivato essenzialmente dalla possibility di utili applicazioni spirituali, finalizzate all’instancabile attivita 3 According to Robbins 1912, 58, ‘‘Ambrose is almost entirely depedent upon Basil with a few reminiscences of Philo”; see also Schenkl 1897, xvi, “plunma quae ad rerum naturas describendas pertinent ex Basilio (sc. hausit)”.

124

David Paniagua

372) indicated, most of the obscurities in Ambrose’s Exameron are easily cleared up when the parallel passage is consulted in Basil’s text. Sometimes, however, Ambrose decided to enrich his model by proposing a different approach to nat­ ural history, by recourse to other sources. Karl Schenkl in the preface to his edi­ tion of Ambrose’s Exameron in the Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum1 points to, among others, Cicero, the Altercatio Hadriani et Epicteti, Xenophon, Suetonius (Prata) and Vergil12, while he explicitly excluded Pliny the Elder as a possible source: ueluh num Plinii Naturali historiae ml aliquod studium impenderit quam maxime dubito, uix enim ullo loco, cum de eisdemrebus agitur, eademquibus Plinius usus est uerba recurrunt. Some years later, G. Gossel (1908) identified Basil, Galen, Apuleius, Cicero and Lactantius as primary sources for Ambrose’s description of the human body in Exam. 6, 54-74, and in 2003 (p. 439) Garcia de Iturrospe added some other pagan sources to the list: Plautus, Catullus, Horace3 and Ovid. And she, unlike Schenkl, includes Pliny the Elder among the pagan sources4 of the Exameron. In a number of contributions published in the last two decades of the 20th century, two Italian scholars, Filippo Capponi and Isabella Bona, have studied the bulk of zoological knowledge in Latin literature (both technical and non-technical) in depth5 and have defended the idea that Ambrose did read and use Pliny when he wrote his Exameron. For them, while Pliny was most defi­ nitely not a main source for Ambrose, nonetheless his Naturalis historia could

1 Schenkl 1897, xvi. 2 The influence of Vergil on Ambrose has been studied by Ihm 1889, 80-94, Diederich 1931, Springer 1931, Consolo 1955, Alfonsi 1965, del Ton 1970. 3 On Horace as a literary model for Ambrose see also Nazzaro 1998b and Marin 1993. 4 Garcia de Iturrospe 2003, 439: “Pero en no pocas ocasiones Ambrosio se reserva la libertad de cambiar, de invertir o de alargat pensamientos y materiales, asi como de introducir elementos paganos - casi todos latinos —y cristianos: [...] entre los paganos, Virgilio, [,..] y por la parte cientifica Plinio e incluso Suetonio”, 456 “aunque ya estudios anteriores han demostrado que Plinio es fuente cientifica para Ambrosio de Milan, su manejo directo de las tuentes no es siempre seguro ...”· Moretti 2004, 9, takes a middle position: “Ambrogio verisimiimente non ha letto Plinio, ma conosce almeno in modo mediato le tendeze generali della sua zoologia”. Also Nazzaro 1998a, 354-355, maintains that Ambrose read Pliny: “La sensibilità ecologica di Ambrogio e le raffinate immagini [...] si alimentano [...] alie fonti non meno importanti sul piano formale della letteratura scientifica classica (massime, Plinio)”, and a few lines below he reiterates: “nozioni botaniche e zoologiche, ehe sono spesso uno strano miscuglio di realtà e fantasia, qualche volta l’esito dell’educazione scoiastica o della lettura di compilazioni scientifiche (la Naturalis his­ toria di Plinio o YHistoria animalium di Aristotele)”. 5 Bona 1993, Bona 1998, Capponi 1986, 146 n. 45, Capponi 1997a, Capponi 1997b, Capponi 1997c, Capponi 1997d, Capponi 1997e, Capponi 1997f, Capponi 1997g, Capponi 1997h.

From Ambrose to Augustine

125

have provided some elements that Ambrose ‘recycled’ in his zoological pas­ sages. Sometimes these elements may be just small details within the descrip­ tions, sometimes they may be singular linguistic patterns or expressive schemes reproduced in similar contexts or regarding the same topics1. Notwithstand­ ing, after an accurate examination of the parallels proposed by Capponi and Bona, strong evidence supporting a possible direct dependence of Ambrose on Pliny’s Naturalis historia is still lacking. Sometimes Pliny and Ambrose do indeed talk about the same topics; it is inevitable since both of them deal with nature. However, thematic coincidence is not enough to argue that Ambrose read Pliny2; something else is needed to justify· dependence. This possibility of Pliny’s being a source for Ambrose is crucial for our interest in Solinus. As seen, Solinus is never mentioned as a possible source for the Exameron. However, as is well know, very’ often, an author traditionally thought to have used Pliny as a source, has actually not used Pliny at all but So­ linus. Such a misidentification is quite understandable, since Solinus usually reports information taken from Pliny’s work or from Pliny’s sources, and there­ fore distinguishing Plinian influence from Solinian influence is never a simple task. In a manner of speaking, it is not always easy to tell apart Plinv from the so-called Pliny’s ape3. In fact, whenever a Late antique or Medieval writer is thought to have used Pliny as a source, it’s usually a good idea looking out for a possible influence from Solinus instead of Pliny. In the case of Ambrose, even in those passages where Pliny is said to be possibly the source for Ambrose by Bona and Capponi, the compilation of Soli­ nus does not offer better results than Pliny’s Naturalis historia. For this reason, overall, the hypothesis of the Collectanea as a possible source for Ambrose’s Exameron is not justified. But, needless to say, a categorical assertion can be made only after having scrutinized Ambrose’s huge corpus in its entirety’.

2. ‘E ueteribus nem o Solinum laudat ante Sanctum H ieronym um ’. Jerome, reader of Solinus? The case of Jerome of Strido is slighdy different. Unlike Ambrose and Augustine, Jerome was not particularly concerned about natural history nor did he make use of the appropriation of the pagan scientific heritage for reinforcing a Christian apologetic discourse. For this reason, in general terms, natural his-

1 See, for example, Bona 1998, 551: “Pur essendo vero ehe nell’Esamerone di Ambrogio vi sono passi per i quali non e possibile ammettere una stretta relazione tra l’opera ambrosiana e la NH di Plinio, ve ne sono, pero, altri, in cui, per alcuni riscontri, si potrebbe supporre anche un’utilizzazione di essa da parte di Ambrogio” 2 For thematic match in Pliny and Ambrose, see also Borst 1994, 61-62. 3 On Solinus as simia Plinii see Dover 2013.

David Paniagua tory does not have a strong presence in Jerome’s work. However, this is defi­ nitely an advantage in looking for Solinus’ footprint. Any approach to Jerome as a reader of the Classics must take as starting point, at least, too important studies: Lübeck’s monograph Hieronymus quos noverit scriptores et ex quibus hauserit (1872), a typical Quellenforschung product, and Hagendahl’s milestone study on the use of Classical authors by Jerome of Strido (1958). But Solinus is missing in both of them. If we run a search for Pliny within Jerome’s corpus in the Brepols Library' of Latin Texts (CLCLT-Rel. 7), five occurrences are produced, each one in a different work (the same passages pointed out by Lübbeck in his study'). In one of them (Praef. in libro Paralipomenon, p. 9), it is not clear which Pliny Jerome might be referring to1, for the text reproduces a general statement which could have been said either by Pliny the Elder or by his nephew, Pliny the Younger12: optima enim quaeque, ut ait Plinius, malunt contemnere uideripkrique quam discere. In another two passages Jerome singles out the treatise Περί των ιβ’λίθων {On the twelve stones) written by St. Epiphanius, Bishop of Constantia (Salamis) in Cyprus, ca. 394/395, and the last book of Pliny’s Naturalis historia, as the most authoritative sources regarding precious stones and gems. The first one is In lsaiam 15, 54, 11: de natura autem duodecim lapidum atque gemmarum, non est huius temporis dicere, cum et Graecorumplurimi scripserint et Latinorum, e quibus duos tantum nominabo, uirum sanctae et uenerabilis memoriae episcopum Epiphaniam, qui insigne nobis ingenii et eruditionis suae reliquit uolumen, quod inscripsit περί λίθων, et Plinium Secundum, eumdem apud Latinos oratorem et philosophum, qui in opere pulcherrimo Naturalis Historiae tricesimum septimum librum, qui et extremus est, lapidum atquegemmarum disputatione complétât, and the other ln Ezechiel. 9, 28: super quibus (sc. lapidibus) et uir sanctus Epiphanius episcopusproprium uolumen mihi praesens tradidit, et tricesimus septimus Uber Plinii Secundi Naturalis historiae, post multiplicem omnium

1 According to Hagendahl 1958, 186-187, Jerome quotes too letters of Pliny the Younger (2, 3, 8 and 73, 10), therefore he could read his epistles. But even so, that Jerome was aware that the Pliny who wrote the letters was not the same as the Pliny of the Naturalis historia should not be taken for granted, cfr. Roncoroni 1982, 159. Bv contrast, the opposite view is held by Trisoglio 1973, 345, who argues that the use of the name Plinius Secundus whenever he is undoubtedly referring to the author of the Naturalis historia, but Plinius elsew'here, demonstrates the attempt to tell them apart: “L’unica spiegazione possibile della dionimia (sc. Plinius Secundus/Plinius), insolita nello stridonense, appare la nécessita di distinguere il grande dotto dall’omonimo congiunto”). 2 In two other passages Jerome repeats the same dictum, but without attribution.

From Ambrose to Augustine

127

return scientiam, de gemmis et lapidibus disputat, ad quorum notitiam diligens nobis mittendus est kctor. In the last two passages Pliny’s name appears alongside Aristotle and Theophrastus; firstly, in ln Hier. 3, pag. 212 Reiter (CSEL), where the scriptores naturalis historiae, whose most eminent exponents were Aristotle and Theophrastus among the Greeks and Pliny among the Romans, are said to be the source {aiunt...) on his observation about the partridge: aiunt scriptores naturalis historiae, tam bestiarum et uolucrum quam arborum herbarumque, quo­ rum principes sunt apud Graecos Aristoteles et Theophrastus, apud nos Plinius Secundus, ham perdicis esse naturam, ut otia alteriusperdicis, id est aliena,furetur et eis incubetfoueatque, cumque fetus adoleuerint, auotare ab eo et alienumparentem relinquere”. Secondly, the catalogue of authorities given by Jerome in the Adu. louinianum gathers not only natural philosophers (physici) but also medical writers {medici), and for this reason Marcellus of Side, a certain poet named Flavius, and Dioscorides are mentioned beside Aristotle, Theophrastus and Pliny the Elder: legat qui unit Aristotelem et Theophrastum pmsa, Marcellum Sidetem, et nostrum Elautum hexametris uersibus disserentes: Plinium quoque Secundum, et Dioscoridem, et caeteros tamphysicos quam medicos, qui nullam herbam, nullum lapidem, nullum animal tam reptile, quam uolatile, et natatile, non ad suae artis utilitatem referunt.. The impression is that Jerome mentions Pliny in all the four texts more as a prestigious name or as an symbol of authority, than as an author who has been really read and used as a source of information. A closer look at the passage from In Hieremiam 3, p. 212, - the sole passage providing a particular exposition on a natural theme - confirms this impression. When Jerome indicates that par­ tridges steal other birds’ eggs from their nests, the information is attributed to some unspecified natural historians, whose most prominent figures are Aristotle and Theophrastus among the Greeks and Pliny among the Romans. But close scrutiny of Pliny’s Naturalis historia reveals that this piece of information is com­ pletely missing in that work; Pliny never said that. Consequently, Jerome did not use Pliny when he wrote about the partridge, despite Pliny’s condition of princeps Pamanonmi. This demonstrates that, at least in Pliny’s case, his name is just invoked as a cultural referent, but not as a real source. And Solinus? Although the case of Jerome is different, the same conclusion as for Ambrose is valid: Solinus is not mentioned in Jerome’s brief canon of natural historians and so far no parallelism has been identified. Nonetheless, a definite answer may only be given after having examined Jerome’s corpus in its entirety.

David Paniagua

From Ambrose to Augustine

3. Solinus in Ambrose and Jerome? Therefore, broadly speaking, it seems that Solinus was not a source for either Ambrose or Jerome. We could be tempted to close the issue here; how­ ever, it would be not advisable. The identification of sources is never an easy task to accomplish, whenever they are not explicitly declared. And in this case there could be good reasons to be cautious. ’ In the following pages I propose considering two texts, one by Ambrose and the other by Jerome, which may exemplify the kind of difficulty in m ine to identify Solinus as a source. In Book Six of his Exameron Ambrose explains how cubs are when they are born and the way that the she-bear licks them to give them their shape1 (Ex 6,4,18): 1 v ' Vrsc fertur informes utero partus edere, sed natos lingua fingere atque in speciem sui smnlitudinemqueformare. ■ The description is missing in Ambrose’s main source, Basil’s Hexaemeron but it is provided by Pliny the Elder (NH 8,54,126): Eorum coitus hiemis initio nec uulgari quadripedum more, sed ambobus cubantibus conplexisque; dem secessus m .pecus separating in quibuspatiunt X X X dieplurimum quinos. Hi sunt candida tnjormisque caro, paulo munbus maior, sine oculis, sim pilo; ungues tantum prominent. Hanc lambendo paulatim figurant. Xec qukquam rarius quam patientem uidere ursam, ideo mares quadragenis diebus latent,feminae quaternis mensibus, by Aulus Gellius (17, 10, 2-3): Amm famiharesqueP. Vergib ... dicere eum solitumferunt parere se uersus more atque ritu ursino. Vamque ut ilia bestiafetum ederet ineffigiatum irformemque lambendoque idpostea, quod ita edidisset, conformaret effingeret, proinde ingenii quoque sui partus recentes rudi essefacie et wperfecta, sed deinceps tractando colendoque reddere iis se oris et uuiius imiamenta,

129

informes ursi uel magni uei qui tempore quo nascunturforma carent: dicitur enim quaedam caro nasci, quam mater lambendo in membra componi/’. and in, a shorter way, by Ovid1 in Metamorphoses 15, 379-381: nec catulus, partu quem reddidit ursa recenti, sedmale uiua caro est: lambendo mater in artus fingit et informam, quantam capit ipsa, reducit’. \ closer look at these texts reveals some lexical parallelisms between Solinus and Ambrose, missing in Pliny’s text: the use of the verb edere is missing in Pliny, and the use of the syntagm ’’informes partui’ to refer to newborn cubs is common to Solinus and Ambrose, while Pliny uses candida and informs caro but just as a feature and not as a referent itself. Thus, Pliny may be dismissed as a possible source. In a cursory reading informes partus may just seem merely a pro­ duct of coincidence, but if we run a search for the iunctura in the Brepols Library of Latin Texts (CLCXT-Rel. 7), we find only three hits: Solinus, Ambrose and Isidore of Seville (who frequently used Solinus as a source and whom he is likely to be following for this notice). The common iunctura may be more significant than it might have been expected at first glance. The use o i fingere andformare in both Gellius’ and Ambrose’s text might be meaningful as well, and perhaps it might disclose a combination of sources. However, after examining the texts, it remains difficult to draw a firm conclusion on whether Ambrose could have So­ linus in mind when he wrote on the she-bear. The second text poses a similar problem, but with fewer possible solutions. In chapter twenty-eight of his Life of Hilarion, written in 390, Jerome recounts one of the miracles performed by St. Hilarion; when Hilarion arrived to Epidaurus, in Dalmatia, he stayed there for a few days, and then: an enormous serpent, of the sort which the locals called in their language boas, because thev are so large that they often swallow oxen, was ravaging the whole pro­ vince far and wide, and was devouring not only flocks and herds, but husbandmen and shepherds who were drawn in by the force of its breathing“.

by Solinus (26, 3-5):

The Latin text reads like this (28, 3):

Xumidia ursi ceterispraestant rabie ... Ijtcinae illis (sc. ursis grauidis) properatms tempus est: quippe uterum trigesimus dies Uberat. Vnde euenit, utpraecipitata fecunditas informes creetpartus: carnespauxiitulas edunt, quibus color candidus, oculi nulli et defestina inmaturitate tantum nidis sanies, exceptis unguium libamentis. Has lambendo sensim figurant et interdum adpectoratas Jouent, ni assiduo incubitu calefactae animalem trahant spiritum,

siquidem draco mirae magnitudinis, quosgentili sermone ‘bogs' meant, ab eo quod tamgrandes sint ut bomgbtire soleant, omnem late uastgM prouinciam, «r non solum armenta etpecudes, sed agricolas quoque etpastores, tractos ad se ui spiritus, absorbebat .

by Senius (ad Georg. 3, 247): 1

1 S o?*6 She‘bear’S Parturltion as a mirabik >n Greek and Roman literature, see Rodella

2

Later treatments of the topic like those by Luxorius m his De partu ursae and by Isidore of Seville in Etymologiae (12, 2, 22) or those present m the Greek sources (Claudius Aelianus, HÄ 2, 19; 6, 3, and Plutarch, De amore prolis 434c) will not be taken into account here. Translation by Fremantle 1892, 683.

From Ambrose to Augustine

David Paniagua Hilarion ordered then a pyre to be prepared, prayed to Christ, called forth the serpent, bade it climb the pile of wood, and then applied the fire. So he burnt the savage beast to ashes. In Pliny, Solinus, and Isidore of Seville (depending on Solinus again) we find a somewhat different reference to this serpent: Solinus 2, 33-34: Calabria chersydrisfrequentissima et boas gignit, quem anguem ad inmensam molemferunt comtakscere. Captat primo greges bubulos et quaeplurimo lacte rigua bos est, eius se uberibus innectit, suctuque continuo saginata longo in saeculo ita fellebri satietate ultimo extuberatur, ut obsistere magnitudini eius nulla uis queat: etpostremo depopulatis animantibus regiones quas obsederit cogit ad uastitatem, Diuo Claudio prinripe, ubi Vaticanus ager est, in aim occisae boae spectatus est solidus infans.

131

boas was a Dalmarian word was given; or c) Jerome displaced to Epidaurus, in Dalmatia, the Italian1 snake for narrative purposes and, therefore the sole source was Solinus, but his information was transformed into something differ­ ent.

What these two texts show is that when the source (or sources) for a pas­ sage can not clearly be identified, the possibility that Solinus was read and used in combination with other sources should not be excluded. But, needless to say, as long as a manifest dependence on Solinus is not found Ambrose and Jerome can not be considered readers of Solinus, despite Camers’ contrary statement.

4. Augustine o f Hippo Plin. ΛΉ 8,14,37: faciunt bisfidem in Italia appellatae bonae in tantam amplitudinem exeuntes, ut Diuo Claudio principe occisae in Vaticano solidus in alito spectatus st infans. Aluntur primo bubuli lactis suc, unde nomen traxere.

Pliny never mentions that the snake killed cows, and Solinus maintains that cows were killed, but not because they were devoured; cows died because they were milked to complete exhaustion by the snake. There are obvious lexical parallelisms between Solinus’ text and Jerome’s account. Solinus and Jerome (and Isidore1, following Solinus) use the term boa, while Pliny employs the variant boua, an alternative spelling for the word accord­ ing to the ThlL . Further terms in Solinus’ passage reproduced by Jerome are magnitudo, bos/ boues, uis, all of them missing in Pliny’s formulation (and it is noticeable that all of them are nouns, not merely adjectives or adverbs, subsidi­ ar)’ elements). Another shared feature is the description of the environment as a desolated region, which is expressed with the same term in both Solinus and Jerome: uashtasf uastare, ”regiones quas obsederit cogit ad uastitatem ” / ”omnem late uastabat prouincianT. But, on the other hand, the etymology proposed for boas (ab eo quod tam grandes sint ut bouesglutire soleant) and the identification of the word as a Dalmatian localism can not be drawn from Solinus’ Collectanei. Consequently, there are three possible scenarios: a) Jerome used Solinus, but also another source; b) Jerome did not read Solinus but a source very close to Solinus’ description, where also the etymology and the indication that the term

1

2

Etym, 12, 4, 28: "Boas·, anguis Italiae inmensa mole, persequiturgreges armentorum et bubalos, et plurimo lacte riguis se uberibus innectit et sugens interimit, atque inde a boum depopulatione boas nomen accepit'. The etymology is implicit in the text. Isidore, following Solinus, was able to deduce the obvious link between boas and boues (bourn), so it can not be dismissed that Jerome might have also seen it in the passage of the Collectanea. On the other hand, the fact remains that a Latin etymology ”boas ab eo quod ... bones glutire soleant' (i.e. boa a bombus) for a Dalmatian word (and Jerome was a Dalmatian himself) is weird and puzzling.

In the second volume of his brilliant monograph Augustine and the Vatin Clas­ sics, Harold Hagendahl considered which sources Augustine’s knowledge of nat­ ural history came from.12*Except for cases such as medicine, where he consul­ ted Greek works (especially Soranus), for natural history Augustine relied on the closest sources and, as expected, he followed Pliny s Naturalis historia. From this work Augustine drew most heavily anthropological notices such as age, stature, deformity or deficiencies of some races, all of them referenced in books XV and XVI of his De duitate De?. Despite Hoffmann’s4 and Dombart-Kalb’s5 lists of parallels, the main source in the realm of natural history for Augustine is not Pliny’s Naturalis historia but Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium. As a mat­ ter of fact, a careful reading of the texts demonstrates that with the sole excep­ tion of the passages on anthropology taken from the seventh book of the Natu­ ralis historia, all the rest of assumed parallels between Pliny and Augustine, are undoubtedly to be established with Solinus and not with Pliny6. Natural history is the core of the XXI book of De duitate Dei1,more precisely, some particular topics, as we will see. Having presented the case for a final judgement in the previous book, in books XXI and XXII Augustine turns his attention to what comes after the judgement. Book XXI is dedicated to expos-

1 The snake is geographically located in Italy by all the sources: Pliny, Solinus and Isidore. 2 On Augustine’s attitude towards pagan writers of natural histon’ like Pliny and Soli­ nus, see Schlapbach 2014. , 3 Hagendahl 1967, 670-671. The idea is fully accepted by O ’Daly 2002", 252. 4 Hofmann 1900. 5 Dombart-Kalb 1950-1955. 6 In his fine Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, Marrou 1938, 138-139, 145, 147MS, had already remarked the role of Solinus as one of the key sources for Augustine’s scientific knowledge (147-148: “Nous avons vu que saint Augustin paraît leur devoir une bonne partie de sa science”), but he did not openly favour a depen­ dence on Solinus rather than on Pliny for the mirabilia of Book XXI.

David Paniagua

ing the eternal punishment of the damned and it is a prelude to the exposition of the saints’ eternal happiness (which will be discussed in book XXII), since in Augustine’s words—it is much more difficult to believe in eternal torment than in everlasting joy. For this reason, once the existence of eternal sufferings for the damned is accepted, it will be easier to accept the eternal happiness of the blessed. As is well known, the De duitate Dei is addressed to both believers and non­ believers, Christians and pagans, and book XXI closely follows that guideline. In the first part of the book, Augustine focuses on a non-Christian audience: sceptics, critics and infidels {increduli, contradictores, infideles), and in the second part he speaks to the “soft-hearted Christian, who, while believing what has been written about the coming judgement in the Bible, wishes to soften or neglect the horrors predicted there1”. What interests us now is the part directed at non-believers. There, Augustine’s aim is convincing those who do not believe (i. e. pagans) either by evidence or by solid arguments that eternal pain is not to be rejected as an incredible thing. In the opening paragraphs of book XXI, three basic ideas are pervasively emphasized; these ideas are lexically represented by the terms: - credere {incredibile/incredulus) - believe, - mirari {mirabile/ mirum/miraculuni) —wonder, - and a mix, ranging from persuasion to demonstration (conuincere/ persuadere/demonstrare/ ostendere/doceri). Augustine plays around with the idea of persuading with valid arguments all those who do not believe that such an astounding thing as eternal punishment may be, in fact, possible. But how should such a difficult task be accomplished, especially when the infinite power of God or the testimony of the Bible can not be invoked as evidence? Nolunt enim hoc ad Omnipotentis nos referrepotentiam, sed aliquo exemplo sibi flagitant (Ciu. 21, 2, lines 4-51 2) They will not allow us to refer this simply to the power of the Almighty, but demand that we persuade them by some example.

What sort of example could be used for breaking such a tenacious resis­ tance; which examples would non-believers accept in this rather complicated communication?:

From Ambrose to Augusdne

133

Nolunt credere si ostendere non ualemus (lin. 11) They refuse to believe it unless we are able to prove it.

For Augustine, the key lies in proving {ostendere) his point. But how can this ostendere be accomplished? According to him, there are two ways to do it: sine oculis demonstrare res ipsas sineper testes idoneos edocere (lin. 12-13) to show the matter itself before their very eyes, or to show it clearly by means of suit­ able witnesses.

An ‘autoptic’ experience of wonder is needed, either in first person or from a credible intermediary'. However, this kind of direct experience is not always possible, especially in the case of events which happened in the past or which are still to happen: Verum tamen infideles, qui, cum diuina uelpraeterita uel futura miracula praedicamus, quae Illis experienda non ualemus ostendere, rationem a nobis earumflagitant rerum, quam quoniam non possumus reddere (excedunt enim utres mentis humanae), existimant falsa esse quae dicimus ... (Ciu. 21, 5, lin. 1-5) But despite all of this, when we report divine miracles, either past or still to come, which we are not able to demonstrate to them through experience, sceptical men demand an explanadon (rationem) of these matters from us. Then, because we are not able to give an explanation (for miracles surpass the powers of the human mind) they deem what we say to be false ...

At this point, Augustine will look for equivalence for miracles in pagan culture, extraordinary' events or phenomena which cannot be explained: (follows the preceding text) , .. ipsi de tot mirabilibus rebus, quas uel uidere possumus uel uidemus, debent reddere rationem. Quod sifieri ab homine non posse peruiderint, fatendum est eis non ideo aliquid nonfuisse ml nonfuturum esse, quia ratio inde non potest reddi, quando quidem sunt ista, de quibus similiter nonpotesi' (lin. 6-10) ... they themselves ought to provide an explanation for all those amazing things, which either we are able to see or we do see. But if they realize that this is impossible for men to do, then they should admit that it is not the case that something has not been or will not be simply because we cannot explain it, when indeed there are these things that resist explanation in the same way.

