Virgil of Naples
Sannazaro's (meta)poetic succession
R. A. E. Poelstra Classics and Ancient Civilizations: Classics Student number 10012354 University of Amsterdam Thesis supervisor: David Rijser Second reader: Michael C. J. Putnam August 1st 2014 Word count: 21 093
1
Contents
1. Title page, p. 1 2. Contents, p. 2 3. Acknowledgments, p. 3 4. Introduction, pp. 4-7 5. Chapter 1 'Virgil', pp. 8-24 5.1. The dream of Hector and its context, pp. 8-10 5.2. The dream of Hector and its symbolism, pp. 10-12 5.3. The underworld and its context, pp. 12-13 5.4. The underworld and its symbolism, pp. 13-15 5.5. The Tiber and its context, pp. 15-16 5.6. The Tiber and its symbolism, pp. 16-20 5.7. The shield of Aeneas and its context, pp. 20-21 5.8. The shield of Aeneas and its symbolism, pp. 22-23 5.9. General Remarks, p. 23 6. Chapter 2 'Sannazaro', pp. 24-38 6.1. The underworld and its context, pp. 24-26 6.2. The underworld and its symbolism, pp. 26-33 6.3. Proteus' prophecy and its context, pp. 33-35 6.4. Proteus' prophecy and its symbolism, 35-38 6.5. General remarks, p. 38 7. Chapter 3 'the Eclogues', pp. 39-50 7.1. Virgil's sixth Ecloga and its context, pp. 39-40 7.2. Virgil's sixth Ecloga and its symbolism, pp. 41-45 7.3. Sannazaro's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria and its context, pp. 45-47 7.4. Sannazaro's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria and its symbolism, pp. 47-50 7.5. De Partu Virginis and Ecloga Piscatoria IV, pp. 50 8. Conclusion, p. 51 9. Literature, pp. 52-56
2
I want to express my deep gratitude to Machteld van der Wouden, for her unwavering enthusiasm, and for the fact that she took it upon herself to singlehandedly digitize 200 pages of a sixteenth- century manuscript in Bologna, with nothing more than the camera on her phone.
3
Introduction
Jacopo Sannazaro (1458-1530) is one of the most well regarded poets of the Italian renaissance. His vernacular masterpiece, the Arcadia, is still read today, and has had a large influence on later pastoral poetry.1 However, he was also a celebrated writer in Latin: due to his abilities in that language he was honored with the nickname 'Virgil of Naples'.2 He left a considerable Latin oeuvre, consisting of an epic, elegies, epigrams and eclogues. His most famous Latin poem is probably the epic on the birth of Christ, De Partu Virginis. It was while reading the latter that I began to suspect Sannazaro's nickname was more than an honorary title to assert his skill. Somewhat earlier, while following a seminar on intertextuality and reception in and of the classical tradition, I became acquainted with Philip Hardie's theory about the epic underworld as a location in which writers had the occasion to symbolically make statements about the place their work inhabits in its tradition.3 Hardie used the Tartarus in the Aeneid as a starting point, arguing that Virgil, through symbolism, presented himself as successor of Ennius, and he showed how epic writers later in the tradition could be seen to continue that practice in their underworlds.4 He doesn't mention Sannazaro, but after reading the part of his Christian epic that takes place in the underworld, I started to believe that Sannazaro discerned the same features of the Hades in the Aeneid as Hardie did almost five centuries later. I also started to believe that Sannazaro, in that same symbolic way, positioned himself as the Christian successor to Virgil. Upon further research into the Virigilian case, I found out that the underworld wasn't the only scene in which these 'metapoetic' (or 'metaliterary') symbols were found by scholars. This led me to look at the rest of the De Partu Virginis in a new way, which brings me to the main question that I will attempt to answer in this thesis: can one read in Sannazaro's De Partu Virginis the same metapoetic symbolism signifying poetic succession, as can be read in several scenes of Virgil's Aeneid?5 Virgil, I suspect, needs no introduction. His epic on Aeneas is often seen as the pinnacle of Latin poetry, and his other works, the Georgica, a didactic poem, and the Eclogae, pastoral poems, are almost equally celebrated. He wrote in the first century B.C., during the (budding) reign of emperor Augustus. Virgil's generic development, starting with 'low' pastoral and ending in high epic, provided Sannazaro with an example for his own career.6 The Arcadia, the Eclogae Piscatoriae and the De Partu Virginis were the Italian poet's major works, the first two representing the pastoral genre, the latter the epic. After his death, collections of epigrams and elegies were published.
1For works influenced by the Arcadia, see Hubbard (2001). 2Grant (1965) 153. 3Hardie (1993) 103-5, Hardie (2014) 21-25. 4Hardie (2014) 21-50. 5See for instance Hardie (1993), Kofler (2003), Goldschmidt (2013), Hardie (2014). 6Putnam (2009) ix. 4
Though Sannazaro was the protégé of Giovanni Pontano, head of the Accademia Pontaniana, his main influence is often identified as Virgil: certainly in his Latin poems 'the presence of the Roman author is to be felt on every page'.7 In order to research the metapoetic symbolism within the Aeneid and the De Partu Virginis, one must contemplate how it should be identified. In my opinion, we may speak of metapoeticality in instances where a text seems self-aware or self-referential, implicitly making statements about genre, tradition, or the creation of the text itself, and those statements are hidden beneath a more obvious narrative meaning of the text.8 It is in fact somewhat of a variant of the allegorical and typological interpretations that Thomas of Aquino defined (in relation to Old and New Testament), and that were current in the renaissance,9 but specifically focused on the nature of a text. Later on, allegorical interpretation was often considered invaluable, but with the rise to prominence of the theories of Gian Biaggio Conte and later Stephen Hinds, the study of metapoetics has become current in classical scholarship.10 In this thesis, I use the term 'metapoetic symbolism' when an element of the text can be interpreted to signify something else than it may seem at first glance, and, through that, appears to make statements about the text itself.11 My focus is on instances of such symbolism concerning poetic succession, that is to say, instances in which elements of the texts seem to symbolize the place of that text in the tradition and the way in which the author of the text succeeds his predecessors. I make abundant use of the term 'metapoetic', since it is useful to signify a certain category of symbolism, though I do not believe it should be considered a rigid label. It must be stated that, generally, metapoeticality should not be regarded as a goal per se, but as a by-product, existing besides the basic meaning of a text. However, the recognition of metapoetic symbolism, that is, instances in which the text seems self-referential, does add to the interpretation of certain scenes, without replacing or detracting from their more evident meaning. Through the recognition of metapoetical elements, an understanding of literature and its traditions is unearthed within a text. Moreover, there can be a programmatic significance to metapoetical interpretations, as implicit statements may be read about how the work should be perceived in relation to the tradition it is part of.
7Putnam (2009) xi. 8Heerink (2015) 24-7. 9For an overview of the development of allegorical practices in the renaissance, see Murrin (2010); for a treatment of allegories in Petrarch and in the English renaissance, see Greene (1982) 20, 94, 95, 105-6, 109-10, 127-28. 10See Conte (1986) and Hinds (1998). 11An illustrative modern example is how in the 2012 movie 21 Jump Street, which is a remake of the 1987 series of the same name, it is stated that the undercover program in which the protagonists enroll is a reboot of an undercover program from the eighties, covertly stating the identity of the film as a remake. Moreover, the actor who originally played the protagonist, Johnny Depp, has a small cameo in the 2012 film, as an older undercover agent who had begun his career in the previous undercover program from the eighties, clearly alluding to the fact that Depp's rise to success started with his role in the 1987 series. 5
The instances of intertextuality and intertextual allusions treated in this thesis are generally previously discerned by scholars. When treating an allusion that I have found myself, I will cite both the alluding passage, and the passage to which is alluded, and clearly convey the structural or verbal similarities. I agree with Conte's disliking for mere collecting of loci similes, and I believe that often an allusion at a certain moment in the text can be significant for the meaning of that scene, also potentially in a metapoetic way.12 Intention of the author is impossible to assess, and always a difficult problem in studies such as this. However, Sannazaro lived in a period where allegorical thinking was common good, and in this thesis I examine his reception of Virgil, and what he may have read in the Aeneid. This means that the intention of Virgil himself is of little importance here, as I am looking for instances of symbolism that Sannazaro could have found and used. In the case of Sannazaro, authorial intention is still impossible to assess, but due to the time he lived in, there is a relatively great freedom to attempt to read 'behind the text'. Moreover, after examining the scenes from the De Partu Virginis where metapoetic symbolism may be present, I will try to substantiate any claims made with arguments and parallels. A relatively large scholarly discourse exists with Sannazaro as its subject. Michael Putnam and Stefano Prandi have written indispensable commentaries on the text of the De Partu Virginis, and among others Thomas Greene and David Quint have written extensively on the Christian epic.13 However, no considerable attention has been given to potential metapoeticality in that work. Other works of Sannazaro have received that attention. For instance, Thomas Hubbard has intensely studied the poetic succession in the Arcadia, and Erik Fredericksen has discerned metapoetic moments in the Eclogae Piscatoriae.14 In the first chapter of this thesis, I take a close look at four scenes in Virgil's Aeneid that have attracted scholarly attention due to alleged instances of metapoetically symbolizing poetic succession from Ennius and Homer to Virgil. I will look at the context of those scenes, and then I shall attempt to isolate conditions for and characteristics of such metapoetic symbolism. Then, in my second chapter, I will examine two scenes in the De Partu Virginis that had caught my attention earlier. I will describe the context of those scenes, and attempt to find out if they contain the same conditions and characteristics that I distilled from Virgil's scenes, which would make it likely that Sannazaro symbolized his poetic succession of Virgil. Then, to substantiate this hypothesis, I will look at instances of metapoeticality in another poem of Sannazaro that have attracted scholarly attention to, on the one hand, investigate Sannazaro's metapoetical awareness, and on the other, to compare those instances with those I discerned in the De Partu Virginis. Thereafter, I will attempt to
12Conte (1986) 23. 13Greene (1982), Quint (1983), Prandi (2001), Putnam (2009). 14Hubbard (2001), Fredericksen (2014). 6 answer the question mentioned above, whether or not poetic succession may be symbolized in some scenes of the De Partu Virginis.
7
Chapter 1 Virgil
In this chapter, I will look at some scenes from Virgil's Aeneid, that can be read in a metapoetical fashion.15 These scenes can be interpreted in a way that appears to make statements about poetic succession in the epic tradition. Through intertextual allusions, Virgil may be read to implicitly express awareness of his place in the epic tradition. The metapoetical interpretations of these scenes do not replace previous interpretations, nor detract from them; they merely add to them. After having given a general overview of the content and context of each scene, I will argue a metapoetical reading from existing interpretations as well as new ones. Then, I will compare the symbolism found in each of the passages, creating a sort of framework for scenes implicitly signifying poetic succession.
The dream of Hector and its context
The first section of the epic that has attracted scholarly attention for alleged metapoeticality, is Aeneas' dream of Hector, Aeneid II.268-297. This is part of the story that the protagonist tells queen Dido of Carthage, after the Trojans have been swept off course and landed on the African shores. Dido had asked Aeneas to tell her of his misadventures, and he recounts to her the sack of Troy. After describing how the Trojans, despite the warnings and death of Laocoon, accepted the wooden horse into their walls, and how the Greeks, after they left said horse, opened the gates to their comrades and started to raid the city, Aeneas tells of a dream he was having at that exact moment. This dream was about the recently deceased Hector, the most important Trojan hero mentioned in Homer's Iliad.16 In the dream, Hector appears to Aeneas, heavily wounded, and he entrusts him with the task of saving the holy objects of Troy and its city-gods ('sacra' and 'suos penatis') and founding a new city for them. In doing so, he appoints Aeneas as his successor, the next hero to be the protector and guardian of Troy. In his commentary on the second book, Austin noted the importance of this particular scene, mentioning its “deep dramatic tension and significance”.17 On the one hand, this significance is a result of the fact that this passage marks the first appearance of Aeneas in his own story, and on the other, its importance results from the fact that it is Hector, still brutally wounded, giving Aeneas the
15See among others: Hardie (1993), Hardie (1998), Hinds (1998), Kofler (2003), Goldschmidt (2013), Hardie (2014). 16Hardie (1993) 102, Austin (19733) 128. 17Austin (19733) 127. 8 order that marks the very beginning of his quest, which will encompass the entire epic.18 The fact that Hector, such a noble and brave Trojan, gives Aeneas the order to leave Troy (or one might even say 'flee') can be explained as Virgil's way of letting Aeneas leave his burning Troy, without instantly portraying him as a coward.19 However, I would like to argue that there is a second reason to cast Hector as the shade who instructs Aeneas: it creates a link between both Trojan heroes. Furthermore, several scholars, among whom one as early as Servius, have noted the resemblance this dream-sequence, in which a shade speaks to the figure who is at that point the primary narrator, has to the dream-sequence in the first book of the Annals of Ennius.20 In that scene, Ennius dreams that the shade of Homer appears to him, to tell him that his soul is reincarnated in the Roman epic poet. The overall similarity between both dreams is strengthened by instances of verbal allusions, among which:
Ennius Ann.I.321 Virgil Aen.II.270-122
Visus Homerus adesse poeta Hector / visus adesse mihi
“The poet Homer appeared to be present..” “Hector appeared to be present to me..”
Ennius Ann.I.423 Virgil Aen.II.271
Lacrimas effundere salsas Largosque effundere fletus
“..to shed salt tears” “..to shed large tears”
Ennius Ann.I.524 Virgil Aen.II.274
Ei mihi, qualis erat.. Ei mihi, qualis erat..
“Woe is me, how he looked!” “Woe is me, how he looked!”
Other important aspects of Aeneas' dream of Hector are the fact that it is a dream, as well as Hector's prophetic words. Both these things place the scene outside of Aeneas' chronological narrative, and allow him to see further ahead than mortal eyes are able to. In this sense, the scene is
18Austin (19733), Jordan (20062) 48-9. 19Austin (19733) 128. 20Austin (19733) 128, Hardie (1993) 103, Goldschmidt (2013) 82; for Servius' (and Petrach's) knowledge of the Ennian source, see Hardie (1993) note 4.22; for the term 'primary narrator', see De Jong (2014) 19-20. 21Text as in Hunink (2011); translations are my own. 22Text as in Austin (19733). 23Text as in Goldschmidt (2013) 82; for reasons unclear to me, Hunink (2011) chooses not to adopt this verse, and in turn, Goldschmidt misses the verbal allusion in the Aeneid, marked by 'Ei mihi, qualis erat'. 24Text as in Hunink (2011). 9 somewhat isolated from the rest of the story, which becomes even more evident when, upon waking, Aeneas seems to have forgotten both Hector's order and his prediction, and attempts to rescue Troy as it lay burning.25 Also, the beginning of the passage is clearly marked with 'tempus erat, quo..', 'it was that time, at which..' (Aen.II.268), and once more clearly separated from the main narrative by 'in somnis...', 'in his slumber...' (Aen.II.270).
