PETRONIUS AND THE ANATOMY OF FICTION
Petronius’ Satyricon, long regarded as the first novel of the western tradition, has always sparked controversy. It has been puzzled over as a strikingly modernist riddle, elevated as a work of exemplary comic realism, condemned as obscene and repackaged as a morality tale. This innovative reading of the surviving portions of the work shows how the Satyricon fuses the anarchic and the classic, the comic and the disturbing, and presents readers with a labyrinth of narratorial viewpoints. Victoria Rimell argues that the surviving fragments are connected by an imagery of disintegration, focused on a pervasive Neronian metaphor of the literary text as a human or animal body. Throughout, she discusses the limits of dominant twentieth-century views of the Satyricon as bawdy pantomime, and challenges prevailing restrictions of Petronian corporeality to material or non-metaphorical realms. This ‘novel’ emerges as both very Roman and very satirical in its ‘intestinal’ view of reality.
is a lecturer in classics at Girton College, Cambridge, and was previously a junior research fellow at University College, Oxford. She studied at Cambridge and London and has taught at the Universities of London, Oxford and Cambridge and at the Open University. She also worked as a journalist for two years. Her published work so far has dealt with Roman elegy and satire.
PETRONIUS AND THE ANATOMY OF FICTION
VICTORIA RIMELL
Girton College, Cambridge
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
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Cambridge University Press
The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK
Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org
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© Victoria Rimell 2002
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2002
This digitally printed version 2007
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data
Rimell, Victoria.
Petronius and the anatomy of fiction / Victoria Rimell. p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0 521 81586 X
1. Petronius Arbiter. Satyricon. 2. Satire, Latin – History and criticism.
3. Petronius Arbiter – Technique. 4. Rome – In literature. 5. Fiction – Technique. 6. Narration (Rhetoric) I. Title.
PA6559.R495 2002
873´.01 – dc21 2002067382
ISBN 978-0-521-81586-4 hardback ISBN 978-0-521-03701-3 paperback
Contents
Acknowledgments List of abbreviations page vii
ix
Introduction: Corporealities Rhetorical red herrings
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Behind the scenes The beast within From the horse’s mouth
Bella intestina
Regurgitating Polyphemus
Scars of knowledge
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How to eat Virgil Ghost stories
Decomposing rhythms
Conclusion: Licence and labyrinths
Appendix I. The use of fundere and cognates in the Satyricon Appendix II. The occurrence of fortuna or Fortuna in the Satyricon Appendix III. Aen. . at Sat. : nec venit in mentem, quorum consederis arvis?
Bibliography Index of passages discussed
Index of subjects
v
Acknowledgments
It is a pleasure to thank the Department of Classics at King’s College, London, in particular Alessandro Schiesaro and Michael Silk, for their generous support, open minds and wit. I am grateful also to the King’s College London Association for the scholarship which let me work and play in London for two years, and to University College, Oxford (especially my guru, Chris Pelling) for the fellowship which gave me space to write and rewrite. John Henderson has always made me think harder and offered buzzing comments on various drafts of this book, so many and heartfelt thanks are due to him. I am indebted, too, to Philip Hardie and Rhiannon Ash, and to my eagle-eyed readers at Cambridge University Press. Finally, I would like to thank Michael Sharp, along with the other members of staff at the press, for their guidance and expertise, and last but not least my parents, for everything and more.
vii
Abbreviations
AClass AJP ANRW
Acta Classica American Journal of Philology H. Temporini, Aufstieg und Niedergang der R o ¨mischen Welt,
Berlin
ASNP BICS CA C&M CJ
Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Classical Antiquity Classica et Mediaevalia Classical Journal
CP CQ
Classical Philology Classical Quarterly
CR CW
Classical Review Classical W o rld
G&R HSCP ICS JDAI JHS JRS
Greece and Rome Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Illinois Classical Studies Jahrbuch des Deutschen Arch a ¨ologischen Instituts Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Roman Studies
LCM MD
Liverpool Classical Monthly Materiali e Discussioni per l’Analisi dei T e sti Classici Museum Helveticum Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society Petronian Society Newsletter Revue des Etudes Latines
MH PCPhS PSN REL RhM TAPhA
Rheinisches Museum Transactions of the American Philological Association
ix
x
List of abbreviations
TLL WJA WS
Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, Leipzig, – W u ¨rtzburger Jahrb u ¨cher f u ¨r die Altertumswissenschaft Wiener Studien
I have used K. Mu¨ller’s edition of Petronius throughout unless otherwise stated. All translations are my own.