His point is that the simple fact that something can not be explained does not justify the verdict that it is impossible. This is what Augustine needs his pagan reader to accept. Non itaque pergo per plurima, quae mandata sunt litteris, non gesta atque transacta, sed in locis quibusque manentia; quo si qmsqttam ire mluerit et potuerit, utrum itera sint, explorabit; sed pauca commemoro (lin. 10-14)

1 2

Translation by Goodrich, in the ‘Augustine City of God Commentary Project’, www.epiphanius.org/ AugDeCiv. The text of the De duitate Dei is cited from the edition of reference, Dombart-Kalb 1950-1955.

And so 1 will not continue through the many things recorded in books, not the things done and finished, but those which remain in certain places; if anyone wants to go to one of these places, and is able to do it, he will investigate whether they are true; but I will mention a few things.

From Ambrose to Augustine

David Paniagua With the words pauca commemoro Augustine opens a collection of natural marvels, a list of paradoxographical items - therefore beyond human compre­ hension - borrowed from Solinus’ Collectanea. So, as Goodrich puts it Augustine s “solution is to appeal to the shared intellectual and cultural heritage* of the Greco-Roman elite”. Rather than trying to convince his readers by draw­ ing proof texts from Christian sources, he chooses another way: he will use examples taken from their own literature (Pliny and Solinus) to support his statements . In doing so, he exploits the auctoritas of the most remarkable pagan physici to persuade the pagan reader: paradoxography, despite standing in defiance to the laws of nature and to logic itself, is accepted by pagans as part of nature. Consequently, Augustine sets eternal punishment for the damned and happiness for the blessed on a similar basis of events beyond human compre­ hension. v But let’s focus on the catalogue of marvels included by Augustine in his exposition. It begins with a general remark regarding the astonishing features of fire and lime, -well-known elements to every· contemporary reader. Then, dia­ monds and magnets are introduced. The information provided on diamonds relies entirely on Solinus’ Collectanei?: Solinus 52, 56: at illi quos primos significavimus (sc. adamantes ex India) nec ferro vincuntur nec igni domantur, verum tamen si diu in sanguine hircino macerentur, non aliter quam si cahdo uel recenti, malleis aliquotfractis et incudibus dissipatis aliquando cedunt atque in particulas ässiliunt. quaefragmenta scalptoribus in usum insigniendae cuiusce /waaügemmae expetuntur. Avg. au. 21, 4, iin. 67-75: adamantem lapidem multi apud nos habent et maxime aurifices insignitoreSijWi? gemmarum, qm /apis nec ferro nec igni nec alia ni ulla perhibetur praeter hircinum sanguinem vinci.

Solinus is the source for the notice that diamonds cannot be conquered by steel or fire or any other substance than goat’s blood. The mention of engravers of gems (insigmtores gemmarunt) reproduces with a uariatio the mention of the scalptores using it insigniendaegemmae in the text of Solinus. And the same works for the magnet, which is likely introduced at this point because the passage of Solinus on the diamond relates both materials in a sort of mysterious natural opposition: Solinus 52, 57: inter adamantem et magnetem est quaedam naturae occulta dissensio, adeo ut luxta positus non sinat magnetem rapere ferrum uel si admotus magnes ferrum traxerit, quasipraedam quandam adamans magneti rapiar atque auferat. 75: Magnetem lapidem novimus mirabilem feni esse raptorem12

1 Goodrich, Introduction to Book XXI: www.epiphanius.org/AugDeCiv/28/book. html. 2 Lexical elements and phrases taken from the source and reproduced by Augustine in the De ciuitate Dei are rendered in regular characters.

135

102-105: quid etiam de isto magnete legerim dicam, quando iuxta tum ponitur adamans, non rapit ferrum, et si iam rapuerat, ut ei pivpinquauerit, mox remittit. India mittit hos lapides.

Augustine’s remarks on magnets start from his own experience with one of them: quod cum primum nidi, vehementer inhorrui. Quippe cernebam a lapide ferreum anulum raptum atque suspensum; deinde tamquam ferro, quod rapuerat, uim dedisset suam communemqmjecisset, idem anulus alteri admotus est eumdemque suspendit...

when I first saw this, I shuddered. I was watching an iron ring attracted and sus­ pended by a stone; then just as if it had given its own power to the iron, which it had attracted,'and had made the power common to both, the iron ring was brought near another and it suspended that ring ... A bit later on, he reports an episode told to him by Severus, Bishop of Milevis, about the magnet’s attraction of iron through a silver plate. And then he adds some more information, but now taken from written sources. Dixi quod ipse conspexi, dixi quod ab illo audiut, cui tamquam ipse riderim credidi. Quid etiam de isto magnete legerim dicam.

I have related what I observed myself; I have related what I heard from that man, whom I believed as much as if I might have seen it myself. Now I will relate what I have read concerning this magnet. And here Augustine returns to the written sources, borrowing from the Collectanea the notion that when a diamond is placed near a magnet it does not attract iron, and if the iron object was already attracted, by approaching a dia­ mond the magnet will immediately release it. Augustine concludes by explaining that diamonds are found in India Ç’ïndia mittit hos lapides ). This geographical curiosity- is precisely7the reason why Solinus introduced the theme of diamonds in chapter 52 (devoted to India). But it is in the next chapter when Augustine fully exploits Solinus to rein­ force his point. Firstly, he talks about the salt of Agrigento, in Sicily, which liq­ uefies when it is brought close to fire: Solinus 5, 18: salem Agrigentinum si igni iunxeris dissoluitur ustione: cui si liquor aquae proximaverit crepitat ueiuti tornatur ... cur Agrigentinum salem flamma fluere faciat, aqua crepitare. Avg. ciu. 21, 5, lin. 14-16: Agrigentinum Siciliae salem perbibent, cumfuerit admotus igni, uelut in aqua fluescere; cum nero ipsi aquae, ueiut in igne crepitare. Secondly, he brings up an African spring, among the Garamantes, so cold by day that it cannot be drunk and so hot by night that it cannot be touched.

David Paniagua Solinus 29, 1: Garamantum oppidum est Debris fonte miro: quidni? qui alternis uiribus die frigeat, nocte ferueat, ac per eadem urnarum commercia interdum ignito uapore inaestuet interdum glaciali algore inhorrescat.

Avg. au. 21, 5, lin. 16-18: apud Garamantas quendam fontem tam frigidum diebus, ut non bibatur, tam feruidum noctibus, ut non tangatur.

From Ambrose to Augustine

137

Gomomtm, apud quas pomum quodgignitur, habeat licet spedem maturitatis, mandi tamen non potest: nam fuliginem intrinsecus fauillaciam ambitio tantum extimae curis cohibet, quae uel leni pressa tactu fumum exhalat et fatiscit in uagumpuluerem.

Avg. du. 21, 5, lin. 26-28: poma in terra Sodomorum gigni quidem et ad maturitatis fadem pemenirt; sed morsu pressuue temptata in fumum ac fauillam corio fatiscente uanescere. Cf. also du. 21, 8, lin. 96-99: haec fsc. terra Sodomorum) postea quam tacta de caelo est,

and another spring, in Epirus, whose water makes burning torches extin­ guish and, on the contrary, lights extinguished torches:

sicut illorum quoque adtestatur historia et nunc ab eis qui ueniunt ad loca illa conspicitur, prodigiosa fuligine horrori est et poma eius interiorem fauillam mendad superfias maturitatis includunt

Solinus 7, 2: in Epiro fons est sacer, frigidus ultra omnes aquas et spectatae diuersitatis, nam ardentem st in eo demergas facem extinguit; si procul ac sine igne admoneas suopte ingenio inflammat.

the Persian pyrites stone, which bums the hand that holds it if squeezed too vigorously, as its Greek name suggests:

Avg. au. 21, 5, lin. 18-20: in Epiro alium fontem, in quo faces, ut in ceteris, extinguuntur accensae, sed, non ut in ceteris, accenduntur extinctae.

Solinus 37, 16 (chapter on Persia): pyrites fumus est tenerique se uehementius non sinit ac si quando artiori manu premitur, digitos adurit. Avg. du. 21, 5, lin. 29-30: pyriten lapidem Persicum tenentis manum, si uehementius prematur, adurere, propter quod ab igne nomen accepit

Then, he introduces the asbestos stone from Arcadia, so named because once it has been set on fire, it cannot be extinguished (as its Greek name clearly sug­ gests):

the selenites stone, also from Persia, whose internal glow increases and dimin­ ishes with the moon cycle:

Solinus 7, 13: nec lapidem spreuerimus quern Arcadia mittit asbesto nomen est, ferri colon, qui accensus semel extingui nequitur.

Solinus 37, 21: selenites translucei fulgore candido melleoque, continetis lunae imaginem,

Avg. du. 21, 5, lin. 20-22: asbeston Arcadiae lapidem propterea sic ttocari, quod accensus semel iam non possit extingui.

Avg. du. 21, 5, lin. 31-32: in eadem Perside gigni etiam lapidem seleniten, cuius interiorem candorem cum luna crescere atque deficere

and the Egyptian fig-tree, which does not float on water but, surprisingly, when it has been sunk for some time, it floats back to the surface:

mares in Cappadocia conceived by the wind, whose foals never live longer than three years:

Solinus 32, 34-35: ficus aegjptia,^/«.: moro comparanda, poma mm ramis tantum gestitans, sed et caudice: usque adeo fecunditati suae angusta est. uno anno septies fructum sufficit: unde pomum decerpseris, alterum sine mora protuberat, materia eius in aquam missa subsidii: deinde cum diu desederit in liquore, leuiorfacta sustollitur et uersa nice, quod natura in alto ligni genere non recipit, fit humore sicca

Solinus 45, 18 (chapter on Cappadocia): edunt equae et uentis conceptos: sed hi numquam ultra triennium aeuum trahunt.

Avg. du. 21,5, lin. 22-26: lignum cuiusdam ficus aegyptiae, non ut ligna cetera in aquis natare, sed mergit et, quod est mirabilius, cum in imo a/iquamâiu fuerit, inde ad aquae supeiflciem rursus emergere, quando madefactum debuit umoris ponderepraegrauari. Then, Augustine mentions the apples of Sodom, whose appearance is of maturity, but as soon as they are touched or bitten they are suddenly· turned into ashes: Solinus 35, 7-8: longo ab Mierusolymis recessu tristis stmts panditur, quem de caelo tactum testatur humus nigra et in cinerem soluta, ibi duo oppida, Sodomum nominatum alterum, alterum

quam iuxta cursum astri ipsius perhibent diebus singulis uel minui uel augeri

Avg. du. 21, 5, lin. 32-34: in Cappadoda etiam uento equas concipere, eosdemquefetus non amplius triennio uiitere. and, finally, the island of Tylon, in India, whose trees never lose their cover­ ing ofleaves: Solinus 52, 49: Tylos Indiae insula est: eafert palmas, oleam creat, uineis abundat, terras omnes hoc miraculo sola uindt, quod quaecumqtte in ea arbos nascitur.; numquam caret folio. Avg. cm. 21, 5, lin. 34-36: Tylon Indiae insulam eo praeferri ceteris terris, quod omnis arbor, quae in ea gignitur.; numquam nudatur tegmine foliorum.

David Paniagua

Although it has been presented here in segments, Augustine’s text is a con­ tinuous sequence of information, uninterrupted from the salt of Agrigento to the island of Tvlos. But what is really remarkable in this catalogue of marvels drawn from Solinus’ Collectanea is that, with the sole exception of the spring among the Garamantes, the rest of mirabilia is proposed according to their origi­ nal arrangement in the source: Aw. du. 21. 5:

Solinus. Collectanea

lin. 14-16 SalAgrigentinus **(lin. 16-18 Fons apud Garamantas kn. 18-20 Fons in Epiro lin. 20-22 Asbestos stone lin. 22-26 Ficus Aegyptia lin. 26-28 Poma Sodomorum kn. 29-30 Pyrites stone kn. 31-32 Selenites stone kn. 32-34 Cappadocian mares kn. 34-36 Arbores Indiae

chapter 5 chapter 29)** chapter 7 chapter 7 chapter 32 chapter 35 chapter 37 chapter 37 chapter 45 chapter 52.

Furthermore, when a chapter of the Collectanea provides more than one piece of information, once again the original order (the natural sequence of reading) is fully respected. Augustine draws two sets of information from chapter 7, one about the Jons in Epiro and another about the asbestos stone, but he keeps the arrangement of Solinus’ exposition: first he mentions the fans in Epiro (Solinus 7, 2) and afterwards the asbestos stone (Solinus 7, 13). Likewise, the observations reported by Augustine regarding the pyrites and the selenites are taken from chap­ ter 37 of the Collectanea, and they are given in the same order as they are found in his source; first, the notice on the pyrites, (37, 16) and later the notice on the selenites (37, 21). In other words, Augustine introduces the marvellous items in the very same order as he read them in Solinus’ compilation, and this probably means that he took note of them as he was reading it, and, later on, copied them unaltered, following the same arrangement. After presiding a number of natural wonders {mirabilia) reported by Solinus, as seen in the previous paragraphs, Augustine explains: ipsa posta, quoniam apud eorum, contra quos agimus, historicos tegi, ut ostenderem qualia multa multique illorum nulla reddita ratione in suorum litteratorum scripta litteris credant, qui nobis credere, quando id, quod eorum experientiam sensumque transgreditur, omnipotentem Deum dicimus essefacturum, nec reddita ratione dignantur The reason I have included these is that I have read them in the works of the histori­ ans' of those against whom we are arguing; so that I could demonstrate the differ-

1

Needless to say, ‘historians’ (historicos) in the etymological sense of the word, referring to those writers committed to natural history {naturalis historia). On historia cfr. Augustine, De doctrina Christiana 2, 28: ’’Historiafacta narratfideliter et utiliter and on the naturalis historia cfr. ib. 29: "est etiam narratio demonstrationi similis, qua non praeterita,

From Ambrose to Augustine

139

ent types of things that many of them bekeve and that were written in their own scholars’ books without any supporting explanation. Yet they do not see fit to bekeve us, even when an explanation is offered, when we say that Almighty God is going to do something that transcends their experience and senses.

In this paragraph Augustine puts forth his strategy" he has recoursed to pagan sources in order to convince pagan readers. He has spoken their language and has made use of examples given by pagan writers, the sort of writers they rely on. Augustine explicitly declares that the sources where he has read the aforementioned marvels of nature are "eorum, contra quos agimus, histo rico that is to sav, pagan writers of natural history'. The natural observations introduced in this first part of Book XXI are drawn from works of their own (i.e. pagan) writ­ ers {in suorum litteratorum scripta litteris). But what is really interesting in this pas­ sage (and, as far as I am aware, has hitherto passed unnoticed) is that with these words Augustine puts an end to the long lasting issue of whether Solinus was a Christian or a pagan writer. In absence of any explicit statement by Solinus him­ self, Solinian scholarship has tried in every manner to find any hint of his reli­ gious affiliation. For decades many careful readings of his work have been done, in search of a statement, a judgement, or just a word which could be interpreted as a manifestation of Christianism or paganism. His attitudes towards human sacrifices, chastity, incest, cannibalism sometimes have been considered a Chris­ tian feature, sometimes just a sign of mature ‘humanism’, quite likely m a pagan civilized citizen1. However, the key to solving such a uexata quaestio was lying elsewhere: it was necessary' to look up not his Collectanea, but Augustine’s De duitate Dei. If we look through Augustine’s eyes, Solinus cannot possibly be a Christian writer. Otherwise all his intellectual construction, all his communica­ tive strategy would collapse, would be incoherent and completely' pointless. Soli­ nus is one of those "historicos eorum contra quos agimus”, as Augustine puts it. And, speaking of suitable witnesses {per testes idoneos edocere), I believe that Augustine is one we can rely on. Hence, in my view, Solinus is to be considered a pagan writer, with no shadow of doubt.

sed praesentia indicantur ignaris. In quo genae sunt quaecumque de locorum situ, natumque animalium, lignorum, herbarum, lapidum aliorumque corpomm scripta sunt ■ 1 Mommsen 1895, xck, thought that the phrases "detestabilis sacrorum ritus" (21, 1, refer­ ring to human sacrifices), "gentilia nota" (22, 4) and ”commoneri in feminam” (22, 15) - all of them in the second version of the work - seemed to indicate that Solinus was a Christian writer; but he also recognized that they could not be taken as a conclusive evidence of Solinus’ Christianism. P. L. Schmidt 1995, 31, considers ”detestabilis sacrorum ritus” a definitely Christian feature. But the most complete defence of^Soknus’ “acquaintance with and sympathy for, at least, some ‘Christian’ standpoints” has been developed by von Martels 2003, esp. 74-79. For the opposite view, see Fernandez Nieto 2001, 20 n. 24, who is inclined to support a non-Christian interpre­ tation of ’’detestabilis sacrorum ritui' (“calificar los sacrificios humanos en la Gaka de ‘abominable ceremonia’ [...] no puede alegarse como reflejo de convicciones cristianas”).

140

David Paniagua

5. By way of brief conclusion After the approach here proposed to Ambrose and Jerome, nothing allows us to state, as Camers did, that Solinus was read, known and quoted by either of them. Mommsen’s reluctance was not unfounded and, so far, it resists refuta­ tion. Therefore, Ambrose and Jerome can not be counted among those late antique writers that made use of Solinus’ repository of natural knowledge. As a consequence, Augustine may be considered the first Christian writer to read and quote Solinus collection of memorabilia. Augustine’s dialectic strategy o f ‘appro­ priation’ made possible his acquaintance with the Collectanea, where he found a perfectly suitable text for his purposes; a text jam-packed with all kind of incredible and logic-deiying observations (’paradoxography’, in a word) reported by a pagan writer, thence, someone trustful for the pagan reader and not suspicious of militating in favour of Augustine’s own interest. This was one of the first steps of a very' long and intense journey throughout Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages for a work that would become a Classic.

Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium and Augustine’s curiosa historia Karin Schlapbach1

Curiosité rt ’est que vanité k plus souvent. On ne veut savoir quepour enparler. Pascal, Pensées 1122

Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium is part of a growing tendency' in the Roman empire to reorganise, abridge and diffuse the knowledge accumulated by earlier generations. Unlike the earlier antiquarian tradition in Rome which cul­ minates in Varro, the late antique revival of encyclopedic literature is over­ whelmingly bookish. Macrobius or Martianus Capella, Isidore or Cassiodorus lay no claim to originality or independent research.3 Their main goal is to pres­ ent learning in an attractive form, which may even surpass their models. Solinus is no exception to this general picture. He is an able writer, whose principles of composition may have been as much stylistic as with regards to content. A quick glance at major thematic transitions shows that he likes to proceed from one topic to another by exploiting different connotations of single words. To give but one example, he prepares his first chapter by way of a comparison which moves from the “head” of a painted or sculpted figure to the “head” of the entire world, Rome: Solin, Praef. 1.7: Sicut ergo qui corporumformas aemulantur, postpositis quae reliqua sunt, ante omnia effigiant modum capitis, nec prius lineas destinant in membra alia, quam ab ipsa ut ita dixerimfigurarum arce auspiciumfaciant inchoandi, nos quoque a capite orbis, id est ab urbe Koma principium capessemus. Just as those who imitate the shapes of bodies postpone the rest and trace before all else the form of the head and do not direct any lines towards other parts of the body before making the auspicious beginning from the citadel, so to speak, of the figures, thus I too shall begin from the head of the world, that is, the dry of Rome.4

1

2 3

4

I would like to thank Caroline Belanger, who first drew my attention to Solinus, and Kai Brodersen, who invited me to the Gotha conference on Solinus, as well as the other participants of the conference for inspiring discussions. Blaise Pascal, Pensées, ed. P. Sellier, Paris 1976, 69. See e.g. Formisano 2007, 284, who describes the epitome as a cultural product typical of late antiquity7; Formisano 2012, 522-527 on “fragmentation, dislocation, replace­ ment”. For a wider time frame see Horster/Reitz 2010; on Solinus in particular Bedon 2004a, 73-81; on reuses of Pliny’s Natural History Reeve 2012. On antiquarian writing in Rome see e.g. Stevenson 2004. All translations are mine except otherwise stated. The text is quoted after Mommsen 1895. On the preface see Santini 1998 and Pavlock 2014.

Karin Schlapbach

Perhaps with a wink to the widespread idea that a literary work is a unity just like a living creature, Solinus puts the image of a human figure at the beginning; of his work, only to elaborate playfully on the various senses of caput head most precious part, beginning (including the beginning of a literary work)1 Given that his whole purpose here is to explain why he begins with Rome 1 which sets him apart from his most important models, Pliny the Elder and Pomponius Mela - certain political connotations of caput in relation to the rest of the body may also be relevant, which are best illustrated with a quote from Symmachus, Oratio 4.6: “The commonwealth has one body, and it is strong most of all because the robust health of the head protects the wellbeing of the members (unum corpus est ret publicae atque ideo maxime tilget, quia capitis robusta sanitas ualetudinem membrorum tuetur)? Be that as it may, what seems beyond doubt is that Solinus is often guided by his literary imagination and attention to the polysemy of words in shaping his variegated discourse. Meandering ele­ gantly from one topic to another, he creates a reader’s digest of geography and natural histon1, which also includes a rather long section on the Roman past.3 The preface puts emphasis on the careful method of composition. After declaring that his topic will be first and foremost the description of places, peo­ ple and animals, Solinus writes: Solin, Praef. 1.4-5: Addita pauca de arboribus exoticis, de extimarum gentium formis, de ritu dissono abditarum nationum, nonnulla etiam digna memoratu, quae praetenriitten incuriosum ludebatur quorumque auctoritas, quod cumprimis industriae tuae insinuatum uelim, de scriptoribus manat receptissimis. I added a few things on exotic trees, the shape of remote peoples, the strange way of life of obscure societies, and also a few noteworthy matters which it seemed careless

Plato, Phaedrus 2(54c: “even· speech must be composed like a living being ..., so that it is neither headless nor footless” (δεΓν πάντα λόγον ώσπερ ζώιον συνεστάναι ..., ώστε μήτε άκέφαλον είναι μήτε άπουν; cf. Gorg. 503e-504a); Horace, Ars 7-9: nanae/ fingentur species, ut necpes nec caput uni / reddaturformae. Both Plato {Gorg. 503e) and Horaee (Ars 1-13) allude to painting as well. Rhetorical handbooks recommend beginning the description of the human body with the head; see Webb 2009, 56. The metaphor of the body for the unity of a literan’ work is used e.g. by Macrobius, quoted below D 153 4 n. 1. ' M F 2 TLL III s.v. caput, 399, 43-68. According to Augustine, the dependence of the mem­ bers from the head was proverbial (en. in psalm. 29.14): prouerbium est antiquum et uerum: Qua caput, et cetera membra. Pliny treats of Rome in ΛΉ 3. On Mela’s placement of Rome at the centre of his Cborography and the political implications of this choice see Römer 2014. For a discussion of the relationship between geographical and historical writing see Merrills 2005, 6-20. 3 Transitions via thematic associations are discussed in Belanger 2014a. A different, more explicit type of transition - such as Nunc ab Aegypto pmuehamus stilum (32.44) - is noted by Peter 1897, 1 133 n. 3. Brodersen 2011 shows how Solinus’ organisation of space, and hence of the narrative, differs from traditional Periplus-literature.

Solinus and Augustine

143

to omit and whose validity - this I would like to recommend most of all to your dili­ gence - rests on the most accepted writers.

Solinus cuts short his table of contents, which points to the domains we would call botany, geography and ethnography, by stating that he included a number of “memorable things” simply for the sake of comprehensiveness and based on received authority. The notion of (in)curiosum is thus associated above all with scholarly integrity,' and the faithfulness to earlier authors is especially emphasised with the inserted remark addressed to the dedicatee.1 Interestingly, later on Augustine seems to pick up precisely on the curiositas implicitly embraced in the passage quoted above. In the City of God he refers to the type of source Solinus represents as “books of an ... all too inquisitive his­ toriography” (ex libris ... curiosioris historiae, De civitate dei 16.8). Pronounced by Augustine, these words are not a neutral characterisation. Rather, it becomes increasingly clear in the course of his discussion that they encapsulate a negative judgement. Augustine certainly did not need to remember Solinus use of incuriosum in the prefatory letter in order to formulate his verdict, since the notion of curiositas occupies a central place in his thought.12 Moreover, as we will see below, the way Solinus asserts his care in selecting information can be aligned with a wealth of parallels in other writers. Nevertheless, Augustine’s characterisation of the entire literary genre to which the Collectanea belongs as “all too inquisitive” is all the more striking in light of the appearance of the adjective incuriosum in the opening portion of the Collectanea. It is therefore worthwhile to have a closer look at Augustine’s response to Solinus in De avitate dei and to relate it to earlier uses of curiosus in Latin literature. In addition, a scru­ tiny of a range of roughly contemporary programmatic statements comparable to that of Solinus suggests that Augustine draws on an existing critique of biog­ raphy, which is measured against the more respected genre of historiography, and transposes it to the entire field of natural history.

1

1 The notion of “care” returns in the preface of the second version, the so-called Polyhistor (Mommsen 1895, 217). Solinus regrets that a certain reader “impatiently rather than considerately” (inpatientius potius quam studiosius, lines 6f.) circulated the first version, “neglecting what was added with longer application for the sake of increased knowledge” (praeteritis quae ad incrementum cognitionis accesserunt cura longiore, lines Ilf.). On the second version see P. L. Schmidt 1995. 2 Labhardt 1996-2002, 188-196; Blumenberg 1961, Blumenberg 1962, Blumenberg 1973, Blumenberg 1983.