The dream of Hector and its symbolism
This scene contains several elements that facilitate a metapoetic interpretation concerning epic succession. Hector tells Aeneas to flee from Troy, for it is a city of the past.26 Aeneas must look to the future, and erect a new city in a new land. This already imbues the scene with a basic sense of succession, which is a necessary condition for implicit representation of literary succession: the past instructing the future allows for the same connection between literary past and present. The strongest argument to see a metaliterary layer, is the previously mentioned Ennian allusion. Ennius' dream in the beginning of his first book is a bold and explicit statement about poetic succession. Not only does the author place himself in the same tradition as Homer, he states that he is Homer reborn, thus replacing him as the epic source. Virgil avoided this heavily programmatic opening by starting in medias res, which, according to Horace, is the more elegant way to start an epic (the idea that Virgil was more subtle than Ennius was already developed during his time of writing), but by evoking this explicit poetic succession, the implicit awareness of the epic tradition and the author's place in it becomes more visible.27 As Hardie puts it, “in alluding to Ennius' claim to be the successor of Homer, the allusion enacts Virgil's own claim to be the modern successor of Ennius (as well as of Homer)”.28 That is to say, by alluding to explicit succession, Virgil is positioning himself as the successor to Ennius, and thus (indirectly) as the successor of Homer, who had already been appropriated by Ennius. If we accept this hypothesis, that would mean that in Aeneas' dream, the figure of Hector stands for Homer and Ennius on a metaliterary level, and the figure of Aeneas for Virgil himself.29 Scholars have argued several instances in which the shadow of Virgil can be seen lurking behind his protagonist within the Aeneid.30 It is in fact in itself not an
25Jordan (20062) ix. 26For the idea of Virgil representing Troy as city of the past which has to be superseded, not refounded or equaled, see Morwood (1991). 27For Horace on the practice of poetry, and Ennius' 'crudeness' in relation to Horace's contemporaries, see Rudd (2002) 19-37, 43-46; Quintilian also commented on this (Ins. 10.1.88): 'Ennium sicut sacros vetustate lucos adoremus, in quibus grandia et antiqua robora iam non tantam habent speciem quantam religionem.' 'let us adore Ennius for his antiquity as we do sacred woods, in which great and old trees do not yet have as much elegance as they do venerability'. 28Hardie (1993) 103. 29This does not negate the narrative meaning of the dream, as metapoetics should not be seen as a goal per se. 30See for a thorough examination of several of such instances Kofler (2003), and for an extensive justification of these 10 uncommon notion, as many epic poets after Virgil appear to have continued this practice.31 Moreover, in pastoral poetry, it was fairly common, as many scholars have argued that for instance in Virgil's eclogues the figure Tityrus represents the poet himself.32 Besides, it has become a common practice to try to extract information about the poet from his work in later ages.33 It is therefore not unlikely that Sannazaro held these two characters to represent Ennius and Virgil. With this implicit poetic succession in mind, more may be read into the succession of one city by another: apart from providing Virgil with an excuse for letting Aeneas flee the scene, it seems significant that the one Trojan who, in Homer's Iliad, was the primary protector of Troy, hands over the holy items and city-gods to a new hero, who will be the protector of Troy's gods in this new epic, thus appointing him as his successor.34 The same gods are being transferred from a Trojan city to a proto-Roman city, as well as from a Greek epic to a Latin epic. Already in the Iliad, Hector represents Troy, and in this epic, his successor Aeneas can be held to represent the idea of Rome:35 he is the proto-Roman, and the ancestor of all Romans. Due to the allusion to Ennius, poetic succession is evoked, and with that in mind, Troy (represented by Hector), as the old, Greek city, central to Homer's Iliad in which the penates resided, can be seen to represent that work. Virgil's epic is about building those penates a new city, Rome, which may then signify Virgil writing a new Latin epic, the Aeneid. The epic tradition naturally did not jump from Homer to Ennius and Virgil (the influence of the epic cycle, for instance, is hard to assess due to its fragmentary present state). However, due to the way Ennius explicitly attempted to appropriate Homer in his dream-sequence, and due to the strong connection between that sequence and this scene, that succession from Greek to Roman is evoked here.36 In this light, it becomes symbolic that Aeneas' travels take him from East to West, as this may be seen to mirror developments in the epic tradition. Through the allusion to Ennius' dream, it is implied that epic went from Homer to Virgil through Ennius, thus coming from Homeric Greece to Virgilian Rome.37 The fact that this scene does not seem to be a part of the main narrative is an aspect that facilitates this connectedness between past and future, and provides the author with an occasion for potentially metapoetical symbolism. Because this is a dream-sequence, it is placed outside of the narrative present, and it is allowed to make statements about past, present and future (it shares this feature
practices especially pages 28-42. 31See Hinds (1988), Masters (1992), Hardie (1993)105-116, Leigh (2010). 32Coleman (1977) 176, Gould (1983) 54, Clausen (1994) 174. 33Lefkowitz (1981). 34For a short interpretation of poetic succession in Aeneas' dream of Hector, see Hardie (1993) 102 and Goldschmidt (2013) 82. 35“this is most evident with the Iliad: the reader knows (...) indeed that Hector is Troy,...” Rijser (2011) 8. 36Hardie (1993) 104. 37Hardie (1993) 102. 11 with scenes that take place in the underworld and ekphraseis).38 So, in very few words, this scene can be read to signify poetic succession of Homer and Ennius by Virgil, because there is an allusion to explicit epic succession and Romanization of Homer by Ennius. It is basically a scene of succession from one epic hero to another, and those epic heroes can both be seen to represent cities, and with that stages in the epic tradition. Also, the fact that this is a dream sequence places it outside of the narrative present, and allows it to make statements about past, present and future, a connectedness that is a condition for poetic succession.
The underworld and its context
Aeneas' so-called katabasis, his descent into the underworld (Aen.VI.268-901), has also been examined due to alleged instances of metapoeticality.39 In the sixth book, the Trojans arrive at Cumae, where Aeneas meets the sibyl, Deiphobe. Following a sacrifice to Apollo, the sibyl becomes possessed by the god, and predicts to Aeneas the many hardships his future holds for him. In response, Aeneas asks for help to reach the Tartarus, to allow him to ask his deceased father Anchises for help. The sibyl agrees, and tells Aeneas that, to get into the underworld, he must collect a golden bough in the nearby forest. After the prophecy, Aeneas finds out upon his return to the beach, that the trumpeter Misenus has died. In order to construct a funeral pyre, Aeneas goes into the aforementioned woods to fell pine trees. While he is occupied with this task, he notices two doves, and justly interprets this as a signal of his mother, Venus. The two birds lead him to the golden branch, which he seizes (with some effort) and brings back to the sibyl.40 After this, Deiphobe leads Aeneas into the underworld. While the pair descends into the deep cave beneath the earth and cross the Acheron, Aeneas meets many deceased people that he once knew, among whom Dido and Palinurus. However, the scene that is most relevant to my research, begins when Aeneas finally meets the shade of his father in Elysium, the place where the pious souls end up. It is a very emotional encounter, after which Anchises once more takes upon him the role of advisor that he had previously fulfilled during his time among Aeneas and his fellow travelers.41 When Aeneas glimpses at the river Lethe, and notices all the souls surrounding it, Anchises explains to him that this is a river of forgetfulness, and the souls that drink from it are those whose fate it is to be reborn unto earth. After this follows a fairly technical explanation of the principle of reincarnation. This, then, is followed by the famous procession of heroes: Anchises shows Aeneas
38Hardie (2014) 21-25. 39The idea of katabasis originated in the Epic of Gilgamesj, and was afterwards a traditional part of many subsequent epics, most famously so in the Odyssee and the Aeneid. For further elaboration, see Hardie (2014) 1-49. 40Both the act of tree felling in the Aeneid, as well as the specific action of seizing the seemingly reluctant golden bough, have been interpreted to be of metapoetical significance, see Thomas (1988), Kofler (2003), and Poelstra (2014). 41Goldschmidt (2013) 167 calls the meeting “a positive nurturing encounter” between pater Anchises and his son. 12 all the great Romans of the future, culminating in the figure of Augustus, predicting a Golden Age of peace and prosperity (this evokes Virgil's own fourth ecloga, which will prove to be of large significance in the following chapters). The prophecy is tinged by sadness, as the old man also tells of the death of Marcellus, the intended successor of Augustus who died at the age of 19. After all is said and done, Anchises leads Aeneas and Deiphobe to the exit. The exit is shaped in the form of two gates, one of horn, the other of ivory. They carry an unusual name: the Somni Portae, 'the gates of sleep' (Aen.VI.894). The fact that Aeneas and the sibyl exit through these gates, which also marks the end of the sixth book, points to another important feature of Virgil's Tartarus: like we saw earlier with Aeneas' dream of Hector, this episode is not part of the main narrative.42 The opening and close of the scene are both clearly marked: at the beginning, the duo has to descend into a dark abyss, and at the end, they exit through the gate of sleep that I mentioned above. This feeling of narrative secludedness is enlarged by the fact that, as in his dream in book II, our hero doesn't seem to remember the prophecies and advice he received (although Hardie notes the possibility that this is merely for the plot, since a protagonist who is certain of his success is not a compelling figure).43 Other significant remarks about this scene include that, once more, Virgil appears to be evoking Ennius' dream of Homer. 44 As Hardie puts it: “The tears and words of the shade of Anchises on seeing his son echo the tears and words of the shade of Homer adressing Ennius, and the first part of the speech of Anchises on the nature of the soul reworks Homer's Pythagorean account of the nature of the soul and the cycle of metempsychosis in Ennius”.45
The underworld and its symbolism
Several similarities arise between Aeneas' katabasis, in particular the speech of Anchises, and the dream-sequence we encountered in book I. For instance, when we look at what happens in this passage, a basic sense of succession is discernible. Before the death of Anchises, he often acted as an advisor to his son, and in that way as a fellow leader of the Trojans. Now that he is dead, Aeneas once more seeks his father to fulfill that role. In response, Anchises shows Aeneas the path he must take and the future he will bring about; he sends him along on his quest. It is the old generation sending the new generation on its path, the past instructing the present. Another obvious instance of succession in this scene consists of the parade of heroes. It is in fact a continuation of the succession that is implied by having Anchises speak to Aeneas, for every great man mentioned in the parade, is a descendant from Aeneas. The heroes presented here aren’t all
42Hardie (2014) 21-24. 43Hardie (2014) 21. 44Hardie (1993) 103-104, Kofler (2003) 65-94, Goldschmidt (2011) 82, 167, Hardie (2014) 24-25. 45Hardie (1993) 103. 13 members of the gens Julia, but many are and Augustus’ kinship with the rest of the great Romans, Aeneas in particular, is suggested.46 So, in effect, this parade creates an explicit connection between Anchises and Augustus, through Aeneas, Romulus and many more. It's not far-fetched, then, to assume that, on some level, Anchises represents ancient Troy, as Augustus stands for Rome. That means that, with Anchises' speech, a direct connection between Troy and the idea of Rome is created, as Virgil had previously done when he had Hector give Aeneas a speech while the latter was sleeping. Once more, this connection between past and present is made possible by lifting this scene from the main narrative. In fact, the entire katabasis fits the idea of a dream-sequence so well, that the exit consists of gates called the somni portae. The parade of heroes has a second effect concerning connectedness: it can be seen as somewhat of a summary of the content of Ennius' Annals, as that epic should be strongly associated with the national Roman history described here.47 If we grant that it is possible to see the parade of heroes as a representation of the Annals as Hardie and Goldschmidt suggest, Ennius' epic is positioned as a condition for the founding of the new city, namely Rome. But the parade doesn't stop once Rome is founded, it looks on until he comes to Augustus, the 'new' Aeneas.48 Thus, this may be seen as a continuation of the work of Ennius: with the parade of heroes followed by a prediction of flourishing Rome, a successful conclusion to the Annals is written.49 Due to this connection, Virgil is positioned as the successor of Ennius, and his epic as both a prequel and a sequel. This succession is once more made more visible by the aforementioned allusion to Ennius' dream of Homer, which retains its value of explicit poetic succession. In fact, the resemblance between Ennius' dream-sequence and Aeneas' katabasis, which is somewhat of a faux dream itself, is more obvious due to the first half of Anchises' speech on the nature of the soul. Anchises' explanation is a reworking of Homer's metaphysical exposition on the nature of the soul in Ennius. This creates a strong association between Anchises and the figure of Homer in Ennius. As they are stated to be the same person through the process of metempsychosis, Virgil evokes both Ennius and Homer within Anchises. Anchises' prophecy stretches all the way to Virgil's own time (which causes the aforementioned ‘sequel’), and he presents Aeneas with the task of creating that sequel. In this way, one might say that Anchises stands for 'father' Ennius (and by extension Homer), and he is handing over 'the epic baton' to Virgil, represented by Aeneas.50 So, in short, the layer of poetic succession in this scene is caused once more by a basic sense of
46Hardie (1993) 104. 47Goldschmidt (2013) 81-2. 48For links between Augustus and Aeneas, see among others Binder (1971), who focuses specifically on the eighth book, but whose theories about the shield of Aeneas are often applicable to the parade of heroes as well. 49Hardie (1993) 104, Goldschmidt (2013) 167. 50Hardie (2014) 25; for an entire chapter on the way Ennius is represented by Anchises, and Virgil by Aeneas, see Kofler (2003), 75-93. 14 succession (this time parental), the connection between Troy and Rome and the stages in the epic tradition they represent, the ‘sequel’ to the contents of Ennius’ Annals, and, again, the allusion to Ennius’ dream. Also, the fact that these verses are once more an episode that does not seem to be part of the main narrative, and is, in fact, very dream-like, allows for it to make statements about past, present and future, which facilitates metaliterary symbolism concerning literary past and present. Another important remark about Virgil's treatment of the underworld is how he receives Homer, and how he changed the value of the underworld in the epic tradition.51 For, as Hardie argues, Virgil has created in his underworld a ' time-free repository for memory and tradition', which is a characteristic later epicists appear to maintain and embrace.52
The Tiber and its context
In the seventh book of the Aeneid, Virgil writes a second proem, marking the beginning of the martial, 'iliadic' half of his epic.53 However, before that, he describes how the Trojans reached and noticed the river Tiber (Aen.VII.25-36). In an excellent chapter, Nora Goldschmidt describes convincingly how, on the one hand, this is a chronologically early placement of Aeneas and his men seeing the Tiber, unique to Virgil in the mythology surrounding Aeneas, and how it is, on the other, an evocation of Ennius.54 She argues that the Tiber and its landscape is highly self-conscious, 'acutely aware of its historical and literary residue'.55 She also says it is a metaliterary landscape, through a conscious play with Callimachean metapoetics that are associated with rivers and bodies of water. This is, however, not the passage that will be relevant for my comparative research in the latter half of this thesis, although I will review some of the metapoetic symbolism used in this scene to assert the relevance of the scene that I will be treating. The significant passage comes some verses later, in the eighth book, when Aeneas dreams of the river god of the Tiber, Tiberinus (Aen.VIII.26-67). At the start of the eighth book, war is inevitably coming between the forces of Turnus and the Trojans, as Turnus forges a dangerous alliance with Diomedes. An anxious Aeneas tries to come up with a plan of action, and one night, a solution presents itself while he is sleeping. In his slumber, the river god of the Tiber speaks to him. In his speech, the Tiber predicts the founding of the city Alba Longa by Ascanius. On the future-site of that city, the riverbanks of the Tiber, Aeneas will find a white litter of piglets with a mother of the same color. By presenting his shores as the site of the city that is to be founded, the Tiber positions himself as a goal in Aeneas' quest. Then, he tells
51For a full explanation on the way Virgil uses and reworks Homer's nekyia, see Hardie (2014) 21-24. 52Hardie (1993) 105-116, Hardie (2014) 21-25. 53Williams (19772), Fordyce (19903), Goldschmidt (2013) 78. 54Goldschmidt (2013) 78-82. 55Goldschmidt (2013) 79. 15
Aeneas that, to counter Turnus' alliance, he must go to king Evander for help in Pallanteum, the future site of Rome. Awoken, Aeneas proceeds to find the group of pigs, and sacrifices them to appease Juno.56 Aeneas' dream of Tiber is often perceived as a mere plot-device and a way to, as Williams puts it, 'reinforce the feeling of the divine intention, working behind human affairs'.57 However, as Williams also noted, this eighth book corresponds with the second book, structure-wise, and some scholars have taken that as a cue to investigate links between this particular scene and the dream- sequence involving Hector that was treated earlier.58 That, in combination with the 'metaliterary landscape' that the Tiber evoked in book VII, warrants further inspection of the scene.
