Dictynna Revue de poétique latine

12 | 2015 Varia

Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/dictynna/1117 DOI : 10.4000/dictynna.1117 ISSN : 1765-3142

Référence électronique Dictynna, 12 | 2015 [En ligne], mis en ligne le 24 décembre 2015, consulté le 12 septembre 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/dictynna/1117 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/dictynna.1117

Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 12 septembre 2020.

Les contenus des la revue Dictynna sont mis à disposition selon les termes de la Licence Creative Commons Attribution - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modifcation 4.0 International. 1

SOMMAIRE

INTRODUCTION N. Coffee, C. Forstall, L. Galli Milić et D.P. Nelis

Polyxo and the Lemnian Episode – An Inter- and Intratextual Study of Apollonius Rhodius, Valerius Flaccus, and Simone Finkmann

Statius’ Nemea / paradise lost Jörn Soerink

The intertextual matrix of Statius’ Thebaid 11.315-23 Astrid Voigt

Strings, Triangles, and Go-betweens: Intertextual Approaches to Silius’ Carthaginian Debates Pramit Chaudhuri, Joseph P. Dexter et Jorge A. Bonilla Lopez

Innuptae ritus imitata Minervae : une comparaison chez Claudien et ses connexions flaviennes Valéry Berlincourt

Sis memor, oro, mei :la composition intertextuelle d’un faux discours d’adieu (Valerius Flaccus, Argonautiques, VII, 472-489) Magalie Roux

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 2

INTRODUCTION

N. Coffee, C. Forstall, L. Galli Milić and D.P. Nelis

1 All the papers in this edition of Dictynna are devoted to the study of intertextuality in Flavian epic poetry. The initial idea for a special thematic collection arose from work on this topic being carried out as part of a research project funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation and involving the University of Geneva and the University at Buffalo, State University of New York. In an attempt to bring together a series of contributions likely to offer a sample of both current trends and future directions in the study of Flavian intertextuality, it was decided to invite a group of younger scholars in the field to offer papers. The six papers collected here represent the result of this enterprise. The original proposition was accepted with encouraging alacrity and enthusiasm by Jacqueline Fabre-Serris and her team in Lille, and we are extremely grateful both for that initial positive response and for all the subsequent effort that has gone into putting together this collection of essays.

2 There must surely no longer be any need to justify at length a project of this kind. The study of Flavian epic poetry is flourishing as never before. And research on Valerius Flaccus, Silius Italicus and Statius has always been fundamentally intertextual in approach, as a quick glance at Schanz-Hosius, volume 2, pp. 523, 529 and 536 on their numerous ‘Vorbilder’ confirms, even if many of those who have done much of the essential work either could not know or would perhaps refuse to use that term. Every reader of these papers will have her or his own favourite examples of inspiring scholarship, pieces of work that have opened up new ways of thinking about fascinating texts that were long despised and neglected. As classicists, of course, we owe a great deal to those willing to devote themselves to the art of writing commentaries, which are usually where we go to find out about intertexts, echoes, parallels, influences, allusions, and so on. Most of those who read this volume will have consulted with due gratitude R. Parkes, H. Smolenaars, M. Dewar, P. Venini and K. Pollmann on Thebaid 4, 7, 9, 11 and 12 respectively, F. Spaltenstein on all of Silius and Valerius, and numerous others too many to mention here. Many will think too of the literary studies by D. Feeney, The Gods in Epic (Oxford 1991), P. Hardie, The Epic Successors of (Cambridge 1993) and C. McNelis, Statius' Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War (Cambridge 2007), all sources of richly intertextual readings that have influenced more