144

Solinus and Augustine

Karin Schlapbach

Augustine’s curiosa historia In De civitate dei 16, which traces the course of events narrated in the Old Testament, Augustine addresses the question whether it should be believed that the descendants of Adam or Noah engendered such monsters as are found in historiography (quaedam monstrosa hominum genera, quae gentium narrat historia, 16.8), To explain what he has in mind, Augustine adds a list of legendär)' monstrous peoples, among them those who have only one eye in the middle of the fore­ head, or the so-called Sciapodes who are able to shade themselves by lying on their backs and sticking their large feet up in the air, “and the remaining races of human - or almost human - beings, which are depicted in a mosaic in Carthage in the square adjoining the sea, taken from books of an as it were all too inquisi­ tive historiography” (ex libris deprompta uelut curiosioris historiae).* The monstrosities that Augustine reports here are found in Pliny and for the most part also in Solinus. It seems that Augustine’s list has slightly more in common with Pliny, although the order of items is not exactly the same, and it is not entirely clear whether he draws on Pliny directly or perhaps via another intermediary source which is lost to us.2 But what matters for the present pur­ pose is that Augustine dearly has in mind a certain type of historia, and the assumption that Solinus is part of it will receive further confirmation in Book 21 In the passage just quoted Augustine signals the slightly' out of the ordinary use he makes of the adjective curiosus with ueht, “as it were”. It is true that already the earliest occurrences of the adjective, found in Plautus, point to a transgressive and illicit inquisitiveness, as A. Labhardt has shown in a still valu-12 .

1 judging from Dunbabin 1978, mosaics depicting the strange peoples mentioned here are not known from North Africa. But Augustine might well be referring more ge­ netically to mosaics featuring mythological creatures like Centaurs and the Chimaera, which were indeed popular. For the suggestion that artists worked from mythological handbooks - possibly' without understanding the details - see Dunbabin 1978, 45. On the ancient literary tradition of “monstrous races” see Bianchi 1981, who writes (244) that Solinus represents “l’archetipo ‘sulle mostruosità utnane’” for the Middle Ages. 2 According to Mommsen 1895, xxv, the source is Plin. ΛΉ 7.2.15-30; Hagendahl 1967,1 219-220 rightly extends it to 7.2.10-30. Bardy I960, 711, accepts the possibil­ ity of an intermediary' “florilège” between Pliny and Augustine; however, the evi­ dence does not point to Solinus. Two elements are found in the relevant passage by Pliny but not in its reworked version by Solinus' (52.26-32), the Androgyns and the Pygmees (whom Solinus mentions elsewhere but does not describe); furthermore, the names “Sciopodes” and “Cynocephali” are also missing in Solinus. But Augustine’s order differs from Pliny: he omits at first the Sciopodes and those who have their eyes on the shoulders, adding them further down in the list, and he puts the Cynocephali last.

145

able article.1 This negative connotation is quite in line with Augustine’s overall understanding of curiositas. In Cicero, who uses the adjective frequently, curiosus may furthermore imply a lack of distinction regarding the objects of enquiry (e.g. De finibus 5.49: Atque omnia quidem scire cuiuscumque modi sint cupere curiosorum, duci uero maiorum rerum contemplatione ad cupiditatem scientiae summorum utrorum est putandum).2 Nevertheless, an expression like curiosa historia would by all accounts normally have rather positive connotations. The adjective curiosus in the basic meanings of “careful”, “diligent” is often found in connection with investigation, erudition and literary' pursuits. Augustine himself uses it in such a wav for instance at De doctrina Christiana 2.17.27, and although he distances him­ self from the cultural tradition to which Varro belongs (apud eos), there is hardly a negative undertone: “Varro - and I don’t know whether among them (scil. the pagans) there is anyone more learned or diligent in such things than him (etc.)” (Varro, quo nescio utrum apud eos quisquam talium rerum doctior uel curiosior esse possit, etc.).3 When a negative judgement is attached to the adjective, this can be made explicit with an adverb, as for instance in Quintilian, Institutio oratoria 11.3.143, a passage which interestingly refers to Pliny the Elder. Quintilian notes that Pliny, presumably in his rhetorical manual entitled Studiosus, suggested that Cicero used to wear a toga that reached down to his shoes in order to cover his uncomely legs, an interpretation Quintilian does not share on the grounds of his knowledge of ancient dress codes: “I am all the more astonished at Pliny’s view - a learned man and at least in this book almost too inquisitive - who says that Cicero did this to hide his varicose veins” (Quo magis miror Plini Secundi docti hominis et in hoc utique libro paene etiam nimium curiosi persuasionem, qui solitum id facere Ciceronem udandorum uaricumgratia tradit). Quintilian is careful to indicate that the charge of excessive curiosity he levels against Pliny applies only to the work in question, not to his entire oeuvre. One might wonder whether this specification is necessary because Pliny’s opus magnum the Naturalis historia, or the extensive notes he was accumulating to pen it eventually, had already secured him the rep-

1 2 3

Labhardt 1960. This passage is informed by Antiochus; see also off. 1.19 = Panaet. fr. 104 v. Straaten (with Labhardt 1960, 211). talium rerum refers to mythology', more precisely Varro’s historical explanation of the number of Muses (non ergo luppiter noitem Simas genuit, sed tres fabri ternas creamnmt, ibid.). See also Cic. Tuse. 1.108: permulta alia colligit Chrysippus, ut est in omni historia curiosus, sed ita taetra sunt quaedam, ut eafugiat et reformidet oratio (implying the necessity of making a choice; the reference is to burial customs); Plin. ep. 9.28.5: litteras curiosius scriptas, Arnob. nat. 5.1: historiae ... graues seriae curiosae (see Labhardt 1960, 213). Uses with entirely positive connotations are found throughout the Middle Ages, e.g. Bede, In Regum librum xxx quaestiones 4 (PL 91, 718B): nullus sanctae historiae curiosus ignorat.

Solinus and Augustine

Karin Schlapbach

utation of an inquisitiveness that had gone out of limits.1 In a similar veins Seneca inveighs repeatedly against those who want to penetrate into the minu­ tiae o f the material world rather than directing their gaze upwards towards a better life, and it has in fact been suggested that Seneca is thinking of none other than Pliny.2 Even though this might be chronologically unlikely, Seneca’s critique nevertheless illustrates the extent to which it was possible even in the 1st century' CE to disagree with the type of research pursued by Pliny,3 So, Augustine is not alone in expressing reservations against such pursuits. If, by qualifing the adjective curiosus with uelut and using a comparative, he gestures towards a critique of literary' works such as Pliny’s Natural History along the lines of an exaggerated or misguided thirst for knowledge, he can build on a wellestablished tradition.45 Further down in the same chapter, Augustine refers back to the notion of curiosa historia he introduced earlier, again merely hinting at a negative undertone by harking back to the first instance and adding a second adjective, mirabilis. His own agenda in this section is to deflate the miraculous character of the possible occurrence of strange looking races. If we are astonished by certain natural wonders, he argues, it is because we' are able to see only parts of the creation but not its entirety', in which every' element which might seem out of place on its own contributes to the beauty of the whole.3 Furthermore, he adduces indi­ viduals who have been born with unusual features, for instance hermaphrodites or individuals born with fewer fingers and toes. If there existed an entire people like them, he remarks disparagingly, “it would be added to that inquisitive and amazing historiography” (16.8: Si aliqua gens talis esset\ illi curiosae atque mirabili

1

See the account of Pliny the Eider’s prodigious studiousness given in Plin. ep. 3.5 (esp. 3.5.10: Nihil trim legit quod non excerperet; dicere etiam solebat nullum esse librum tam malum ut non aliqua parte prodesset). Cf. Potter 1999, 108-119 on the reading habits and note-taking of ancient authors. 2 Sen. brer. 13.3 denounces inane studium superuacua discendi, which does not further moral perfection, the ultimate goal of all intellectual pursuits. Sen. ep. 88.36-46 argues that study should be limited to what is necessary (not even what is useful, as Cicero suggests), and dismisses the benefit of pleasure (which is invoked by Plin., ΛΉ praef. 14). See Labhardt 1960, 210-214. The suggestion that Seneca aims at Pliny has been made by Herrmann 1936, 177-181; it is cautiously endorsed by Citroni Marchetti 1991, 41-43. 3 According to Plin. ep. 3.5.17, Plinv composed the Natural History only after Nero’s death. But the research must have been well under way bv then. 4 The Platonic background of the discourse on curiositas transpires in particular from Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, where curiosity is an important leitmotiv. See Hijmans 1995, 362-379. Among early Christians, Tettullian picks up on the critique of curiositas·, see Labhardt 1960, 216-218; V. Schmidt 1995. For Augustine see above p. 142 n. 2. 5 Augustine resorts repeatedly to this argument, which goes back to the Stoics and was discussed also bv Neoplatonists. See e.g. De ordine 2.4.12-2.5.15; Plotinus, Emteads 3.2.2-Ö.

147

addentur historiae). What matters alone for Augustine is that each human being, however varied the outer form, is the offspring of the first man created by god, as long as the basic definition of the human being as a rational mortal animal is met. Augustine has therefore no trouble concluding that those who would try to pass off even fabulous animals as human beings if the readers did not know bet­ ter are guilty of pride, vanity and lies: “For if we didn’t know that apes, monkeys and sphinges are not humans but beasts, those historiographers who take pride in their inquisitiveness would in their boundless futility be capable of falsely presenting them as some human races” (16.8: Nam et simias et cercopithecos et sphingas si nesâremus non homines esse, sed bestias, possent illi historici de sua curiositate glanantes uelut gentes aliquas hominum nobis inpunita uanitate mentiri)} Here, Augustine leaves no doubt as to the negative connotation of curiositas, the object o f pride and aid to falsehood. The link he draws with falsehood deserves special attention. As we will see, it goes directly counter to the consci­ entiousness that is usually associated with curiositas, even if this conscientious­ ness is paired with a poor sense of discernment. In Augustine’s view, the authors in question are guilty not only of divulgating useless and superfluous knowledge but indeed of airing fantastic claims. That Augustine includes Solinus among the authors he denounces in Book 16 becomes ever more obvious in Book 21 of the City of God. As Mommsen already noted, in Book 21 Augustine draws in fact on Solinus rather than Pliny, and the notion of curiositas appears again in the context.2 The recourse to Soli­ nus in Book 21 is part of Augustine’s response to doubts voiced by pagans about Christian doctrines that seem implausible or unaccountable, such as the eternal suffering o f sinners in the afterlife. Augustine pits these doctrines, which are seemingly contradicted by common sense, against the rich store of mirabilia transmitted by pagan authors and argues that in light of the latter, pagans have no reason to criticise the Christian religion as lacking in rationality. Thus, if the bodies of sinners burn forever in hell, the salamander is able to survive fire and vulcanos possess an everlasting supply of flames, so that it is sufficiently clear that not everything that burns is necessarily destroyed (21.4 p. 491, 21-26 D.K.). To these well-known phenomena Augustine adds another one he claims he witnessed himself in Carthage, namely that the flesh of the peacock resists putrefaction (21.4 p. 492, 5-15 D.-K.).’ Finally he mentions the example of the

1 2 3

The vices of pride and curiosity, along with concupiscence, form a triad in Confessions 10, with reference to / John 2:16, quoted at 10.41. Mommsen 1895, xxv; similarly Hagendahl 1967, i 249-252 and II 671-673. That the salamander not only resists but also extinguishes flames is stated by Plin. N H 10.86.188: huk tantus rigor, ut ignem tactu restinguat non alio modo quam glacies (but doubted at 29.23.76); similarly Arist. hist. an. 5.19, 552b 15-17 and others; see Hüne­ mörder 2001; Keller 1913, II 319. On the vulcano, more precisely the Aetna, see Plin. N H 2.110.236; cf. Bedon 2004c. Augustine’s claim regarding the meat of the peacock (repeated at civ. 21.7) seems to be unparalleled; see Steier 1938, 1420; Lother 1929, 25-27. In the Christian context the peacock is otherwise known especially as a svm-

Solinus and Augustine

Karin Schlapbach

straw protecting both from heat and from cold, which might also be based on his own observation or be part of common practical knowledge in the Mediter­ ranean area (ibid, lines 15f.). In the continuation of this passage, however, Augustine dwells on more spe­ cific examples of inexplicable and contradictory facts o f nature described by pagan authors, in line with his goal to reveal his opponents’ logical inconsis­ tency. Among them is a number of claims concerning stones, water, and trees which he gleaned from different chapters in Solinus and rearranged in what seems a haphazard order (21.4-5, pp. 494, 3-496, 20 D.-K.).1 But what matters most in the present context is that he prefaces his entire demonstration with another reference to the exaggerated curiositas of the authors he relies on in this portion of the argument: “Hence, as those wrote who investigated the nature of animals rather insistently, the salamander lives in the flames” {quapropter si, ut scripserunt qui naturas animalium curiosius indagarunt, salamandra in ignibus uiuit 21 4 n 491, 21 f. D.-K.). > ■ r· Like in 16.8 Augustine uses a comparative, this time of the adverb, and the negative undertone is quite obvious, since an actual comparative (“more insis­ tently ) does not make sense in the absence of a term of comparison.2 But ironically, while he does not seem to follow a particular authority on the sala­ mander here (and certainly not Solinus, who does not mention this animal), the source of inspiration for the way in which he refers to this kind of literature seems to be the very author who serves as a foil in what follows, Solinus. For the latter uses in fact a very similar phrase in regard to those who pursue research not on animals but stones, the theme that Augustine will expand on in the continuation of the chapter. Concerning the lynx Solinus writes that “those who studied the nature of stones more meticulously state that its urine coagu­ lates into the hard substance of a precious stone” (2.38: lynces ... quarum urinas coire in duntiempretiosi calculi fatentur qui naturas labidum exquisitius sunt bersecuti\. The adverb Solinus uses has hardly a negative connotation, judging from parallels found in Cicero, Quintilian and Suetonius.3 Augustine, by contrast, picks up

on the phrase (for which Solinus had in turn a model in Pliny) but modifies the wording to slant it more towards a critique by inserting a favourite charge of his, excessive inquisitiveness.1 Augustine lends further weight to his argument by pointing out that the wonders described in pagan sources can be observed in the present time, all the while remaining inexplicable, whereas Christians are concerned with miraculous events that took place in the past or are expected in the future and which for this very reason, he seems to imply, must resist investigation (21.5, p. 495, 1527: diuina uel praeterita uel futura miracula vs. non gesta atque transacta, sed in locis quibusque manentia)} In other words, he draws a contrast between sacred his­ tory, which by its very’ nature must be believed rather than ascertained, and the study of the natural world, which is able to rely on first-hand observation and is subject to examination.3 But if the latter does not yield satisfactory rational explanations - thus his argument - it is mistaken to ask for such explanations concerning the former. In arguing from the very study of nature which he oth­ erwise dismisses, Augustine meets his opponents on their own ground and turns their own weapons against them. Apart from betraying his familiarity with the literature he criticises, the pas­ sage examined here illustrates Augustine’s clever use of his opponents’ views in an effort to elucidate the difference between history and natural philosophy, or faith and knowledge. His goal is ultimately to make faith acceptable to a learned and skeptical audience steeped in the classical tradition.4 Strictly speaking, it does not matter for Augustine’s argument whether he himself believes the claims he reports on the basis of pagan literary sources. But the fact that he mixes in his own obervations on the meat of the peacock and the properties of straw suggests that he does not entirely exclude the possibility1 that they are indeed valid. Far from limiting himself to the strange phenomena he found in the books of non-Christians, which would have amply fulfilled the argumenta-

1 bol of paradise (Lother 1929, 65-73; 85). Marrou 41958, 139, notes further examples for Augustine’s interest in strange phenomena he observed. Solinus mentions neither the salamander nor the peacock. 1 For a more detailed examination see Paniagua 2014. 2 Augustine would hardly think of himself as an implied term of comparison, since he is not actively engaged in any research into the natural world beyond his innate curi­ osity which he describes (and criticises) in Confessions 10.57, among else with the example o f a lizard {stelio), and which transpires from the very passages examined here. 3 Among these parallels Cic. Tusc. 1.116 is perhaps closest to Solinus’ use of the a verb: Alcidamas quidem, rhetor antiquus in primis nobilis, scripsit etiam laudationem mortis,

quae constat ex enumeratione humanorum malorum; cui rationes eae quae exquisitius a philosophis colliguntur defuerunt, ubertas orationis non defuit.

149

Augustine does not mention the lynx in civ. 21. For Solinus’ model see Pliny, nat. hist. 37.13.52: De lyncurio proxime dici cogit auctorum pertinacia. Further down in αν. 21, Augustine proceeds to discuss magic and divination as a corollary of the discussion of marvelous facts. There he is ever more explicit in his negative evaluation of curi­ osity, which he highlights with an attribute (21.8): Sed mderint eorum cornerions, quo modo

ex ris sim fallantur sine instinctu spirituum, quibus cura est tali poena dignos animos hominum noxiae curiositatis retibus implicare, etiam uera praedicant siue multa dicendo aliquando in ahqmd iteritatis incurrant (similarly e.g. ord. 2.42; civ. 10.9; ep. 118.4.33). See Graf 2002. 2 21 5 p 496, 21-27 D.-K.: De his atque aliis innumerabilibus mirabilibus, quae historia non factorum et transactorum, sed manentium locorum tenet, mihi autem aliud agenti eapersequi nimis 'longum est, reddant rationem, sipossunt, infideles isti, qui nolunt diuinis litteris credere; quid aliud quam non putantes eas esse diurnas, eo quod res habeant incredibiles, sicuti hoc est unde nunc agimus. 3 4

On Augustine’s notion of sacred histon- see Bittner 1999. For this rational and intellectualistic take on apologetic see e.g. O’Daly 1999, 52.

Solinus and Augustine

Karin Schlapbach

tive purpose at hand, he puts them on a par with data based on his own experi­ ence. In Book 10 of the Confessions, Augustine draws up a list of increasingly harm­ ful objects of curiosity, in which the study of the natural world - with special emphasis on the heavenly bodies —comes just before magic and the temptation of god through the request of miracles (10.55f.). Elsewhere, however, he is care­ ful to add a proviso from which it follows that the study of the natural world is to be dismissed only when it is not useful toward salvation: by contrast, such knowledge which helps to corroborate faith and, in particular, to defend it against its opponents deserves to be called sdentia and is fully embraced.1 As his own argument in De civitate dei2\ shows, knowledge about nature can indeed fulfil this purpose. What is more, such knowledge does not necessarily have to be bookish but can derive from observation. Perhaps it is also owed to Augustine s own remarkable attention to strange matters of the natural world that despite his critique, Solinus remains popular throughout the Middle Ages, and the type of knowledge he transmits was never deemed completely superflu­ ous.12

151

prehensiveness of the information they include.1 Thus, Pliny’s anecdote about Cicero hiding his varicose veins would certainly be more at home in a biography than in historiography. Augustine adds a new dimension to this existing discus­ sion by extending the critique implied in Quintilian’s remark on the anecdote (see above) to the entire domain of natural history, which for him is just one step away from the contemptible practice of magic, at least when it is pursued for its own sake. As mentioned earlier, the critique of natural history· is not unprecedented but reaches as far-back as Seneca and Quintilian. Closer to Augustine’s time a trace of it can be found in Ammianus Marcellinus. In a famous methodological statement Ammianus contrasts historiography with anecdotes and other minu­ tiae that interest biographers, including topographical details. Interestingly, in order to describe the person who wants to know such things Ammianus resorts to the domain of natural history: or physics, suggesting that it is as hopeless to learn everything about people and their lives as it is to discover the number of atoms. He thus implicitly puts biographical and scientific enquiries on a par, perhaps not necessarily· as to their intrinsic worth, but certainly in terms of their inexhaustibility·.

curiositas and questions of genre

Ammianus, Ret Gestae 26,1,1: Dictis impensiore cura rerum ordinibus ad usque memoriae

In a recent article C. Sogno has drawn attention to the notion of curiositas as a marker of difference between the genres of history and biography. While his­ torians insist that they must choose relevant portions from the available mate­ rial, biographers pride themselves on the accuracy and, in particular, the com-

confiniapropriaris conuenerai iam referre a notioribuspedem, ut etpericula declinentur ueritati saepe contigua, et examinatores contexendi operis deinde non peferamus mtempestiuos, strepentes ut laesos, sipraeteritum sit, quod locutus est imperator in cena, uel omissum, quam ob causamgregarii milites coerciti sunt apud signa, et quod non decuerat in descriptione multiplici regionum super exiguis silere castellis quodque cunctorum nomina, qui ad urbani praetoris officium comtenere, non sunt expressa, et similia plurima praeceptis historiae dissonantia discurrere per negotiorum celsitudines adsuetae, non humilium minutias indagare causarum, quas si scitari noluerit quispiam, indiuidua Ula corpuscula mlitantia per inane, atomos, ut nos appellamus, numerari posse sperabit.

1

Having narrated the course of events with the strictest care up to the bounds of the present epoch, I had already determined to withdraw my foot from the more familiar tracks, partly to avoid the dangers which are often connected with the truth, and partly to escape unreasonable critics of the work which 1 am composing, who cry out as if wronged, if one has failed to mention what an emperor said at table, or left out the reason why the common soldiers were led before the standards for punishment, or because in an ample account of regions he ought not to have been silent about some insignificant forts; also because the names of all who came together to pay their respects to the city-praetor were not given, and many similar matters, which are not in accordance with the principles of history; for it is wont to detail the high lights of events, not to ferret out the trifling details of unimportant matters. For whoever

Discussing the Stoic definition of wisdom as “knowledge of human and divine mat­ ters , Augustine writes in De tnnitate 14.1.3: “... of course not assigning whatever can be known by man in human matters, where the greatest part belongs to empty· vanity and harmful curiosity, to this knowledge, but only that by which salvific faith ... is brought about, nourished, defended and strengthened. For it is one thing merely to know what man must believe ... but it is another thing to know how this itself is fur­ thered for the believers and defended against non-believers” (... non utique quidquid

sein ab hominepotest in rebus humanis ubi plurimum superuacamae uanitatis et noxiae curiositatis esf huic saentiae tribuens, sed illud tantummodo quo fides saluberrima ... gignitur, nutritur, defenditur, roboratur. Aliud est enim scire tantummodo quid homo credere debeat ... aliud autem scire quemadmodum hoc ipsum etpiis opituletur et contra impios defendatur). 2

Despite his attempt at deflating the inexplicable, Augustine concedes that the ever­ lasting flames in hell are inextinguishable per miraculum (civ. 21.9), quamuis miris, tamen urns modis (civ. 21.10). See \Xiosok 2004-2010. But similarly, Pliny treats of the Aetna under the heading in montium miraculis (nat. hist. 2.105.236). Augustine insists at the end of civ, 21.7 that Christian miracles indeed surpass other wonders in terms of rational foundation, and in 21.8 he argues that miracles do not contradict nature but only what was hitherto unknown of nature. Augustine discusses the usefulness of erudition in interpreting the bible in De doctrina Christiana 2.

1

Sogno 2012. I would like to thank the author for letting me read the article before it was published. It will become apparent in the following pages that this essay owes a lot to it.

152

wishes to know these may hope to be able to count the small indivisible bodies which fly through space, and to which we give the name of atoms.1

How to choose the relevant portions and aspects of a topic is thus a key question for those who want to align their works with the more respectable genre of historiography. On the authority of Cicero, who refers to the subject matter of historiography as “great and noteworthy things” (in rebus magnis memoriaque dignis, De oratore 2.63), expressions like dignum memoria/memoratti become “one of the topoi used by historians to establish the superiority' of his­ toriography over other genres” (Sogno 2012, 79). Accordingly, around the beginning of the 7th century Isidore works precisely this topos into his defini­ tion of historiography: “This discipline is related to Grammar, because whatever is worthy of remembrance is committed to writing” (Haec disriplina ad Grammaticampertinet, quia quidquid dignum memoria est litteris mandatur, etym. 1.41, De historici). But writers like Solinus, who by their choice of subject matter align them­ selves with natural history rather than historiography, follow suit: it is certainly not by accident that in the prefatory' letter Solinus claims precisely to include “noteworthy matters”, digna memoratu (Praej.' 1,4, quoted above p. 142). This is in line with other miscellaneous works like Gellius’ Noctes Atticae (see below) and Macrobius’ Saturnalia} Yet at the same time Solinus claims not only that the information he selected is worth retaining but also that he did not pass over anything that is worth retaining. The statement that he included “noteworthy matters which it seemed careless (incuriosum) to omit” can be read as an indirect profession of curiositas with particular emphasis on the connotation of compre­ hensiveness; but by inserting a phrase that suggests an informed choice of top­ ics he alleviates possible charges of boundless inquisitiveness and lack of dis­ cernment.3 It is interesting to note furthermore that Solinus’ commitment to curiositas is paired with a rejection o f rhetorical ambition: “detrimental beauty· of style” is foregone (damnosa concinnitas, praef. 2), and the reader will find that the work “contains, as it were, a seed o f knowledge rather than the veneer o f eloquence’’

1

Solinus and Augustine

Karin Schlapbach

Trans. Rolfe 1940, II 565-507. A similar skepticism is expressed at the close of Book 14 (14.11,34). The words impentiore cura ... referre a notioribuspedem are close to Solinus, praef. 3: studuisse me stipendia fateor, ut et a notioribus referrempedem. Ammianus is indeed familiar with Solinus, as noted by den Boeft et al. 2008, 4; according to P. L. Schmidt 1995, 26, he is familiar with the second redaction. 2 Macrobius, Saturnalia 1 praef. 3 “We did not assemble noteworthy matters indis­ tinctly as if in a heap” (nee indigeste tamquam in acernum congessimus digna memoratu). Note also that at 1.2 Macrobius aligns historia with “memorable” (memorabilis) words and deeds, in another variation of the dignum memoratu associated with historiography. 3 Cf. janson 1964, 154, who notes, commenting on praef. 2 (liber est ad compendium praeparatus), that “Solinus is particularly proud of having hit on exactly the right length.”