The Tiber and its symbolism
To understand why this dream-sequence can be seen to symbolize succession in the epic tradition, it is necessary to look at the aforementioned ekphrasis in book VII, where the Tiber is described. The passage goes as follows:
Aen.VII.25-3659
Iamque rubescebat radiis mare et aethere ab alto Aurora in roseis fulgebat lutea bigis, cum venti posuere omnisque repente resedit flatus et in lento luctantur marmore tonsae. Atque hic Aeneas ingentem ex aequore lucum prospicit. Hunc inter fluvio Tiberinus amoeno. verticibus rapidis et multa flavus arena in mare prorumpit. Variae circumque supraque adsuetae ripis volucres et fluminis alveo aethera mulcebant cantu lucoque volabant. flectere iter sociis terraeque advertere proras imperat et laetus fluvio succedit opaco.
56For the role of sacrifices (potentially as a condition for the foundation of Rome) in Virgil's Aeneid, see among others Girard (1972), Bandera (1981), Hardie (1993), Smith (1999). 57Williams (19772). 58Williams (19772); Walde (2001), Goldschmidt (2013). 59Text as in Williams (19772); translation is my own. 16
And already the sea was reddening with rays of the sun, and Aurora shone yellow from the high heaven in her rosy carriage, when the winds calmed and suddenly every breeze disappeared, and the oars wrestled upon the sluggish surface of the ocean. Here, Aeneas saw from out at sea an immense forest. Through that, Tiber with its lovely flow streams in rapid eddies and it storms unto the sea, golden in its abundance of sand. Around and above it, many a bird, accustomed to the shores and the riverbed, sweetened the air with its song and flew about the forest.
This scene evokes Ennius for several reasons. I will attempt to give a brief summary of the allusive practices and the symbolism that have been discerned.60 First of all, there is in the first book of the Annals a prayer directed to the Tiber. According to some, it was Aeneas who uttered this prayer in Ennius' epic. Also, there is an uncommonly heavy usage of Ennian phrases in this passage: the description of the daybreak evokes Ennius' formulaic breaks of dawn, and the description of the sea uses many words that are associated with Ennius ('tonsae', 'marmor') as well as verbal allusions in the same metrical position ('repente resedit'). Also, the name Tiberinus is not once uttered by characters, but its epic precedent is in Ennius' Annals. The way the river falls unto the sea has been described in a similar fashion by Ennius, as well as the riverbanks. This apparent evocation of Ennius is then strengthened with what one might call Callimachean poetics. In the way the Tiber is described, Goldschmidt sees similarities with Callimachus' Hymn to Apollo, specifically lines 105- 13. Those lines are as follows (hymn 2.105-13):61 “Envy spoke in secret to the ears of Apollo : ‘I do not admire the bard who does not sing as much as the sea’. And Apollo drove at Envy with his foot and spoke as follows : ‘Great is the stream of the Assyrian river, but it drags along on its water many offscourings of the land and a great amount of refuse. But the bees carry to Demeter water that comes not from every source, but [from] the thin stream which is pure and unsullied and wells up from the holy spring, the highest and choice.’ Greetings, Lord : as for Blame, may he go where Envy is'.” Though there is much debate about these lines,62 several scholars see literary genres represented
60In this summary I borrow heavily from Goldschmidt (2013), which should be read to acquire a complete overview of the presence of Ennius in this description, and, to a lesser extent, from Williams (19772). 61Translation as in Harrison (2007). 62See Williams (1978) 86 for a summary of part of the scientific discourse. 17 by the different bodies of water mentioned,63 and interpret this passage as Callimachus' expression of his poetic ideals, preferring short lyric over long epic.64 The sea should be seen to represent the perfect source from which all poetry streams forth, and can be identified as Homer. The great Assyrian river attempts to equal the ocean, but with its size comes dirt. This has been interpreted as Callimachus' view on epic poetry after Homer, which carries imperfections with it due to its size. The tiny drops of water from the unsullied, thin stream should then be seen as lyric poetry, which may be most refined due to its small size. In Virgil's ekphrasis, Goldschmidt discerns the same symbolism, associating large rivers with the epic tradition:65 “Eddying rivers carrying a lot of silt in their waters in Augustan and later poetry look back to a definition, or what was clearly interpreted as such, of Callimachean poetics as expressed in the famous riverpassage at the end of the Hymn to Apollo (…). This passage has therefore been interpreted as a deliberate engagement with Callimachean poetics. (…) It becomes almost a deliberate choice of an Ennian path when the Aeneid's hero sails up the river.”66 In other words, the description of a large river was wont to trigger generic associations with the epic tradition, and the combination of that with many allusions to Ennius may lead one to believe that the Tiber on some level should be seen to represent the Ennian epic tradition, upon which Aeneas joyfully sails. When we accept the hypothesis that the Tiber, through allusion and Callimachean wordplay, has come to represent Ennius and his Annals on some level, it may be very significant that Aeneas has a dream in which that same river presents Aeneas, or rather his offspring, with the task of founding a city on its soil. It is as if Virgil states that Ennius is telling him to build on his soil, to erect an epic with his Annals as the foundation. This is, as Hardie would say, 'doubly Ennian', for it is attested that the ancient author himself deemed his work unfinished, and proceeded to write three more books to conclude the Annals.67 Of course, the fact that in book VII, the description of the Tiber evoked associations with Ennius, does not necessarily mean that these associations subsist into book VIII. However, there are more reasons to suspect literary transmission in this passage (which I will treat below), and then it seems significant that the senior present in this scene has evoked Ennius in the previous occurrence. The poetic succession suggested within this scene is, as we've seen before, also made possible by the fact that this is a dream-sequence, thus lifted out of the main narrative: both the start and the end
63See for instance Williams (1978) 85-9, 98-9 and Harrison (2007) 1-2. 64The Aitia prologue of Callimachus presents those same ideals; see among others Nisetich (2001), Clauss (2004) and Harder (2011). 65For an elaboration on the way poets after Callimachus, among whom Catullus, Homer and Horace, take up the imagery of the sea as Homer, and different bodies of water as different literary genres, see Harrison (2007). 66Goldschmidt (2013) 81-82; for a complete interpretation of this scene, see Goldschmidt (2013) 78-85. 67Hardie (1993) 104. 18 of the scene are explicitly marked, respectively with 'nox erat...' (Aen.VIII.24) and then 'nox Aenean (…) reliquit' (Aen.VIII.67). I would argue that the ring-composition, which is created by having nox arrive and then leave again, only strengthens the self-contained feel a dream-sequence naturally carries. Therefore, the occasion occurs to connect past, present and future once more, through the use of prophecy, and once more this prophecy is about the idea 'Rome' and delivered by a figure that may be seen to represent Ennius. Another interesting feature of this dream is that it forms some sort of a structural unit with Aeneas' dream in the second book. That is the first dream-sequence, as this is the last.68 On the level of the text, there are more clues to add a similar sense of poetic succession to the interpretation of this final dream as we have done with the passage from the second book. It is for instance no coincidence that, as did Hector, senior Tiberinus not only mentions that Aeneas is the one who is preserving Troy, but that he explicitly mentions the Penates who are to be given a new home:
Aen.VIII.36-3969
O sate gente deum, Troianam ex hostibus urbem qui revehis nobis aeternaque Pergama servas, exspectate solo Laurenti arvisque Latinis, hic tibi certa domus, certi, ne absiste, penates;
“Oh, you seed from the lineage of gods, who to us returns the Trojan city from the enemies and guards eternal Troy, awaited by Laurentinian soil en the Latin fields, Here for you a certain home, don't withhold, here certain penates.”
These lines are in a way the fulfillment of Hector's earlier prediction: the walls for the penates will arise on these banks, and Aeneas will have fulfilled his role as the guardian of Troy. The strong connection to the earlier scene of poetic succession strengthens the metapoetic symbolism that is caused by the ekphrasis in book VII, associating the Tiber with Ennius. Another effect this connection has, is that the association with Ennius' dream of Homer in the first book of the Annals is never far from our minds, and this dream-sequence with an older figure (senior) in a scene of transmission with Aeneas, fits the bill.70 It is symbolically sound that Tiber-Ennius tells Aeneas to go to the site of future Rome, as Virgil frequently takes his epic to the Rome of his own time. In conclusion, this passage gains its implicit layer of poetic succession from the metapoetical link
68For an elaboration on the links between both dreams, see Walde (2001). 69Text as in Williams (19772); translation is my own. 70Goldschmidt (2013) 82. 19 between the Tiber and Ennius and the scene of succession that follows. Once more we have a figure evoking Ennius, who delivers a prophecy about the foundation of Rome to Aeneas.71 The link between Troy and Rome also returns, and the strong connection between this dream-sequence and the dream of Hector gives the metapoetic symbolism more prominence. An effect which is only increased by the association with Ennius' prototypical scene of poetic transmission. Moreover, the self-contained feel of the episode which stems from it being a dream, allows the connectivity between past, present and future we have come to expect.
The shield of Aeneas and its context
The final Virgilian scene that is to be studied, is the extensive ekphrasis of the shield of Aeneas in the eighth book (Aen.VIII.625-731). After the explicit advice to do so from king Evander, an advice that is backed by a prophecy guaranteeing a positive outcome, Aeneas has gone to an Etruscan stronghold to persuade the Etruscans to join in the battle against, among others, their former ruler Mezentius. Having done so, Aeneas arrives at Agylla with the Etruscans, and his mother appears before him. Somewhat earlier she had asked Vulcan, her husband, to produce new weaponry for her son, which she has come to deliver at this moment. The weapons made by the smith of the gods are then described, and this description culminates in the shield. Vulcan has engraved this shield with scenes that depict the future of Rome, which is not beyond his power, for he is ‘haud vatum ignarus’ (Aen.VIII.628). Virgil follows a chronological order in describing the images: he starts with the lupa, feeding Remus and Romulus. He then goes on to early Rome, and the rape of the Sabine women. He follows that up with the punishment of Mettus, and the attempted invasion by Porsenna, as well as the attempted invasion by the Gauls. Then he describes the Tartarus, which is of course not necessarily chronologically posterior to the aforementioned events, but the damned one that is mentioned in this underworld is Catilline, who is part of a not so distant past for Virgil, which has the effect that the reader still seems to advance in time through the description of these images.72 This effect is made more evident by also mentioning Cato in his role of judge in the hades. The concluding part of the shield-ekphrasis tells the reader of the immediate past: the battle of Actium is described, thematically linked to Aeneas' battle at hand.73 Augustus is mentioned by name, and the whole battle is depicted as West conquering East.74 Virgil's particular choice of subject matter for this ekphrasis, which is the most significant departure from his model, the description of the shield of Achilles in Il.XVII.369-616, has
71Kofler (2003), especially 63-74. 72For a narratological analysis of the way ekphraseis proceed through time and space, see Koopman (2014), or, explained in more general terms, De Jong (2014) 120-122. 73Williams (19772) 265-267. 74For a study of the connection between Aeneas and Augustus in this scene, see Binder (1971). 20 traditionally been interpreted as a way to show off specifically Roman virtues, as well as to create a consistent image of Rome vanquishing alien forces. Moreover, it has been said that these specific events were chosen due to their visual nature: they were very suitable to be depicted.75 Another feature of this scene that Williams already noted, namely that it bears thematic and structural resemblance to the parade of heroes, has caused more recent scholars to see a metaliterary layer, as we have previously seen with the parade of heroes.76 Another important remark to be made, is that from Servius on, people have seen echoes from Ennius in this description.77
The shield of Aeneas and its symbolism
Why is it that this scene may be read to make implicit statements about Virgil's succession of Ennius (and Homer)? Well, for one, this scene contains a prophetic story of succession. In a departure from the Iliad, Virgil fills this ekphrasis with scenes from the 'future', instead of the scenes from everyday-life one would expect due to the passage upon which this description is modeled. We, the readers, are introduced to the work of art through the eyes of Aeneas, the Trojan and proto-Roman, thus making Troy the starting point: as we make our way through the glorious deeds of the descendants of this Trojan, contemporary Rome is coming closer and closer. So, as we had in book VI, we have here the succession of Troy by Rome, explained in a chronological parade of great men. As I have mentioned above, this connectivity between Troy and Rome may be seen to mirror developments in the epic tradition. However, the similarity between these two scenes carries more significance. This passage has often been read as a summary of Ennius' epic, as is the case with the parade of heroes. In fact, Goldschmidt argues it is 'a pendant to Anchises' speech, completing the gaps it had left with the heroes of early Rome, (...) similarly summative of Ennius' epic'.78 And just as in the underworld, Virgil looks beyond Ennius' epic, thus finishing it, positioning himself as a successor. This link between the two epics is strengthened with allusions: Servius already noted echoes of the Annals within the first event on the scene, the boys and the she-wolf.79 Hardie then makes the following clever remark: “The scene of loving maternity may hint at Ennius' poetic paternity of Virgil, not Ennius' biological offspring any more than Romulus and Remus are the biological offspring of the she-wolf!”80 Even though I find this a somewhat bold statement, it must be said that writing a passage that may
75Williams (19772) 265-266. 76Williams (19772) 265; Hardie (1993) 105, Goldschmidt (2013) 167. 77Hardie (1993) 105, Penwill (2005) 40, Goldschmidt (2013) 167. 78Goldschmidt (2013) 167. 79Hardie (1993) 105. 80Hardie (1993) 105. 21 be read as a 'sequel' to Ennius' epic, as well as alluding to him, within an ekphrasis that is prophetic and evokes the succession of Troy by Rome and the parade of heroes, is significant.81 This significance becomes greater when we consider the set-up for this description. We almost see Vulcan creating the shield with his hands, and the description of (the creation of) a work of art within a text naturally presents the author with an occasion to make statements about the creation of his own work of art, thus making the text self-aware and self-referential.82 As a matter of fact, the phrase that I cited above, haud vatum ignarus (Aen.VIII.628), can be read as a sort of pun: the word vates has a double meaning. It can be both a prophet and a poet.83 The artist then, Vulcan, creating his narrative work of art, is not unaware of the vates Virgil, creating his own narrative work of art. Another feature that supports the symbolism, is once more the exclusion from the primary narrative. It is an externally proleptic ekphrasis preceding the long awaited battle, containing a narrative that is not part of the primary narrative of the epic. Due to it being so emphatically proleptic, there is once more this sense of connectivity between past, present and future, and, as such, between the epics of Homer, Ennius and Virgil. As we have seen with many of the other passages that have been studied, the reason to read this portion of the epic with metapoeticality in mind consists of several elements. On the one hand, there is yet again simple succession. This succession is still parental in a way, where it concerns Aeneas' descendants, and it also signifies the succession from Troy to Rome. Moreover, a conclusion to the Annals is proposed and there are several allusions to that text, which suggests a conscious evocation. Also, the fact that the ekphrasis concerns the manufacturing of an artwork allows the text to easily be self-referential. This opportunity becomes even more clear when we take into consideration that this scene is not a part of the main narrative, and is able to create links between past, present and future without issues.