Introduction Corporealities
At the beginning of the twenty-first century, a critically aware reader approaching Petronius’ Satyricon for the first time might well feel as if she is queuing to see an overhyped film, the kind of provocative Hollywood flick designed to bait media and consumers alike with wild expectations, reactions and predefinitions. Critics have claimed repeatedly that the Satyricon is ‘singularly uninterpretable’, that it ‘presents more puzzles than any other ancient text’ or that it stands as ‘the most controversial text in all of classical literature’, an exotic ‘hothouse plant displaying all the qualities of overstimulated growth’. And although it is generally safe to say that we have moved on from times when ‘the scabrous nature of some of the episodes made a scholarly interest in the work eccentric or suspect’, the sexual ‘shock factor’ is undeniably part and parcel of the way we (are taught to) read the Satyricon, and remains an important facet of its ‘enigma’ as well as of its appeal. We cannot study Petronius without at some point coming across Fellini’s whorish adaptation and Polidoro’s soft porn, or hearing about the cryptic s publication entitled New
Y o rk expurgated: A moral guide for the jaded, tired, evil, non-conforming, corrupt, condemned and the curious – humans and otherwise – to underground Manhattan
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Slater () . Rudich () .
Sullivan (a) . Quinn () .
Sullivan () . See Rose (b) for an account of such readings. As Josipovici argues (: ), ‘the ultimate play with the reader still involves curiosity, [and] that curiosity is still sexual, if we are prepared to recognise that the domain of sex is as large as Freud suggested – that is, that what is at stake is the desire to discover the meaning of one’s body’. As Connors reminds us (: ), each manuscript source for the Satyricon is in part a document of reception, a striking example of which is the O family of manuscripts, which cut out all obscene detail to transform Encolpius into a more respectable pedagogus. This film was made in , the same year as Fellini’s Satyricon. It is said to ‘capitalise on the public’s imagination of orgies under the emperor Nero’ and to be ‘unmemorable’ (Schmeling a: ). Also in , notes Schmeling, ‘the Stratford (Ontario) Festival produced a musicalcomedy version of the Satyricon, which focused on the Cena and a portrait of Trimalchio and his friends in modern-day dress as boorish millionaires in the worst American tradition’ ().
Petronius and the Anatomy of Fiction
(Grove Press, New York, ), penned by (who else?) ‘Petronius’. It is tempting to conclude that the relative silence of British classicists on the Satyricon may still have more than a little to do with its ‘inappropriateness’, the very quality that inspired the Bloomsbury Group to extol Petronius as the antidote to English Victorian morality. In short, we continue to be embarrassed, critically or otherwise, by a text which by all accounts ‘will neither explain itself nor go away’.
Needless to say, the Satyricon comes with its own idiosyncratic baggage of dilemmas and obstacles to comprehension and conceptualisation. Rudich plots a five-point list of the odds stacked against its modern readers, which also neatly illustrates the polarisation of organising critical rhetoric and rambling Petronianese:
First is the fragmentary condition of the extant text which appears to represent (although the scholarly debate on the matter still continues) about one sixteenth of its original length. Nor can it be said with full confidence that the order of the episodes that we now possess corresponds with their progression as designed by the author. It must also be stated at the outset that the extant text is bound to contain numerous allusions whose meaning is entirely lost to us .. . Finally, the major difficulty derives from the author’s chosen mode of discourse – a first person account placed in the mouth of a picaresque character, an ‘unreliable narrator’ par excellence who is the subject of mockery and ridicule, and thus apparently unfit to champion any genuine authorial opinions .. . The difficulties only multiply if one inquires into what could be taken for the political dimension of the novel: of its writer’s dissident insights and sensibilities, if any, as traceable in the parts of the text we possess. Under scrutiny, the matter becomes increasingly elusive: there hardly seems to exist a single passage that yields an unequivocal political message.