153

(mintfermentum cognitionis magis ei inesse quam bratteas eloquentiae, ibid.). A glance at earlier writers shows that there is a precendent for aligning curiositas with a lack of eloquence. Pliny the Younger claims that on account of people’s innate curi­ osity, historiography does not need to be written in any particular style: “Ora­ tory' and poetry' have little charm unless they possess greatest eloquence; history' delights whichever wav it is written. For humans are by nature curious, and they are captured by the mere notice of things, however unadorned” (Orationi enim et carminiparua gratia, nisi eloquentia est summa: historia quoquo modo scripta delectat. Sunt enim homines natura curiosi, et quamlibet nuda rerum cognitione capiuntur, Plin. ep. 5.8.4). Sherwin-White suggests that this somewhat unflattering characterisation of his­ toriography might once more be aimed at Pliny the Elder, whose historiae are mentioned in the section immediately following.’ If this is so, Pliny the Elder appears again to be putting curiosity above all else in his contemporaries’ eyes, not just in the Studiosus but also in the Histories. It was more common, however, to attribute an elevated styde to histori­ ography and to use this trait to set it off from other genres.12 Thus Vopiscus, one of the alleged authors of the late antique Historia Augusta, contrasts the pol­ ished eloquence of historians - the disertissimi ttiri he chooses not to imitate with the truthfulness of biographers, “who entrusted (their subject matter) to memory' not so much with eloquence but truthfully'” (qui ... non tam diserte quam uere memoriae tradiderunt. Life of Probus 2.7).3 On this view, accuracy and simple style go together, while rhetoric is associated with artifice and falsehood, a charge with an ancient and venerable pedigree: according to Plato, Phaedrus 267a, rhetoric replaces the truth with merely probable things. And similarly to Pliny the Younger, Vopiscus constrasts eloquence and curiositas at Car. 21.2: “Receive my gift, mv friend, which I published, as I often said, not for the sake of eloquence but diligence” (Habe, mi amice, meum munus, quod ego, ut saepe dixi, non eloquentiae causa sed curiositatis in lumen edidi). Through this contrast the curiositas of the biographers is indirectly associated with truthfulness and accuracy, in addi­ tion to comprehensiveness.4 Though Solinus takes a somewhat cautious stance on the question of truthfulness, relegating the responsibility for it entirely' to his

1 Sherwin-White 1966, 333 ad loc.; Plin. ep. 5.8.5: auunculus meus ... historias ... scripsit. On Plinv the Elder’s historia see nat. hist, praef. 20. Sherwin-VTiite 1966, 218 ad 3.5.6 writes: “Pliny is probably one of the historians criticized by Tacitus for undue attention to minor details of ROman life (...) in Ann. 13.31” (my italics); similarly Koestermann 1967, 294 ad Atm. 13.31. A divide between style and content in historical writings is acknowledged also by Cicero, Jam. 5.12.5: ordo ipse annalium mediocriter nos retinet ...at

uiri saepe excellentis ... casus habent admirationem. 2

Pliny the Younger himself concedes in the same letter that historiography is more poetic than orator)' (5.8.9-11). 3 See Sogno 2012, 79 n. 28; 82. 4 Cf. the preface of the first biography by Vopiscus, Aurel. 1.1, discussed by Sogno 2012, 80f.

Karin Schlapbach

Solinus and Augustine

Gellius Praef. 10: Nos nero, ut captus noster est, incuriose et inmeditate acprope etiam subrustice ex ipso 'loco ac tempore hibernarum uigiliamm Atticas noctes inscripsimus tantum ceteris omnibus in ipsius quoque inscriptionis laude cedentes, quantum cessimus in cura et elegantia scriptionis. But according to my capacity, I gave the title Attic Kigbts carelessly and without thought and in an almost uncouth fashion from the very place and time of the winter nights, yielding to all the others as much in praise for the title itself as I yielded in cate and elegance of diction.1

sources, he nevertheless opposes in a customary fashion an unembellished stvb on the one hand and the “firmness of thruth” on the other (praei. 6: des ue&m infantiae meae neniam: constantia imitatispenes eos est quos secuti sumus). In this panorama of programmatic statements, the preface of Gellius’ Nod* Atticae written back in the 2nd century, stands out. Unlike other authors of encyclopedic works, Gellius claims that he arranged his subject matter in a hap hazard fashion, albeit retaining only what is “worthy of remembrance”: P" Gellius, Praef. 2-3: Vsi autem sumus ordine rerumfortuito, quem antea in excerpendo feceramus i\amproinde ut librum quemque in manus ceperam seu Graecum seu Latinum uel quid rnemmtu d m m audieram, ita quae libitum erat, cuius generis cumque erant, indistincte atque promisce annotabam eaque mihi ad subsidium memoriae quasi quoddam litterarum penus recondebam ut quando usus uenisset aut rei aut uerbi, cuius me repensforte oblimo tenuisset, et libri, ex quibus ea sumpseram, non adessent, fariie inde nobis inuentu atque depromptu foret. Facta igitur est in his quoque commentariis eadem renem disparilitas, quae fuit in iliis annotationibus pristinis, quas premier et indigeste et incondite ex auditionibus iectionibusque nanis feceramus. I used an arbitrare· arrangement of contents, which 1 had created earlier in the pro­ cess of compilation. For the way I had picked up each book, either Greek or Latin or heard anything worthy o f remembrance, thus I noted what pleased me, whatever it was, without difference and mixed together, and stored ir for me to aid mv mem­ ory, just as some provision of letters, so that, when I would need a thing or'a word which I had perhaps suddenly forgotten, and the books from which I had taken them would not be available, it would be easy for me to find and extract it. There­ fore, in these writings the same unevenness was created which was in those earlier notes, which I had made cursorily, without order and without art from various recita­ tions and readings.1

In the continuation Gellius explains why he gave the title Nodes Atticae to his vvot-L it is here that we encounter another word derived from curiosus, namely the adverb meunose. In line with his commitment to a haphazard composition, Gellius lays no claim to care or curiosity but states that he “carelessly” chose a title that does not suggest the broad range of contents of his work - as most of t e lengthy list of alternative tides he quotes do - but simply alludes to the fic­ tional setting of the work. Unlike in Pliny or the Historia Augusta, comprehen­ siveness and stylistic elegance are here not contrasted but dismissed one along with the other, even if such a disclaimer should hardly be taken at face value:

It emerges that despite some variation in the details, there is a certain consis­ tency in the ideas related to curiositas. They oscillate between diligence, compre­ hensiveness and truth on the one hand and inquisitiveness and lack of discern­ ment on the other. Bv deploying a word that belongs to the same family, Soli­ nus’ preface thus becomes part of a larger discourse on the modalities of choos­ ing information and shaping knowledge, in which historians, biographers and encyclopedic writers likewise participate and to which Christian authors, above all Augustine, react on their own terms. This discourse, which culminates m the question of what constitutes worthy and legitimate knowledge, proves to be of utmost importance throughout the Middle Ages and the early modern period, not least thanks to Augustine’s sustained engagement with it. In light of Solinus’ unhampered interest in the description of the physical world, the Pauline verse chosen by Robert Estienne for his printer’s device and included on the frontispiece of Henri Estienne’s 1577 edition of Solinus’ Polyhistor and other geographical writings seems ironically appropriate: noli altum sapere (Romans 11:20). The Latin words translate the Greek μή ύψηλοφρονει, which means “Do not be haughty” and serves as a reminder not to stray from faith in god. However, as Carlo Ginzburg noted, already in the 4th century Jerome’s translation noli ahum sapere gave way to a slightly different understand­ ing along the lines of a warning against an illicit desire to know ‘what is high up , with changing emphasis on astronomy, complex theological debates, or simply any knowledge that is not relevant for human salvation. A moral concern thus turned into an intellectual one, with the negative imperative pointing to the boundaries of useful and legitimate knowledge. The motto might thus seem rather out of place in a book dedicated to collecting information on remote places and fantastic peoples. Nevertheless Solinus, for all his curiosity for the

1

On this methodical statement - “a mere commonplace”, as pointed out bv HolfordStrevens '2003, 34 - see further Vardi 2004, 169-179. Contrast iMacrobius', who uses the well-known metaphor of the body to suggest organic unity (1 praef 3): sed nanarum rerum dispanhtas ... ita in qmddam digesta corpus est, ut quae indistincte atque promiscue ad subsidium memoriae adnotaueramus, in ordinem instar membrorum cohaerentia commirent. Notwithstanding the different take on incuriosum.iincuriose, Solinus shares with Gellius a commitment to varietas·, cf. Holford-Strevens 22003 37 n 52

155

See Holford-Strevens 22003, 27 on Gellius’ “modesty ... for show.” The character­ istic ambivalence of curiositas transpires from another passage in Gellius’ doctes Atticae, which points to frivolous and banal topics (16.12): Cioatm Venu ... non pauca hercle dicit curiose et sagaciter conquisita, neque non tamen quaedam Juttilia etfmiolcr, similar y Hist. Aug. Aurel 10.1: Friuola haecfortassis cuipiam et nimis kuia esse mdeantur, sed curiositas nihil recusat, discussed by Sogno 2012, 79f. 2 On the modern development of curiositas see Blumenberg 1970; Newhauser 2013, II 849-852 (with further literature). 3 Ginzburg 1976/1986/22013. On Robert Estienne’s use of the verse see Considine 2008, 38-40.

Karin Schlapbach strange and miraculous, had no pretensions of investigating what is beyond A purview of the human being and the inhabited world. And while the knowiedÎ e ransmits could hardly be deemed essentia] for the average believer the u f

Teaching with Solinus: Martianus and Priscian Félix Racine

If we are to believe Solinus’ second preface, his work was eagerly received by the reading public, who seized upon an early draft and circulated it widely (Praef. 2.1). Whether this early success was genuine or mere hyperbole, Solinus’ Collectanea undeniably enjoyed a sustained readership from the late 4th centuryonward, as we can see from the respectable number of known readers from Ammianus in the 4th century to Isidore at the close of the 6th century'. How to account for this success? Part of the explanation certainly lies with the work’s brevity: Solinus gathered in a manageable volume geographical and historical information that a reader would only have found scattered among the 37 books of Pliny’s Natural History and in a few works unlikely to grace most library shelves, such as Pomponius Mela’s Chorographia) We may compare Solinus’ achievement in this respect to that of Eutropius, who condensed in his Breviamm sources such as Fabius Pictor, a lost epitome of Livy and imperial biographies, producing an influential epitome of Roman history used by a dozen late antique authors and translated twice in Greek. Merely compiling and condensing previous knowledge did not guarantee success. The popularity of Eutropius’ Breviamm, for example, can be better appreciated when compared to the far less influential De Caesoribus written by his contemporary Aurelius Victor, a less comprehensive history' written in a tor­ tuous style with moralizing tendencies, and overall more difficult to consult.2 Similarly, Solinus’ success must also rest on its contents and organization, which made the Collectanea useful to potential readers. This chapter explores the Collectanea’s success among late Roman readers by focusing on its pedagogical value. Two of our main witnesses for Solinus’ popu­ larity are Martianus Capella and Priscian of Caesarea, both of them teachers who wrote geographical handbooks for students’ instruction. Book VI of Martianus’ De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii and Priscian’s Periegesis have little in common, one being part of a multi-volume compendium of classical learning and the other the translation of a centuries-old Greek geographical poem, but they both found in the Collectanea a useful compilation of localized stories they could use. The first part of this chapter will examine Martianus’ and Priscian’s respective use of Solinus with an eye on his contribution to their pedagogical goals. This will lead us to a consideration of similarities between Solinus’ text

1 2 On the early publication histon· of Solinus in print see Dover 2013.

An argument made notably by Stahl 1962, 136-137. Aurelius Victor was read by Eutropius himself and others but failed to excite the interest of copyists: only two manuscripts of De Caesaeribus survive, compared to more than eighty for the Breviamm.

158

Martianus and Priscian

Félix Racine

and geographical education in late antiquity. This similarity ensured the easy and widespread reception of the Collectanea and its adoption as a source by teachers and such as Martianus and Priscian. Martianus Capella and Solinus Solinus seems to have been regarded as a reputable authority on matters of geography, ethnography and natural history by readers in 5th-century Africa, and copies of the Collectanea were found not only at Carthage but also elsewhere in the province. While writing his City of God at Hippo Regius in the decade fol­ lowing the sack of Rome of 410, Augustine gleaned from Solinus information as diverse as human monstrosities, diamonds, a wondrous Epirote spring and miraculous salt from Agrigento.1 Around 455, an African Nicene author cop­ ied and rewrote the Liber genealogus, a Donatist account of Biblical genealogies down to Christ, and included elements of the Collectanea in his additions to the original text. These include a description of Cyrus’ tomb inserted in a lengthy excursus contextualizing the Biblical story with Persian and Roman history.1 2 The author also expanded the Donatist text’s terse mention of the land of the Caldeans of Assyria at the time of Nimrod with an unlikely account of its bor­ ders: it stretches for 1875 miles from India to the island of Malichu off Arabia, and thence to a locale called Scenus and the island of Adanus (Aden). “This,” the Liber genealogus adds, “Solinus declares” {hoc Solinus adseruit).3 In another inserted passage, the Nicean redactor describes the walls of Babylon, again on the authority of Solinus “who described the whole circuit of the world” {qui totum describit ambitum mundi).4 These two mentions of Solinus in the Liber genealogus of 455 are the earliest in all of surviving Latin literature and they indi­ cate that by the mid-5th-century Africa at least his name carried enough weight to justify secular additions to a text of sacred history.56 More significant still is the place held by Solinus in Martianus Capella’s De nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae, a didactic handbook of classical culture. Possibly hailing from Madaura, Martianus was active as a jurist in Carthage and com­ posed the De nuptiis at some point after the sack of Rome of 410/ This hand­ book, organized around seven of Varro’s nine liberal arts (grammar, dialectic,

rhetoric, geometry, arithmetic, astronomy and harmony), was intended as a means to stopping the decline of classical learning in late Roman or postRoman Africa. Although book VI presents itself as a lesson of geometry, it consists prima­ rily of an exposé of world geography, which Martianus justifies by the etymology' of geometria, “the measure of the earth . Even then, only a small portion of this exposé is taken up by mathematical geography: the shape of the earth, the climatic zones, and the shape and size of the inhabited world (6.589-22). Most of book VI is devoted to chorography, i.e. an account of the world’s regions, their salient natural features and their cities, but also at times the origin of their name, myths and historical figures attached to them, or exotica they contain (6.622-703). Martianus claims to base his chorography on reputable authorities, including the late Republican scholars Varro and Juba, the Hellenistic geographer Artemidorus of Ephesus, the Seleucid general Demodamas and Augustus’s right-hand man Agrippa.2 There is no reason to believe Martianus really had access to these remote authorities, since all of his chorographic material can be attributed to two unacknowledged authors: the Elder Pliny' and Solinus. The geographic order followed by Pliny in his Natural History determined De nuptiis’ narrative order: the Europe’s Mediterranean countries from west to east, then its northern shore from east to west (Plin. N H 3 and 4 —Mart. Cap. 6.627-666), Africa from west to east and the Levant (Plin. N H 5 = Mart. Cap. 6.667-687), Asia from Anatolia eastward to India and Taprobane (Plin. A H 6 —Mart. Cap. 688-702) and then westward along the African coast. Martianus also borrowed from Pliny much of the geographical information presented within this narra­ tive structure, to which he added elements from Solinus, about a third of the whole.4 Why did Martianus turn to Solinus for geographical material when he could have been content to summarize all of Pliny’s geography? After all, a few dec­ ades earlier another teacher concerned with classical lore, the grammarian Sentius, had asserted that Pliny was the reputable Latin authority to consult if one wished to learn about the world (Ptolemy' was his Greek counterpart)/

1

1 2 3 4 5 6

Aug. Civ. Dei 16.8, 21.4.4 and 21.5.1, 21.5.1. See Paniagua 2014 and Schlapbach 2104 on these and other borrowings of Augustine. Lib. gen. 423. Lib. gen. 75, garbling somewhat the names of Sol. 56.7, himself distorting the names of Plin. ΛΉ 6.34.175. Lig. gen. 132. A reference to Solinus by name in Serv. Georg. 2.215 is most probably corrupt, as observed by Mommsen 1895, xxvi. Martianus from Madaura: Cassiod. Inst. 2.5.10.

159

Mart. Cap. 6.588, in Geometry’s own words: Geometria dicor, quod permeatam crebro admensamqm tellurem. 2 Mart. Cap. 6.632 (Agrippa), 639, 662 (Varro), 676 (Artemidorus, Juba), 69 (Demodamus). 3 Cf. Ferré 2007, lxxv-lxxviii for a list of passages and their corresponding source in Pliny and Solinus. 4 On 81 paragraphs of chorography (Mart. Cap. 6.6.622-703), 44 are drawn exclusively from Pliny, 15 exclusively from Solinus and 22 contain elements borrowed from both authors. 5 Sen. 1 'erg. 7.678. For Italian locales. Sentius recommends the librarian Hyginus and Cato’s Origines.

Martianus and Priscian

Félix Racine

The answer may lie with Solinus’ reputation as a geographical authority on east­ ern countries, which we have already encountered in the 455 edidon of the Liber gnealogus, which drew from the Collectanea a set of distances in Asia and descrip­ tions of the walls of Babylon and of Cyrus’ tomb. Similarly, Martianus was con­ tent to rely on Pliny for information on Europe, Africa and Asia’s Mediterra­ nean cost (6.622-684), using Solinus as an occasional second source, but turned to Solinus as his primary source of information on Anatolia, Assyria, Persia Sogdiana, Serica, India, Taprobane and islands of the outer Ocean ( 6. 685- 702)' with Pliny only occasionally providing supplemental information. Barbara Ferré has suggested that Martianus’ reliance on Solinus in his Asian section was motivated by the need to bring his chorographv to a rapid close after spending so much time on Europe and Africa. Solinus’ Collectanea provided an attractive epitome of Pliny’s Asian material and made it easy for Martianus to abridge it further.1 This theory- fails to account for Martianus’ refusal to rely primarily on Solinus in his European and African sections instead of Pliny’s lengthier and more technical text. Martianus’ De nuptiis, and the U b e r genealogus show the same preference for the Solinus’ chapters of Asian geography to the detriment of his European and African material and we must conclude that the Collectanea were deemed by Martianus and others to be particularly informative regarding Oriental matters. Examining more closely Maertianus’ selection of material from the Natural History and the Collectanea illuminates his geographical interests and, in turn, the respective value o f Pliny and Solinus as providers o f teaching material. Let us examine the beginning of his description of Phrygia, which marks the shift from Pliny to Solinus as Martianus’ main source (6.685): Armenia altera ab oriente, Phrygia ab occidente, a septentrione Pontica. In proximo Caria est, mox Ionia et ultra Aeolis redi. In Phrygia Celaenae antea, in Apamiam commutatae. Illic Marsyas et natus et occidit et fluido nomen dedit et com Apolline decertauit. Denique pars eius Aulocrene uocitatur, unde Maeander amnis exoritur. The other part [of Asia Minor, as divided by Agrippa] is bound in the east by Arme­ nia, in the west by Phrygia and in the north by Pontus. Caria is nearby, then Ionia and further on Aeolia. In Phrygia there is Celaenae, which changed its name to Apamea. There Marsyas was born and died, gave his name to a river and fought Apollo. Finally the part ot the country where the Menander originates is called Aulocrene.

alteram determinant ab oriente Armenia Minore, ab occidente Phrygia, Lycaonia, Pamphylia, fptetitrione provincia Pontica, a meridie mari Pamphylio, longam D LXXV, latam CC.CXXV. Inproxima ora Caria est, mox Ionia, ultra eamAeolis. The other half he [Agrippa] bounded on the east by Armenia Minor, on the west by Phrvgia, Lycaonia and Pamphylia, on the north by the province of Pontus and on the south by Pamphylian sea, for a length of 575 miles and breadth of 325 miles.

He copies and simplifies Pliny’s information on the western, eastern and orthern limits of the region. More importantly, Martianus omits Agrippa’s îeasure for eastern Asia Minor as recorded by Pliny, -which he apparently eemed uninteresting. This is typical of Martianus’ description of further Asia, ■hich, following Solinus’ practice, generally eschews distances and measurelents. The only figures given by Martianus for further Asia are the distance etween the promontory of Carambis in Paphlagonia and the province of ontus (6.689, Plin. N H 6.26), Asia Minor at its greatest length in Cappadocia 5.690, cf,. Plin. N H 4.7.24), the distance from Pontus to the Caspian Gates (6.691, cf. Plin. N H 6.12.31), the size of the desert of Margiane (6.691, cf. Plin. NH 6T7.46, Solin. 48.2), the width and depth of the river Ganges (6.694, cf. Plin. N H 6.22.65, Solin. 52.6), the great size of the island of Taprobane (6.696, cf, Plin. N H 6.24.81, Solin. 53.2), the circumference of the Persian Gulf (6.699, cf Plin. N H 6.28.108, Solin. 54.12), the distance between the cities of Susa and Barbitae, and the length of Persia and Parthia (6.700, cf Plin. N H 6.28.111, Solin. 54.13). None of these figures echo Pliny’s habit of measuring whole regions and are rather memorable bits of information of interest to cultured readers.1 In comparison, the European and African sections of Martianus’ chorography contain several distances and sizes of regions and Roman pro­ vinces, all of them drawn from Pliny, such as the dimensions of Hispania Citerior (6.633, cf Plin. N H 3.3.29) and Mauritania Tingitania (6.668, cf. Plin. NH 5.1.17), and the length of the Italian coast (6.640, cf. Plin. N H 3.5.44). So much for the Plinian elements of 6.685. The rest of the entry consists of information lifted from Solinus 40.7-8 (the elements kept by Martianus are underlined): Phniria. in qua Celaenae, curae antiquato priore nomine in Apameam transiere, oppidum a rege Seleuco postmodum constitutum. Istic Marsyas ortus, istic et sepelitus: unde qui proxi/nat flnrrrus,__ Marnas dicitur: S. nam saaileci certaminis factum et audaces in deum tibias testatur non procul eradis, quae euentum gestae ree signat et ab Apamea decem milibus passuum separata Aulocrene usque adhuc dicitur, lex arce hrtiusce oppidi Maeander amnis caput tollit. qui recurrentibus ripis flexuosus inter Cariam et Ioniampraecipitat in sinum qui Miletum diuidit et Prienam

Martianus opens this paragraph with geographical markers drawn from Pliny (ΛΗ 5.28.102-29.10; elements kept by Martianus are underlined):

1 1

Ferré 2007, xciv. For the sake of clarity I leave here aside Ferre’s contention that it was not Martianus but an anonymous epitomiser who chose to base his Asian geo­ graphy on Solinus. I discuss this below.

161

Martianus, following Solinus, preserves the length of Persia and Parthia, perhaps because they would have been striking to Roman readers: Rome s rivals Persia (550 miles) and Parthia (944 miles) are in this reckoning smaller than the Roman pro­ vinces of Citerior Spam (607 miles: 6.633) and of the two Mauretamas (1038 miles. 6.669) respectively.

Martianus and Priscian

Félix Racine Phrygia follows Asia. The town of Celaenae was there, whose obsolete name changed to Apamea, a town afterwards established by king Seleucus. There Ma«5ü! was born and buried, from which a nearby stream is called Marsyas. For nearijv valley testifying to his deed of impious rivalry and the bold flutes against the eo d 'S S Shows the outcome o f the affair. It is ten miles from Apamea, and is ' 2 Aulocrene to this day. From this town’s citadel the river Maeander rises that « m l with returning banks between Caria and Ionia. It empties into the bav which d h S · Miletus and Priene '

Martianus took from Solinus’ entry' on Phrygia four locales representative of s chorographical interests. First is Apamea, a major emporium of the Roma* province of Asia, second only to Ephesus. But what makes it interesting in the eyes of Solinus and Martianus is its history: it was once called Celaenae (a mis­ take, since Celaenae is a different location).1 Several locales described by i lartianus are likewise noted for their many names, including the Po also called Eridanus (6.640), Sicily called Sicania or Trinacria (6.646), Thessaly also called Hemonia (6.654), Palestine also called Judaea and Phoenicia (6.678).*Second, the river Meander was a major geographical feature, famous for its winding path and was worthy of inclusion for this reason alone. Other famous rivers, such as the Rhine (6.634), the Strymon (6.655) and the Oxus (6.678) were similarly included by Martianus without any significant comment. Third and forth, the river Marsyas and the valley of Aulocerne (“flute-fountain”) are linked to the myth of the satyr Marsyas, who challenged Apollo to a music contest and lost rS life in the process. These two locales represent a major concern of i lartianus: geographically localized legends, myths and historical events. This ty^e of information is a particular strength of Solinus, and Martianus drew on m repeatedly to complement geographical data from Pliny with legends and myths, such as the foundation of Olissippo in Spain by Ulysses (6.629, cf. Solin. 33.6), Sardinia getting his name from Hercules’ son Sardus*(6.645, cf. Solin. 4.1), Phlegra in Macedonia as the site of the Gigantomachia (6.655, cf. Solin 9 6)’ Orpheus coming from Pontus (6.656, cf. Solin. 10.8), and Ulysses’ ship turned into a rock on Corcyra (6.658, cf. Solin. 11.2). Martianus was therefore primarily interested in Solinus as a source of local­ ized stones and culturally important geographical features, cities and peoples. e a so turned to Solinus as a source of natural and human wonders worthy to be memorized by students, such as the Thracians’ love of death (6.656, cf. Solin. !0.2)’ the Arimpheans living a blessed life similar to the Hyperboreans’ (6.665, cf. Solin. 17.1), the incredible height of Mt Atlas (6.667. Cf. Solin. 24.8), a spring on the Red Sea coast that tints sheep’s wool red (6.677, cf. Solin. 23.1), and the long life of the Taprobanese (6.697, cf. Solin. 53.12). Martianus found similar exotica in Pliny’s Natural History but Solinus was his main source for this type of information.

1

The mistake is traceable to Plin. N H 5.29.106.