81Hardie (1993) argues that there is also a scene which seems to allude to the conclusion of the Annals where Ennius’ patron Fulvius triumphs and a temple for Hercules and the muses is founded, namely the final scene on the shield which contains a triumphing princeps and a new temple for Apollo, both a poetic and military god. 82describing the creation of art in a poem often creates an opportunity for symbolism, see for instance Pavlok (2009) on Ovid's Metamorphoses. 83OLD s.v. vates. 22
General remarks
Concluding this first chapter, some general remarks seem appropriate. By studying the scenes that have been read to signify poetic transmission, I attempted to isolate the elements that cause this metapoeticality, to see what 'makes those scenes tick'. An element that all these passages share is an externally proleptic succession.84 In the basic sense, every scene marks one thing being succeeded by another. This basic succession is then given more meaning by either explicitly alluding to Ennius' dream of Homer, or evoking it implicitly. In any case, with the treated scenes, the association is not an illogical one. Moreover, Troy and Rome are very suitable to represent Homeric Greek and Virgilian Roman epic. Continuously evoking the development between these cities has the effect that the epic tradition's development from Homer through Ennius to Virgil can easily be read into the text. Another feature that every passage has in common, is the exclusion from the main narrative. Be it a dream, a long ekphrasis, or a katabasis, all of the scenes are clearly lifted out of the main narrative. This, in combination with the proleptic nature of those scenes, allows for the past, present and future to come together, making them what Hardie called a 'time-free repository for memory and tradition' when discussing Virgil's underworld.85 What makes these scenes stand out, is the fact that, apart, they have been read in this metapoetical fashion, but when one studies them, it becomes clear that we are often dealing with scenes that form a structural unity, that are each other's pendants. This strengthens the extra layer they may have had on their own. Some features that are not to be found in every scene, but add to the self-referring of specific scenes, are two more general characteristics of metapoeticality. Firstly, there is the allusion to Callimachean poetics, and the double meanings of rivers and water, Secondly, we have the creation of a piece of art by an artist, within a text. On top of that, both the parade of heroes and the shield of Aeneas on the one hand appropriate Ennius' words by summarizing them, and on the other hand position Virgil as his successor by providing those words with a successful conclusion that was found missing in Ennius' Annals.
84For 'external prolepsis', see De Jong (2014) 80. 85Hardie (2014) 21-25. 23
Chapter 2 Sannazaro
As I mentioned in the introduction, while reading Jacopo Sannazaro's De Partu Virginis, I stumbled upon two scenes in which I suspect symbolism about the epic tradition and Sannazaro succeeding Virgil may be read, the same way as it may be read in the Virgilian passages that I treated above. In the previous chapter, I set out to understand why certain scenes may be read in this metapoetical way, and how one might recognize those scenes. In the passages I treated, I noticed several recurrent features and some characteristics that appeared once or twice. I will now look at the De Partu Virginis with these features and characteristics in mind as 'red flags', or clues for metapoeticality, as it were. For it is not farfetched to think that a sharp reader of Virgil like Sannazaro, who lived in the blooming period of allegories, recognized these clues as well, and used them in a similar way in his own Latin epic.86 The scenes I will be treating are the prophecy in the underworld in book I (DP V. I.225-462) and the prophecy of Proteus (in the river Jordan's direct speech) in the third book (DPV.III.331-497), in combination with a shepherd's song that precedes it in the same book (DPV.III.197-236). Even though I attempt to examine if these passages carry some symbolic meaning, I wish to stress that this metaliterary interpretation in no way replaces, or detracts from, other interpretations of these scenes.
The underworld and its context
In the second half of the first book, following Gabriel's visit to Mary (the annunciation, closely mirroring Mercury's visit to Aeneas), and the impregnation of the virgin by God, Sannazaro adds a scene to the traditional story of the virgin birth.87 In this scene, fama ('rumor') descends into the underworld to announce to the trapped souls of the pious from the Old Testament that Christ will come to save them, the so-called harrowing of hell. After Fama has passed Cerberus, she takes the readers to the riverbanks of the Lethe (the river of forgetfulness featured in Aen.VI). These are all decidedly classical elements, more so than one would expect in an epic on the birth of Christ.88 On these riverbanks, a certain senior is introduced: David, the messianic prophet from the old testament
86For an elaboration on allegories and the renaissance, see Murrin (2010). 87For the annunciation mirroring Mercury and Aeneas, see Prandi (2001) 252. 88Dante, in his Divina Comedia, filled his underworld with classical elements as well (for his treatment of the Lethe river, see Putnam (1995) 289, 292-93, 306-7. That vernacular epic, however, was not a rewriting of a text that was regarded as holy. 24 and writer of psalms.89 David, as a vates, becomes inspired by God, and starts singing an externally proleptic prophecy on the birth and life of Christ. The first words of his prophecy are 'Nascere, magne puer', 'be born, great child' (DPV.I.245). Both the imperative and the vocative imply that the addressee of this speech is the one it is about, although not corporally present, namely Christ. This is corroborated by the choice of personal pronouns further in the speech, for instance:90
D P V. I.249-25491
…, venturum si te mortalibus olim pectore veridico promissimus, igneus ut nos viribus afflatos coelestibus ardor agebat insinuans, si sacra peregimus et tua late iussa per immensum fama vulgavimus orbem. En ridet pax alma tibi:...
If we once promised with truth telling chest that You would come for the mortals, when fiery ardor, while it found its way in, incited us, inspired with the powers of heaven, if we completed the rites and spread your commands far and wide through the immense world by fame. Look, nourishing peace laughs for you:...
The consistent use of verbs in the first person plural might not merely be a case of poetic plural, as it may serve to stress David's identification as a prophet. A sixteenth-century commentary by Lázaro Cardona had already mentioned this. He paraphrases David's words as follows: 'si (…) promissimus, idest ego et alii prophetae promisserunt..','if we promised, that is to say, if I and the other prophets promised..'.92 'Nascere, magne puer' is also a verbal allusion to the fourth eclogue of Virgil.93 In Sannazaro's time, this eclogue was supposed to have predicted the birth of Christ, which is, fittingly enough, what David is doing in this text.94 After this, a prediction of the life and works of Christ follows. Its progress is similar to the way the shield-ekphrasis proceeded spatio-temporally,
89Putnam (2009) 389. 90The continued use of pronouns in the second person singular is also a sign of the hymnic nature of this prophecy. 91All text cited from De Partu Virginis is as in Putnam (2009); all translations are my own. 92Cardona (1584) 40. 93Putnam (2009) 390. 94In Dante's Divina Comedia, Statius describes Virgil as the proto-Christian who carried enlightenment behind his back, see Purgatorio XXII; for further elaboration on later vision on Virgil and the fourth eclogue, see for instance Hardie (2014) 1-19. 25 and its subject-matter is very visual as is the case with Aeneas' shield. Moreover, the events described all endeavor to show the virtues of Christ. The events named may be summarized in seven central events: firstly, the visit and offerings of the three kings are described, which asserts the importance of Christ and his birth. Next, we hear of Simeon who, having received the prophecy he wouldn't die before he saw the Lord, exhales for the last time after seeing the recently born Christ. This is a confirmation and assertion of the Godly nature of Christ. Thirdly, the massacre of the innocents is described, which was ordered by king Herod after a prophecy to prevent the true king of the Jews from taking his throne. This confirms Christ's rightful kingship and once more his overall importance. Then he is mentioned molding the minds of elders at the age of twelve, showing his wisdom and maturity. After this, we hear of the death of Christ (and in a subordinate clause of several miracles he performed), which reminds us of his self-sacrificial martyrdom, while, by mentioning the miracles, also reminding us of his might. The grieving reaction of his mother and Nature itself is then described, which naturally serves to illustrate once more the importance of Jesus. The seventh event described is the harrowing of hell, showing Christ's power transcends death or hell. At the end of his prophecy, after having given a brief ekphrasis which ends in the foundation of the people of Jerusalem, David arrives at the moment where he and the other good souls from the Old Testament may enter heaven, or, as he calls it, the 'Olympus'. He describes it as a city with walls, and presents it as the final consequence of Christ's birth. Then, the scene is markedly ended, by taking the reader back into previously described regions of the underworld, while mentioning several additional obviously pagan elements, such as Sisyphus and, again, Cerberus. This creates a ring-composition of sorts with the first verses of the passage, where Fama's katabasis is a very marked beginning of the scene.
The underworld and its symbolism
An important reason for me to look more closely at this particular scene, is the fact that the piously Christian Sannazaro added this portion of the story to the usual events surrounding the birth of Christ. Of course, the harrowing of hell is a traditional part of the story, but Fama descending into the underworld, and this specific prophecy by David are not. The addition of scenes to a familiar story is often significant, and allows the author to put his own mark upon it.95 The addition of this specific scene becomes even more relevant when we consider the fact that we have here a very traditional katabasis: Fama actually descends into the underworld, passing Cerberus and reaching the Lethe, as did Aeneas and Deiphobe. In the underworld in the Aeneid, a lot of symbolism could be found, and as I cited above, Hardie has continuously argued for the lasting associations with the
95On this same idea in the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes and Valerius Flaccus, see Heerink (2014). 26 epic tradition and metapoetics the underworld has had through the ages.96 Sannazaro's addition of a katabasis is then, at the very least, suspect. Another feature of this descent into the underworld enhances this suspicion, for the figure undertaking this journey to the nether realms, Fama, also carries with her metapoetic associations, from Virgil onward. In the fourth book of the Aeneid, Virgil has Fama enter the scene as a sort of monster, and he captures the complexity of that character, which according to Hardie's rumour and renown, revolves around the threefold meaning of 'fama': 'rumor', 'reputation', and, most important for metapoeticality, 'tradition'.97 In fact, Hardie has looked at the presence of Fama in De Partu Virginis: “Laird sees in Sannazaro's Fama a figure for the poet himself, who claims to tell the reader the Gospel truth, and who within the De partu is anticipated by the prophetic narrative of the biblical poet David.”98 This hints at a specific role for David, which will be examined further. This means there now is an added scene, a katabasis, which traditionally carries associations of a metaliterary nature, undertaken by a figure carrying those same associations. One might say that we have here two red flags, warning us to keep poetic succession in mind. Other features of this underworld that caught my eye, were the explicit classical elements that Sannazaro added to his underworld, such as the previously mentioned Cerberus, the Acheron, the Lethe, Erebus, Dis, Megaera, the Cocytus and Sisyphus. Now, classicism in an epic from the renaissance is of course not unusual, but in an epic on the birth of Christ , such decidedly pagan features might seem unbecoming. In fact, this clash between Christian and classical had already been noted when the De Partu Virginis was released. As Prandi describes in his commentary on the Proteus-episode, the famous Erasmus was anything but content with the way Sannazaro introduced classical elements in his otherwise pious epic: “Erasmo tuttavia, com'era facile prevedere, aveva nettamente dissentito da questa ardita contaminazione cristiano classica,..” (“Erasmus, however, as was easy to foresee, clearly disagreed with this bold Christian classical contamination,...”).99 So, in a striking way, Sannazaro turns the Christian hell into a Virgilian underworld. In the context of a Virgilian underworld it becomes significant that the vates who will deliver the prophecy, David (described only as senior), is to be found on the riverbanks of the Lethe, for this is exactly where we found (and left) senior Anchises in the Aeneid's Hades. Thus, a parallel between the two elders is created. In combination with the other classical elements, it seems we have here a strong evocation of Virgil’s underworld-scene. This feeling is enhanced by other similarities between both instances of the Tartarus, among others: the laws of time are suspended, which allows the events and stories within the underworld to range into the past and the future. There is an access to sources of
96Hardie (1993) 105-116, Hardie (2014) 21-25. 97Clément-Tarantino (2007), Hardie (2009) 78-149. 98Hardie (2012) 416. 99Prandi (2001) 371. 27 knowledge unavailable to ordinary mortals, and what is seen in this other world is not primarily to the benefit of the characters within story, but mostly to that of the mortal readers.100 Also, as is the case in Virgil, a new golden age is promised, and the conclusion of the prophecy is a city, representing an idea (the idea 'Rome' and the idea 'Heaven'). Also, peace is explicitly mentioned (pax alma, DPV.I.254). One might even argue that the same grieving undertone resulting from the death of Marcellus, is present here in the death of another young man, Jesus Christ, although there is too great a difference between both instances of grief to truly assert this. Other than David's location and aforementioned similarities, we have another reason to see Anchises evoked in this character. As Quint argues: “Christianity traces the lineage of Jesus back through the house of David”101, which means that we have here the same parental bond between prophet David and addressee Christ that we saw in Aeneid VI between Anchises and Aeneas. All in all, it is a neat echo. It truly becomes interesting when we remember the way one may see poetic transmission marked in that scene, and how Anchises and Aeneas can be seen to represent epic predecessor and successor. Since we have here a thorough evocation of the Virgilian scene and its characters, along with several 'red flags' for metapoetics, one may be tempted to see if this same transmission from predecessor to successor can be read in this scene. In other words, if the transmission from Virgil to Sannazaro may be read into David's prophecy to Christ, which I suspect to be the case. Before we may do that, it is necessary to look at the way Virgil was perceived in the time of Sannazaro (15th/16th century). While attempting to give an exhaustive overview of Virgil's nachleben, Hardie mentions the way the author was seen as a prophet from late antiquity on, (and even as a sorcerer and necromancer).102 This view is still present in the renaissance. For instance, as I mentioned earlier, Dante describes Virgil as the proto-Christian who actually predicted Christianity.103 The fourth eclogue is at the heart of this reputation: emperor Constantine was one of the first people to interpret this eclogue in a so-called Christological way, meaning he viewed it as a prediction of the birth of Christ (for the poem predicts the birth of a puer who will bring about a new Golden Age).104 It is attested that this same way of interpreting the lyrical poem was current in the renaissance, as Prandi mentions: “...anche il Ficino riprende l'interpretazione cristologica della quarta ecloga di Virgilio” (“Ficino also takes up the Christological interpretation of the fourth eclogue of Virgil”).105 Ficino chronologically only slightly precedes Sannazaro (he died in 1499). Now, why is this relevant when we get back to my suspicion about David representing Virgil in
100These characteristics of the Virgilian underworld are most comprehensively observed and described in Hardie (2014) 21. 101Quint (1983) 76. 102Hardie (2014) 1-19. 103Purgatorio XXII. 104For an elaboration on emperor Constantine's interpretation of the fourth eclogue, see among others Bolhuis (1950), Clausen (1994), and Hardie (2014). 105Prandi (2001) 256-7. 28 some way? First of all, as Virgil was seen as both a poet and a prophet (which is also the double meaning of the word 'vates'), he corresponds exactly with the character David, a prophet and writer of psalms, creating a neat parallel. Secondly, as I just argued, Virgil was supposed to have predicted the birth of Christ, and here Sannazaro is putting a prophecy (that is his own addition), which also predicts the birth of Christ, into the mouth of a figure that mirrors Virgil's duality in a scene that strongly evokes Virgil's own scene of poetic transmission, as I argued above. Moreover, the first words uttered by David, 'Nascere, magne puer' and the repetition of 'magne puer' (DPV.I.245-47), on the one hand evoke the 'nascenti puero' in Ecl.IV.8, and on the other the repeated 'parve puer' (in the same metrical position) in Ecl.IV.60-62.106 This enforces the idea that the figure of David represents Virgil to a certain degree, as they both, in similar words and with similar characteristics, can be seen to predict the birth of Christ. After David has predicted the birth of the son of God, however, unlike Virgil, he looks on to the life and death of Christ, and even at the consequences of that death (the harrowing of hell, a new golden age of nurturing peace). This is once again a parallel with the Aeneid's underworld: Anchises, in describing the procession of heroes, can be read to paraphrase the contents of Ennius' Annals, and then he proceeds to describe a successful conclusion to those contents with the dawn of a golden age, brought on by Augustus, which implicitly positions the Aeneid as following in the same tradition as the previous epic. Here, Sannazaro paraphrases Virgil's words, and writes a successful conclusion to those words with the dawn of a golden age, brought on by Jesus Christ, which may be seen to present him as Virgil's successor, as well as David's. Moreover, we have in this scene the basic idea of succession which has proven to be present in every scene treated so far: we have a protagonist from the Old Testament, who is a messianic prophet, telling the protagonist from the New-Testament, the messiah, to be born and fulfill his destiny. This connectedness between the New and the Old Testament is a nice parallel to the way Virgil retrospectively connects his epic to Roman history, which can be seen to be represented on some level by the Annals and Ennius. I have now argued that the figure of David can be read to represent Virgil, as in the Aeneid, Anchises can be seen to represent Ennius. If we were to continue the parallel, we would have to look at the addressee of the speech, since Aeneas seemingly evoked Virgil. That would mean that in the De Partu Virginis, none other than Christ should implicitly represent Sannazaro. However, this may be construed as sacrilegious and is, therefore, unlikely. When we remember that it was Fama who descended into the underworld, and she could be seen as a figure for Sannazaro 'who claims to tell the reader the Gospel truth', it is a reasonable assumption that Sannazaro is trying 'the next best thing' by presenting himself as Fama, who 'is anticipated by the prophetic narrative of the biblical
106Text from the fourth Eclogue as in Williams (1979); Putnam (2009) 390 also mentions the allusion. 29 poet David', spreading the Christian truth.107 So, not in the figure of Christ, but in the figure of Fama, Sannazaro's succession of Virgil (and David, naturally) is signified. Moreover, the fact that this Gospel truth is positioned partly as the sequel to Virgil, points to another important practice of the author: I would like to argue that, through this epic, Sannazaro is Christianizing Virgil. Let me explain: in the first chapter of his magnum opus Mimesis, Erich Auerbach shows the fundamental difference between so-called classical (or, more appropriately, pagan) narrative tradition, and biblical narrative tradition.108 He describes the main differences as follows: “The two styles, in their opposition, represent basic types: on the one hand fully externalized description, uniform illumination, uninterrupted connection, free expression, all events in the foreground, displaying unmistakable meanings, few elements of historical development and of psychological perspective; on the other hand, certain parts brought into high relief, others left obscure, abruptness, suggestive influence of the unexpressed, “background” quality, multiplicity of meanings and the need for interpretation, universal-historical claims, development of the concept of the historically becoming, and preoccupation with the problematic.”109 Though that might sound somewhat abstract, the most important dissimilarity is the classical explicitness where the entire spatio-temporal continuum and its contents are put at the foreground of the text, using many subordinate clauses, versus the biblical implicitness, where only the necessary events are mentioned with very little other information. Sannazaro's style of writing, like Virgil, clearly fits into the first category: he does not hesitate to speak about the hymen of the Virgin Mary, and how it remains intact when the baby Christ passes through it as were he a beam of light, or about how she was inseminated through her ears. His text becomes even more classical through the addition of many pagan elements or pagan names for Christian ideas. In this way, at the very least stylistically, Sannazaro is an explicit successor of Virgil. However, his subject-matter is as biblical as can be. By treating an obviously Christian subject using the Virgilian narrative style, Sannazaro is Christianizing Virgil. This makes the figure of a truth-spreading Fama a 'good fit' to represent the poet, as she informs 'Christian avant la lettre' David (who, as I argued, on some level may stand for Virgil), and all the pious of the Old-Testament of the birth of Christ, thus converting them to Christianity (because it was impossible to be a Christian before the birth of Christ). As I previously mentioned, the summary of events in the life of Christ calls to mind both the procession of heroes and the shield ekphrasis in the Aeneid (it is logical, considering the similarities between those two scenes, that both are evoked by the same passage). Aside from the superficial similarities, the positive trajectory in those prophecies and this one have a similar final goal. A golden age is predicted, everlasting peace is foretold, and a city is presented as the final goal. In the
107Hardie (2009) 416. 108Auerbach (20133) 3-23. 109Auerbach (20133) 23. 30
Aeneid, this city is (proto-)Rome. In the De Partu Virginis, it is the city of God:
D P V. I.443-46
..ad sedes ducit candentis Olympi. Illic auratae muros mirabimur urbis auratasque domos et gemmea tecta viasque stelliferas vitreosque altis cum montibus amnes.