Not only has the Satyricon come to us perforated with (possible) holes and tears, or even shrunk down to a fraction of its original size, but
See Schmeling (: ). According to Schmeling, no explanation is given for the author’s (or
authors’) nom de plume.
E.g. Letter of Lytton Strachey to Virginia Woolf, November , : ‘Is it prejudice, do you think, that makes us hate the Victorians, or is it the truth of the case? They seem to me a set of mouthing, bungling hypocrites . . . I would like to live for another years (to be modest). The literature of the future will, I see clearly, be amazing . . . To live in those days, when books will pour out of the press reeking with all the filth of Petronius’. Quoted in Schmeling
(a) .
- Slater () .
- Rudich () –.
Sullivan (a: –) suggests that the original text may have stretched to , words, between sixteen and twenty-four books. See further debate in Walsh (: –) and Reeve (). Also see Gowers () on the idea that Neronian literature sees itself as concentrated or boiled down, decoctus. Or perhaps this is an amputated, castrated or mutilated text, constantly performing its status as bad (i.e. impotent) literature (ut corpus orationis enervaretur et caderet / ‘so that
Corporealities
it also seems to have been ‘undertaken with the deliberate intention of defeating the expectations of an audience accustomed to an organizing literary form’.
Yet it is interesting that for many critics, the idea that the Satyricon cannot be read like, or compared to, other texts, has proved strangely liberating. Despite the ‘moralist’ standpoint of post-war critics such as Arrowsmith, Bacon and Highet, who saw in the Satyricon ‘a deep searching analysis of the death throes of classical Romanitas’, preached from an Epicurean pulpit, Petronius has remained for most a ‘fun’ author, whose ‘topsy-turvy world’ can never be taken too seriously. In many ways, the Satyricon’s very ‘uniqueness’ has represented a welcome relief from the detective-work grind of classification and elucidation: in his undergraduate edition of the Cena, for instance, Gilbert Lawall reassures that the text as a whole ‘remains one of the few works of ancient Roman literature that one reads simply for pleasure’. Similarly Auerbach, for whom the Satyricon marks the ‘ultimate realism attained in antiquity’, calls the Cena ‘a purely comic work’, dictating that ‘it must not be treated on any other level except the comic, which admits no problematic probing’; Quinn comments ‘It is refreshing to read Latin so simple and direct’, while Sullivan’s influential book defines Petronius as a ‘literary opportunist’, a view taken up by Wright and Walsh, who are similarly convinced of the irresponsible, often cynical and invariably comic intentions of the work.
the body of your speech is emasculated and dies,’ Sat. .): Most () gives a full account of Neronian literature’s obsession with dismemberment, in particular the role of dismemberment in a conceptual vocabulary for analysing texts and parts of texts.
Zeitlin (a) .
Arrowsmith () . Like T. S. Eliot, whose Wasteland was inspired by what was seen as Petronius’ bleak vision of spiritual desolation, Arrowsmith, Highet and Bacon all see contemporary concerns about a disintegrating society and immoral urban living mirrored in the Satyricon. However, Arrowsmith (: xi) also finds room for light entertainment: ‘the effect of the Satyricon is neither scorn nor indignation, but the laughter appropriate to good satire enlarged by the final gaiety of comedy; the comic completes the satire and gives the whole randy work that effortless rightness of natural gaiety that makes it so improbably wholesome’. Cf. Highet (: ): ‘manners, education, aesthetics: in these three fields Petronius had a serious intention to correct or chastise, but there is always something comic about the way he does it’.
Holzberg () .
Sullivan notes (: ), ‘the principle of uniqueness is a tempting one to invoke for a work that is so manifestly different from the rest of Latin literature. Certainly the adjective “unique” occurs frequently in critical comment on the Satyricon’.
- Lawall () iv.
- Auerbach () .
Quinn () . Cf. Schmeling (a: ): ‘A great virtue of Petronius, it seems to me, is his ability to say everything simply, which makes his language seem healthy and in touch with the living, spoken language. The Satyricon is marked by casual simplicity or off-hand stylishness which we envy because it appears to have cost nothing to achieve.’