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 3

recent volumes, such as those by T. Stover, Epic and Empire in Vespasianic Rome: a New Reading of Valerius Flaccus’ (Oxford 2012) and A. Walter, Erzählen und Gesang im flavischen Epos (Berlin 2014), and those edited by G. Manuwald and A. Voigt, Flavian Epic Interactions (Berlin 2013) and by A. Augoustakis, Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic (Oxford 2013) and Flavian Poetry and its Greek Past (Leiden 2014). Such a short list of references to a small selection of recent work can only draw attention both to the many names omitted and to the fact that all those who are still interested today in trying to understand the imitative techniques that formed the very foundations of the composition of the Argonautica, the Thebaid, the Achilleid and the Punica (on the texts of the Flavian age that have not survived see H. Bardon, La littérature latine inconnue, vol. 2 (Paris 1956) 177–241 and M. Dewar, ‘Lost Literature’ in A Companion to the Flavian Age of Imperial Rome, ed. A. Zissos, (Malden, MA forthcoming) 469-483) are indebted to the efforts of many generations of scholars. V. Berlincourt’s Commenter la Thébaïde (16e-19e s.): Caspar von Barth et la tradition exégétique de Stace (Leiden 2013) has recently drawn our attention to the importance of studying early modern commentators too long ignored. In doing so, he demonstrates that despite all that has been achieved, a great deal of work still remains to be done. By their very nature, traditional classical commentaries are selective in their approach. Given the complexity of the texts they attempt to elucidate, every single feature cannot be considered in detail. And yet, when it comes to the study of intertextuality, it seems obvious that systematic approaches work best. Learning the lessons of G.N. Knauer’s Die Aeneis und Homer (Göttingen 1964, 1979 2), H. Juhnke produced an indispensable study entitled Homerisches in römischer Epik flavischer Zeit (München 1972). By taking up such wider perspectives, combining Greek and Latin, and putting to good use the results of the theoretical debates that raged in the final decades of the twentieth century, more recent work has begun to reveal the need to move beyond reading Flavian epic purely in the light of Vergil’s . There are encouraging signs that we can look forward to new work tracing in original ways the Flavian reception of Hellenistic poetry, of Latin prose, and of Lucretius, Ovid and Lucan, as we see ever more refined awareness of the brilliant complexity of the intertextual techniques of the Flavian poets and growing recognition of the need for the use of interpretive approaches capable of handling the simultaneous presence of multiple models in any given text. And one further development merits special mention here, particularly in an on-line journal: the development of digital techniques for the study of intertextuality. For many years now scholars have been using web-based versions of the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, the Texts of the Packard Humanities Institute and the Brepolis Library of Latin Texts. But a newer generation of tools may hold even greater promise. Sites such as Tesserae (http://tesserae.caset.buffalo.edu/) and Musisque Deoque (http://www.mqdq.it/public/) permit rapid comparative searches across vast corpora of texts and have the potential to revolutionize the study of intertextuality and literary history (see N. Coffee, J.-P. Koenig, S. Poornima, R. Ossewaarde, C. Forstall and S. Jacobson, ‘Intertextuality in the Digital Age’, TAPhA 142 (2012) 318-419). One of the major scholarly desiderata for the years ahead must be increasing collaboration between scholars well versed in the methods of traditional philology and those capable of developing the algorithms that enable the advance of the digital revolution.

3 But for the moment, with a renewed expression of our sincere thanks to Jacqueline Fabre-Serris, Florence Klein and Olivier Rafidison for offering us the opportunity to take up this twelfth volume of Dictynna, we hope that the papers gathered here will

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 4

provide readers with a reminder of what has been achieved so far, a taste of what kinds of work today’s specialists are doing, and a glimpse of some of paths the study of intertextuality in Flavian epic is likely to follow in the years ahead.

AUTHORS

N. COFFEE Buffalo

C. FORSTALL Geneva

L. GALLI MILIĆ Geneva

D.P. NELIS Geneva

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 5

Polyxo and the Lemnian Episode – An Inter- and Intratextual Study of Apollonius Rhodius, Valerius Flaccus, and Statius

Simone Finkmann

I would like to thank the editors of this volume and the anonymous reviewers for their valuable and insightful comments.

1. Introduction

1 The story of the Lemnian women’s manslaughter and the ’ stay on has been adapted in many different epic and tragic versions of the myth1, so that it is not surprising that the female protagonist and most important character-focalizer, the Lemnian princess , has received great scholarly attention and has been the subject of many prolific character studies.2 The importance of another mortal female character who plays a decisive role in the Lemnian episode of Apollonius’ Hellenistic Argonautica, the Flavian Argonautica of Valerius, and Statius’ Thebaid has however been widely neglected.3

2 This study adopts a mixed-method approach of speech-act theory and narratology to determine the function of the Polyxo character in the context of the Lemnian episode with an intra- and intertextual analysis of character doublets and mirror-structures. The three epics are discussed separately in chronological order to establish the role and general importance of Polyxo in the individual episodes and to allow for a detailed analysis of intra- and intertextual parallels and character foils before a conclusion about the diachronic development of this epic persona in the different adaptions of the Lemnian episode is drawn.4