..and leads to the residence of shining Olympus. There we shall admire walls of the golden city and gilded houses and bejeweled homes and the starsupporting roads and the crystalline streams with the high hills.
All the elements that are to be admired in the heaven that Sannazaro describes can be connected to the genitive 'urbis', making it the focal point of these lines. This creates another parallel with the scenes of Virgil that I treated, and the explicit mention of the city walls calls to mind the moment that Hector told Aeneas to build new city walls for the Trojan Penates (though the identification of heaven as 'the city of God' was not a new one, as Augustine did the same in his de Civitate Dei, and later Otto von Freising in the Historia de duabus civitatibus).110 Moreover, this passage comes right after a short description of a robe where another of the important thematics of the Aeneid's prophecies can be found:
D P V. I.435-437
..eam variant centum longo ordine reges, antiquum genus et solymae primordia gentis, ostro intertexti;..
..a hundred kings grace
Here, the founding of the people of Jerusalem is explicitly mentioned, just as Virgil often mentions the founding of the Roman race (also, 'centum longo ordine reges' calls to mind the procession of heroes). This, in combination with the depiction of heaven as a city, and the mention
110For Augustine’s and Otto’s depiction of heaven as a city, see Mierow (1949) 393-402. 31 of the walls, strongly evokes Virgil's treatment of the prophecies studied above and, I would argue, their metaliterary associations. Moreover, 'solymae' is a somewhat unusual term for Jerusalem, and can also be meant to call to mind Solymus, a Trojan and a companion of Aeneas, strengthening the association of the beginnings of the Roman people, namely the Trojans, with the primordia of Jerusalem.111 It is of course significant that the city that is presented as the conclusion of the prophecy is not Virgil's Rome, but an idea of Christian heaven. This fits in the image of Sannazaro Christianizing Virgil that I painted somewhat earlier. Another important metaliterary feature of the Virgilian scenes that I looked at, was the evocation of Ennius, either verbally or structurally. However, for the associations with epic succession, allusion to Ennius should no longer be considered a necessity, as Virgil's epic has replaced that of Ennius as the source of the Latin epic tradition:112 Virgil's underworld has imbibed Ennius' dream of Homer, thus rendering allusion to Ennius gratuitous (besides, Sannazaro had no more access to the text of the Annals than we have today).113 Also, a feature of this scene which has proven to be a condition for metapoetical symbolism concerning literary tradition, is the self-contained feel it has. Once more, this scene is not an event that is part of the plot, nor does the story advance during the scene. Here too, as in Virgil, the underworld is portrayed as a free-standing episode, although there are no obvious liminal passages. At the start this is condensed into the word ‘interea’ (DPV.I.225) which marks the transition from one scene to another, and the close simply coincides with the end of the first book. Moreover, placing the guardian dog of hell, Cerberus, both at the beginning and the end of the scene, creates, as I previously stated, a ring-composition, enhancing the isolation of the scene. The externally proleptic prophecy within the scene once again brings together past, present and future, as we have seen before. Summarizing, I have attempted to see if in the second half of the first book of the De Partu Virginis, the same metapoetical symbolism of poetic succession that we saw earlier in several Virgilian scenes can be found. I would argue that is the case. The scene is an addition to the original story, and it is a traditional katabasis, with all the associations it has amassed throughout the years. Moreover, the descent is undertaken by Fama, a figure with similar associations. On top of that, the scene is a very thorough evocation of the Virgilian Tartarus, a passage of poetic succession itself, and to a lesser extent of the ekphrasis in Aeneid VIII, also a scene of transmission. The figure of David, by evoking Anchises, partly seems to represent Virgil, through his location (the Lethe), his role as a prophet and a poet, his parental relation to his addressee, and his prediction of the birth of
111L&S s.v. 'Solymus'. 112This idea of the Aeneid assimilating the Annals into the new source of Latin epic is one of the main hypotheses of Goldschmidt (2013). 113Hardie (1993) 103-5. 32
Christ, appropriating the fourth eclogue while expanding upon it. Fama may be seen to represent Sannazaro in his Christianizing role. Moreover, the prophecy evoking the procession of heroes and shield of Aeneas ends in another city than Rome, namely the city of God, parallel to the epic tradition going from Roman to Christian. Supporting this, the scene is as self-contained and externally proleptic as the previously treated scenes were, once more allowing the (literary) past to instruct the future.
Proteus' prophecy and its context
Putnam has described Jordan's account of the prophecy of Proteus as the structural pendant of David's prophecy in the underworld. In fact, the connection of these two scenes serves to clarify the order of the epic as a whole.114 In Virgil, as I argued in the previous chapter, this structural connection between scenes is often meaningful, and therefore this particular scene deserves some closer attention. Chronologically, it follows the song of Joy addressed to the shepherds, a traditional element of the story of the nativity.115 However, contrary to that song, this prophecy is Sannazaro's own addition to the traditional story. It starts by describing the dwellings of Jordan, who is personified as a 'caeruleus' river god, ruling the waves. Both Prandi and Putnam remark that this introduction of Jordan may be evoking the Tiber in Aeneas' dream in book VIII.116 Then, the daughters of Jordan are described, who all have the names of nymphs. The specific names generally come from three different sources, namely Hesiod, Homer and Virgil, which puts the Jordan in a very classical context.117 After this, the characterization of the Jordan as a river god is affirmed by positioning him next to a large urn, which is the way in which river gods were depicted in iconography.118 The engravings of the urn are related to the reader in an ekphrasis, in which Sannazaro conjures up a classical locus amoenus:119
114Putnam (2009) x. 115This is a paraphrasing of, and an elaboration on, Luke 2.8-13. 116Prandi (2001) 366, Putnam (2009) 420. 117Prandi argues that in the third of his Eclogae Piscatoriae, Sannazaro already mentioned several of these particular nymphs, and that the repetition of these names here is meant to affirm the primacy of his own 'piscatory' Muse; Prandi (2001) 366. However, I fail to perceive this additional motivation. 118Putnam (2009) 421. 119For a definition of locus amoenus, see The Oxford Classical Dictionary s.v. locus amoenus. 33
D P V. III.302-6120
Umbrosis hic silva comis, densisque virebat Arboribus. Cervi passim, capreaeque fugaces aestivum viridi captabant frigus in umbra. In medio, auratis effulgens fluctibus, amnis errabat campo, et cursu laeta arva secabat.
There bloomed a forest with tenebrous foliage, and crowded with trees. Here and there deer and skittish roebucks searched for summer's coolness in greenish shade. Through the middle, a river, shimmering with its gilded streams, meandered through the field, and intersected the joyful meadows.
After this seemingly classical start, John the Baptist is depicted in the act of baptizing the adult Christ, making the ekphrasis prophetic in nature.121 Yet Jordan, while viewing the urn, is unaware of the prophetic nature of its images. This is told with the following words: 'fatorum ignarus oculosque at singula volvit', 'unaware of fate he turns his gaze to every individual thing' (DP V. III.319). On this verse, Putnam remarks that Virgil ‘uses ignarus in connection with fata at Aen. 8.730-1, and singula volvit at Aen. 8.618, which is to say at the conclusion of, and in the introduction to, the description of the shield of Aeneas’.122 While Jordan is looking at the urn, unusual sources spring open, and they fill the cave with water of unusual taste. This causes the river god to ascend from the deep, and witness the joy that the birth of Christ has brought about in nature. He recognizes this as the fulfillment of a prophecy that Proteus, the prophetic nautical deity from Georgica 4, once related to him. This incites Jordan to address the lord ('O maris, o terrae, divumque hominumque repertor', 'Oh creator of the sea, land, of gods and men' DPV.III.331), and describe Proteus' prediction in direct speech. The first part consists of Proteus telling Jordan that one day Christ will grant him fame greater than the Nile, Indus, Ganges, Tiber and the Po. Then, several miracles from the life of Christ are listed, concerning his ability to heal the sick, the lame, and even the dead. His modesty is described, as well as the appointment of his disciples, their tasks and their afterlife. Thereafter, Proteus tells Jordan that their water shall be turned into wine as proof of Christ's divine authority, and that Christ will provide his followers with fish when they aren't successful in catching their own. Next, Christ is described as the replacement of Aeolus, reigning over the Euri, Zephyrs and Cori. The last part of Proteus' prophecy is a praeteritio, where Proteus
120Text for a large part as in Putnam (2009), though the word 'auratis' is missing there; translation is my own. 121The baptism of Christ is described in Matthew 3.1-17. 122Putnam (2009) 422. 34 implies that there is no need to describe the traditional miracles performed by Christ due to their fame, but in the process describes how he augmented a small amount of food to feed throngs of men, and how he walked on water, inspiring Neptune to submit to him. After this, Proteus concludes that, hard as he may try, he will never be able to sum up all the good Christ will do in his lifetime. Then, the focus shifts back to Jordan, claiming he must stream forth as the swollen water in his flow screams 'Jordan'. Here, Jordan's direct speech is ended, his departure is described, and Sannazaro proceeds with the conclusion of the epic.