163

This analysis of Martianus’ use of Solinus has assumed that he read the mutanea rather than an epitome of Solinus, and that the passages selected for n nuptiis reflect, his own interests and choices. This view stands against William fehl’s contention that Martianus often garbled the information from Pliny and Minus because he did not read them directly but rather epitomes. Barbara Éerré has taken an even more extreme position and asserted that Martianus fo fcwed a joint epitome of Pliny and Solinus, with the implication that the geogiaohical exposé of De nuptiis does not reflect Martianus’ own choices but rather ♦hose of the anonymous epitomiser.2 Both hypotheses aim at explaining Martianus’ failure to correct three mistakes of Solinus in the light of Pliny’s text. These mistakes are: Antiochus Soter founding a Selucia in Margiana instead of I Antiocheia (6.691, cf. Silin. 48.3, Plin. N H 6.18.47); blue-eyed Taprobanese instead of Pliny’s blue-eved Seres (6.697, cf. Solin. 53.11, Plin. N H 6.24.88); three islands of the Indian Ocean infested by sea-serpents instead of Pliny s four (6.699, cf. Sohn. 54.5, Plin. N H 6.26.99). It is far from certain that Martianus would have considered these three discrepancies between Pliny and Solinus as the latter’s mistakes. As we have seen, De nuptiis’ oriental geography depends primarily upon Solinus, a sign that Martianus privileged his authority over Pliny’s in this particular geographical area. It is possible that Martianus used an epitome of Pliny as Mommsen held Solinus to have done, but he prob­ ably used Solinus directly.3 Γ In Martianus’ eves, Solinus’ expertise on Asian geography surpassed that ol Pliny his main source for book VI of De nuptiis. He furthermore saw the Collectanea as a repository of localized stories and exotica from which he could borrow freely to enliven Pliny’s geography and give depth to certain locales summarily treated by the author of the J\atural History. Priscian and Solinus Another African teacher, the grammarian Priscian, made extensive use of Solinus not only to teach geography but also matters of Latin language and style Material from the Collectanea turn up in two distinct works of Priscian: his translation of Dionysius of Alexandria’s Periegesis, a didactic geographical poem, and his Institutiones grammaticae, his massive handbook of Latin grammar. Coming from Caesarea in Mauretania to Constantinople probably at the end of the 5th century,4 Priscian had a prominent teaching career under Anastasius, in whose honor he delivered a panegyric in 513. His Institutiones grammaticae were written before 526, at which date his pupil Flavius Theodorus

1 2 3 4

Stahl/J ohnson/Burge 1971,138, a view re-stated by Ramelli 2001, lv-lvi. Ferré 2007, lxxviii-lxxix Mommsen 1895, xvii-xix. Following the recent analysis of Ballaira 2002,291-318.

164

began the process of copying them. It is unknown whether Priscian first read Solinus tn Africa or in Constantinople, since the passages of the Institutiones based on the Collectanea could have come from sparse reading notes collected in either locale. His subsequent work on the Periegesis, however, required sustained work on a copy of Solinus in Constantinople itself. Let us first consider Solinus in the Institutiones. Aside from a rather gratu­ itous mention of Solinus as an example of noun derived from sol (CL 2.78· “from which subsolanus·, still from this is even Solinus”; ex quo subsolanus: ex eo tamen est etiam Solinus), Priscian names and quotes Solinus in eight different pas­ sages of the Institutiones, all based on three passages of the Collectanea·. 1.21 on the death of Titus Tatius, which Priscian uses as a testimony of the perfect exiuit (GL 2.22, 288, 313, 539); 22.2 on the abundance of catde on the island of Hibernia, which Priscian uses as a testimony to the plural pecua (2.270-71); 33.8 on the frankincense compared to the maple, which Priscian uses as testimony to the genitive of acer, maple, as aceris (GL 2.80, 151, 233). In most cases, Priscian quotes Solinus verbatim, being mistaken only in locating the abundant catde on Britain rather than Hibernia. Priscian also quotes different ddes for Solinus’ work. References in book 1 and 10 of the Institutiones name it Collectaneis m lpolyhistore and Collectaneis respec­ tively (GL 2.22, 539), from the two tides mentioned by Solinus himself in his second preface (Praef 2.1). References in books 2, 5 and 7 however name it Mirabilibus, following Solinus’ first tide only, Collectanea rerum memorabilium (GL 2.80,151, 313), while a reference in book 6 lists it as Admirabilibus (GL 2.233). It thus appears that Priscian read Solinus at some point prior to the composition of the Institutiones and noted three passages of grammatical interest. Although he noted that these passages were taken from Solinus, he may have only memo­ rized the tide instead of writing it down, and rendered it differendy during the long composition of books 1-10 ot the Institutiones. Like most grammarians, Priscian was fond of toponyms and ethnonyms as examples to illustrate rules of spelling or grammar, but whereas other grammari­ ans simply copied lists of places and peoples commonly found in the grammati­ cal tradition, his citations of Solinus reveal a deeper interest in matters of geog­ raphy. This interest came to the fore with his translation of Dionysius of Alexandria’s Periegesis, a didactic itinerary round the world based on classical Greek culture and myth. It is impossible to date this work with any precision but it was certainly written after the Institutiones, since he now worked with a copy of Solinus in hand rather than notes, but before the Partitiones duodedm uersuum Aeneidos principalium, which recasts information from one passage o f the Periegesis. It may be possible to link Priscian’s Periegesis to his plan to re-

1 2

Martianus and Priscian

Félix Racine

On Priscian’s geographical interests and parallels with Stephanus of Byzantium see Bonnet 2009. Periegesis 37-48 and Partitiones 118.18-20 P; Bonnet 2009, 31 -32.

165

invigorate Latin culture with Greek learning, which he unveiled in a letter to Q. Aurelius Memmius Symmachus.1 The three grammatical works accompanying this letter are his De figuris numerorum, a treatise on weights and currency units found in Greek and Latin authors, De metris Terentii, which uses Greek theory' to elucidate issues of versification in Terence and other comic poets, and De praeexemtamentis rhetoricis, a translation of rhetorical exercises from Hermogenes. Mo manuscript of the Periegesis contains a dedication nor is it a grammatical work stricto sensu; it is nevertheless close enough in spirit to these works, since it adapts in Latin a Greek pedagogical text. Unlike Avienus’ 4th-century translation of the Periegesis, Priscian’s translation remains very' close to the original, except for two aspects. First, Priscian was conscious to adapt Dionysius’ Greek learning to his Latin readers and fre­ quently alludes to renowned Latin poets, especially Virgil, Lucan and Claudian.1 2 Most of these allusions are mere displays of the grammarian s com­ mand of Latin poetry', but in some instances Priscian also altered the geographi­ cal record in order to remain closer to the world of the Latin classics than to the world of the Greek classics filtered through Dionysius. He thus mentions Dido in relation to Carthage whereas Dionysius did not (v. 185), and follows Valerius Flaccus for the correct Latin orthography of the nations visited by the Argonauts (w. 739-45). Second, Priscian was mindful of his Christian readership and softened the pagan overtones of Dionysius’ mythical geography bydeleting some localized myths, such as Zeus’ childhood in Crete (Dionys. Per. 501), Io crossing the Bosphorus (Dionys. Per. 140-41), or mentions of cults, such as Apollo’s sanctuary at Delos (Dionys. Per. 527-29) and Artemis’ temple at Ephesus (Diony's. Per. 826-29).J All in all, Priscian cut Dionysius’ text by around two hundred lines and made up for the lost material by adding new content lifted from Solinus, who covered some areas better than the Periegesis did. Dionysius’ didactic poem aimed at locating elements of Greek culture and myth, and many of the placenames mentioned came from Apollonius’ Atgonautica, Homer’s Iliad and Odjssej, the myth of the Heracleides and legends associated with the god Dionysus. It is therefore not surprising to see that Dionysius focused on Greece, the Agean and Anatolia to the detriment of regions peripheral in classical Greek Heraturc such as Britain and Germany, dealt with in three Unes (Dion. Per. 284-286). Priscian tuned to Solinus to flesh out those regions neglected by the Greek author but now central to Roman culture, such as Sardinia (w. 467-69, cf. SoUn. 4.6) and Sicily (w. 489-504, cf. Solin. 5.10-11, 16, 18, 20, 25). Priscian also turned to Solinus for various marvels of natural history, chiefly in the Caucasus and India. Many of these stories were part of any gentleman’s

1 2 3

Prise. Epis/ ad Symmachum, in GL 3:405. Datthschmidt 1907, 58. See a full list in Inglebert 2001, 96 nn 321-322.

4

Cf. Jacob 1990, 45.

Félix Racine

Martianus and Priscian

Quaeuergunt %phyro, quas Caspla litora claudunt. Pnm sm t Scythiapopuli Saturnia mxta Aequora uiuentes Hjrcaniqtte ostia ponti. Qttos SHpra_£mt>es ditissima rur„ r . , „ y · Quälern nmialim terrarum hûsùApf A tque auruni sibimetdefend«,,/ un„ ^ Qmnia sed dun superans audacia turrt

Æmrsus uolucres, heu, common arma uimrum-y """ namiam »tArimaspi mhibus hr„f,c Hic (t crysta/h perlucet maxima moL, i Hmc Thynus sequitur, postfertis Caspiaproles. Hinc sunt Albani bellaces martefend, ÎQde cams nati mpfjm t m im omm ’fprr„nm . âhsnus Alexander m ssum sihi ,w. J- ictorem barrique rgv^Lrabidique Sonic ? Pest hos Cadusi durissima rura colentes

I ir * t” hTs°' -he cr™ « ■ » -

Abovejhese timnlo ,K„ ^-Icc.___°, , at,Urn

e n em ies

of ib£_griffms. w a w . 1-— From Aere thcPThvnkns

SS. * * ,> » & , «b, *”

b»

» *c

the mouth of the Hircanian sea.

£,

creatures, Foeths Anmaspegn^ 3 F ™ guantin’ of fnrV-

L?i!, Z nÜTIII“ *· ”“ s C“P”

»“■

^^ÜÜeasttaAleMnder the Crooi- __________ ___ g_ bom rhere surpass anjdnds_of

other b o m S ^ s ft^ ^ to ü n d ’ p — P?SS*& rePresentative of Priscian’s state of w T h f i ^ n the a" ■ “ * * f “ 10®“ 1-gnette of the endemte 15.22), a story popularised by Η ^ η “ 5 ^ a7 gnffins (Solin. ture and art f O f particular imn r° dotus and found throughout ancient literasaee of v ; ... | r Uiar lmP°rtance for the grammarian Priscian is a oas &

167

jages lifted from Solinus include the great height of some Indians who can tump on the backs of elephants (w. 1027-38, cf. Solin. 52.20), and the naked­ ness of Indian philosophers (w. 1029-32, cf. Solin. 52.25). The vast majority of Priscian’s borrowings from Solinus concerns exotic ani­ mals, plants and especially minerals, as we can see in his inclusion of the fero­ cious Caucasian dogs (cf. Solin. 15.17), the emerald (cf. Solin. 15.22) and the rock crystal (cf. Solin. 15.29) in the above passage. O f 45 additions to the Periegesis drawn from Solinus, 2 concern exotic animals, 4 miraculous plants, 7 remarkable springs or rivers, and 22 wondrous or precious stones. Priscien’s interest in stones may be a reflection of contemporary tastes. We find some­ thing of this taste in the tradition of Latin and Greek Lapidaries and in PseudoPlutarch’s parody of geographical scholarship. De fluuiis, -which systematically associates wondrous stones to famous rivers.1 At any rate, it was probably more important for Priscian that wonders of the natural world were not prob­ lematic for a Christian readership, which made it ideal for inclusion as supple­ mental information in the Periegesis in stead of classical myths. Martianus and Priscian followed similar principles in composing their geog­ raphical handbooks. They both adopted the narrative structure of a single geographer— Pliny and Dionysius respectively—who also provided them -with most of their geographical data. Whereas Martianus needed to dramatically reduce Pliny’s four books of geography in order to fit them in a single book of De nuptiis, Priscian also had to trim Dionysius’ text to make it more palatable to contemporary' Christian sensibilities. Both teachers found the resulting text incomplete and chose to supplement it with Solinus’ Collectanea, although to dif­ ferent ends. Martianus was primarily interested in Solinus’ myths and legends, while Priscian’s main interest was natural history'. Thus, although they both turned to Solinus for supplemental information on Sardinia, Martianus retained the naming of the island from Sardus son of Hercules (6.645, cf. Solin. 4.1), while Priscian was solely interested in Sardinian springs that cure blindness (w. 467-468, cf. Solin. 4.6). Likewise, Martianus followed Solinus in deriving the name of the Erythraean Sea from Erythreas son of Perseus and Andromeda, while Priscian borrowed from the same entry an account of the stones molchite and androdamas (Mart. Cap. 6.677, cf. Solin. 33.1-2). Both agreed that Solinus was a suitable authority' on localized stories, but they diverged in their needs for stories.

8h271GriffinS 7 * ShaU mate Wkh h0- es”

”™ lM ,ed „„ . meral „ p fof mden5 bme( ,

Solinus and geographical education I have discussed Solinus’ Collectanea as a repository of localized stories and suggested this was the main reason for Martianus and Priscian to partially base

V«·. 9.3.5).

C“ iotl° “ ™ ° ™ gold-guarding g Athalanc reSatdmß «old mines in Italy (Qssiod

1 So much so that De Mély 1892, 327-340 attempted to re-classify Defluuiis as a lapi­ dary.

168

eir geographic textbooks on Solinus. To fully appreciate Solinus’ pedago&irf value we need to briefly consider the nature of geographical in stru c tio n ^ Roman schools and the kind of geographical knowledge valued in Roman s o j Despite Martianus’ bold attempt to disguise one o f the seven liberal arts geometry—as geography, the teaching of distances and place-names was nev« organized as a school subject in antiquity. This is not to say that elements off geography were not taught in school as part of grammatical or rhetorical ?07tmC 9 0 fl’ V te£LChers did not enSage students’ awareness of places In 1 ° r 298’ the rhetoaclan Eumenius mentioned a map drawn on the portico of t e 1Taemanae school m Autun, where students could learn the layout of the world and more importantly follow the emperors’ deeds.12 At the beginnine of e 5th century, a student of the rhetorician Julius Honorius compiled a geog­ raphical textbook based on his teachers’ oral commentary on a map^ Of course not all schools were endowed with a map and geographical lessons would have depended on the knowledge and motivation of individual teachers X evertheless imparting students with a modicum o f geographical knowledge was seen as desirable, a sentiment made clear by Dionysius of Alexandria, who thus justifies the lesson of his Periegesis·. “I will now tell you the whole of our world so that, without actually seeing it, you retain a vision easily communicable. This way you will be honorable and more worthy of respect when explain­ ing each dead to ignorant men” (νυν δέ tot ηπείρου μυθήσομαι είδος άπάσης I οφρα και ουκ εσ-.δων περ Ιχοι εϋψρασιον όπωπήν | έκ του δ’ δν γεραρός τε καί * Α .° ^ τε^ °ς εί1Ίς’ I ανδ?Γ πα·θ’ «γνώσσονπ πιφαυσκόμενος τά 'έκαστοι, Dion. Per 17Ü-73). For students and educated adults, useful geographical knowledge was something to show off in order to mark oneself as cultured and learned. Students acquired this kind of useful geography by first learning vocabulary sts containing place-names and ethnonyms. Several geographical catalogs have been preserved on school papyri from the early Hellenistic to the late Roman era, such as the so-called Laterculi Alexandrini {P.Perl. 13044), a teacher’s notebook from the 2nd century BC containing lists of famous islands great mountains, great rivers, beautiful sources and seas.45 Lucius Ampelius’ Über memonahs, a compilation of must-know facts similarly includes lists of he conti­ nents, of famous nations, famous mountains, famous rivers and famous islands, and a short description of the seas.3 Students learned culturally important places and nations through these lists but without a teacher’s oral commentary

1 2 3

R o m M l c h o Î 11' 0" 1'11^ for 3 m° re detailCd aCCOUnt ° f 8eo«raPhicai instruction in Pan. lat. 9 (4) 20.2 GLM 24-55.

4

The Laterculi were edited by Diels 1904. For a list of geographical lists in school papyri, see Legras, 1994. Ampel. 6-7.

5

Martianus and Priscian

Félix Racine

169

names had little meaning besides their importance and sometimes their „ L l location: for example, Ampelius arranges his list of famous nations by COnW e n ts who attended the classes of grammarians acquired further nouons X cultural geography by reading canonical poetry and by listening to the grami n s ’ elucidation of place-names and nations mentioned by school authors m h as Virgil and Lucan. Servius’ commentary on Virgil dated ca. 400 AD illus­ i s how a grammarian would have taught places, as in this entry on Aenas 7 697 (“and Ciminus’ lake and hill, and the groves of Capena”, et Qm m cum monte lacum lucosque Capenos)·. FT CIMINI CUM M ONTE LACUM et lacus et mons hoc nomine appellantur, sane hoc habet fabula, aliquando Hercules, cum de Hispania rediret, ad hos populos vemt. qm cum a simulis provocaretur ad ostendendam virtutem, defixisse dicitur vectemferreum, quo exercebatur, qm cum terrae esset adfixus et a nullo potuisset auferri, eum rogatus sustulit, unde inmensa m aquae secuta est, quae Ciminum lacumfeat. ,VND CIMINUS’ LAKE AND HILL The lake and the hill are called by this name. Of course this has a story. At some time, Hercules coming back from Hispania came among these people. When he was challenged by some individual to demonstrate his strength, he is said to have fixed an iron pole in the ground where he exercised. Since it was fixed in the earth and could not be removed by no one, Hercules pulled it up when asked. Then a great quantity of water followed it, which made lake Ciminus.

The story of the creation of lake Ciminus as told by Servius has no bearing on Virgil’s narrative, yet the grammarian found it worthwhile for students to learn it and thus be able to locate one episode of the myth of Hercules. Servius commentary on Virgil is in fact replete with origin stories, localized myths and various mirabilia. A student graduating from Servius’ classes would have learned not onlv the geography of the Aeneid but also a cluster of stones to associate with the various place-names mentioned by the poet, and he would have been expected to show7off this erudition in polite society ■ . , Although they were useful teaching tools, word-lists and grammarians com­ mentaries transmitted a disjointed picture of the world, one that arranged famous locales in list form or taught memorable places following a poet s narra­ tive. Advanced students or educated adults were in need of tools to integrate this geographic material in a systematic way. One solution was Dionysius Periegesis (and its Latin translations), which taught famous locales, myths, legends and exotica along an itinerary around the w7orld, following the old practice of Greek periplm. Another solution was Solinus’ Collectanea, which, as Kai Brodersen noted, replaced Pliny’s Unear mode of exposition by a description of areas and regions.1 In doing so, Solinus combined the two modes of geog­ raphical instruction current in schools and in scholarship; his narrative takes the form of a list of famous regions and locales arranged in rough geographical

1

Brodersen 2011.

170

Félix Racine

order. Under each geographical heading, he collects the same kind of inf0* _ non valued by Servius: geographical details, mythical stories, historical ev^üm and remarkable natural phenomena. ' ev« * It is worth noting a certain similarity between Solinus’ geographical T h Îir recomrnendations o f rhetoncians regarding speeches of prï The 4th-century teacher Menander Rhetor, who wrote a treatise on the d i f Ï Ï ! types of hums and speeches of praise of cities, recommends would-be , Ϊ Γ to proceed in a manner reminiscent of Solinus. Menander recommends bemf mng a city s encomium with its location and natural attributes, and only £ proceed to an account of its foundation and finally accomplishments.1 SoW » entty °n Sardirua, for example (Solin. 4.1-7), lists first alternate names for Z island and authorities for these names - Sandaliotis according to Timagenes and Ichnusa according to Cnspus - before detailing the divine genealogy of tfe eponpnous setders of Sardinia and of the town of Norax, and allu d L t o t episode of the myth of Iolaus located in Sardinia. These mythological stories are followed by various natural wonders: the animal solifuga chasing serpents from die island, ,he herb ardonia ,h „ I * wkh a smile, and ,he ,J o n , T , „ “f c Sardinian springs. Likewise, Solinus’ description of Macedonia begins with the an s oundanes, followed by details on northern Macedonia: the foundation s on- ot the country of Orestis and the deeds of giants at Phlegra (Solin 9 1-71 Solinus then proceeds to southern Macedonia, where he presents some geograp ical features and then, in order, the eponymous hero of Macedonia, deeds men m Macedonia, and an account of the stone paeanitis (Solin. 9 8-22) Soli nus descriptionsi of Sardinia, northern Macedonia and southern Macedonia thus proceed m roughly the same sequence Menander recommends regarding cities 27 m" U * " regi° nS SUCh aS S,CiJy’ Crete and SPam (Solin· 5.1o r’lnr 'ri L' ° Ύ regIOnS lack some elements, for example founders suitahl t KbUi SolmuS alwaj ’s narrates his geographical anecdotes in an order s liable to the location. His description of Germany, for example, consists only of the region s boundaries and natural exotica; elements of human history such Ι , Ζ ? 5 uCrmun CampaJgnS are extraneous » Solinus’ interests and are alluded to rather than narrated. naviaSfεΓ5 f had access to ^ c k facts about famous regions, easily X S Γ I ? ° ° d ? ankS t0 the author’s pedagogical method recalling school instruction. Although the Collectanea never became a school text in antiq­ uity, it is not surprising to find teachers themselves, such as Martianus and scian, turning to Solinus for geographical information. He had perhaps S T ? y wrj “ n the Perfect manual of geography for teachers, a collection of school-flavored facts they could dispense as needed.

H o w H einrich Bullinger read his Solinus: Reading A ncient Geography in 16th-century Switzerland

Paul Dover

The wide availability and immense popularity of Solinus’ Polyhistor during the »fiddle Ages are striking features of the history of this text. It was repro­ duced read and referenced throughout these centuries, serving as a mischievous i d e ’to physical and human geography, the biosphere, and the apocryphal fenders of the world. This remained the case into the 15th and 16th centuries, a time when scholars of the Renaissance were demonstrating particular fasci­ nation with the various literary bequests of the ancient world. This sustained interest in Solinus, and in ancient geography, chorography and cosmography I r e generally, is not widely known. Historians of the early modern period have rarelv even heard of Solinus, or are at least unaware ot how often Solinus was read and referenced at the time. One measure of its prominence was the eagerness of printers to produce editions. The very first quarto edition that emerged from the presses of the noted Venetian printer Nicholas Jenson was Solinus’ Polyhistor (1473).2 This was the first of at least twelve incunabulum edi­ tions of the work, nine of which were published in Italy. There were several dozen 16th-century editions, including at least 25 of them before mid-century emanating from printers located in the Empire. . , . Elsewhere 1 have explored this history of Solinus in the first age of print, focusing on the many marginal annotations of Renaissance readers as well as the prefaces of early modern printers and period references to and borrowings from Solinus.3 It is evident that Renaissance readers read the Polyhistor with a curious combination of intentions and reactions. Some regarded it as an author­ ity with something to say about the world around them, while others saw it pri­ marily as a field for rhetorical and philological endeavors. Slowly, and especially toward the end of the 16th century, increasing numbers of readers began to express the skepticism that would consign the Polyhistor to obsolescence. Although several vernacular editions appeared m the second half of the centuty, after about 1550 the fortunes of the Polyhistor went into decline, as late humanists came to regard the Latin,ty of Solinus as poor and unworthy of emu­ lation while those pursuing knowledge of the natural world gradually moved away from the authority of the ancients in these matters and assumed an empin-

1

353 4 3S0^ 344·5:3^3·27*31 Pralse _o f « countrji, a city’s location, harbor and citadel; 1993 1.2(15 s C% S ° r« ln; ;339·16-367.8: accomplishments. See further Pemot other texts' ~ ° Π Menander S ^ 5 Animals 3

> Plants

4^

> Stones 4-^ > Birds of Diomedes 45 Exits: Dalmatia, Narbonensis, Graecia

51 Islands Introduction Corsica General Information > Stone Sardinia General Information

> Animal > Plant Waters

3, ' 2b 4 4>1

-7

4 5

Sicilia Introduction 5>^ Form 2 Lakes The Three Coasts 5 Q Mountains The Genius of Sicilia 13 Myths 14 Waters lb > Stones 25 Circumference 27b Hephaestian Islands Introduction 1 Lipara, Hiera, Strongyle et ai. lb

Molossi to Aetolia General Information > Stone Peloponnesus Scioessa Laconia Achaea Arcadia Isthmus Form Graecia Attica Boeotia > Animals Thessalia General Information Cities and Rivers Plains and Mountains Magnesia Macedonia Neighbours Mvths Kings > Stone Thracia General Information Rites Peoples and Places > Animals Straights Golden Horn > Animals Flellespontus

7,1 3b 3

b ^ ^* I4 ^3b 1^ 91

28b 8 ,1

2 3 7

1

3b 10b 22 10,1 b 12 1'

1® 20

Islands Aega Creta Introduction Cities Name The Genius of Crete Mountains Myths > Animals, Plants, Stones Carystos

1

4 3

5b 7

® 11 13

Survey of the Contents

Appendix

Germania

Cyclades Name Chius Delus > Animals Euboea Parus Naxus Other Cyclades Sporades

17 17b 18 20

24 26 28 29 30

Coastline

Islands

12, 1 3 13, 1 2 3 14, 1 6

14 22

3 8

%

Galliae Land Introduction Rites Connections > Plant

Land Islands (Hibernia to Thule) Circumference > Stones Tattoos

21, 1 lb lb lc

Land Laus Hispaniae 23,1 > Stones 3b Lusitania, Baetica, Tarraconensis 5

> Stones Islands

MEDITERRANEAN: LIBYA TO ASIA

19, 1

Introduction: Seas Mediterranean Straights of Gades Gulfs Ocean Names Tides

Scythia 2

3 4b 6

9

22, 1 18 18b 20

Hispania

16, 1 17, 1 5 18, 1

NORTHERN OCEAN Ocean at Scythia Name Caspian Sea From Pontus to India Islands Abalcia, Hippopodes, Phanesii > Animals

20, 1

Brittannia

MEDITERRANEAN: 4TH GULF Hellespontus to Hister Hellespontus to Bosporus > Animals Mouth of the Hister > Animal > Stones European Scythi > Animals Asiatic Scythi Scythi in the Interior > Stones Beyond the Scythi Hyperborei Arimphaei to Hyrcani > Animals Pontus as the Souce of the Sea