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 6

2. Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica

a) Structure

3 In Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica, the Argonauts arrive at Lemnos one year after the Lemnian women’s ruthless androcide (ARh. 1.627-30a). The narrator briefly summarizes the events in an external analepsis: in retribution for the neglect of her worship, Aphrodite instils the absent Lemnian men with passion for the captured Thracian maids, which triggers excessive jealousy in their lawful wives, who not only murder their husbands upon their return, but resolve to kill the entire male population to avoid future reprisal attacks (ARh. 1.609-26).5 The Argonauts’ unexpected arrival sparks panic among the Lemnian women, who, in fear of a sea attack by the Thracians, rush to the harbour to defend themselves (ARh. 1.630b-9). Their maenadic frenzy is in direct contrast with the composure of the Argonauts, who agree on a diplomatic approach and dispatch their herald (ARh. 1.640-52).6 The Lemnian queen initially gives the Argonauts her approval for an overnight stay in the harbour, but when the heroes are delayed by unfavourable winds on the following day, Hypsipyle summons her fellow Lemnians to an emergency assembly (ARh. 1.650-4). Apollonius’ Lemnian council scene is arranged in ring composition with two messenger scenes framing the whole assembly and Hypsipyle’s opening and closing address framing Polyxo’s speech in the centre (ARh. 1.640-720).7 This structure not only underlines the great importance of Polyxo’s words, but also the contrastive arrangement of male and female speech acts and perspectives in the entire episode: the male herald Aethalides (ARh. 1.640-51) is paired with the female messenger Iphinoe (ARh. 1.712-6); the elderly counsellor Polyxo (ARh. 1.675-96) with the experienced Hercules (ARh. 1.865-74); the Lemnian queen Hypsipyle (ARh. 1.793-833 and ARh. 1.888-98) with the Argonauts’ leader (ARh. 1.900-9); and the Lemnian women (ARh. 1.697-700) with the Argonauts (ARh. 1.717-20).8 The gender pairing is accompanied by a reversal of the traditional gender roles. This is highlighted by intertextual allusions to different Homeric council scenes, which emphasize the change from Homer’s focus on epic topics such as war and combat to an elegiac focus on love and marital topics in Apollonius’ council scene.9

b) Polyxo and Hypsipyle

4 As is the tradition in Homeric councils, the Lemnian queen as convenor of the meeting is the dominant speaker delivering both the opening (ARh. 1.657-66) and closing address (ARh. 1.700-1), and personally instructing the herald Iphinoe after the assembly (ARh. 1.703-7). Her proposal, to send the Argonauts gifts and daily necessities to keep them away from the city and cover up the Lemnian crime (ARh. 1.657-64),10 focuses on a temporary damage limitation for their recent nefas and is not fully developed. Hypsipyle’s diffident invitation for an open discussion (ARh. 1.665f.) is modelled on an assembly in the Iliad (Il. 14.42-132), during which Agamemnon, upon facing defeat against Hector, requests old and young to contribute better ideas (Il. 14.107f).11 Unlike in the Homeric assembly during which the young Diomedes advises an immediate attack on the Trojans (Il. 14.110-27), in the Argonautica it is an elderly female nurse who successfully soothes the rage of a female collective (ARh. 1.668b and 1.671b) and recommends not only a diplomatic approach, but the voluntary surrender of

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 7

homes, kingship, and bodies (ARh. 1.675-96). Apollonius therefore entirely reverses this traditional Homeric council scene in a contrastive allusion.12

c) Polyxo as φίλη τροφὸς (ARh. 1.668)

5 The connection between old age and wisdom is a commonplace of ancient philosophy. In her pragmatic analysis of their situation Polyxo follows in the tradition of shrewd nurses and experienced advisors, as firmly established by Odysseus’ elderly nurse Eurykleia.13 The council of the Lemnian women in particular resembles Odysseus’ instruction of Eurykleia to summon another collective of guilty women – the maids who betrayed Penelope in his absence (Od. 22.431f).14 Polyxo’s role and description, however, even more closely correspond to that of another male counsellor in the Odyssey (Od. 2.14-22).15 Her portrayal as elderly nurse of Hypsipyle bowing over a staff because of her feeble age (ARh. 1.669b-70a) and struggling to raise her head to speak (ARh. 1.673f.)16 echoes the depiction of the aged Aegyptius (Od. 2.15f.) as advisor of Odysseus’ son.17 Both elderly counsellors support inexperienced rulers (Telemachus and Hypsipyle) with their speeches (Od. 2.35; ARh. 1.697-8a) when they ascend their father’s throne in his absence and convene an assembly for the first time (Od. 2.9-14 and Od. 2.36-9; ARh. 1.653-6 and ARh. 1.667f) in view of an impending attack (Od. 2.30; ARh. 1.680).18 The two debates address the prospect of remarriage with similar urgency: while for the Lemnian women a union with the Argonauts is the solution to all their problems (ARh. 1.675-96), Penelope’s determination to protect her marriage establishes the main problem from the viewpoint of the threatened Telemachus and especially the suitors (Od. 19.159-61, 19.530-4, and 20.339-44). In both accounts, it is not the sexual consummation and pleasure of the marriage that is in the foreground of the discussion, but the “economic aspects”19 of the respective union. While Aegyptius asks many questions and his speech primarily serves to establish a connection between past and present (Od. 2.25-34) and to set the ground for Telemachus’ speech (Od. 2.40-79), Apollonius’ Polyxo provides the indecisive Hypsipyle with a concrete solution to the current problem and thus by comparison exceeds the influence of the male counsellor in the Odyssey.