Proteus' prophecy and its symbolism
As I mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, I will be treating this passage in combination with a scene that precedes it by a little less than 100 verses, DPV.III.197-232. This is shortly before the song of the laetitia who descends from heaven, which is the cause for the terrestrial effects that alert Jordan of the birth of Christ, directly setting up the Proteus-episode. The passage is a song, sung by the shepherds to celebrate the birth of Christ. However, the opening lines of this song are somewhat unusual (197-99): 'Hoc erat, alme puer, patriis quod noster in antris / Tityrus attritae sprevit rude carmen avenae, / et cecinit dignas romano consule silvas.', 'It was because of this, that our Tityrus spurned the coarse song of the well-worn reed, and sang work worthy of a Roman consul.' 'Hoc' here signifies the birth of Christ, which apparently caused one Tityrus to decline singing the 'song of the well-worn reed', signifying traditional pastoral poetry. Tityrus here may be seen to represent Virgil, as Virgil himself used that name in a self-referential way in his Ecl.1 and 6.123 The link between Virgil and the birth of Christ immediately evokes Ecloga 4 (as I have argued above, the 'messianic eclogue'), and this association is corroborated by the rest of the scene: every line between 199 and 236 alludes to Ecloga IV of Virgil (and some also to his fifth).124 That entire poem is summarized and paraphrased in these lines. Some might argue it is an homage to the poet who Sannazaro believed to be the first Christian and his main influence, but I think there is more to this adaptation. First of all, it creates an explicit connection between DPV and Ecl.4, between Sannazaro and Virgil. Moreover, by continuously using a present tense and 'haec', Sannazaro is stressing that the prediction from the fourth eclogue is being fulfilled at this very moment.125 It is the only time in this epic that it completely imbibes another text. Secondly, this passage is followed by Proteus' prophecy of the life of Christ that I mentioned earlier, and even causally connected. That
123Prandi (2002) 137, Putnam (2009) 418. 124For an excellent extensive analysis of these 35 verses and their connection with the Eclogues of Virgil, see Putnam (2009) 370-75. 125Putnam (2009) 371. 35 is to say, the song of Tityrus, or Virgil, is closely and causally followed by the words of the Jordan, who remembers what Proteus told him about the rest of the life of Christ, and the age of peace that is to come, filling in the gaps that were left in the earlier prophecy of David, which was also preceded by an allusion to the fourth Ecloga, and a summary of its contents. In the same way that, as I argued earlier, David's speech is a sequel to Virgil, I would argue here that Sannazaro is positioning the second prophecy as the successor of his reworking of Virgil’s fourth ecloga, which makes him, the author of Proteus' prophecy, the successor of the author of the fourth eclogue, Virgil. However, if Sannazaro wishes this scene to be perceived as succeeding one of Virgil's eclogues, he is not positioning himself as an epic successor, but as a pastoral successor. This is not a farfetched notion: De Partu Virginis has several very pastoral characteristics. For instance, as Nash argues, there is relatively little movement in the epic, corresponding to the pastoral stasis, and the lack of battle and other instances of conflict, fits into the generally non-heroic genre of pastoral poetry.126 Moreover, in his introduction, Putnam argues that the Eclogae and Georgica of Virgil are just as important an influence on the DPV, which becomes less 'epic' because of its descriptive nature and abundance of direct speech, as the Aeneid.127 So, the connection between the prophecy of Proteus and the shepherd's song can be read to signify a connection between Virgil and Sannazaro. This hypothesis becomes stronger when we examine Jordan and the prophecy of Proteus somewhat closer. First of all, the first mention of Jordan can be seen to allude to the description of the Tiber in Aeneas' dream in book VIII, a scene in which I believe the theme of poetic succession to be present on a certain level. As I argued earlier, Allegories were commonplace in the renaissance, so it is not unlikely that Sannazaro had the same metaliterary associations. Moreover, in verse 319, Sannazaro alludes to the introduction and conclusion of the shield-ekphrasis, in which I found this same theme. Furthermore, Proteus explicitly presents Jordan as the successor of rivers, some of which have played important roles in the epic tradition, among which the Tiber (341-44):128 'qui te olim Nili supra septemplicis ortus, / supra indum et Gangen fontemque binominis Istri / attolet fama, qui te Tyberique Padoque / praeferet..', '
126Nash (1996) 28-9. 127Putnam (2009) ix-xiii. 128Prandi (2001) 371, Putnam (2009) 423. 129Havrelock (2011) 135-75. 36 the conflation of Christian and epic in this poem. Apart from this recurring theme of succession, and 'sequel' to a predecessor in the tradition, I also suspect the presence of Callimachean metapoetic symbolism in this scene. When the ekphrasis on Jordan's urn is finished, water enters his cave:
D P V. III.320-322 ..videt insolitos erumpere fonteis ingentemque undare domum cavaque antra repleri fluctibus atque novum latices sumpsisse saporem; ..he sees unaccustomed springs burst forth and flood his enormous dwelling and fill his hollow caverns and
As we saw in the previous chapter, from Callimachus on, it has been possible to see bodies of water and rivers in poetry in association with the epic genre. Though unproven in the case of Callimachus and Virgil, that uncertainty wouldn't matter to a poet from the sixteenth century as Sannazaro. If we look at these verses through a metapoetical lens, we do get an interesting interpretation. The 'ingentem domum' that is filled with 'insolitos fonteis' could mirror the traditional epic body, being overrun by the unaccustomed Christian epic that is Sannazaro's De Partu Virginis. The water, standing for the epic tradition, is assuming a new taste, namely a Christian one. With his new water, the river Jordan succeeds the Tiber and the others. This is not the only instance of symbolism. Aside from 'forest', the word 'silva' can mean material, or more precisely, literary material (in the sense of a corpus, or a body of texts).130 Cicero, Suetonius, Probus and Quintilian have used it in such a way. 131 Stephen Hinds has taken this as a cue to interpret 'itur in antiquam silvam', 'they went into an old forest' (Aen.VI.179) in a metapoetical way, saying that Virgil also went into the literary corpus of his predecessors, as Aeneas went into the woods, to shape the subsequent scene.132 More instances of 'silva' (or later 'lucus') in later epics have been said to give hints about the epic tradition.133 There are several instances of the word silva in the scene treated above. However, the most significant is the following: 'insuetas curvare cacumina silvas / aspicies', 'you will see unaccustomed forests bow their tree-tops' (DPV.III.396-7). Again, we have this word 'insuetas', as was said earlier about the streams of the Jordan. Now Proteus says that a new sort of 'silva' will bow its head to Christ. This may be read to signify that a new sort of literature within the tradition, namely Christian epic, will honor Christ, as Sannazaro does with his De Partu Virginis.
130OLD s.v. silva 5a, b. 131For an elaboration, see Poelstra (2014) 26. 132Hinds (1998) 12-13. 133Masters (1992), Hinds (1998), Kofler (2003). 37
Another aspect that allows this scene to have aforementioned associations, is its setting. In the beginning of the passage (281), we move from the sky to the cave of Jordan ('sub antris'). In 499, at the very end of the scene, we have in the same metrical position 'sub antris', creating a ring- composition, as we had previously seen with Cerberus at the beginning and end of the katabasis in book I, causing a self-contained feel. Furthermore, between those two verses are a prophetic ekphrasis and a past prophecy in direct speech, thoroughly confusing past, present and future, allowing a very strong connectivity. Besides, this scene is Sannazaro's own addition to the story of Christ, as was the underworld- scene, and it is the structural pendant of that scene. I would argue that the connection between the two enhances their individual interpretative possibilities, as was the case in Virgil's Aeneid. So, in the scenes treated, we have the appropriation of and expansion on a predecessor in the tradition, this time more explicit than ever, positioning Sannazaro as the successor of Virgil, though not just as the successor of Virgil the epic poet, but also of Virgil the pastoral poet. There is also the basic sense of succession, concerning epic rivers, which, in itself, carries certain metapoetic associations. Those associations are enhanced by what I suspect to be metaliterary symbolism, using words and markers like rivers and 'silva' that traditionally have been thought to carry symbolic meaning connected to the genre of epic. Also, the scene is enclosed by a ring-composition, and is chronologically fairly dubious, connecting (literary) past, present, and future.
General remarks
In this chapter, I intended to find out if Sannazaro may have imbued his epic with the same layer of poetic succession as he may have read in Virgil. With the 'red flags' that I isolated in the previous chapter in my mind, I examined two passages which had sparked my interest. In both these scenes, I found the same characteristics that had inspired me, and several others, to read certain passages from the Aeneid in a metapoetical way. Both had the basic sense of succession, which is a necessary condition. Both evoked and appropriated a predecessor, only to take it a step further shortly thereafter. Sannazaro's underworld evoked Virgil's underworld, and his David evoked the classical poet himself. Moreover, the katabasis and the character 'Fama' carried metapoetic associations from Virgil on. In the passage about Jordan and Proteus, traditionally metapoetic associations were present when Sannazaro spoke about unaccustomed rivers or forests. In both instances, by having Christian Fama succeed David-Virgil, and by having the Jordan succeed the Tiber, Sannazaro could be seen Christianizing the Virgilian text. Moreover, both scenes had the connection between past, present and future that has proven to be vital to discern a level of poetic succession in the text.
38
Chapter 3 the Eclogues
In the previous chapter, I have attempted to demonstrate that, at certain moments in the De Partu Virginis, Sannazaro makes implications about how he succeeds Virgil, hinting at the process of Christianization, through the use of metapoetic symbolism for which he may have found inspiration in the Aeneid. One of the scenes in which I believe this to be the case, has a large focus on Proteus. This is not the only appearance of Proteus in Sannazaro's Latin corpus. In fact, the poet dedicated an entire piscatory eclogue to the character, namely EP. IV, aptly called 'Proteus'. This eclogue has received scholarly attention due to, among other reasons, the alleged usage of metaliterary symbolism which, for a large part, seems to correspond to elements of the sixth of Virgil's eclogues, on which it is modeled.134 This eclogue is about poetry, and makes statements about things like genre and tradition (whenever those statements are implicit, covered by a more obvious narrative, we find ourselves on the terrain of metapoetics). If there are truly instances of such self- referentiality in Ecloga Piscatoria IV, it would considerably increase the likelihood of my hypothesis concerning the DPV, since it would show the author's awareness of such symbolism, as well as place Proteus in a metapoetical setting. Therefore, an examination of both eclogues seems useful. First, I will look at Virgil's Ecloga VI, and possible instances of metapoeticality that Sannazaro may have discerned. Then, I shall examine that poet's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria, and relate its usage of metapoetics to that of Virgil, as well as to that present in the De Partu Virginis.
Virgil's sixth Ecloga and its context
Ecloga VI is thought to be Virgil's response to a request of one Arenus Varus, asking to immortalize the latter's martial achievements in an epic poem.135 The eclogue contains Virgil's skillfully formulated refusal of this task (a so-called a recusatio).136 Virgil excuses his inability to write an epic, and describes how it came to be that he began to write pastoral poetry. He, in the guise of Tityrus, tells of a visit payed to him by Apollo.137 He relates in direct speech how the god advised him to focus on a 'deductum carmen' (v. 5), often translated as 'fine-spun' and understood to signify lyric poetry, as opposed to epic.138 This metaphor, where writing of poetry is articulated as the spinning of wool, is fairly common, and made explicit in the Epistula ad Augustum (v. 225) of
134Putnam (2009), Fredericksen (2014). 135Gould (1983) 55. 136On literary requests and recusationes in Virgil's time, see White (1993) 64-91. 137Coleman (1977) 176, Gould (1983) 54, Clausen (1994) 174. 138Coleman (1977) 176-7, Clausen (1994) 180, Rushton Fairclough (19993) 60-1. 39
Horace.139 Virgil then spends several more verses appeasing Varus, while declining his request for epic poetry, instead opting for the pastoral genre. In verse 14 the actual narrative begins. Chromis and Mnasylos, probably ordinary shepherd- boys,140 find the old Silenus, passed out drunk in a cave. The figure of Silenus is an unusual one in the pastoral genre, and the character created by Virgil in this eclogue, is an unusual one for Silenus: he is morphed into a poetic soul and a literary critic.141 All the while, his supernatural status is stressed. The shepherd-boys capture Silenus to make the deity sing them a story. They are joined by the fair nymph Aegle. The binding of a supernatural being (with the aid of a nymph) in exchange for a story, evokes a common folk-tale motif, present in (among others) Aristaeus, Numa, Herodotus, and Homer.142 In Homer's Odysee, for instance, Menelaos captures Proteus, forcing him to answer the prince's questions, in order to explain the lack of goodwill from the gods toward him.143 When Silenus wakes to see his hands tied and his face painted with mulberries, he laughs, and promises the boys to comply with their request when they set him free (to the nymph another reward is promised, but left implicit). The song of Silenus starts off with a description of the creation of the earth and the first living beings during the Saturnian age (also known as the golden age). It goes on, informing us of the death of Hylas, how the shores echoed his name. More myths are touched upon: Pasiphaë, Atalanta, and Phaeton. Then, there is an unexpected intrusion upon the mythological discourse: Gallus is mentioned, an elegist and a friend of Virgil, to whom the tenth eclogue was dedicated.144 He is introduced into the world of pastoral poetry, described as walking by a river, and led to the Aonian hills, which should be associated with the muses.145 Praise is sung for the elegist by Linus, a Callimachean shepherd who appears to have gained elegiac associations.146 Linus then presents Gallus with the flute of Hesiod (who is described with the adjective 'Ascrio' (v. 70)), and commands him to sing of the origin of the Grynean wood. After this somewhat odd intrusion (a friendly nod to Gallus in a poem that is supposedly dedicated to Varus during a summation of mythological subjects) we return to the previous mythological summation. Silenus is now singing about Scylla, whose story, along with that of Tereus and Philomela, is told in a the form of a rhetorical question stating the lack of necessity to tell these stories, thus creating a praeteritio. Silenus keeps on singing while evening falls, and with nightfall, the poem ends.
139Rudd (2002) 113. 140Coleman (1977) 178. 141Coleman (1977) 179, 203-4. Clausen (1994) 175. 142Coleman (1977) 181. 143Meeuse (1992) 162. 144Gould (1983) 60. 145Clausen (1994) 199-202. 146Coleman (1977) 196. 40
Virgil's sixth Ecloga and its symbolism
This ecloga is, for a large part, about poetry. A genre is declined, and a fellow poet is praised. However, this is all covered by a primary layer of meaning, as the main narrative is about Silenus who tells two young boys an abundance of mythological stories. Therefore, this eclogue is metapoetic in a more obvious way than we have seen before. This is not a bad thing, however, as it may help us understand potential metapoetic symbolism in Sannazaro's EP. IV. The first lines of the poem mention Thalia, who was, among others, the muse of bucolic poetry, and here she is specifically Virgil's muse (which is pointed out through the use of possessive pronoun 'nostra', v. 2).147 She is described as the first ('prima', which is also the first word) playing with Sicilian verse, that is to say, verses in the tradition of the Sicilian poet Theocritus.148 Moreover, she wasn't ashamed to inhabit the woods ('silvas', v. 2). It is suggested that with these lines, Virgil is claiming primacy in bringing Theocritan pastoral into Latin poetry.149 If so, Virgil's muse was not afraid to inhabit the silvas (which, as I have argued in the previous chapter, may stand for a literary corpus) representing pastoral poetry. The next line, 'Cum canerem reges et proelia' (v. 3) evokes the epic genre. Virgil explains that, as he was writing epic poetry, Apollo appears, telling him to produce a fine-spun song.150 Then, the words of Apollo are described: the god addresses his conversational partner as Tityrus. This shepherd is believed to be a character that can be seen to represent Virgil himself (as I mentioned earlier).151 Above, I have already explained the metaphor, due to which the 'fine-spun' song can be seen to represent the lyric poetry that a pastor should write. The word deducere carries strong generic associations, as for instance Ovid also uses it in his Metamorphoses to evoke poetic ideals of Callimachus (who, in his Aitia, strongly advocates the elegance of lyric as opposed to the sheer quantity of epic).152 Virgil's 'fine' (or lepidus) poetry is contrasted with a fat sheep:
147For Ecloga VI, I follow the text of Rushton Fairclough (19993); any translations given, are my own (unless otherwise stated). 148Gould (1983) 55. 149Clausen (1994) 178. 150Which epic poetry Virgil is referring to is unclear. Servius suggests an early start of the Aeneid or an epic on Alban kings. Another possibility is that, responding to Varus' request, Virgil had already started writing epic verses, but then had a change of heart (represented by Apollo's visit). See Coleman (1977) 175. 151See note 122 and 136. 152Heerink (2009) 13. 41
Ecl. VI.4-5 .. “pastorem, Tityre, pinguis pascere oportet ovis, deductum dicere carmen.” .. “a shepherd, Tityrus, should feed his sheep until it gets plump, but he should sing a fine-spun song.”
I would argue that the visit of Apollo, and these words, strongly evoke the prologue to Callimachus' Aitia, where he writes the following (Ait.31-3):153 “Lykian Apollo said to me: 'make your sacrifice as fat as you can, poet, but keep your Muse on slender rations'.” This prologue is an explicit treatise on genres, as Callimachus turns down 'large' epic, for fine and thin lyric. In this eclogue, as often,154 deducere is associated with lyric. Virgil evokes the generic conflict described in the Aitia. This may cause one to associate aforementioned plump sheep, with which a deductum carmen is contrasted, with the epic genre. Virgil then goes on to say that there will be poets aplenty to sing the praise of Varus (all the while, the implication that this should be done in epic verse subsists), stating that he himself will woo the rustic ('agrestem', v. 8) muse on slender reed. This is a continuation of the generic associations created earlier: the agrestem musam that Virgil will attempt to woo stands for the pastoral poetry he will attempt to write. The slender reed ('tenui harundine', v. 8) signifies the lyric poetry with which the author will do this. Hereafter, Virgil claims that this recusatio should not be interpreted as a refusal to sing the praise of Varus (v. 10-11):
Ecl. VI.9-11 … si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis captus amore leget, te nostrae, Vare, myricae, te nemus omne canet;.. … however, if one were to read this, someone captivated by love, our tamarisks, the entire forest would sing of you;...