Land > Animals Islands > Stones

9 10

13 14b 17b 18

Lands on the Coastline Introduction Names Myths Atlas Mauretania Tingitana

24,1 3 7 25,1

> Animals Caesariensis N umidia Introduction > Animals Africa proper Introduction Cities > Animals > Stone and Plant Syrtes Introduction Syrtis Minor > Stone Svrtis Maior > Stone, Plants, Animal Berenice > Animal Beyond the Syrtes Garamantes Island of Gauloe

2b 16 26,1 2b 27,1 2 12b 36 38 40 43 43b 46 44 45 28,1 29,-8b

Interior of Libya Aethiopia Introduction 30,1 Garamantian Aethiopes 2 Aethiopia to Meroë 4 Aethiopes beyond Meroë 9b Monstrous Peoples 12 > Dragons and Dracontia 15 > Animals 19 > Plants 30 > Stones 32 Desert between Atlas and Canopus Name 31,1 Peoples 16 Aegyptus Situations 32,1 Nile: Source, Islands, Mouths lb Floods of the Nile 9 > Animals I"7 > Plant 34 Religion 37 Ciues 40

199

Coastline beyond Pelusium Arabia Name and Places > Plants > Animals Customs > Stones From Cassius to Cassius Mount Cassius Iudaea > Plant Sodomum and Gomorram Esseni Scythopolis and Cassius alter Mesopotamia Euphrates Floods of the Euphrates Tigris > Stones Cilicia Situation and Name Rivers > Plant Pompeiopolis Taurus

33, 1 5 11 16 18 34,1 35, 1 3 7 9 36, 1 37,1 3 3 ■' 38,1 4 6

9 1*1

Coastline of Asia Lycia with Chimaera Asia (minor) Situation Ephesus Earthquakes The Genius of Asia Phrygia to Caria Phrygia > Animal Ionia Maeonia Caria > Animals Peoples on the Pontus Galatia Bithynia Coast of Pontus Paphlagonia Cappadocia > Animals Assyria to Bactria

39,1 40,1 2 5b 6

' 19b 12 *4 15 21 41,1 42, 1 4 3 ,1 44, 1 45,1 ^

Appendix Adiabene > Plant Caspian Gates Diteus Margiana Bactria > Animals

46, 1 4

47, 1 48, 1 2

49, 1 9

EASTERN TO SOUTHERN OCEAN Coastline Seres Attacenian Gulf and Ciconae India Situation Discovert' Size Age Rivers Customs Mount Malleus Indus Customs Astacani Philosophers Monstrous Peoples Modes of Life > Animals > Plants > Stones

50, 1

51, 1 52, 1 2b

4 5 6 8 13 14 18 24 25 26 32b 33 46 56

Island Taprobane Discovery General Information Crossings Customs King Food Deserts and Sea > Stones and Pearls

53, 1 2b 4 11

14 19 21 22

SOUTHERN TO ATLANCTIC OCEAN

A Revised Handlist of Manuscripts transmitting Solinus’ Work Kai Brodersen

Coastline Introduction Cities Carmania Ichtyhophagi to Persis Crossings Read Sea Persis Parthia Empires Media Babylonia Atlantic Ocean Parts of the Sea Opinion o f Iuba

54

j 2 3

g \2

55 j 2b 5g j 4 Cotton. Cleop. D.l (12th cent.) '> > Faust. A VIII (13th -16th cent.): exc. > ’> Tib. B V (8th - 14th cent.): exc. ’ ’ Vesp. B XXV (12th cent.) —, — , Egerton 818 (12th cent.)1 —, — , Harl. 2569 (15th cent.) —, —, — 2583 (16th cent.) ’ ’ 2584 (14th cent.) > , 2604 (15th cent.) ’ ’ 2645 (11 th cent.) — —, — 3859 (10th cent.) ’ ’ 5373 (12th cent.) ’ ’ 13 C. VI (14th cent.) ’ ’ 15 A. XXII (12th cent.) — — — 15 A XXXII (13th cent.) ’ ’ 15 B II (12th cent.) ’ ’ 15 B XI (13th cent.) —, — , Sloane 2030 (13th cent.): exc. , Lambeth Pal. 8 (13th cent.): pref. —, Wellcome H.M.L. 752 (15th cent.) Lucca, B.P. 1406 (15th cent.) Luxemburg, B.N. 110 (14th cent.)

Mommsen39 Mommsen Mommsen 42 Mommsen 1 Mommsen41 Mommsen 43 Mommsen44 Mommsen45 Mommsen46 Mommsen47 Mommsen48 Mommsen49 Mommsen50 Mommsen51 Mommsen 52 Mommsen53 Mommsen54 Mommsen m

Madrid, B.N. 19 (12th cent.): exc. —>— . 512 (12th cent.): frg. >— >8696 (13th/14th cent.) — , — , 8816 (15th cent.) —, Escorial, C IV. 18 (15th cent.) —>—»G.XII.5 (2 copies) (14th cent.) —, —, Μ. III.23 (15th cent.) —>— , Q.I.ll (13th cent.) Manchester, John Rylands Libr. 69 (15th cent.): exc. Milano, B. Ambr. A 226 inf.(1) (14th cent.) Mommsen 59 ’ ’^ ^ 0 5th cent.) Mommsen60 —, — , G 246 inf (14th cent.) Mommsen61 ’ ’ ^ 56 inf (14th cent.) Mommsen62

1

205

Revised Handlist of Manuscripts

Appendix

For the history, illustrations and annotations of this MS, which adorns the cover of the present book, and for CoUuccio Salutati (1331-1406) as its erstwhile owner and annotator, cf. Bell 1929; Ullman 1963, 198-199; Ross 1963/1988, 78-79 and 104 n. 417; Munk Olsen 1985, 499-500; De Robertis et al. 2008, 358, and Brodersen 2011, oo n. 1.

—, E 151 sup (14th cent.) _,1118 sup (15th cent.) Monte Cassino 391 (11th cent.) Montpellier, Fac. Méd. 121 (12th cent.) __, 131 (12th cent.): incompl. _, —, 132 (12th cent.) München, Staatsbibl., lat. 327 (15th cent.) _, —, — 4611 (12th cent.) _, —, — 5339 (15th cent.) —, — 6384 (10th cent.) _, __, — 14632 (12th cent.) _ , — , — 14714 (12th cent.): exc. — 17207 (12th cent.) _ , — 17208 (12th cent.) _ 23476 (10th cent.) — 23476 (10th cent.) [not in Milham]

Mommsen 63 Mommsen 64 Mommsen 65 = C (cl. I) Mommsen 66 Mommsen 67 Mommsen 68 Mommsen 69 Mommsen 70 Mommsen 71 Mommsen 72 Mommsen 73 Mommsen o Mommsen 74 Mommsen 75 Mommsen 76

Mommsen 77 Napoli, B. Naz. IV.D.16 (15th cent.) Mommsen 78 —, 1V.D.17 (15th cent.) Mommsen 79 _ , IV.D.18 (16th cent.) Mommsen 80 —’ —, IV.D.19 (14th cent.) — , IV.D.20 (15th cent.) New Haven, Yale Univ. Marston 275 (15th cent.) New York, Columb. Univ. Plimpton 123 (15th cent.) Nice, B.M. 92 (12th cent.): exc. Mommsen q Nîmes, B.M. 52 (12th/13th cent.): exc. Mommsen p Mommsen 87 Oxford, All Souls Coll. 97 (14th cent.) —., — , Auct. P.III,7 (12th cent.) _ , —, — T.2.28 (10th cent.) —’ Bodl. Libr., Bodley 571 (15th cent.) Mommsen 81 —, — , Canon. Class, lat. 147 (14th cent.) Mommsen 82 —, — , — 161 (15th cent.) Mommsen r —, Canon. Patr. lat. 223 (15th cent.): exc. Mommsen — , Laud. lat. 4 p(15th o tn cein.j -------------- 83 cent.) — , Rawl. auct. F III 7 (12th cent.) [not in Milham] Mommsen 84 _ . ^ . ** / a . i V fr tm tY tc P n R Mommsen 85S , -,Ra\vl. G. 45 (12th cent.) A .fc v tv im e p n R it . Mavdalen Coll. 50 (11th cent.)

Padova, Univ. 1234 (14th cent.) Paris, Bibl. Mazzarina. 1526 (15th cent.) _ , — , 1600 (17th cent.) [not in Milhalm] —’ Bibl. Nat., lat. 152 (13th cent.): fragm.

Mommsen *118 Mommsen 117 Mommsen v

Revised Handlist of Manuscripts

Appendix —, — , — 1702 (14th cent.) —, — , — 4873 (12th/13th cent.) —, — , — 5719 (14th cent.) —, — , — 6810 (10th cent.) —, — , — 6811 (12th cent.) —, — , — 6812 (13th cent.) —, — , — 6813 (13th cent.) —, — , — 6814 (14th cent.) — , — , — 6815 (14th cent.) — , — , — 6816 (14th cent.) — , — , — 6817 (14th cent.) —, — , — 6818 (14th cent.): Epitome —, — , — 6831 (10th cent.) —, — , — 6832 (13th cent.) — , — , — 6833 (13th cent.) — , — , — 6834 (15th cent.) —, —, — 6835 (15th cent.) — , — , — 6836 (15th cent.) — , —, — 6843 (15th cent.) —, —, — 7230 (9th cent.) — , — , — 7230A (10th cent.) —, — , — 7231 (12th cent.) —, — , — 7594 (13th cent.) —, — , — 8818 (11th cent.): exc. — , — , — 11206 (15th cent.) —, — , — 11382 (13th cent.) —, — , — 13698 (15th cent.) —, — , — 17543 (12th cent.) — , — , — 17569 (12th cent.) — , — , — 18245 (12th cent.) [not in Milham] —, — , — 18246 (15th cent.) —, —, nouv. acq. lat. 783 (15th cent.) Perugia, B. Com. 214D 32 (15th cent.) Praha, Univ. Ill E 28 (16th cent.): frg. —, — , VIII H 30 (15th cent.): frg. Princeton, Univ. Garett 114 (13th cent.): frg. —, — , Kane 47 (15th cent.)

Mommsen 88 Mommsen 89 Mommsen 90 Mommsen 91 = P (cl. Mommsen 92 Mommsen 93 Mommsen 94 Mommsen 95 Mommsen 96 Mommsen 97 Mommsen 98 Mommsen s Mommsen 99 Mommsen 100 Mommsen 101 Mommsen 102 Mommsen 103 Mommsen 104 Mommsen 105 Mommsen 106 = M (cl. Mommsen 107 = Q (cl. Mommsen 108 Mommsen 109 Mommsen t Mommsen 110 Mommsen 111 Mommsen 112 Mommsen 113 Mommsen 114 Mommsen 115 Mommsen 116 Mommsen *119

Roma, Accad. dei Lined Bossi 137 (43.E.27) (15th cent.) — , — , — 160 (43.D.23) (15th cent.) , B. Casan. 1090 [B III 1] (14th cent.) Mommsen 143 — , B.N. Sess. 17e (1352) (10th/llth cent.) Mommsen 144 > Roma Vaticano v. Vaticano Rouen, B.M. 1421 (0.34) (12th cent.) Mommsen *145

207

Saint Mihiel 42 (11th cent.) [not in Milham] Mommsen *146 Sankt Gallen, Stiftsbibi. 187 (1Oth cent.) Mommsen 147 - S (cl. Ill) Sankt Pölten, 70 (11 th cent.) Sevilla, B. Columb. 7-4-19 (15th cent.) Stuttgart, Landesbibi. HB V 18 (10th cent.) exc. [not in Milham] __ —, HB VIII13 (15th cent,): exc. Toledo, B. Cat. 45-1 (14th cent.) _) —, 45-2 (14th cent.) 100-30 (15th cent.) Trebon, St. Arch. 9 (15th cent.) Trier, Priestersem. 61 (R HI 61) (11th cent.) Valencia, Univ. 2216 (15th cent.) Vaticano, Bibl. Ap. Vat., Barb. lat. 63 (15th cent.) Mommsen 142 _ —, Chigi. H.IV.115 (15th cent.): frg. _ —, — H.IV.118 (15th cent.): frg. — H.IV.194 (15th cent.) ’ — HAT. 195 (15th cent.) _ _ Ottob. lat. 1140 (15th cent.) Mommsen 127 __ _ lat. 13 87 (13th cent.) Mommsen 128 _ lat. 1952 (14th cent.) Mommsen 129 ’ — lat. 2072 (15th cent.) Mommsen 130 __, — , — lat. 2994 (15th cent.):frg. _ palat, lat. 876 (9th/10th cent.) Mommsen 131 _ lat. 1357 (13th cent.) Mommsen 132 ’ — lat. 1568 (llth/12th cent.) _ _ kt. 1569 (16th cent.) Mommsen 133 _ kt. 1570 (15th cent.) Mommsen 134 Regin. lat. 1478 (15th cent.) Mommsen 135 _ ’ _ ’ _ kt. 1534 (15th cent.) Mommsen 136 ’ _ lat. 1643 (13th cent.) Mommsen 137 ’ — lat. 1658 (13th/14th cent.) Mommsen 138 __)__, __lat. 1752 (14th cent.) [It. Mommsen] Mommsen 139 _ lat. 1875 (14th cent.) Mommsen 140 = [R] Urb. lat. 999 (15th cent.) Mommsen 141 Vat. lat. 1699 (14th cent.) Mommsen 120 _ ’ _ lat. 1860 (14th cent.) Mommsen 121 _ lat. 1933 (15th cent.) Mommsen 122 _ lat. 1934 (15th cent.) Mommsen 123 ^ __^ 5__lat. 3342 (10th cent.):incomplete Mommsen 124 - R (cl. 1) __ lat. 3343 (10th cent.) Mommsen 125 —, —, — lat. 3409 (15th cent.) _ — , — lat. 6818 (14th cent.):Epitome

Appendix —, — , — lat. 7646 (15 th cent.) >— >— lat. 14726 (13th cent.): Epitome Venezia, B. Marc. Lat. X 29 (14th cent.) —) —, X 102 (15th cent.) —, — , X 115 (12th cent.) — , — , 339 (15th cent.) —, Zanettianus Lat. 389 (Valentinelli 22, 109)

Mommsen 150A

Wien, Ö.N.B. 891 (10th cent.): exc. — , —, 3184 (15th cent.): exc. —. —, 3959 (15th cent.): exc. Wolfenbüttel, Herzog Aug. Bibl. Aug. 8. exc > >Gud. lat. 133 2° (10th cent.): exc. — — , — 163 4°.s. s.

Mommsen w Mommsen 152 Mommsen x Mommsen z. Mommsen y Mommsen 153 = G (cl, II)

Mommsen 126 Mommsen u Mommsen 148 Mommsen 149 Mommsen 150

There are several handwritten collations, annotations and translations of Solinus work by humanist scholars, e.g. - Augsburg, 2 Cod. 108 (15th cent): ann. Johannes Mendel - Berlin, Staatsbibl. 61 (12th cent.): verses; see above - Bern, Burgerbibi. W 35 (17th cent.): coll. Jacobus Bongarsius Cambridge, Univ. Nn VI 6 (15th cent.): ann. Isaac Casaubon - Firenze, Bibl. Rice. 1617 (16th cent.): trans. Nicodemo Tagli da Siena - Leiden, Univ., Gron. 90 (17th cent.): coll. Jan Frederic Gronovius - Leiden, Univ., Oud. 15 (18th cent,): coll. Franz van Oudendorp - München, Clm 27445 (16th cent.): exc. Joachim Vadianus 1516 - London, B.L. Sloane 1111 (17th cent.): coll. Patrick Young - Vaticano, Vat. lat. 3409 (15th cent.): ann. of unknown scholar - Wolfenbüttel, Gud. lat. 350 12° (17th cent.): coll. Marquard Gudius In addition, Mommsen 21895, LII-LIV, refers to several codices which are untraceable or lost (one owned by Mariangelus Accursius, two from Bordeaux, one from Corvey, one from Lorsch and one in the Ottoboni collection of the \ aucan Library), and also to Petrus Diaconus, who according to his own chronicie excerpted Solinus (Mommsen a), as well as to an Epitome bexametrica which Salmasius had from Marquard Freher (Mommsen c).

Afterword

Gaius Iulius Solinus has enjoyed “almost unrivalled popularity in the Middle Ages” (Kimble 1938, 5) and was “immensely popular in western Europe” (Chibnall 1973, 59); indeed, he was “the chief Latin geographer to a millen­ nium” (Milham 1986, 74). A large number of manuscripts (see the revised handlist above) and a host of early printed editions are witness to the popularity of his work. This changed after the end of that ‘millennium’: “Da wir ... die Vorlagen Solins noch heute besitzen, sind die Collectanea sachlich für uns ohne Belang.” (‘As we still have Solinus’ sources today, the Colkctena are in substance irrele\rant for us’: Diehl 1919, 828) thunders Pauly-Wissowa’s Real-Encydopädie, while oth­ ers castigated the “schwachköpfigen Kompilator” (‘mentally retarded compila­ tor’: Weymann 1896, 911) guilty of “ridiculi magistelli errores” (‘the laughable errors of a little teacher’: Mommsen 1895, viii) in his “wretched” and “trivial” work (Stahl 1962, 122 and 137), a “Reiseführer für Sitzenbleiber” (‘guidebook for couch potatoes/failed pupils’: Borst 1995, 44). This lack of interest in Soli­ nus is also evident in scholarly studies, who deal with him only in a “scant and passing” manner (Kitchell 2012, 1, on Doodv 2010), or simply ignore him when studying “Condensing Texts/Condensed Texts” (Horster/Reitz 2010). There are still no modern published translations of Solinus’ work into English, French or Italian (for a Spanish translation see Fernandez Nieto 2001, for a German one see now Brodersen 2015). So new studies appear not to be amiss. Most of the contributions to this volume were first presented at a collo­ quium held in the magnificent Research Library at Gotha (part of the University and Research Library Erfurt/Gotha) in June 2013. Special thanks are due to the library staff for allowing us to use the library’s conference room, and for giving the participants access to the substantial collection of early printed editions of Solinus’ work. The conference could not have happened without the financial support of the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Foundation) for which I am very grateful indeed, as ate several contributors to their individual funding bodies as specified in their votes of thanks. Without Martina Trampe­ dach this volume would not have appeared in this format. The thanks also extend to Cordula Bachmann for help with the proofs, to an anonymous donor and to the Universität Erfurt for their support of the publication of this book. Erfurt and Hermannstadt, October 2014

Kai Brodersen

Bibliography

Cumulative Bibliography A L - Augustinus-Lexikon, Basel, 1979■LA/ —Liddell, H. G./Scott, R./jones, H. S., A Greek-English Lexicon, Oxford 1996 RE —Realencyclopädie derAltertumswissenschaften TlJ- - Thesaurus Linguae Latinae Agnant, M. A., Cains Julius Solitius, Polyhistor, traduit pour la premièrefois en Français Paris 1847 Alfonsi, L., “L’ecphrasis ambrosiana dei libro delle api vergiliano,” Vetera Christianorum 2 1965, 129-138 Allen, C, "The Lapidar}' of Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini,” Italica 17, 1940, 1-4 Alston, R./Spenrzou, E., Reflections of Rùmanity: Discourses of Subjectivity in Imperial Rame, Columbus 2011 Amatucci, A.-G., ‘Review of Columba’, Rivista di fih/ogia e di istrugione classica 49 1921 111-114 Andersen, K., “The Queen of the Habasha in Ethiopian History, Tradition and Chronol­ ogy, bulletin ofthe School of Oriental andAfrican Studies 63, 2000, 31-63 Apps, A., Gams lultus Soltnus and his Polyhistor, unpublished PhD. dissertation Macquarie University 2011 —“Source Citation and Authority in SoUnus,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 32-42 (the present volume) Asheri, D., “Book III,” in O. Murray/A. Moreno (eds.), A Commentary on Herodotus: Books I-1V. Oxford 2007, 379-527 Astin, A., Cato the Censor; Oxford 1978 Bâchtold, H. U., Heinrich Bulhnger vor dem Rat: per Gestaltung und Vewaltung des Zürcher Staatswesen in desJahren 1531 bis 1575, Bern 1982 Bailey, K. C., The Elder Pliny’s Chapters on Chemical Subjects, London 1932 Baker, J. W., Heinrich Bu/linger and the Covenant: the Other Reformed Tradition, Athens, OH 1980 Ballaira, G., “La patria di Prisciano,” Quademi del Dipartimento di jilologia, lingiistica e tradipone classica n.s. 1, 2002, 291-318 Banterle, G., Sancti Ambrosii episcopi Mediolanensis Opera 1. Exameron. SantAmbrogio, Opere esegetiche, Vol. I (I sei giorni della creazione), Milano/Roma 1979 Bardenhewer, O., Geschichte der altkjrchlkben Literatur, Vol. Ill, 2nd ed. Freiburg 1923 Bardon, H., La littérature latine inconnue, Paris 1925 Bardy, G. (introduction, notes), Oeuvres de Saint Augustin, La Cité de Dieu, Livres XVXVIII, BA 36, Turnhout 1960 Barrett, A., Agrippina, London 1996 Batty, R., “Mela’s Phoenician Geography,” Journal of Roman Studies 90, 2000, 70-94 Bauman, R, A., The Crimen Mmestatis in the Roman Republic and Augustan Principale, Johan­ nesburg 1967 Bausi, A., “Qerellos,” in S. Uhlig/A. Bausi (eds.), Encyclopedia Aethiopica, Vol. IV, Wiesbaden 2010, 287-290 Beagon, M., ‘Pliny the Elder”, in: A. Grafton et al. (eds.), The Classical Tradition, Cam­ bridge, MA/London 2010, 744-745 Beard, M., “A Complex of Times: No More Sheep on Romulus’ Birthday,” PCPhS 33.1, 1987, 1-15; repr. in C. Ando (ed.), Roman Religion, Edinburgh 2003, 273-288 —./North, J./Price, S., Religious of Rome, Vol. 1-11, Cambridge 1998

211

Beavis, I. C, Insects and Othre Invertebrates in ClassicalAntiquity, Oxford 1988 Beazley, R., The Dawn ofModem Geography. Vol. I-II, London 1897-1906 Bedon, R., “Le Grammaticus Solin et la diffusion des connaissances antiques”, in L. De Poli/Y. Lehmann (eds), Naissance de ia science dans l'Italie antique et moderne. Actes du colloquefranco-italien des 1er et 2 décembre 2000, Bern etc. 2004a, 71 -92 . '‘Ley, piifratres de Catane, Amphinomos et Anapias, chez Solin,” in: Th. Gesztelyi (ed.), Mélanges Lapone Havas (Acta Classica Universitatis Debmeniensis 40-41, 2004/5) Debrecen 2004b, 339-354 - “Montes flagrantes: les volcans chez Pomponius Mêla, Pline l’Ancien et Solin,” in: É. Foulon (ed.). Actes du Colloque ‘Connaissance et représentations des volcans dans l’Antiquité, Clermont-Ferrand 2004c, 215-230 - “Un aspect des Collectanea rerum memorabilium de Solin: l’inventaire des productions remarquables de l’oikoumène,” in: E. Hermon (ed.) Actes du Colloque international Es­ paces intégrés etgestion des ressources naturelles dans l'empire romain’, Besançon 2004d, 59-73 - “L’ouvre perdue d’un encyclopédiste latin en partie retrouvée grâce à une phrase de Grégoire de Tours?” Mémoires de l'Académie des Sciences, Arts et Belles-Lettres de Touraine 2005,21-36 - “La fondation mythique de Lisbonne par Ulysse: à propos de la source de cette légende et de sa présence dans les Collectanea rerum memorabilium, puis dans le Polyhistor de Solin (23, 6),” in: J.-G. Gorges et al. (eds.), Actes de la VT Mesa-redonda international sobre a Lusitania mmana: Lusitania romana entre o mito e a realidade, Cascais 2009, 219-236 - “L’arrivée d’Europe en Crète chez Solin (Polyhistor, 11, 9): fin de parcours en eau douce,” in: B. Morin (ed.), Polumathes. Mélanges offerts à Jean-Pierre Levet, Limoges 2012, 183-199 - “Présence d’Aristote en surface et en sous-sol dans les Collectanea rerum memorabilium et le Polyhistor de Solin,” in: Y. Lehmann (ed.), Aristoteles Romanus : la réception de la science aristotélicienne dans l’empire gréco-romain (Recherches sur les rhétoriques religieuses 17), Turnhout 2013, 141-158 Belanger, C., “Solinus’ Macrobians: Roman Literary Account of the Axumite Empire,” in: Brodersen 2014a„ 96-117 (the present volume) - , Aspects ofSoUnus’Collectanea rerum memorabilium, unpublished MA thesis, University of Ottawa 2014b Berno, F. R., “Plinius d. A.,” in: Ch. Walde (ed.), Die Reception der antiken Literatur (Der Neue Pauly Suppl. 7), Stuttgart/Weimar 2010, 697-726 Bianchetti, S., “L’Africa di Solino,” in: L ’Africa romana. Atti del IX convegm di studio Nuoro, Sassari 1992, 803-811 Bianchi, E., “Teratologia e geograha. L’homo monstruosus in autori dell’antichita classica. Acme 34, 1981, 227-249 Biel, P., Doorkeepers at the House of Righteousness: Heinrich Bullinger and the Zurich Clergy, 15351575, Bern 1991 Bittner, R., “Augustine’s Philosophy of Histon·,” in G. B. Matthews (ed.), The Augustinian Tradition , Berkeley/Los Angeles 1999, 345-360 Blanke, F., Derjunge Bullinger 1504-1531, Zürich 1942 Blumenberg, H., “Augustins Anteii an der Geschichte des Begriffs der theoretischen Neugierde”, REAugl, 1961, 35-70 - “Curiositas und veritas. Zur Ideengeschichte von Augustin, Confessiones X 35”, in F. L. Cross (ed.), Studia Patristica 6, Texte und Untersuchungen 81, Berlin 1962, 294-302 - “Neugierde und Wissenstrieb. Supplemente zu Curiositas”, ABC 14, 1970, 7-40 - Der Progess der theoretischen Neugierde (Erweiterte und überarbeitete Neuausgabe von Die Legitimität der Neuheit, 3. Teil) Frankfurt a.M. 1973