d) Polyxo’s Speech (ARh. 1.675-96)

6 Polyxo’s speech is as long as the four speech acts of the other female speakers combined in this scene. The length (22 verses) and central position of her speech as well as the collective approval (ARh. 1.697-9) leave no doubt that it is the nurse’s proposal and not that of the queen that sways the Lemnians’ course of action and functions as the “moving force in the narrative”.20

7 Polyxo is described at great length prior to her speech (ARh. 1.668b-74) because she is here mentioned for the first time in the epic and the introduction legitimizes her authority as an advisor to the queen.21 She speaks with the life experience of old age, as is common for nurses and advisors, but especially Apollonius’ aged prophet .22 Polyxo’s depiction and her entourage of four white-haired virgins (ARh. 1.671f.)23 also evoke associations with the traditional roles of nurses as keepers of their alumna’s pudor and as symbols of loyalty and pietas in tragedy and epic poetry.24 This is reflected in Polyxo’s speech, which is more analytical and practical than that of her nursling,25

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 8

and solely succeeds because of her rhetorical ability and the strength of her argument, not as a result of divine interference.26

8 Polyxo first agrees with the queen’s suggestion and reverently confirms that there is no better solution than to send gifts to the strangers (ARh. 1.675f.).27 She then, however, quickly goes beyond Hypsipyle’s focus on the recent past and the present. The old advisor discusses the likelihood of attacks by the Thracians and other enemies (ARh. 1.677-9) and uses the arrival of the Argonauts (ARh. 1.680) in support of her argument about the vulnerability of an all-female community to violent attacks.28 Starting from the greatest and most immediate threat to their lives Polyxo takes the discussion to more general, long-standing problems for an ageing community (ARh. 1.681f.). The old nurse paints a pessimistic picture of the Lemnian women’s future hardship and their struggle to provide for themselves without male support (ARh. 1.683-8). The central topic of her speech is therefore the subject on which she is most qualified to speak – old age. Polyxo claims not to be worried for her own sake, as her timely death is near (ARh. 1.689-92), but appeals to the younger women to take the opportunity to escape their certain hardship by procreating with the Argonauts and permanently offering their land and rulership to them (ARh. 1.693-6).

9 Polyxo’s proposal is so delicately phrased that it only becomes clear after Hypsipyle’s confirmation (ARh. 1.700-1), the narrator’s subsequent report of the women’s joy over the union with the Argonauts and their renewed desire (ARh. 1.843b-52), as well as Herakles’ speech (ARh. 1.865-74) that the nurse not only recommends a peaceful approach, but also proposes sexual relations.29

e) Polyxo and Herakles

10 The two experienced advisors serve as a foil for each other as well as their young leaders and respective collectives.30 While Polyxo is subtle and delicate in her persuasive speech and correction of her leader’s proposal, Herakles does not hide his anger and discontent with Jason’s decision. In fact, the Lemnian episode’s gentle and soothing talk, as established by the first indirect speech act of Aethalides, ends with Herakles’ speech, which marks “the end of the temporary female-over-male predominance that characterizes the meeting on Lemnos”.31

11 Just as Polyxo argues that the Lemnian women are lost without their men and cannot successfully take over all typically male roles (ARh. 1.685b-8), Herakles criticizes the Argonauts for being too effeminate and having lost sight of their mission (ARh. 1.867b-71). In an echo of Polyxo’s speech (ARh. 1.683-8), he provocatively asks if they want to waste their time harvesting the rich Lemnian land, naively hoping that the Fleece would fall into their hands by itself or through divine will.32 In other words, both advisors strongly argue against a reversal of the traditional gender roles.33

12 Moreover, Herakles openly criticizes the Argonauts for the very sexual liaison with the Lemnian women that Polyxo’s recommendation has facilitated. Polyxo’s and Herakles’ diametrically opposed persuasive speeches are individually successful and are accepted without any objections by the addressed collectives (ARh. 1.697-700; ARh. 1.875-6), but the speech of the experienced warrior has a greater impact in so far as it reverses the effect of Polyxo’s speech.34 Humbled and ashamed by Herakles’ words the Argonauts leave Lemnos, thus undermining Polyxo’s long-term plan.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 9

3. Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica

a) Structure

13 Whereas Apollonius’ account focuses on the Argonauts’ stay and departure from Lemnos, Valerius shows a much greater interest in the discussion of the Lemnian massacre and transforms Apollonius’ highly contradictory narratorial (ARh. A.609-26) and actorial analepses (ARh. 1.793-833), and attribution of the crime to Aphrodite into a much more comprehensive external analepsis by the primary narrator and a complex divine collaboration between Venus and her helper Fama (VF. 2.115-241).35 Valerius’ striking changes do not affect the overcall logic and sequence of events, but the length, style, and focalization of his narrative differ significantly from Apollonius’ account and lead to a distinct increase in suspense.36 In a reversal of the Apollonian scene proportions, he drastically reduces the length of the extensive Lemnian assembly and messenger scene (21 verses), the core element of the Lemnian episode in Apollonius (81 verses), and only maintains a single speech act from Apollonius’ Lemnian council scene, Polyxo’s speech (VF. 2.322-5). Similarly, by vastly expanding Apollonius’ account of the Lemnian homicide and by illustrating and complicating Venus’ intervention as personified furor through her collaboration with Fama in the popular Homeric and Virgilian motif of divine disguise,37 Valerius chooses a much more vivid mode of presentation that shifts the focus Apollonius places on the council scene to the divine intrigue and Lemnian massacre.

14 The Flavian epicist moreover makes two important changes with regard to the character ensemble – he omits the male herald Aethalides and changes the role of Polyxo. The first alteration can be explained by Valerius’ compression of the scene and dramatization of Apollonius’ account. The omission of the Argonauts’ messenger and the queen’s call for an emergency meeting after the discovery of the armed strangers (VF. 2.311-3a) emphasizes the greater urgency of the Lemnian assembly and establishes a parallel to the reception of the returning Lemnian men.38 The similarities and the close temporal succession of the two arrivals create greater suspense39 and reveals that the two seemingly isolated speeches of the Lemnian episode – the brief exclamation by the Lemnian men (VF. 2.113-4) and Polyxo’s council speech (VF. 2.322-5) –, in fact correspond and serve as the starting and, respectively, end point in Venus’ plot, marking the two key moments in the Lemnian narrative by emphatic verbal echoes that link them to the Lemnian mariticide.40

b) Polyxo’s Speech (VF. 2.322-5)

15 Polyxo’s speech is not only the briefest direct speech of a named female character in Valerius’ Argonautica, but it is also much shorter (3 5/6 verses) than the Apollonian model (22 verses).41 However, the fact that Polyxo’s oratio recta is the sole remainder of Apollonius’ council scene and that she is the only female speaker with a direct equivalent in the Hellenistic Argonautica whose role has been significantly changed by Valerius already indicates that her speech is of much greater importance than its brevity suggests. While in Apollonius’ version the Argonauts’ reception into the city and the impending discovery of the androcide are the central questions of the assembly (ARh. 1.640-66), Valerius’ Lemnian women are not worried about their reputation, but they are debating their initial response to the strangers’ arrival (VF. 2.322-4a). Polyxo’s

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 10

un-rhythmical speech with many hyperbata, frequent ellipses, and its general brevity of expression stresses the importance of every single word of the seer, such as her first demand to welcome the Argonauts into the harbor: VF. 2.322 portum demus.42 In addition to Valerius’ dramatization of the arrival as the direct cause of the council, Polyxo also uses the unexpected appearance of the Argonauts to different means than her Apollonian counterpart. Apollonius’ nurse employs the arrival as proof of the Lemnian women’s helplessness against the constant threat of sea attacks (ARh. 1.677-80) and pessimistically predicts that, even if one of the gods was kind enough to keep hostile invaders away from Lemnos, they would still have to endure countless other, even more disastrous afflictions (ARh. 1.680-8). Her speech therefore does not suggest a direct divine investment in the Lemnians’ union with the Argonauts. Valerius’ Polyxo by contrast proclaims the Argonauts’ appearance as a sign of the Lemnians’ regained divine favour (VF. 2.322b-4a fatis haec, credite, puppis / advenit et levior Lemno deus aequore flexit / huc Minyas).