So even if Virgil doesn't exactly compose a res gestae for Varus, he says his tamarisks and forest should still be seen as his praise. In this context, myricae and nemus can be seen to represent this pastoral poem. From v. 13 on, the capture of Silenus is described, and in v. 31, the deity begins singing. His words appear to be modeled on the song of Orpheus in Apollonius Rhodius' Argonautica (Arg.
153Translation by Nisetich (2001). For a thorough comparison of Ecl. VI and the Aitia, see Clauss (2004). 154Aside from Virgil, Horace and Ovid, the verb is used with the same generic associations by (among others) Cicero and Quintilian. See Coleman (1977) 176-7. 42
1.496-502).155 This suspicion is enhanced when one takes a look at the preceding verses:
Ecl.VI. 29-30 Nec tantum Phoebo gaudet Parnasia rupes, nec tantum Rhodope miratur et Ismarus Orphea. Not so does the Parnassian rock rejoice in Phoebus, not so do Rhodope and Ismarus admire Orpheus.
The last word before the song of Silenus commences (v. 31 'Namque canebat...') is Orphea. However, Virgil doesn't only evoke Apollonius, but he also states that Silenus sings better than Orpheus, implying that his cosmogony is better than that of Apollonius.156 The elements of both cosmogonies overlap for the most part (as earth, sky, sea, heaven, rivers and mountains are described), but in v. 39, Virgil adds an element:
Ecl. VI.39 Incipiant silvae cum primum surgere... When forests first began to emerge...
The word 'silva' often warrants closer examination, as it carries more than one meaning. If one were to read the meaning of 'literary corpus' into this instance, this verse may be seen to refer to the earliest known literature. One of the earliest instances of literature was Hesiod, who, in his Theogony, also describes a cosmogony (and in v. 70 he is presented as the ancient poetic predecessor of Gallus). The use of silvae here might be a nod to that work. However, this is purely speculative, and the creation of forests is not unexpected in a description of the origins of the world. A more suspicious verse is 44 ('ut litus “Hyla, Hyla” omne sonaret', as the entire riverbank echoed “Hylas, Hylas”). Hylas was the young companion of Hercules, who tragically drowned in in a pond. The story of Hylas is described in Theocritus' Idyls and in Apollonius' Argonautica. Virgil has mentioned or evoked both those poets more or less explicitly. In this verse, the poet who provided the model for the pastoral genre of this poem (Theocritus) is combined with the poet who provided the model for the cosmogony of Silenus in it (Apollonius). The Hylas-episode has been subjected to several instances of research with a focus on metapoetics; it is told by Theocritus, Apollonius and Virgil, as well as Propertius, Valerius Flaccus and more. This allows the author to
155Coleman (1977) 183, Clausen (1994) 176. Coleman also notes the verbal similarites with Lucretius' DRN, but states that Silenus' cosmogony is 'sufficiently general to be appreciated by readers of many different philosophical and religious persuasions'. 156The same observation was made for a large part by Clausen (1994) 176. 43 mark his take on the story of a previous author.157 As this part of the poem is generally inspired by Apollonius and Theocritus, two poets, I would argue it is very fitting that 'Hyla' is echoed twice. This echoing is in fact the most important feature of this verse in respect to Sannazaro. The idea of an 'Alexandrian footnote' is described by Stephen Hinds as a signal from an author to 'draw attention to the fact that they are alluding, and to reflect upon the nature of their allusive activity'.158 The most basic form of this signal is 'dicuntur', or a variation thereof. However, Hinds goes on to show that when authors or characters 'remember' something (using a form of or variation on the verb meminisse), it is often an allusion to an earlier text. That same goes for the description of echoes in a story.159 Such an echo is often also a literary echo. In this text, the double echo may then signal the double inspiration Virgil had for this poem.160 In v. 69-73, after Silenus' song has turned to Gallus, we hear the mythological protector of song, Linus, exhort the poet:
Ecl. VI.69-73 Dixerit: “hos tibi dant calamos, en accipe, Musae, Ascraeo quos ante seni, quibus ille solebat cantando rigidas deducere montibus ornos. His tibi Grynei nemoris dicatur origo, ne quis sit lucus, quo se plus iactet Apollo.”
The giving of pipes from a dead singer signifies the appointing of a worthy successor in pastoral tradition.161 Gallus is explicitly positioned as the successor of the old Acraean, namely Hesiod.162 The latter's proverbial baton is handed over to Gallus, and he is given the assignment to sing of the origin of the Grynean forest, in the tradition of the ancient poet's Works and Days, a didactic poem on farming (and a major inspiration for Virgil's Georgica).163 This thinly veiled poetic succession makes use of the metapoetic significance of calamos, but I would argue that this is not the only instance of metapoetic symbolism in these verses. The forest whereof it is suggested Gallus should
157For research on Hylas and metapoetics, see among others Heerink (2007) and Heerink (2015). 158Hinds (1998) 1. 159Hinds (1998) 5-8. 160This concept of an Alexandrian footnote is fairly expansive (the character of fama for instance, as she may be seen to represent a previously existing story, can often be used to signal allusion); for an elaboration, see Hinds (1998) 1-16. 161Clausen (1994) 203. 162Coleman (1977) 197, Gould (1983) 60, Clausen (1994) 203, Rushton Fairclough (1999) 65. 163Gould (1983) 60. 44 describe the origins was devoted to Apollo.164 After adhortative conjunctive 'dicatur' comes 'ne' in combination with a conjunctive, thus positioning verse 73 as the hypothetical situation that is prevented by 72. That is to say, by writing about a forest consecrated to Apollo, Gallus will create woods that Apollo will be most content with. In this sense, the word nemus can be interpreted in a two-fold way: by singing its praise, Gallus renders the Grynean grove a showpiece for Apollo. However, the nemus created may also be seen as the poem itself, which will appease Apollo more than any other because it treats a subject dear to Apollo, in a genre preferred by the god (in v. 4-5, Apollo's preference for lyric is suggested). The last potential instance of metaliterary awareness is to be found in v. 84: 'pulsae referunt ad sidera valles', 'the echoing valleys sing them back to the stars'. With 'them', the songs which Silenus sings are signified. As we have seen before, echoes in a text may be intertextual echoes. If we consider this possibility, v. 84 can be interpreted in two ways. On the one hand, all of Silenus' songs are described in indirect speech in this ecloga, so perhaps this verse in the conclusion reminds us that this very poem is an echo of those songs itself. On the other hand, as the songs of Silenus constitute this work, potential echoes of it may represent future poems by other poets, and Virgil is looking ahead, predicting reception in the tradition of this Ecloga. Though both these possibilities are entertaining, they are merely built upon the functioning of echoes as an Alexandrian footnote, and are speculative. Concluding, important symbolism that Sannazaro may have picked up on, consists of the use of deducere and the constant opposition of large and slender (for instance the slender reed); the word silva can be interpreted in a symbolical way on several instances, and the agrestis musa can be seen to represent an entire genre; Apollonius is alluded to by mentioning and evoking Orpheus, and as Virgil states that Silenus' song is better, his cosmogony may be put above Apollonius'; there is poetic succession, where a flute represents pastoral poetry, and Alexandrian footnotes may be found in the text.
Sannazaro's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria and its context
The Eclogae Piscatoriae were not Sannazaro's first foray into pastoral, as that honor goes to his vernacular masterpiece, the Arcadia. I shall not examine that work in detail, however, partly due to the fact that it was written in Italian, and I intend to focus on Latin poetry in this thesis. Also, a detailed analysis of the Arcadia, including metapoetics and poetic succession, has already been given by Thomas Hubbard in his excellent Pipes of Pan.165 The piscatory eclogues constitute
164For an elaborate description of the Grynean wood and its associations, see Clausen (1994) 203-4. 165See especially Hubbard (2001) 256-64, 314-15 and 347-48. 45 somewhat of a sub-genre of antique pastoral, an innovation that Sannazaro reportedly introduced. The primary difference was a shift of location: '..the characters were no longer shepherds, but fishermen, the scene no longer fields but the seashore, and (…) all details were so changed as to leave the same taste but a different flavor'.166 This was the first of many mutations of pastoral, which some saw as a perversion of the genre. Henninger Jr. argues that pastoral lost its idyllicism and 'the eclogue became a favored form for satire and sarcasm'.167 However, if true, this does not (yet) apply to Sannazaro's Eclogae, as Hubbard notes he perpetuates the classic 'idealized glorification of the pastoral world'.168 In the composition of his EP, Sannazaro was heavily influenced by Virgil. Hubbard argues convincingly how 'nothing was more central to Vergil's later Latin successors than articulating their relationship (and their era's relationship) to Vergil as a literary model'.169 In Sannazaro's case, this is fairly clear, as his contemporaries were wont to call him 'the Virgil of Naples'.170 Virgil himself seems to stress his poetic dependence upon Theocritus in his eclogues. Nevertheless, despite the fact that Sannazaro was familiar with the Greek text of the Idylls, the chief influence for pastoral poetry from 1300 to 1700, thus including Sannazaro's, were Virgil's eclogues.171 It is difficult to assess anteriority of either the DPV over E P. IV, or vice versa, as Sannazaro describes the composition of both works as contemporary in his elegy to Cassandra Marchese.172 As I previously stated, the fourth EP has received scholarly attention due to its alleged poetic self- awareness. This, in combination with a starring role for the character of Proteus, makes it relevant for my research. The eclogue itself is dedicated to Ferdinando of Aragon, duke of Calabria, and its introduction functions as praise and consolation at the same time, as Ferdinando was held prisoner in Spain at the time.173 Sannazaro states that the time will come where he will sing of the return of the prince and the kings Ferdinando will conquer, but for now, he should content himself with the following poem. The narrative then starts, as two young fishermen, Melanthius and Phrasidamus, hear the divine song of Proteus. Proteus' song contains many mythological references, starting with Typhoeus and his battle to claim Olympus. Then, the story of Hercules is touched upon, followed by mention of the underworld and the Sibyl. Next, the poet goes on to describe myths which take place in or around the bay of Naples. He mentions Nesis and Posillipo in a tragic love story, and water nymphs; he describe a cave in which Melisaeus and Corydon exchange a flute; in a rhetorical question ('quid referam..', v. 75), which makes the following mythological mentions into a
166Grant (1965) 205. 167Henninger Jr. (1961) 254. 168Hubbard (2001) 4. 169Hubbard (2001) 6. 170Grant (1965) 153. 171Grant (1965) 66. 172Putnam (2009) xiii. For Sannazaro's pursuit of the tripartite Virgilian career, see Hubbard (2001) 317-18 and 347-48. 173Putnam (2009) 449. 46 praeteritio, he tells of Stabia an the Sirens and the Vesuvius. The conclusion of the poem laments the death and exile of king Frederico, ending with nightfall and the rise of the moon.
Sannazaro's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria and its symbolism
It is clear in which way this eclogue is modeled upon Virgil's Ecl. VI: the poet recuses himself from singing praise for Ferdinando, instead opting for this piscatory eclogue. Two boys hear a supernatural being singing a song containing an abundance of mythological references, and the poem ends with a rhetorical question and nightfall. As we will see, a lot of the symbolism we found in Virgil's poem is present here as well. This starts in v. 15-20:
E P. IV.15-20174 Nam mihi, nam tempus veniet cum reddita sceptra Parthenopes fractosque tua sub cuspide reges ipse canam; nunc litoream ne despice Musam quam tibi post silvas, post horrida lustra Lycaei (si quid id est) salsas deduxi primus ad undas ausus inexperta tentare pericula cymba. Because for me, because the time will come when I myself will sing of Parthenope's scepters returned and the kings broken under your lance; now, do not look down upon the muse of the shore, whom, after the woods, after the rugged fields of Lycaeus, (if that accounts for something) I first brought down to the salty waves for you, daring to attempt the dangers in my inexperienced bark.
The first hint at poetic awareness one might notice is the word deduxi in v. 19. Above, I have argued for the poetic associations that verb carries, and in these lines, it has the same effect as it did in ecl. VI. Sannazaro is claiming primacy ('primus') in bringing pastoral to the nautical setting, signified by the salsas undas.175 The musa, who, as in Virgil, represents this genre, has therefore become a muse of the seashore. Before she came to the sea, she lived in silvas. These silvas carry a poetic association once again, as they may be seen to represent the ancient pastoral genre, in which Virgil's Thalia was unashamed to live. She also lived in the rugged fields of Lycaeus. This appears to be an allusion to Sannazaro's previous Arcadia, in which the mountain Lycaeus is mentioned in the prologue as part of Arcadia. So, after the more traditional setting of Arcadia, where Sannazaro's vernacular pastoral took place, he has now moved it to the bay of Naples. As Grant put it, the reader can now smell the sea.176 There is still the distinction between lofty epic and slender lyric as was
174Text of E P. IV as in Putnam (2009); translation my own. 175Putnam (2009) 450. 176Grant (1965) 250. 47 present in Virgil. Verse 15-7 evoke the epic genre, as Sannazaro suggests he will write of battles and kings. That time hasn't come yet, however, so here he will 'spin out' a piscatory eclogue. As previously stated, deduxi has generic associations with lyric poetry, as opposed to large epic, so here Sannazaro is (like Virgil before him) recusing himself from epic to write pastoral poetry. The claim to primacy is strengthened in v. 20, where the author describes himself as sitting in an untested ship. Sailing was often used as a metaphor for writing, for instance in Virgil's geo. 2.41 and 4.117, or Horace's c. 4.15.1-4.177 Here, the lack of experience of the ship should be seen as the novelty of the genre in which Sannazaro is 'sailing'. Verse 21 then asks the rhetorical question 'Qua vada non norunt, quis nescit Protea portus?', 'What waters do not know, what harbor doesn't recognize Proteus?'. I would argue that, drawing upon the metaphor of the previous verse where sailing is a metaphor for writing, this verse contains an Alexandrian footnote: the waters and harbor may be seen as texts (through or to which an author would 'sail'), and then the question becomes, which text doesn't know Proteus? This may be an assertion of the enduring presence of Proteus in an abundance of texts.178 The 'knowing' of Proteus is very close to 'remembering' Proteus, which could be used to signal allusion, thus we may consider this an Alexandrian footnote. Another sign that this poem is self-aware, is the way it evokes Virgil. Structurally, this eclogue is very similar to ecl. VI, and this is corroborated with many verbal allusions.179 However, each element that is used, is changed. The agrestis musa that represented Virgil's pastoral poetry has become a litorea musa. The shepherds have become fishermen. The deity Silenus becomes the deity Proteus. Everything has become nautical and Neapolitan: even the myths in Proteus' song are for a large part about the bay of Naples. For instance, the story of Neapolitan Posillipo and Nesis alludes to the story of Pasiphaë through the use of an apostrophe and a prominent appearance of infelix (v. 50), making elements from Silenus’ song Neapolitan.180 This practice of evocation and change on the one hand reminds us of the way Virgil used Apollonius, stating that his Silenus could sing better than Apollonius' Orpheus, and on the other hand, of the way Sannazaro Christianizes Virgil in DP V. Here, instead of Christinization, we have symbols for 'Neapolitanization'. In Virgil's eclogue, we saw a preoccupation with poetic succession when Gallus was described as taking over Hesiod's flute. In this poem, the same principle may be found:
177Putnam (2009) 427. 178For a study on the figure of Proteus, see Meeuse (1992), and specifically in Sannazaro, see Quint (1983) 76-84. 179See Putnam (2009) 449-454. 180Putnam (2009) 452. 48
E P. IV.69-72 Tum canit ut Corydona sacro Melisaeus in antro viderit et calamos labris admoverat audax formosum quibus ille olim cantarat Alexin, dixerat et musam Damonis et Alphesiboei. Then he sung how Melisaeus saw Corydon in the sacred cave, and how he, over-confident, had moved to his lips the flute with which that man had once sung of gorgeous Alexis, and told of the muse of Damon and Alphesiboeus.