Appendix - ‘The ‘Trial’ of theoretical curiosity,” in Id., The Legitimacy of the Modem Age, trans. R.M. Wallace, Cambridge, MA 1983, 229-453 Bona, I., “Alcune osservazione sul simbolismo antropologico degli animali in Ambrogio,” Helmantica 44, 1993, 489-496 - “Appunti suile fonti naturalistiche dell’Esamerone ambrosiano,” in L. F. Pizzolao/M. Rizzi (eds.), Nec timeo mon. Atti del Congresso internationale di studi ambrosiam nel ATT centenario della morte disant’Ambrogio, Milano 1998, 549-559 Bonnet, G., “La géographie de Priscien,” in: L. Holtz, M. Baratin and B. Colombat (eds.), Priscien. Transmission et refondation de la grammaire de l’Antiquité aux Modernes (Etat des recherches à la suite du colloque international de Lyon, ENS Lettres et Sciences Humaines, 10-14 octobre 2006), Turnhout 2009, 19-34 Borst, A., Das Buch der Naturgeschichte: Plinius und seine Leser im Zeitalter des Pergaments. Hei­ delberg 1995 Bowersock, G., The Throne ofAdulis: Red Sea Wars on the Eve ofIslam, Oxford 2013 Braun, L., Conrad Gessner, Genève 1990 Brennan, T. C., The Praetorship in the Roman Republic, Oxford 2000 Brodersen, K., Pomponius Mela, Kreusfahrt durch die Alte Welt, Darmstadt 1994 - Mapping Pliny’s World: The Achievement of Solinus,” Bulletin ofthe Institute of Classical Studies 54, 2011, 63-88 [German version: “Vom Periplus zur Karte: Die Leistung des Gaius Iulius Solinus,” in: K. Geus/M. Rathmann (eds.), Die Vermessung der Oikumene (Topoi 14), Berlin/Boston 2013, 185-201] - (ed.), Solinus: New Studies, Heidelberg 2014a (the present volume) - “A revised handlist of the manuscripts of Solinus’ work,” (2014b) in: Brodersen 2014a 201-208 - Solinus: Wunder der Wdt. Edition Antike, Darmstadt 2015 (bilingual edition) Broughton, T. R. S., Magistrates of the Roman Republic, Vol. I-Il Cleveland 1951, vol. Ill Atlanta 1986 Brown, L. A., The Story ofMaps, New York 1949 Brunt, P. A., Italian Manpower 225 B.C. - A.D. 14, Oxford 1971 Büsser, F.,. Wurqeln der Reformation in Zürich, Leiden 1985 Burchard, Ch., “Pline et les Esséniens. A propos d’un article récent,” Revue biblique 69, 1961,533-569 - Solin et les Essénians. Remarques à propos d’une source négligée”, Revue biblique 74, 1987,392-407 Burckhardt, J., The Civilisation ofthe Renaissance in Italy, New York 1960 Burstein, S., “When Greek was an African Language: The Role of Greek Culture in Ancient and Medieval Nubia,” Journal of World History 19, 2008, 41-61 Capponi, F., “Cultura scientiftco-naturalistica di Plinio,” Helmantica 37, 1986, pp. 131-146 - “Osservazioni ed esperienze ambrosiane,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997a, 59-70 (= Vichiana 11, 1982, 158-169) - “Alcune traduzioni bibliche di Ambrogio”, Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997b, 79-91 (= Inuigilata lucernis 5-6, 1983-1984, pp. 123-135). - “Ambrosiana II,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997c, 103-117 (= Koinonia 11,1987, pp. 53-67)

- “Note ambrosiane,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997d, 119-132 (=BoHettino dei Classici 3,1987, 79-92) - “Note a testi di patristica latina,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997e, 133144 (= Koinonia 15, 1991, 49-60) - Note critiche all’Esamerone di Ambrogio,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et, 1997f, 145-151 (= Sileno 18, 1992, 201-207)

Bibliography

213

- “Ambrosiana: note di iettura,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et., 1997g pp. 1SS­ Iöl (= Koinonia 16, 1992, 37-145). - “Per uno studio suile fonti naturalistiche dell’omiletica ambrosiana,” Studi Cristiani, Genova: D.Ar.Fi.Cl. Et, 1997h, 163-185 (= RCCVf 34,1992, 81-103) Cardinali, G., “Una Scheda per Joannes Camers: Il P. M°. Giovanni Ricuzzi Vellini, OFMConv (1447-1546),” Miscellanea Francescana 104, 2004, 324-333 Carey, S., Pliny's Catalogue ofCulture: Art and Empire in the Natural History, Oxford 2003 Carry M., ‘Review of G. Columba, Richerche Storiche', Journal or Roman Studies 46, 1936, 112 Charlesworth, M., Trade-Routes and Commerce of the Roman Empire. Cambridge 1924 (repr. Hildesheim 1961) Chibnali, M., "Pliny’s Natural Histon' and the Middle Ages,” in: T. A. Dotty (ed.), Empire andAftermath: Silver Latin II, London/Boston 1973, 57-78 Cichocka, H., “Zalez'nosV Ammiana Marcellina od Solinusa w ekskursje o Egipcie (XXII 15-16),” Meander 30, 1975, 336-352 Citroni Marchetti, S., Plinio il Vecchio e la traditione del moralisme romano, Pisa 1991 Coarelli, F., Ilforo boario, Roma 1992 - “Venus Verticordia,” in M. Steinby (ed.) Lexicon Topographicum I rbis Romae V, Roma 1999,119 Columba, G. M., “Le fonti di Guilio Solino,” Rassegna di antichità classica 1, 1896, 7-32 and 105-115 - “La questione Soliniana e la Letteratura geografica dei Romani,” Atti della R. Accademia di Science, Lettere e Belle Arti di Palermo 11,1920, 171-394 - “La questione soliniana e la letteratura geografica dei Romani,” in Id., Ricercbe Storiche, Vol. I, Palermo 1935, 171-358 Connors, C., “Imperial Space and Time: The Literature of Leisure, in O. Taplin (ed.). Literature in the Roman World. Oxford 2000, 208-234 Considine, J., Dictionaries in Early Modem Europe: Lexicography and the Making of Heritage, Cambridge 2008 Consolo, G., “Risonanze virgiliane nelTExameron di Ambrogio,” Miscellanea di Studi di Letteratura cristiana antica 5, 1955, 66-77 Cooley, A. (ed. and trans.), Ret Gestae Divi Augusti, Cambridge/New York 2009 Courtney, E., A Commentaiy on the Satires offuvenal, London 1980 Crawford, M., “Language and Geograph}· in the Sententia Minutiorum)' Athenaeum 91, 2003, 204-210 CugnoniJ. (ed)., Aeneae SilviiPiccolomini Senensis [...] opera inedita, Roma 1883 Curtin, P., Cross-Cultural Trade in World History, Cambridge 1984 Darthschmidt, P., De Priscianigrammatici Caesariensis carminibus. Diss. Breslau 1907 Davidson, ]./Pomeroy, A. (eds.). Theatres of Action. Papers for Chris Dearden. Prudentia Suppl. Auckland 2003 Davies, M., “Making Sense of Pliny in the Quattrocento.” Renaissance Studies 9, 1995, 240257 De Mély, F., “Le traité des fleuves de Plutarque,” Reue des Études Grecques 5, 1892, 327-340 De Robertis, T./Tanturli, G./Zamponi, S. (eds.), Coluccio Salutati e [invenyione delfUmanesimo, Firenze 2008 del Ton, I., “Hexaemeron S. Ambrosii Vergilium sapit”, Latinitas 18, 1970, 27-31 den Boeft, J., et al., Philological and Historical Commentaiy on Ammianus Maixellinus XXVI, Leiden/Boston 2008 Delrio, M., C. lulii Solini Polyhistor, a Martino Anton. Delrio emendatus, Antverpiae (ex officina Christophori Plantini Typographi Regij) 1572

Appendix Desanges, J., “D’Axoum à l’Assam, aux portes de la Chine: Le Voyage du “Scholasticus de Thèbes” (entre 360 et 500 après J.-C.),” Historia 18, 1969, 627-639 - Recherches sur I activité des Méditerranéens aux confins de l’Afrique (6e siècle avantJ.-C. - 4"- s^ cl aprèsJ.-C.), Roma 1978 Diederich, M.D., Vergilin the works ofSt. Ambrose, Diss. Washington D.C. 1931 Diehl, E., Iulius [492], in: RE X.1, 1919, 823-838 Diels, H., Laterculi Alexandrini aus einem Papyrus ptolemaischer Zeit.” Abhandlungen der kgl. -preuss. Akademie der Wissenshaften, philosophisch-historische Klasse, 2:1-16, Berlin 1904 Dienbauer, L., Johannes Camers, der Theologe und Humanist im Ordenskleid: Beiträge yur Erforschung der Gegenreformation und des Humanismus, Wien 1976 Dilg, P., “Die botanische Kommentarliteratur Italiens um 1500 und ihr Einfluss auf Deutschland, in A. Buck/O. Herding (eds.), Oer Kommentar in der Renaissance Bonn 1975,225-252 Diop, C., TheAfrican Origin opCivilisation: Myth orReality. Chicago 1974 Döpp, S., “Die Blütezeit Lateinischer Literatur in der Spätantike (350-430 n. Chr.). Charakteristika einer Epoche,” Philologus 182 (1988) 19-52 Dombart, B./Kalb, A. Augustinus Oe duitate Dei, Vol. I-II, Corpus Christianorum Series Latina 47-48, Tumhout 1950-1955 - / - (eds) Sancti Aurelii Augustini Episcopi De civitate dei libri XXII, recc. B. Dombart et A. Kalb, Vol. I-II, Leipzig 1928-1929 (repr. Stuttgart/Leipzig 1993) Doody, A., Pliny’s Encyclopedia: The Reception ofthe Xatural History, Cambridge 2010 Dover, P., Reading ‘Pliny’s ape’ in the Renaissance: The Polyhistor of Caius Julius Solinus in the first century of print,” in: J. König/G. W'oolf (eds.), Encyclopaedism before the Enlightenment, Cambridge 2013, 414-443 - How Heinrich Bullinger read his Solinus: Reading ancient geography in 16th-century’ Switzerland, in: Brodersen 2014a, 171-195 (the present volume) - /C. McDonough, “Of camels, crocodiles and human sacrifice: the North Carolina MS of Solinus,” InternationalJournal ofthe Classical Tradition 18.2, 2011, 167-200 Drees, L, Olympia. Gods, Artists andAthletes, New York 1966 Drumann, W-./Groebe, P., Geschichte Roms in seinem Übergang von der republikanischen yur monarchischen Verfassung oder: Pompeius, Caesar, Cicero und ihre Zeitgenossen. IV2 Berlin 1908/10 (repr. Hildesheim 1964) Dudden, F.H., The Life and Times ofSt. Ambrose, Vol. II, Oxford 1935 Dunbabin, K.D., The Mosaics of Roman \orlh Africa. Studies in Iconography and Patronage, Oxford 1978 Egli, E. (ed.), Heinrich Bul/ingers Diarium (Annales vitae) derJahre 1504-1574. Basel 1904 Emmett, A,, The digressions in the historical work ofAmmianus Marcellinus, PhD. dissertation University’ of Sydney 1972 Fabricius, j. A., Bibliotheca Latina siue Notitia auctorum ueterum latimrum, quorumcumque scripta ad nospemenerunt, distributa in libns IV. Supplementis, quae antea seiunctim excusa maximo lectorum incommodo legebantur, suis quibusque locis nuncprimum insertis. Tomus Primus, ad cuius calcem accedunt Epistolae Q. Curtii nomine a. 1500. Regii Lepidi Vulgatae, Veneriis (apud Sebastianum Coleti) 1728 Feeney, D., Caesars Calendar Ancient Time and the Beginnings of History, Sather Lectures 65, Berkeley/Los Angeles 2007 Feraco, F., Solino e la plena di Nilo (32, 9-6),” Filologia antica e modema, 25, 2003, 5-37 - “Solino 29, 1-4 e la fonte dl Debris,” Invigilata lucernis 28, 2006, 85-107 - “Nota testuale a Solino 7, 4,” Filologia antica e modema, 32, 2007, 27-32 - Solino 52 43-45: il pappagallo indlano e la presenza di Apuleio nei Collectanea rerum memorabilium;' RPLn.s. 31, 2008, 39-67

Bibliography

215

- “I Collectanea dl Solino: per una tipologia degli errori,” Bollettino di studi lalini 40, 2010, 498-508 Fernandez Nieto, F.J., Solino, Coleccion de hechos mémorables o El erudito, Madrid 2001 - “Boco y Solino: L. Cornelius Bocchus en la Collectanea de Iulius Solinus,” in: J. L. Cardoso/M. Almagro-Gorbea (eds.), Lucius Cornelius Bocchus: F,scritor Lusitano da Idade de Prata da Uteratura Latina, Lissabon/Madrid 2011, 307-318 - “Incidentes de una correccicm geogràfica de Solino a Plinio: La isla de Cos,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 90-95 (the present volume) Ferré, B., Martianus Capella. Les Noces de Philologie et de Mercure. U m VI : U géométrie. Paris 2007 Fiaccadori, G., “Trade in Antiquity’,” in S. Uhlig/A. Bausi (eds.). Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, Vol. IV, Wiesbaden 2010, 974-976 Findlen, P., Possessing Nature: Museums, Collecting and Scientific Culture in Sixteenth-Century Italy, Berkeley/Los Angeles 1994 - “Natural History,” in R. Porter/K. Park/L. Daston (eds.). The Cambridge History of Sci­ ence, Vol. Ill, Cambridge 2006, 435-468 Fischer, H., Conrad Cessner. 26 Μαιχ 1516 - 13 December 1565: Leben und Werk. Zürich 1966 Fitzpatrick, M., “Provincialising Rome: The Indian Ocean Trade Network and Roman Imperialism,” Journal of World History 22, 2011, 27-54 Flint, V. I. j., The imaginative Landscape of Christopher Columbus, Princeton, NJ 1992 Formisano, M., “Towards an aesthetic paradigm of late antiquity’,” AriTard 15, 2007, 277284 - “Late Antiquity New Departures”, in R. J. Hexter/D. Townsend (eds.), The Oxford Handbook, ofMedieval Latin Uteratun, Oxford/New York 2012, 509-534 Fremantle, W.H., A select library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church (2nd series), vol. VI (St. Jerome, Letters and Select Works), New York 1892 Frohne, R., “Etymologien und Namenserklärungen in Vadians Scholien zu Pomponius Mela ‘De chorographia’: über die bewohnte W'elt (2. Auflage), Basel 1522, in R. Gamper (ed.), X'adran als Geschictsschmber, St. Gallen 2006, 119-128 - Das Welt- und Menschenbild des St. Caller Humanisten Joachim von Watt/ Vadianus (14841551) dargestellt anhand ausgewählter Exkurse in den Scholien ψ Pomponius Mela ‘De chorographia”, Basel 1522: Ein Lesebuch (Lateinisch/Deutsch) mit Kommentaren und Interpretationen, Remscheid 2010 Fuhrmann, M., Rom in der Spätantike. Porträt einer Epoche, Zürich 1994 f 1998) Galdi, M., L'Epitome nella letteratura latina, Napoli 1922 Gallas, L. L. J., Lesgéographes allemands de la Renaissance, Paris 1890 Gamper, G./Gampet, R./Hächler, F. (eds.), Katalog der Inkunabeln in der Kantonsbibliotbek St. Gallen. Vadianische Sammlung der Ortsbürgergemeinde und Eigenbestand, Dietikon/Zürich 2010 Garcia de Iturrospe, M.T., “Los animales aeuäticos en San Ambrosio: simbolismo cristiano e ictiologia,” Veleia 20, 2003, 437-457 Gardner, I., Man/: The Kephalaia of the Teacher, Leiden 1995 (cf. www.sasanika.org/wpcontent/uploads/Kephalaia.pdf) Garton, Ch., PersonalAspects of the Roman Theatre, Toronto 1972 Gasti, F., “I Collectanea di Solino come fonte del libro XI detle etymologiae di Isidore»,” Ath­ enaeum n.s. 66, 1988, 121-129 Gedif, T./Hahn, H.-J., “The use of medicinal plants in self-care in rural central Ethio­ pia,” Journal of Ethnopharmacology 87, 2003, 155-161

Appendix Geertz, C, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays. New York 1973 Genini, R., Theda Bara: A Biography ofthe Silent Screen Vamp, J effersen, N.C. 1996 Germann, M., Die reformierte Stiftsbibliothek am Grossmünster Zürich im 16. Jahrhundert und die Anfänge der neuzeitlichen Bibliographie. Rekostruktion des Buchbestandes und seiner Herkunft\ der Bücheraufstellung und des Bihliotheksraumes. Mit Edition des Inventars von 1532/1551 von Conrad Pe/likan, Wiesbaden 1994 Gesche, H., “Hat Caesar den Octavian zum Magister Equitum designiert?,” Historia 22 1973, 468-478 Ginzburg, C., “High and Low: The Theme of Forbidden Knowledge in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries”, Past and Present 73 (1976) 28-41 = “L’alto e il basso. II tema della conoscenza proibita nel Cinquecento e Seicento”, in Id., Miti emblemi .pie. Mofologta e storia, Torino 1986, 107-132; slightly revised in Clues, myths, and the historical method, trans. J. and A.C. Tedeschi, Baltimore 22013, 54-69 Gjerstad, E., Pales, Palilia, Parilia, in K. Ascani et al. (eds.). Studia romana in honorem Petris Kramp septuagenarii, Odense 1976, 1-5 Goldhill, S., “The Anecdote. Exploring the Boundaries between Oral and Literate Per­ formance in the Second Sophistic,” in W. A. Johnson/N. H. Parker (eds.), Ancient Literacies. The Culture ofReading in Greece and Rome, Oxford 2009, 96-113 Golding, A,, The excellent andpleasant worke oflutius Solinus Polyhistor, London 1587 Gordon, B., The Swiss Reformation, Manchester 2002a — Heinrich Bullinger, in C. Lindberg (ed.), The Reformed Theologians. An introduction to Theology in the Early Modem Period, Oxford 2002b, 170-183 Gossel, G., Quibus exfontibus Ambrosius in describendo copore humano hauserit (Ambros. Exaem. V I54-74), Diss. Leipzig 1908 Graf, F., “Augustine and Magic”, inj. N. Bremmer/J. R. Veenstra (eds.), The Metamotphosis ofMagicfrom Late Antiquity to the Early Modem Period, Leuven 2002, 87-103 Graf-Stuhlhofer, F., “Vadian als Lehrer am W'iener Poetenkolleg” Zwinftiana 26 1999 93-98 Graindor, P., Athènes sous Hadrien, Le Caire 1934 Griffin, M., Nem, Oxford 1984 Gros, P., Apollo Palatinus, in M. Steinby (ed.), Lexicon 1opographicum Urbis Romae, Vol. I, Roma 1993, 54-57 Guidoboni, E., I terremotiprima delMilk m Italia e neU’area mediterranea, Bologna 1989 Gundel, H. G., “Vibius 4,” RE VIII A 2, 19580, 1950 Hagendahl, H., Latin Lathers and the Classics, Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia 6 Stock­ holm 1958 - Augustine and the Latin Classics, Studia Graeca et Latina Gotoburgensia 20, Vol. I-II Göteborg 1967 Hatke, G., Aksum and Nubia, New York 2013 Herrmann, L, “Sénèque et Pline l’Ancien,” Revue des études anciennes 38 (1936) 177-181 Hertzberg, G. F., Geschichte Griechenlands unter der Herrschaft der Römer, Vol. III, Halle 1875 Hijmans, B .L. “Curiositas”, in: Id. et al., Aputeius Madaunmsis Metamorphoses Book IX. Text, introduction and Commentary, Groningen 1995, 362-379 Hillard, T., “Prosopographia shared by Pliny and Solinus: The question of Solinus’ Source(s), ’ in: Brodersen 2014a, 43-74 (the present volume) Hine, H. (trans.), Seneca, NaturalQuestions. Chicago 2010 Hoffmann, E., Sancti Aurelii Augustini Episcopi De duitate Dei libri XXII, pars 2, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 40, Prag/Wien/Leipzig 1900 Holford-Strevens, L., Aulus Gellius. An Antonine Scholar and his Achievement 2nd ed Oxford 2003

Bibliography

217

Holleaux, M./Dürrbach, F., “Fouilles de Délos (1902). Inscriptions (1),” BCH 28, 1904, 93-190 Hörster, M./Reitz, C. (eds.), Condensing texts - condensed texts, Stuttgart 2010 Howatson M.C. (ed.). The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature, 3rd. ed., Oxford 2011 Hünemörder, C., “Salamander”, Der neue Paul)1X, 2001, 1240-1241 Humphries, M., “A New Created World: Classical Geographical Texts and Christian Contexts,” in J. H. D. Scourfield (ed.). Texts and Culture in Late Antiquity, Swansea 2007, 33-67 Huntingford, G., Periplus ofthe Erythraean Sea, London 1980 Hyskell, I. D .,A Study of the Latinity ofSolinus, Diss. Chicago 1918 (publ. 1925) Ihm, M., “Studia Ambtosizna”, Jahrbücherfir class. Philologie 17, Supplementband. 1889 Inglebert, H., “‘L’histoire de Rome’ dans l’antiquité tardive: un concept équivoque,” Latomus 55, 1996, 544-567 - Interpretatio Christiana: Les mutations des savoirs, cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire, dans l'antiquité clrrétienne, 30-630 aprèsJ.-C, Paris/Turnhout 2001 Irbv, G. L., “Mapping the World: Greek Initiatives from Homer to Eratosthenes,” in R. Talbert (ed.), Ancient perspectives: Maps and their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome. Chicago 2012, 81-108 Isaac, B„ “Proto-Racism in Graeco-Roman Antiquity,” WorldArchaeology 38, 2006, 32-47 Jacob, C., La description de la terre habitée de Denys d’Alexandrie ou la leçon de géographie, Paris 1990 Jameson, S., “Chronology of the Campaigns of Aelius Gallus and C. Petronius,” Journal oj Rowan Studies 58, 1968, 71-84 janson, T., Isatin Prose Prefaces. Studies in Literary Conventions, Stockholm 1964 jardine, L./Grafton, A., ‘“Studied for Action’: how Gabriel Harvey Read His Livy,” Past and Present 129, 1990, 30-37 Jones, A., “Ptolemy’s Geography: Mapmaking and the Scientific Enterprise,” in R. Talbert (ed.). Ancient Perspectives: Maps and their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome. Chicago 2012,109-128 Kaldellis, A., Ethnography after antiquity: foreign lands and peoples in Byzantine literature. Phila­ delphia 2013 Kallendorf, C., “Marginalia and the rise of early modern subjectivity,” in M. Pade (ed.), On Renaissance Commentaries, Hildesheim 2005, 111-128 Kartunnen, K., “The Ethnography of the Fringes,” in E.J. Bakker/I.J.F. de Jong,/H. van Wees (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Herodotus. Leiden 2002, 457-476 Keller, O., Die antike Tierwelt, Leipzig 1913 (repr. Hildesheim/New York 1980) Keyser, P., “Greek Geograph)' of the Western Barbarians,” in L. Bonfante (ed.). The Bar­ barians ofAncient Europe: Realities and Interactions. Cambridge/New York 2011, 37-70 Kiernan, P„ “Cult Image, Roman,” in R. S. Bagnail et al. (eds.). The Encyclopedia ofAncient History. Malden 2012, 1858-1860 Kimble, G. H. T., Geography in the Middle Ages, London 1938 Kirwan, L , “The Christian Topography and the Kingdom of Axum,” The Geographical journal 138, 1972,166-177 Kitchell, K-, ‘Rev. Doodv 2010’, C)-online 2012.05.10 Knox, P. E., “Lucretius on the Narrow Road,” HSCP 99, 1999, 275-287 Köhler, W., HulArych Zwinglis Bibliothek, Zurich 1921 Koestermann, E., Cornelius Tacitus, Annalen Band 111 Buch 11-13 (Heidelberg 1967) Kokkinos, N., Antonia Augusta (London 1992) Labarre, A., “Diffusion de 1’Historia naturalis de Pline au temps de la Renaissance,” in E. Geck/G. Pressler (eds.), Festschriftfür Claus Nissen, Wiesbaden 1973, 451-470