16 Whereas the general meaning of Polyxo’s statement is clear, the identity of the and the interpretation of the comparative adjective remain a matter of contention. Irrespective of whether levior … deus refers to Venus’ soothed anger and her amendments after the massacre (VF. 2.315),43 to the Lemnians’ patron god Vulcan (VF. 2.95 Lemnos cara deo) and his timely appeasement of Venus’ wrath (VF. 2.313b-5), to Jupiter who through adverse winds (VF. 2.356-69a) prolongs the Argonauts’ sojourn (VF. 2.356 et deus ipse moras spatiumque indulget amori), or more generally denotes divinity and collective divine will, the use of the key word fata, the strikingly direct and diverse divine intervention in the Lemnian episode,44 and the fact that Polyxo’s statement “agrees with a more general pattern in Valerius Flaccus: the Argonauts acting as saviours announced or determined by gods or fate”45, strongly suggest that the union with the Lemnian women is part of Jupiter’s world plan. Valerius thus transforms the practical assessment of an elderly nurse and wise counsellor into a prophetess’ proclamation of divine sanction and significantly increases its impact.46

c) Polyxo and Hypsipyle

17 Like her Apollonian counterpart, Hypsipyle is the convenor of the Valerian assembly (VF. 2.313), but there is no personal connection between the young Lemnian queen and her elderly nurse and Valerius does not directly juxtapose their council speeches. Polyxo immediately takes charge and controls the women’s reaction to the Argonauts’ arrival, while Hypsipyle entirely vanishes into the background for the duration of the assembly (VF. 2.311-31).47 The exact context of Polyxo’s speech remains unclear 48 and she strikingly does not refer or speak to Hypsipyle directly, but addresses the Lemnian women as a group (VF. 2.322). Similarly, the queen’s approval of Polyxo’s instructions is only implied by the collective endorsement and the dispatch of their messenger Iphinoe (VF. 2.326-7a).

d) Polyxo and Hercules

18 Just as Polyxo’s relationship to Hypsipyle becomes much less personal in the Flavian Argonautica, which fashions her speech as neutral, professional advice to a group, the speech of Polyxo’s male counterpart Hercules becomes more personal in tone in comparison to Apollonius’ adaptation. Hercules focuses on the negative consequences

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 11

of the Argonauts’ stay on Lemnos for his own reputation and he specifically attacks Jason’s leadership qualities and personal lack of strife for heroic deeds (VF. 2.380b-1). Unlike in Apollonius, neither Polyxo nor Hercules demand a restoration of the traditional gender roles and Hercules’ forceful exhortation of Jason does not contain any striking verbal allusions to Polyxo’s brief collective appeal, so that only the aim and outcome of their speeches establish a direct contrast (VF. 2.378-84a).

19 As a result of the more subtle correspondence between Polyxo’s and Hercules’ role, the changed focus of their speeches, and the omission of Iphinoe’s male counterpart Aethalides, as well as Hypsipyle’s and Jason’s direct speech acts, the gender pairing of the Lemnian episode is much less prominent. Instead, Valerius transforms Apollonius’ “ongoing dialogue between the sexes”49 and focus on gender roles into the longest chain of female speech acts50 in representation of an exclusively female community. 51 The only male voices, the Lemnian men’s fatal announcement (VF. 2.113-4) and Hercules’ appeal for an immediate departure (VF. 2.378-384a) both bring despair and solitude for the Lemnian women and not only highlight the two incidents the Lemnian women are infamous for – their manslaughter and the subsequent abandonment by the Argonauts – but they are also instrumental in making Lemnos an all-female society.

e) Polyxo as vates (VF. 2.316)

20 The analysis of Valerius Flaccus’ Polyxo is affected by the corrupt text in lines VF. 2.317f. and the lacuna in VF. 2.322 52 as well as the complete transformation of this character from an elderly nurse of the Lemnian queen into an otherwise unknown prophetess of (VF. 2.316 vates Phoebo dilecta Polyxo).53 Valerius’ effort to present Polyxo as a reliable divine mouthpiece is evident in the emphasis on Polyxo’s exact reproduction (VF. 2.321 ut auditas referens in gurgite voces) of the instructions.54 Although no explicit mention is made of Polyxo’s age, one of the key features of this character in Apollonius, the profession of the seer is traditionally associated with old age,55 such as in the case of Apollonius’ prophet Phineus, a parallel that may have inspired Valerius’ changes.

21 As Polyxo’s oracular abilities are a Valerian invention, it is not surprising that the mysterious seeress is introduced in great detail.56 Polyxo’s unconventional vatic procedure consists in her dipping under water for divine consultation (VF. 2.317-21).57 The narrator declares Polyxo’s native country and parentage to be uncertain and carefully distances himself from the fantastical report58 of her arrival by qualifying that the vates herself claims to have been drawn over the waters in a chariot by a team of seals and that the shape-shifting seer and sea god Proteus steered her course from the Egyptian caves to Lemnos (VF. 2.317-9).59 The reference to Proteus establishes a connection between Polyxo and Homer’s prophetic sea , Eidothea, who betrays her father Proteus to help Menelaus return home when he has been driven off-course to Pharos (Od. 4.351-592).60 Just like Apollonius, Valerius thus draws on Homer as an inspiration for his scene, but the type of intertextual model is very different and while the description of Polyxo and the general arrival situation resemble that of Eidothea, her conversation with Menelaus and the immediate speech context are entirely altered and by no means a model for Polyxo’s speech. Whereas the effect of Apollonius’ allusion to Homer is to contrast traditional Homeric council scenes with the unusual assembly of the all-female community, “a symbol of threat to male order and ancient societal