Sholars have identified Melisaeus as Sannazaro's teacher, Pontano, and Corydon as Virgil.181 As we have previously seen, the passing of the flute signifies poetic succession in the pastoral tradition. Here we would then have Pontano, succeeding Virgil (though the word audax is problematic, as it has negative connotations). Since Pontano is Sannazaro's mentor, that would mean that the author is here stating that he is indirectly succeeding Virgil, through his succession of Pontano (who explicitly presented Sannazaro as his successor).182 Verse 79-80, the first verses of Proteus' lamentation for king Frederico, are as follows: 'reges regumque (…) pugnas / enumerat', 'he recounts kings and battles of kings'. This evokes Virgil's 'Cum canerem reges et proelia' (Ecl. VI.3), with which that author was referring to the epic genre. It is fitting that in the conclusion of the poem, the epic genre is once more evoked, as it was in a similar way in v. 15-17. The fact that this first happens when the text concerns Ferdinando, and second when it concerns Frederico, is a way to connect father and son. Moreover, it is telling of Sannazaro's opinion that the genre which should be used to bestow praise, is the epic genre. So, in this ecloga piscatoria, we have seen several instances of metapoetic symbolism, which seem to correspond to what we saw earlier in this chapter, for instance the metapoetic use of deducere as we saw in Virgil. We also saw the opposition between epic and pastoral, lofty and slender. There also was a possible instance of an Alexandrian footnote, and there was a scene of poetic succession, and the word 'silva' could be seen to represent ancient pastoral again. Virgil was abundantly evoked, but the elements borrowed from him were changed in such a way as to mark Sannazaro's innovation in bringing pastoral to the sea. The epic genre was connected to the praise of kings. This outcome has several consequences for my hypothesis. First and foremost, it shows Sannazaro's understanding and use of symbolism and metapoeticality. Moreover, it suggests that Sannazaro saw that metapoetic symbolism in Virgil, and then used it in his own work. It also shows that the renaissance author saw himself as a successor of Virgil, which makes it all the more likely
181Hubbard (2001) 256-64, Putnam (2009) 453. 182Hubbard (2001) 256-7. 49 that he would hint at that connection in the DPV. Furthermore, this eclogue puts Proteus in a metapoetic setting, which increases the likelihood of DP V. III.281-497 also carrying an extra layer of meaning.
De Partu Virginis and Ecloga Piscatoria IV
The metapoeticality of E P. IV can be used in another way to assess its presence in the DPV. In book III of that epic, there appears to be, preceding the shepherd's song that summarizes Virgil's fourth eclogue, an evocation of the pastoral genre. Joy ('Laetitia') is described as descending from heaven, and her arrival on earth is described as follows:
D P V. 126-7183 Ut vero umbrosis posuit vestigia silvis, culmina conscendit pastorum,.. But when she set foot in the shady forests, she climbed upon the roofs of the shepherds,..
The word 'silvis' so close to 'pastorum' is logical, of course; shepherds lived in wooded area's. However, when we remember the metaliterary associations it may carry, it may signify that Joy is descending from 'high' epic into the literary corpus of pastoral. This suggestion becomes more likely when we look a little further. Joy starts speaking to the shepherds, asking them to offer gifts to the newborn Christ, as well as sing a song for him. She does this in the following words (v. 142): 'insuetum et silvis stipula deducite carmen', 'spin forth on your pipe a song that is new, even to the woods'. As we have seen, deducere has poetic and generic associations, and the stipula is a pastoral instrument. Joy appears to be ordering a pastoral poem in this verse. However, it is new to the silvis, which should be seen to represent the corpus of ancient pastoral. The reason that it is insuetum, is that, when the shepherds comply to Joy's request 50 verses later, they sing their version of the fourth eclogue (mentioned in the previous chapter), which Virgil himself describes as unusual: those silvae are consule dignae. So, one could argue that, through the use of metapoetical markers such as deducere, silva, and insuetum, Sannazaro is introducing his version of Virgil's fourth eclogue. This is relevant, as it shows Sannazaro's metapoetical awareness at work in the De Partu Virginis, preceding a scene in which I have argued poetic succession is marked through metapoetic symbolism.
183For DPV, I follow Putnam (2009); translations are my own. 50
Conclusion
In this thesis, I set out to answer the question whether or not one could read in Sannazaro's De Partu Virginis the same metapoetic symbolism signifying poetic succession, as can be read in several scenes of Virgil's Aeneid. After attempting to distill the characteristic of Virgil's scenes that symbolize poetic succession, I was left with several 'red flags' for metapoeticality: externally proleptic succession, allusion to other scenes of poetic transmission, an occasion to see a link between cities and phases of the epic tradition, Callimachean poetics, a description of a piece of art, and positioning the work of a predecessor as a prequel, appropriating their words and taking them one step further. These characteristics became more significant due to the fact that the four scenes treated were structurally connected to each other. A condition for metapoetic symbolism of poetic succession appeared to be that the scene doesn't describe narrative progress: it is not a part of the main story. When looking at the two scenes in the De Partu Virginis, I discovered that they shared many of these 'red flags': both the prophecies are externally proleptic, they explicitly allude to the Virgilian scenes treated in the first chapter, heaven was represented as a city, and could be linked to the Christianizing of epic, Callimachean poetics about rivers could be read into the Proteus episode, his urn was described in a long prophetic ekphrasis, and the fourth eclogue of Virgil was summarized and expanded upon. The scenes were structurally each other's pendant, and they were not part of the main story. In the final chapter, I researched instances of metapoeticality in Sannazaro's fourth Ecloga Piscatoria, which had received scholarly attention, in combination with Virgil's tenth ecloga upon which it appears to be modeled. I discovered that in this work, Proteus was in a metapoetic setting again, and that the discernible symbolism in the Eclogae Piscatoriae was similar to that present in the De Partu Virginis shortly before one of the scenes treated. This enhanced the likelihood of Sannazaro's metapoetical practice and its presence in his epic. Therefore, I am inclined to answer my previous question positively: yes, I believe that Sannazaro noticed and used the metapoetic symbolism that he had seen in Virgil in his own epic to signify poetic succession. The speculative nature of my findings should be noted, as metapoeticality is notoriously difficult to prove. However, at the very least, my research shows that all these scenes share features that make them suspect, and renders them a very suitable candidate for metapoetic interpretations.
51
Literature
Alpers, P. 1979 The Singer of the Eclogues: a Study of Virgilian Pastoral, London.
Auerbach, E. 20133 Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, Oxford.
Austin, R. G. (ed.) 19733 P. Vergili Maronis Aeneidos Liber Secundus, Oxford.
(ed.) 19923 P. Vergili Maronis Aeneidos Liber Sextus, Oxford.
Bandera, C. 1981 "Sacrificial Levels in Virgil's Aeneid" in Arethusa, vol. 14, pp. 217-39, Baltimore.
Binder, G. 1971 Aeneas und Augustus: Interpretationen zum 8. Buch der Aeneis, Meisenheim am Glan.
Bolhuis, A. 1950 Vierde Ecloga in de Oratio Constantini ad Sanctorum Coetum, Ermelo.
Cardona, L. 1584 Commentaria In Tres Libros De Virginis Partu A Sannazaro Editos, Venice.
Clausen, W. (ed.) 1994 Virgil: Eclogues, Oxford.
Clauss, J. J. 2004 “Vergil's sixth Eclogue: The Aetia in Rome” in Harder, A. (ed.) Callimachus: Aetia, vol. 2, pp. 71-94, Oxford.
Clément-Tarantino, S. 2007 “Fama ou la renommée du genre : recherches sur la représentation de la tradition dans l'Enéide” in L'information Littéraire, vol. 59, nr. 4, pp. 42-8, Paris.
Coleman, R. (ed.) 1977 Vergil: Eclogues, Cambridge.
Conte, G. B. 1986 The Rhetoric of Imitation: Genre and Poetic Memory in Virgil and other Latin Poets, Ithaca and London.
Fletcher, F. 19625 Virgil: Aeneid VI, London.
52
Fredericksen, E. 2014 “Jacopo Sannazaro’s Piscatory Eclogues and the Question of Genre” in New Voices in Classical Reception Studies, vol. 9, pp. 19-29 (http://www2.open.ac.uk/ClassicalStudies/GreekPlays/newvoices/Issue9/fredericksen.pdf).
Fordyce, C. J. 19903 P. Vergili Maronis Aeneidos Libri VII-VIII, Bristol.
Girard, R. 1972 La violence et le sacré, Paris.
Gould, H. E. (ed.) 1983 Virgil: Eclogues, Bristol.
Grant, W. L. 1965 Neo-Latin Literature and the Pastoral, Chapel Hill.
Greene, T. M. 1975 The Descent from Heaven: A Study in Epic Continuity, New Haven and London.
1982 The Light in Troy: Imitation and Discovery in Renaissance Poetry, New Haven and London.
Goldschmidt, N. Shaggy Crowns: Ennius “Annales” and Virgil's “Aeneid”, Oxford.
Hammond, N. G. L. and Scullard, H. H. (eds.) 19796 The Oxford Classical Dictionary, Oxford.
Harder, A. 2011 “Callimachus Aetia: meer dan aitia” in Lampas 44, vol. 2, pp. 409-23, Amsterdam.
Hardie, P. 1993 The Epic Successors of Virgil: a Study in the Dynamics of a Tradition, Cambridge.
2012 Rumour and Renown: Representations of Fama in Western Literature, Cambridge.
2014 The Last Trojan Hero: A Cultural History of Virgil's “Aeneid”, London.
Harrison, S. J. 2007 “The Primal Voyage and the Ocean of Epos: Two Aspects of Metapoetic Imagery in Catullus, Virgil and Horace” in Dictynna, vol. 4 (http://dictynna.revues.org/146).
Havrelock, R. 2011 River Jordan: The Mythology of a Dividing Line, London.
53
Henninger, S. K. Jr. 1961 “The Renaissance Perversions of Pastoral” in Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 22, nr. 2, pp. 254-61, Philadelphia.
Heerink, M. A. J. 2007 “Valerius Flaccus' Metapoetical Reading of Propertius' Hylas” in Classical Quarterly, vol. 57.2, pp. 606-20, Cambridge.
2009 “Van Elegie naar Epos: Ovidius over zijn Metamorphosen” in Lampas, vol. 42, nr. 2, Amsterdam
2015 Echoing Hylas: A Study in Hellenistic and Roman Metapoetics, Madison.
Heerink, M. A. J. and Manuwald, G. (eds.) 2014 Brill's Companion to Valerius Flaccus, Leiden.
Higgins, D. H. (ed.) 2008 The Divine Comedy, Oxford.
Hinds, S. 1998 Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of appropriation in Roman Poetry, Cambridge.
Hubbard, T. K. 20014 The Pipes of Pan: Intertextuality and Literary Filiation in the Pastoral tradition from Theocritus to Milton, Ann Arbor.
Hunink, V. 2011 Quintus Ennius: Annalen ( http://www.vincenthunink.nl/documents/BLA2.pdf).
Jong, I. J. F. de, 2014 Narratology and Classics: A Practical Guide, Oxford.
Jordan, R. H. (ed.) 20062 Virgil: Aeneid II, London.
Kofler, W. 2003 Aeneas und Vergil: Untersuchungen zur poetologischen Dimension der “Aeneis”, Heidelberg.
Koopman, N. 2014 Ancient Greek Ekphrasis: Between Description and Narration, Amsterdam.
Lefkowitz, M. R. 1981 The Lives of the Greek Poets, Baltimore.
Leigh, M. 2010 “Lucan’s Caesar and the Saced Grove: Deforestation and Enlightenment in Antiquity” in Tesoriero, C. (ed.) Oxford Readings in Classical Studies, pp. 201-238, Oxford.
54
Masters, J. 1992 Poetry and civil war in Lucan's “Bellum Civile”, Cambridge.
Meeuse, P. 1992 De Jacht op Proteus, Amsterdam.
Mierow, C. C. 1949 "Bishop Otto of Freising: Historian and Man" in Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, vol. 80, pp. 393–402, Baltimore.
Morwood, J. 1991 “Aeneas, Augustus, and the theme of the City” in Greece & Rome, Second Series, vol. 38, no. 2, pp. 212-23, Cambridge.
Murrin, M. 2010 “Renaissance allegory from Petrarch to Spenser” in Copeland, R. and Struck, P. T. (eds.) The Cambridge Companion to Allegory, pp. 162-176, Cambridge.
Nash, R. 1996 The Major Latin Poems of Jacopo Sannazaro, Detroit.
Nisetich, F. 2001 The Poems of Callimachus: Translated with Introduction, Notes and Glossary, Oxford.
O'Hara, J. J. 1990 Death and the optimistic prophecy in Virgil's “Aeneid”, Oxford.
Pavlock, B. 2009 The Image of the Poet in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Madison.
Penwill, J. 2005 “Reading Aeneas' shield” in Iris, vol. 18, pp. 37-47 (http://www.mygrove.us/uploads/8/1/2/6/8126375/aeneas_shield—article--penwill.pdf).
Poelstra, R. A. E. 2014 Waar gehakt wordt, vallen spaanders: de plaats van Lucanus binnen de klassiek epische traditie van het houthakken, Amsterdam.
Prandi, S. (ed.) 2001 Del Parto de la Vergine, Rome.
Putnam, M. C. J. 1995 Virgil's Aeneid: Interpretation and Influence, Chapel Hill and London.
(ed.) 2009 Jacopo Sannazaro: Latin Poetry, London.
55
Quint, D. 1983 Origin and Originality in Renaissance Literature: Versions of the source, New Haven and London.
Rijser, D. 2011 “Afterword” in Putnam, M. C. J. The Humanness of Heroes: Studies in the Conclusion of the Aeneid, Amsterdam.
Rudd, N. (ed.) 2002 Horace Epistles Book II and Epistle to the Pisones ('Ars Poetica'), Cambridge.
Rushton Fairclough, H. (ed.) 1999 Virgil: Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I-VI, London.
Smith, R. M. 1999 “Deception and Sacrifice in Aeneid 2.1-249” in American Journal of Philology, vol. 120, nr. 4, pp. 503-523, Baltimore.
Thomas, R. F. 1988 “Tree Violation and Ambivalence in Vergil” in Transactions of the American Philological Association, vol. 118, pp. 261-273, Philadelphia.
Walde, C. 2001 Die Traumdarstellungen in der griechisch-römischen Dichtung, Munich and Leipzig.
Williams, F. 1978 (ed.) Callimachus Hymn to Apollo: a Commentary, Oxford.
Williams, R. D. 19772 (ed.) The Aeneid of Virgil: Books 7-12, London
Winterbottom, M. (ed.) 1970 Quintiliani Institutio Oratoria, Oxford.
56