Appendix Labhardt, A., “Curiositas. Notes sur l’histoire d’un mot et d’une notion”. Muséum Helveticum 17, 1960, 206-224 - “Curiositas”, AL 2 (1996-2002) 188-196 Leeman-Van Elck, P., Die Offifin Froschatter, Zürichs berühmte Druckerei im 16, Jahrhundert Zürich 1940 Legras, B., “L’horizon géographique de la jeunesse grecque d’Égypte,” in: A. BülowJacobsen (ed.), Proceedings of the 20th International Congress of Papjrologists. Copenhagen, 2329 August, 1992, Copenhagen 1994, 165-176 Lenski, N., Failure ofFmptre: V'alens and the Roman State in the Fourth Century, Berkeley/Los Angeles 2002 Leu, U., “Die Privatbibliothek Rudolf Gwalthers,” Librarium 39, 1996, 96-108 - “Die Zürcher Buch- und Lesekultur 1520 bis 1575,” Zwingliana 21, 2004, 61-90 —/Keller, R./\X eidmann, S. (eds.), ConradGessner's Private Library. Leiden 2008 — /Weidmann, S., Heinrich Bullinger Biographie. Vol. III (Heinrich Bullingers Privat­ bibliothek), Zürich 2004 Leunissen, M., “Aristotle on Natural Character and Its Implications for Moral Develop­ ment,” Journal ofthe History ofPhilosophy 50, 2012, 507-530 Lother, H., Der Pfau in der altchristlichen Kunst, Leipzig 1929 Lozovsky, N., The Earth is Our Book: Geographical Knowledge in the Latin West ca. 400-1000, Ann Arbor 2000 Lübeck, E., Hieronymus quos noverit scriptores et ex quibus hauserit, Leipzig 1872 MacLachlan, B., “Feasting with Ethiopians: Life on the Fringe,” Quademi Urbinati di Cul­ tura Classica ns. 40, 1992, 15-33 MacMullen, R., Paganism in the Raman Empire, New Haven 1981 Mara, M. G., “Ambrosius of Milan, Ambrosiaster and Nicetas,” in A. di Berardino (ed.), Petrology, Vol. IV (The Golden Age of Patristic Literature, from the Council of Nicea to Council of Chalcedon), Allen, Texas 1991 (English trans, of the Italian edition, Casale/Roma/Torino 1978) Marin, M., La presenza di Orazio nei Padri latini: Ambrogio, Girolamo, Agostino,” in R. Uglione (ed.), Atti delCorwegno \afonale di Studi sit Oragio, Torino 1993, 259-263 Marincola, J., Romans and/as Barbarians,” in L. Bonfante (ed.), Barbarians of Western Europe: Realities and Interactions. Cambridge/New York 2011, 347-357. Marrou, H.-L, Saint Augustin et lafin de la culture antique, Paris 1938, 4th ed. 1958 Maslakov, G. (‘Yuri’), “Valerius Maximus and Roman Historiography. A Study of the exempla Tradition, in H. Temporini (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 2.32.1, Berlin/New York 1984, 437-496 Mathisen, R., “Catalogues of Barbarians in Late Antiquity',” in R. Mathisen/D. Shanzer (eds.), Romans, Barbarians, and the Transformation of the Roman World. Farnham/Burlington 2011,17-32 Mayer, E., The Ancient Middle Classes, Cambridge, 5L\/London 2012 Mayhoff, C. (ed.), C. Plini Secundi Naturalis Historiae libri XXXVII, Vol VI (Indices, com­ posed by L. Jan [Ianus]), Leipzig 1865/1898 (repr. Stuttgart 1970) McCarthy, R., Urbs Ontur. The Parilia Meets Politics in the Age ofAugustus, unpublished MA thesis, University' of Arizona 2004 McGill, S., Plagiarism in Latin Literature, Cambridge 2012 McGinnis,)., Avicenna, Oxford 2010 McGrath, A., The Intellectual Origins ofthe European Reformation, Oxford 2004 McLaughlin, R., “The Lure of the Orient,” History Today 60, 2010a, 10-17 - Rome and the Distant East. London and New York 2010b

Bibliography

219

Mekouria, T. T., “Christian Aksum,” in G. Mokhtar (ed.), General History ofAfrica, Vol. II, Berkelev/Los Angeles 1981, 401-422 Merrills, A. H., History and Geography in Late Antiquity, Cambridge 2005 Miglio, M., “Vidi thiaram Pauli secundi”, in: Idem, Storiografia pontifiria dei quattrocento, Bologna 1975,121-153, 247-249 Milham, M. E., “A Handlist of the Manuscripts of C. Julius Solinus,” Scriptorium SI, 1983, 126-129 —“C. Julius Solinus,” in: F. E. Cranz et al. (eds.), Catalogus Translationum et commentariorum. Mediaeval and Renaissance Latin Translations and Commentaries, Vol. VI, Washington, DC 1986, 73-85 Mitsis, Ph., “Committing Philosophy on the Reader: Didactic Coercion and Reader Autonomy in De Rerum Natura,” MD 31, 1993, 111-128 Mommsen, Th„ C. lulii Solini Collectanea rerum memorabilium, Berlin 1864 —C. lulii Solini Collectanea rerum memorabilium, iterum recensuit, Berlin 1895 Moretti, P. F., “Elefanti, serpenti e bachi da seta. Riflessioni su qualche aspetto del repertorio zoologico ambrosiano”, Acme 57, 2004, 3-31 Morley, N., Trade in ClassicalAntiquity, Cambridge 2007 Münzer, F., ‘Review of A. Romano, Osservafioni Pliniane”, Wochenschrift fiir klassische Philologie 20, 1901, 542-546 —“Menogenes 2,” RE XV 1,1931,917 Munk Olsen, B., L ’Étude des auteurs classiques latins aux XT et X1T siècles. Vol. II, Paris 1985 —“Les classiques au Xe siècle”, Mittellateinischesfahrbuch 24/25, 1989-1990, 341-347 Munro-Hay, S., Aksum: An African Civilisation of Late Antiquity (1991). Corrected online version on www.dskmariam.org/artsandlitreature/literature/pdf/aksum.pdf —“Axumite Overseas Interests,” in J. Reade (ed.), The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London and New York 1996, 403-416 Murphy, T., Pliny the Elder’s Natural History: The Empire in the Encyclopedia, Oxford 2004 Myres.J. L., “Two Books on Ancient Geography,” CR49.5,1935, 174 Naas, V., Le projet encyclopédique de Pline l’ancien, Collecdon de L École Française de Rome 303, Rome 2002 —“Imperialism, Mirabilia, and Knowledge: Some Paradoxes in the Naturalis historia," in R. K Gibson/R. Morello (eds.), Pliny the Elder: Themes and Contexts, Mnemosyne Monographs 329, Leiden/Boston 2011, 57-70 Näf, W., Vadian and seine Stadt St. Gallen. Erster Band: bis 1518. Humanist in Wien, St. Gal­ len 1944 Näf, W., I'adianisebe Anakkten, St Gallen 1945 Natsoulas, T., “Byzantine Empire,” in S. Uhlig (ed.). Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, Vol. 1, Wies­ baden 2003, 657-659 Nauert, Ch., “Humanists, Scientists and Pliny: Changing Approaches to a Classical Author,” American Historical Review 84, 1979, 72-85 Nazzaro, V„ “La natura in Ambrogio,” in R. Uglione (ed.), Atti del Convegno Nationale di Studi. L ’uomo antico e la Xatura (Torino 28-30 aprile 1997), Torino 1998a —“Ambrogio", in Orafio. Enaclopedia Orafiana, Vol. Ill, Roma 1998b, 6-7 Newhauser, R., “Curiosity”, in K. Pollmann et al. (eds), The Oxford Guide to the Historical Reception ofAugustine, Vol. II, Oxford 2013, 849-852 ^ O’Dalv, G., Augustine’s City of God: A Reader's Guide, Oxford 1999', 20022 Ogilvie, B., The Science ofDescribing: Natural History in Renaissance Europe, Chicago 2006 Oliver, P. ]., Pomponii Melae De situ orbis libri tres: cum Petri loannis OUuarij Valentini, utri in Geographia doctissimi, Scholifs. Hermolai Barbari in eundem Pomponium Melam Castigationes;

Appendix C. lulii Solini Polyhistor, sine rerum orbis memorabilium Collectanea, partim ad uetustissimorum exemplariumfidem restituta, partim scholijs illustrata, cum indice copiosissimo, |s. 1., s. a.] (Basel· Winter 1536 ?) Olschki, L, “What Columbus Saw on Landing in the West-Indies,” Proceedings ofthe Amer­ ican Philosophical Society 84.5 (1941) 633-659 Olson, K., Dress and the Roman Woman, London/New York 2008 Pailler, J.-M., Bacchanalia: la répression de 186 αν. J.-C. à Rome et en Italie: vestiges, images, tradi­ tion (BEFAR 270), Roma 1988 Pailler, J.-M., Bacchus. Figures etpouvoirs, Paris 1995 Palanque, J. R., Saint Ambrose et l’empire romain, Paris 1933 Paniagua, D., “Solinus er Nicander, qui de his rebus scripserunt’ (Serv. ad Georg. 2. 215). Solino como autoridad ofiologica en el comentario de Servio,” in G. Hinojo Andres/J. C. Fernandez Corte (eds.): Munus quaesitum mentis: Flomenaje a Carmen Codoner, Acta Salmanticensia: estudios filologicos 316, Salamanca 2007, 685-693 - “Una Nueva Fuente de Exegesis en los Scholia in hmenalem Vetustiora: La Obra de Solino,” Emerita 76, 2008, 105-124 - “Iisdemfere uerbis Salini saepe sunt sententias mutuati: Solinus and late Antique Christian lit­ erature from Ambrose to Augustine: An old assumption re-examined,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 119-140 (the present volume) Pape, M., Criechische Kunstwerke aus Knegbeute und ihre öffentliche Aufstellung in Rom, Diss. Hamburg 1975 Papi, E., ‘Statua Colossea: Apollo (1)’, in M. Steinby (ed.), Lexicon Topograpkicum Urbis Romae, Vol. IV, Roma 1999, 354 Paredi, A., L. Ambrogio e ta sua età, Milano 1960 Parker, G., Tir Making ofRoman India, Cambridge 2008 Parker, N. H., “Books and Reading Latin Poetry,” in W. A. Johnson/N. H. Parker (eds.), Ancient Ltteraaes. 1he Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, Oxford 2009, 186-229 Parkin, T. G., Old Age in the Roman Warid. A Cultural and Social History, Baltimore/ London 2003a - “Honour thy Father - and thy Mother? An Act of Pietas,” in ). Davidson/A. Pomeroy (eds.), Theatres of Action. Paper for Chris Dearden. Prudentia Suppl., Auckland 2003b 194-210 Pasero, C, “L’umanista padre Giovanni Ricucci da Camerino”, Atti e Memorie della R. Deputafione di Storia Patriaper le Marche, ser. IV, 10, 1933, 107-122 Pavlock, B.,“Paradox and the journey in the Dedicatory' Preface of Solinus’ Collectanea,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 24-31 (the present volume) Peking, C, Plutarch: Caesar, Oxford 2011 Pepin, J., Théologie cosmique et théologie chrétienne, Ambroise, Exam. I 1, 1-4, Paris 1964 Pernot, L., La rhétorique de l’éloge dans le mondegréco-romain. Vol. I-Il, Paris 1993 Peter, H., Oie geschichtliche Litteratnr über die römische Kaiseryetf bis Theodosius I und ihreQuellen, Leipzig 1897 Phillips, J., “Punt and Aksum: Egypt and the Horn of Africa,” Journal ofAfrican History 38, 1997,423-457 Pinon, L., “Conrad Gessner and the Historical Depth of Renaissance Natural History,” in G. Pomata/N. Siraisi (eds.). Historia: Empiricism and Erudition in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge, MA 2005, 241-268 Plett, H. F., Enargeia in ClassicalAntiquit)· and the Earl·,· Modern Age. The Aesthetics of Evidence, Leiden 2012 Potter, D., Literary Texts and the Roman Historian, London/New York 1999

Bibliography

221

Pozzi, G. (ed.), Hermolai Barbari Castigationes Plinianae et in Pomponium Melae. Vol. I-IV, Padova 1973-1979 Rabenald, F., Quaestionum Solitiianarum Capita Tria, Halle 1909 Rabenhorst, M., Der ältere Plinius als Epitomator des Verrius Flaccus. Eine Quellenanalyse des siebentem Buches derNaturalgeschichte, Berlin 1907 Racine, F., “Teaching with Solinus: Martianus and Priscian,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 157170 (the present volume) - Know Your Places: Teaching and Writing Geography in Late Antiquity, Ann Arbor forthcoming Ramelli, I., Maryiano Capella. Le noye di Filologia e Mercurio, Milano 2001 Reeve, M. D-, “Excerpts from Pliny’s Natural History”, in P. F. Alberto/D. Paniagua (eds,). Ways ofapproaching knowledge in Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages. Schools and scholarship, Nordhausen 2012, 245-263 Rennell, j ., The Geographical System of Herodotus Examined and Explained, by a Comparison with those ofother amiertt authors and with modemgeography, 2nd. ed, London 1830 Richter, G. M. A., “Silk in Greece”, AJA 33,1929, 27-33 Robbins, F. E., The Hexaemera! Literature. M study of the Greek and Latin Commentaries on Genesis, Diss. Chicago 1912 Rodella, C, “Prossimità tra uomini e orsi nella tradizione classica,” in R. A. Valvo/R. Gazich (eds.). Analecta Brixiana II, Milano 2007, 325-350 Rolfe, J. C. (trans.), Ammianus Marcellinus, Vol. I-III, Cambridge MA/London 1940 Romano, A., Osservaytoni Pliniane, Palermo 1900 Römer, F. E., Pomponius Mela's Description ofthe World, Ann Arbor 1998 - “Reading the Myth(s) of Empire: Paradoxography and Geographic Writing in the Collectanea,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 75-89 (the present volume) Roncoroni, A., “Plinio Tardoantico,” in PTmlo il Vecchio sotto iiprofila letterario e storico. Atti dei Cotwegno di Como 5, 6, 7 ottobre 1979; Atti delta Ί avola Rotonda nella ricoirenyq centenaria della morte di Plinio il Vecchio, Bologna 16 dicembre 1979, Como 1982, 151-168 Ross, D. j. A., Alexander Historiatus: A Guide to Medieval IllustratedAlexander Literature, Lon­ don 1963 (rev. ed. as Beiträge zur Klassischen Philologie 186, Frankfurt/Main 1988) Rotondi, G., Leges Publicae Populi Romani, Milano 1912 (repr. Hildesheim 1966) Rouse, R. H., “Solinus,” in L. D. Reynolds (ed.), Texts and Transmission. A Survey of the Latin Classics, Oxford 1983, 391-393 Rüetschi, K. J., “Bullinger and the Schools,” in B. Gordon/E. Emidio Campi (eds.), Architect of Reformation. An Introduction to Heinrich Bullinger, 1504-1575, Grand Rapids, MI 2004, 215-229 Rupp, G., Patterns ofReformation, Philadelphia 1969 Ryan, F. X., “The Birthdates of Domitius and Scipio,” AHB 11.2 & 3,1997, 83-89 Sallmann, K., “Solinus”, Der Kleine Pauly, Vol. V, München 1975, 260 Salway, B., “Putting the World in Order: Mapping in Roman Texts,” in R. Talbert (ed.), Ancient Perspectives: Maps and their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, Chicago 2012, 193-234 Santini, C., “La lettera prefatoria di Giulio Solino”, in C. Santini et al. (eds.), Prejaytoni, prohgbi, proemi di opere femico-scientifiche latine, Vol. Ill, Roma 1998, 33-49 Savage, J.. Saint Ambrose, Hexameron, Paradise, and Cain and Abel, The Fathers of the Church (A New Translation) 42, New York 1961 Schanz, M., Geschichte der manschen Utteratur bis yum Gesetygebungswerk des Kaisers Justinian, Vol. Ill, München 1896 Schenker-Frei, V./Fehrlin, H./Thurnheer, H. (eds.), Biblotheca Vadiani. Die Bibliothek des Humanisten Joachim von Watt nach dem Katalog desJosua Kessler von 1555, St. Gallen 1973

Appendix Schenk], K., Sancti Ambrosii Opera, pars prima qua continentur Exameron, Deparadiso, De Cain et Abel, De Noe, De Abraham, De Isaac, De bono mortis, CSEL 32, Prag/Wien/Leipzig 1897 Schilling, R., Pline l’Ancien. Histoire Naturelle Litre Vil, Paris 1977 Schlapbach, K., “Solinus’ Collectanea rerum memorabilium and Augustine’s curiosa historia,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 141-156 (the present volume) Schmidt, P.L., “Solins Polyhistor in Wissenschaftsgeschichte und Geschichte” Philologus 139,1995, 23-35 Schmidt, V., “Revetare und Curiositas bei Apuleius und Termllian”, Groningen Colloquta on the Novel 6, Groningen 1995, 127-135 Schwabe, L. (rev. and ed.), Teuffel’s History ofRoman Literature (Eng. trans. G. C. W. Warr), London 1900 Scullard, H. H., The Elephant in the Greek and Roman World, London 1974 Seland, E. H,, “Trade and Christianity in the Indian Ocean during Late Antiquity,” Journal ofLate Antiquity 5, 2012, 72-86 Sherman, W., “What Did Renaissance Readers Write in Their Books,” in J. Andersen/E. Sauer (eds.), Books and Readers in Early Modem England: Materia! Studies, Philadelphia 2001,119-137 - Used books: marking readers in Renaissance England, Philadelphia 2008 Sherwin-White. A. N,, The Letters ofPliny: A Historical and Social Commentary, Oxford 1966 Sidebotham, S., “Roman Interests in the Red Sea and Indian Ocean,” in ). Reade (ed.). The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London/New York 1996, 287-308 Smith, W., Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, Voi. Ill (Oarses-Zygia), London 1849 Snowden, F., Blacks in Antiquity, London 1970 Sogno, C, “Curiositas nihil recusat. A Playful Defense of “Low” Biography against “High” History”, in D. Brakke et al. (eds). Shifting Cultural Frontiers in Late Antiquity, Farnham/Burlington VT 2012, 73-84 Soil, J·, “The Hand-Annotated Copy of the Histoire du gouvernement de Venise, or How Amelot de La Houssaye Wrote his Histon1,” Bulletin du Bibliophile 2, 1995, 279-293 Solomon, J., The Ancient Worldin the Cinema, New Haven 2001 Springer, M, T., Nature Imagery in the Works of St. Ambrose, Diss. Catholic University of America (Washington, DC) 1931 Staedtke, J., “Ein neuentdecktes Schulbuch Heinrich Bullingers,” ZwingHana 11 1961, 389-394 Stahl, W. H., “Dominant Traditions in Early Medieval Science,” Isis 50.2, 1959, 95-124 - Roman Science: Origins, Development, and Influence to the Later Middle Ages, Madison 1962 - /Iohnson R.,/Burge, E. L., Martiamts Capella and the Seven EiheralArts, Vol. I, New York 1971 Steier, A, “Pfau”, RE XIX 2, 1938, 1414-1421 Steinby, M. (ed.). Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae. Roma I 1993, IV 1999, V 1999 Stevenson, A. J. “Gellius and the Roman Antiquarian Tradition”, in: L. HolfordStrevens/A. Vardi (eds.), The Worlds ofAulus Gellius, Oxford 2004, 118-155 Stotz, P. (ed.), Studiorum Ratio/Studienanleitung. Heinrich Bullingers Werke, Vol I (Teilband Text und Übersetzung), Zürich 1987 - “Heinrich Bullinger (1504-1575) and the ancient languages,” in E. Campi (ed.). Scholarly knowledge: textbooks in early modem Europe, Genève 2008, 113-138 Stout, A. M., “Jewellery as a Symbol of Status in the Roman Empire”, in: J. L. Sebesta/L. Bonfante (eds), The World of Roman Costume, Madison 2001,77-100

Bibliography

223

Stückelberger, A./Grasshoff, G. (eds.), KJattdios Ptolemaios Handbuch der Geographie. Griechisch—Deutsch, Vol, l-II, Basel 2006 Suolahti, ]., The Junior Officers of the Roman Army in the Republican Period. A Study in Social Structure, Helsinki 1955 Talbert, R. J. A., Rome’s World: The PeutingerMap Reconsidered, Cambridge 2010 - “Urbs Roma to Orbis Romanus: Roman Mapping on the Grand Scale,” in R. Talbert (ed.). Ancientperspectives: Maps and their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, Chi­ cago 2012, 163-191 Talboys Wheeler, The Geography of Herodotus, Developed, Explained, and Illustrated from Modem Researches and Discoveries, London 1854 Tamrat, T., Church and State in Ethiopia, 7270-1527, Oxford 1972 Thorley, ]., “The Development of Trade between the Roman Empire and the East Under Augustus,” Greece and Rome 16, 1969, 209-223 Thorndike, L., “The Attack on Pliny,” in L. Thorndike, A History ofMagic and Experimen­ tal Science, Vol. IV, New York 1953, 593-610 Török, L./Hägg, T., “265 Philae, Greek proskynema of Ahratoeis (Abratoye). AD 260,” in T. Eide/T. Hägg/R. Holton Pierce/L. Török (eds.), Fontes Historiae Nubiorum, Vol. Ill, Bergen 1998, 1020-1023 - /Holton Pierce, R., “260 Philae. Demotic graffito of Pasan. AD 253,” in T. Eide/T. Hägg/R. Holton Pierce/L. Török (eds.), Fontes Historiae Nubiorum, Vol. Ill, Bergen 1998, 1000-1010 Torelli, M., Lavinio e Roma, Roma 1984 Toynbee, J., Animats in Roman Life andArt, Ithaca NY 1973 Trisoglio, F., “San Girolamo e Plinio il giovane”, Rivista di Studi Classici 21, 1973, 343-383 Uhden, R., “Die Weltkarte des Martianus Capella,” Mnemosyne 3, 1936, 97-124 Ullman, B. L., The Humanism of Colucrio Salutati, Padua 1963 Van Heck, A. (ed.), Aeneas Sihius Piccolomini (Pius II), Commentarii rerum memorabilium que temporibus suis contigerunt, Vol. 1-11, Citta del Vaticano 1984 - (ed.), Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini (Pius 11), Carmina, Studi e testi 364, Citta dei Vaticano 1994 - (ed.), Enee Silvii Piccolominei Epistolarium seculare: complectens De duobus amantibus, De naturis equorum, De curialium miseriis/post Rudolf Wolkan iterum recognovit edidit Adrianus van Heck, Studi e testi 439, Citta del Vaticano 2007 Van Wyk Smith, M., “Africa as Renaissance Grotesque: John Skelton’s 1485 Version of Diodorus Siculus,” Shakespeare in South Africa 13, 2001, 23-31 - The First Ethiopians. Johannesburg 2009 Vanggaard, Jens H., “On Parilia,” Ternetm 7, 1971, 90-103 Vardi, A., “Genre, Conventions, and Cultural Programme in Gellius’ Nodes Atticae”, in: L. Holford-Strevens/A. Vardi (eds). The worlds ofAulus Gellius, Oxford 2004, 159-186 Volker-Saad K./Kaplan, S./Kiflevesus, A., “Milk and Milk Products,” in S. Uhlig (ed.), Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, Vol. Ill, Wiesbaden 2007, 965-968 von Büren, V., “Une edition critique de Solin au IXe siecle,” Scriptorium 50, 1996, 22-87 - “Vom Nutzen literarischer Handschriften als historische Quellen,” in: H. Keller/F. Neiske (Hgg.), Vom Kloster sqtm Klosterverband. Das Werkzeug der Schriftlichkeit, München 1997, 88-99 von Martels, L., “Between Pliny the Elder and .Altertumswissenschaft’”, in N. Miedema/R. Suntrup (eds.), Literatur - Geschichte - Literaturgeschichte. Beiträge yur mediävistischen Literaturwissenschaft. Frankfurt a. M. 2003a, 389-401 - “Between Tertullian and Vincendus Lirinensis on the Concept .constantia veritatis’, and other „Christian” Influences on Solinus,” in: A. A. MacDonald/M. Twomey/G.

Appendix J. Reinink (eds.), Learned Antiquity: Scholarship and Society in the Hear East, the GrecoRoman World and the Early Medieval West, Leaven 2003b, 63-79 - “Turning the Tables on Solinus’ Critics: The Unity of Contents and Form of the Polyhistor,” in: Brodersen 2014a, 10-23 (the present volume) Vossius, G. I., De historicis latinis libri tres, Leiden (apud loannem Maire) 1627 Walter, H., “C. Julius Solinus und seine Vorlagen,” Classica etMediaevalia 24, 1963, 86-157 - Die “Collectanea rerum memorabilium”des C. lutins Solinus. Ihre Entstehung und die Echtheit ihrer Zweifassung, Hermes Einzelschriften 22, Wiesbaden 1969 Warmington, E. H., “Solinus,” in S. Hornblower/A. Spawforth/E. Eidinow (eds.), Oxford Classical Dictionary, 4th ed., Oxford 2012, 764 Waton,J. S. (trans.), Cicero, On Oratory and Orators, New York 1878 Webb, R., Ekphrasis, imagination and persuasion in ancient rhetorical theory and practice, Farnham/Burlington VT 2009 Weber, H., "Coae vestes”, MDA1 (Abt. Istanbul) 19/20, 1969/1970, 249-253 Weigel, R. D., Lepidus: The Tarnished Triumvir, London/New York 1992 Weischer, B., “Historical and Philological Problems of the Axumitic Literature (especially in the Qérellos),” journal of Ethiopian Studies 9, 1971, 83-93 Westrem, S. D., The HerefordMap: A Transcription and Translation ofthe Legends with Commen­ tary, Terrarum Orbis 1, Turnhout 2001 Wevman, C, ‘Review of Mommsen 1895’, berlinerphilologische Wochenschrift 16, 1896, 909'911 Whittaker, C., Rome and its Frontiers: The Dynamics ofEmpire, London/New York 2004 Wilford,J. N., The Mapmakers, London 1981 Wissowa, G., “De Veneris simulacris Romanis (1882),” in Id., Gesammelte Abhandlungen, München 1904, 1-62 - Religion und Kultus der Römer, 2nd ed., München 1912 - “Verticordia,” in W. H. Roscher (ed.), Ausführliches Lexikon dergriechischen und römischen Mythologie, vol. VI, Leipzig/Berhn, 1924-1937, 216-219 Wittkower, R., “Marvels of the East: A Study in the History of Monstersf Journal of the W'arburg and Comtauld Instifututes 5, 1942, 159-197 Wlosok, A., “Gehenna”, XL 3, 2004-2010, 100-105 Wolkan, R. (ed.). Der Briefwechsel des E.S.P., Fontes Rerum Austriacarum, 61 [Vol. 1 1], 62 [Vol. I 2], 67 [Vol. II], 68 [Vol. Ill], Wien 1909/1909/1912/1918 Woodman, A. J., Rhetoric in Classical Historiography, London 1988 Wright, F. A./Vickers, M., “Cosmetics,” in S. Homblower/A. Spawforth (eds.), The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd ed., Oxford 1996, 404-405 Young, G. K., Rome's Eastern Trade: International Commerce and Imperial Policy, 31 BC - AD 305, London/New York 2001