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 12

rules”61 and to establish Polyxo in the tradition of astute elderly nurses such as Eurykleia, the main purpose of the allusion to the Homeric sea nymph is to confirm Polyxo’s novel prophetic powers and to bestow divine authority on her words.

f) Polyxo and Henioche

22 The Eidothea allusion with its associated themes of divine punishment for neglected worship and a daughter’s betrayal of her father on behalf of a stranger’s nostos, not only complements the Lemnian episode and the story of Hypsipyle’s fatherly pietas, but it is also well-suited for the narrative (VF. 5.177-8.617), which is construed as a parallel to the Lemnian episode (VF. 2.72-373a). In particular, the Argonauts’ arrival (VF. 2.311-2a ~ VF. 5.325-8) and Jason’s first encounter with Medea and her elderly nurse Henioche (VF. 5.325-98) resemble the Argonauts’ arrival at Lemnos and Polyxo’s instructions for Hypsipyle and the Lemnian women (VF. 2.311-31).62

23 Despite their different professions there are numerous parallels between the two women, which is not surprising given Apollonius’ portrayal of Polyxo as Hypsipyle’s old nurse.63 Both Henioche and Polyxo speak at the invitation of the local female leader (VF. 2.312b-3a ~ VF. 5.353-5), use their superior knowledge and authority (VF. 5.356: Henioche through old age and life experience, VF. 2.317-21: Polyxo through divine inspiration)64 in a persuasive speech (VF. 2.322-5 ~ VF. 5.359-62) and succeed to reduce the women’s fear and ensure a friendly reception of the Argonauts (VF. 2.306-11a ~ VF. 5.342-6). Their speeches play an important role in a divine scheme (VF. 2.324b-5 ~ VF. 5.278-96), which is why their effect is enhanced by the respective goddess in charge: Venus appeases the Lemnian women (VF. 2.313b-5) and conceals all signs of their crimes from the Argonauts (VF. 2.327b-8) and Juno beautifies Jason (VF. 5.363b-5) and hides the Argonauts in a cloud to protect them from the Colchians (VF. 5.399-401). The two speakers’ recommendations are successful and ultimately lead to their advisees’ union with Jason. Polyxo and Henioche thus, like Apollonius’ old nurse Polyxo, strikingly have an effect that is contrary to their professions’ ethics: the priestess advises a sexual union shortly after the impious murder of the Lemnian men, and the guardian of Medea’s pudor does not protect her alumna’s virginity.

g) Venus, Polyxo, and the Lemnian Men

24 One of the most important intratextual parallels, as indicated earlier, is that between the Lemnian men’s collective exclamation (VF. 2.113-4) as the starting point of the fatal divine intrigue and Polyxo’s speech (VF. 2.322-5) at the end of the Lemnian bloodbath as a sign of the Lemnians’ return to divine favour and shall therefore be discussed in more detail here. The Lemnian men’s direct speech act is primarily used as an intertextual marker that draws attention to Valerius’ digression from Apollonius’ account of their divinely-induced adultery with the Thracian women (ARh. 1.611-4 and ARh. 1.793-833).65 In an echo of Hypsipyle’s claims (ARh. 1.801 αὐτῇσι δ' ἀπείρονα ληίδα κούραις / δεῦρ' ἄγον), Valerius’ Lemnian men indirectly correct Apollonius’ version when they eagerly announce that they have brought the captive women as maids for their wives and thus as tokens of affection and not for adulterous pleasures (VF. 2.113-4 o patria, o variis coniunx nunc anxia curis, / has agimus longi famulas tibi praemia belli).66 This collective proclamation of the Lemnian men’s faithfulness remains unsuccessful and does not reach or convince its intended addressees,67 and therefore cannot prevent the

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 13

onslaught; to the contrary it even causes it serving as a cue for Venus.68 The goddess takes the exclamation as an opportunity to exact her revenge on the Lemnians for neglecting to worship her.69 She develops an elaborate plan (VF. 2.142b-60) and enlists Fama to help her spread the rumour among the Lemnian women that the alleged maids are concubines (VF. 2.131-2 adfore iam luxu turpique cupidine captos / fare viros carasque toris inducere Thressas).70 In the guise of the Lemnian women Neaera (VF. 2.142b-60a) and Dryope (VF. 2.176b-84a and VF. 2.213b-4a) the goddesses in a combined effort instill jealousy and rage in the Lemnian women and persuade them to commit mariticide. By including the perspective of the Lemnian men and women and emphasizing both parties’ unequivocal loyalty and faithfulness towards their spouses, Valerius renders the subsequent mariticide all the more tragic and highlights the destruction of familial relationships through divine power.71