Petronius and the Anatomy of Fiction
Walsh in particular argues for a reading of the Satyricon as ‘bawdy entertainment’ and dismisses more uneasy reactions as exaggerated or unfounded (‘I do not believe that the variety of literary tone reflects an anarchic view of life. I prefer to see it as a virtuosity in which the author and the reader take pleasure’). Slater’s study, much influenced by reader-response criticism, propounds a more subtle version of the wellestablished ‘anti-moralist’ standpoint, in which Petronius is imaged as a tricky nihilist whose ultimate goal was pure entertainment. Slater’s vision is frustratingly dead-ended, suggesting that the Satyricon’s preoccupation with critical failures supports the notion that the text itself is intentionally unintelligible, ‘critically unreadable’: the idea that this is a ‘comic text’ is already taken for granted in his conclusion that its ‘primary source of comedy’ is the ongoing strategy by which ‘a reader’s expectation of decoding meaning through ordinary procedures of reading can be aroused only to be frustrated’. Throughout, a generalised post-structuralist emphasis on the ‘ludic’ nature of texts and reading processes is misappropriated to demonstrate both that this unusually complex literary work is by definition a ‘comedy’, and also that all meaning in such a text is perpetually elusive.
Here, and in all the approaches to the Satyricon as ‘pure entertainment’, therelurktonesofself-exculpationanddenial:ineachanalysisthe‘comic’ is made to efface the ‘serious’, the political, and the problematic, as if laughter were always a barometer of pleasure, not pain, or as if there were never such a thing as a bad, ugly joke, or jokes on you. It is no coincidence that such perspectives are often accompanied by constructions of critical distance or aloofness, which conspicuously sidestep complicity. Conte, for example, deciphers the difficult relationship between, or doubling of, Petronius the author and Encolpius the narrator, by dividing loyalties: the ‘rogue’ narrator is funny because we, like the intellectually sophisticated author, can look down on and mock him from a position of objectivity and superiority ‘outside’ the text. Thus:
The reader cannot help advocating the ‘bona mens’, that common sense which is so often invoked in the Satyricon as the significant missing element. Petronius as ‘hidden author’ creates an ‘implied self-image’, and the ideal reader, by
- Walsh () –.
- Slater () .
Slater () . In his preface, Slater appears already to have decided that Petronius is a ‘writer of comedy’ () (and that he himself is developing as a critic of comedy) by stressing that
Reading Petronius is an extension of his previous work Plautus in Performance, which analysed how
performance criticism could inform us about styles of humour. The rather misleading rhetorical strategy of setting Petronius and Plautus side by side on the first page frames expectations and sets unquestioned agendas for the whole book.
Corporealities
forming exactly this image of the author, takes shape in the text as a set of values in opposition to those of Encolpius and closer to normality. By making faces, as it were, behind the narration of Encolpius, the author first ensures that the protagonist and narrator reveals himself and his own na¨ıvete´ and then leaves him without the protective illusions that the narrator has constructed for himself: in this way he secures for himself the reader’s conniving response.
Conte is much influenced by Auerbach, who forges similar perspectives: ‘Petronius looks from above at the world he depicts. The vulgarity of language is not designed to arouse laughter in a large crowd but is rather the piquant condiment for the palate of a social and literary elite accustomed to viewing things from above with Epicurean composure.’ He is echoed by Sullivan, who claims of Petronius, ‘his self-conscious sophistication may be seen in the careful dissociation of author from narrator, who is constantly made the butt of the author’s ridicule and satire’. Even Slater, who elsewhere talks of ‘reader participation’, goes on to class himself clear-headedly as an ‘observer’.
Critics have rarely wanted to get involved in reading the Satyricon, not simply because, in different ways, they do not support the concept and implications of ‘participatory’ reading, but because this is a threatening text whose gritty, low-life universe can seem dangerously infectious if viewed up close. The approaches I have just outlined, which all rely on interpreting the Satyricon as comedy or flimsy entertainment viewed from on high by objective, if frustrated spectators, are reactions not only to uncertainty surrounding the state of the text, but also to the problematic implications of not reading the Satyricon from a distance – implications which, I will argue, are continually negotiated in the text itself. It is all too easy to erase difficulties and contradictions by summing them up as entertainment, or by pleading the academic equivalent of insanity – non-comprehension. If a text is so disjointed and ultimately superficial, it can never have the power to move, upset or change its readers: if in doubt, we can always laugh. The risk of finding anything more complex
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