25 Like that of the Lemnian collective, Polyxo’s speech contains important inter- and intratextual markers and serves to highlight the divine influence in Valerius’ Lemnian episode. Polyxo’s reference to Venus at the end of her speech (VF. 2.324b-5 Venus ipsa volens dat corpora iungi, / dum vires utero maternaque sufficit aetas)72 recalls the goddess’ own description of her role in the intrigue (VF. 2.134b mox ipsa adero ducamque paratas) following the Lemnian men’s cue and her Fury-like appearance as instigator of the crime (VF. 2.196-8).73 While the falsity of Venus’ and Fama’s proclamations in disguise is repeatedly and explicitly emphasized by the narrator throughout the Lemnian manslaughter as well as through conspicuous self-references that reveal the goddesses’ true identities (VF. 2.158b-60 sed me quoque pulsam / fama viro nostrosque toros virgata tenebit / et plaustro derepta nurus; VF. 2.184b magnum aliquid spirabit amor),74 the speech context presents Polyxo as a reliable, character-narrator, who truthfully reproduces divine prophecies, but does not establish an explicit connection between the vatic abilities of the priestess of Apollo and the goddess of love (VF. 2.316-21).

26 The transition from the sudden announcement of the Argonauts’ arrival to Polyxo’s brief and not further classified recommendation for the Lemnian women to engage in sexual intercourse with the Argonauts while they can still give birth (VF. 2.324b-5) is very abrupt.75 The Apollonian model provides the full context and facilitates the interpretation. In the Hellenistic Argonautica, Polyxo appeals to the younger women to procreate with the Argonauts in order to avoid hardship and the complete extinction of the Lemnian people (ARh. 1.693-6). While the purpose for the union is the same, as the context of the prophetess’ speech reveals, in comparison to Apollonius’ speech Valerius’ Polyxo seems to appeal to the women’s personal aspirations for motherhood and their sexual desire rather than their practical senses and feeling of civic duty.76 It is perhaps this slight change in focus and tone together with Polyxo’s echo of and explicit reference to Venus and the correspondences to the speeches of the Lemnian men and the two goddesses that not only establish a firm connection between the individual subsections and instrumentalize Polyxo’s speech as the final step of the divine interference on Lemnos, but that may have inspired her character’s complete transformation in the Thebaid.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 14

4. Statius’ Thebaid

a) Structure

27 Statius’ presentation of Polyxo differs from Apollonius’ and Valerius’ portrayal in many respects. Polyxo’s much more comprehensive characterization is part of the Lemnian digression in Book 5 of the Thebaid. When the Argives reach Nemea, Hypsipyle is instructed by Adrastus to recount the Lemnian manslaughter (Theb. 5.1-27) and after initial hesitation reports the events in great detail (Theb. 5.49-498). The story of the Lemnian women is thus not reported by the external primary narrator, but by Hypsipyle, whose account seems to alternate between that of an internal narrator and unreliable character-focalizer and that of an epic narrator.77 Statius seems to combine Apollonius’ and Valerius’ version of the Lemnian manslaughter by taking Hypsipyle’s report in oratio recta from Apollonius’ Argonautica and the comprehensive depiction of the massacre from Valerius’ episode. The context of the Lemnian narrative and the embedded council scene are however entirely altered. The women’s assembly is inserted much earlier in Hypsipyle’s narration and takes place prior to the Lemnian men’s return and thus before the androcide, which completely changes the cause, tone, and effect of the meeting, but, like Valerius’ account, also highlights the structural parallels between the Lemnians’ and the Argonauts’ arrival and the women’s respective reaction.78

b) Hypsipyle and Polyxo as hortatrix scelerum (Theb. 5.103)

28 In addition to the narrative level and speech context, Statius also reverses Hypsipyle’s and Polyxo’s roles. After her flight the former Lemnian princess has become the slave- nurse of Opheltes (Theb. 5.486-504),79 whereas Apollonius’ diplomatic elderly nurse and Valerius’ irenic priestess of Apollo is turned into the forceful convenor of the Lemnian assembly and the de facto leader of the Lemnian manslaughter (Theb. 5.85-103). From the beginning of her narrative onwards Hypsipyle emphasizes her own passivity and innocence and explicitly declares Polyxo the instigator of the Lemnian bloodbath (Theb. 5.103 hortatrix scelerum).80 With the exception of her old age (Theb. 5.90 aevi matura), Statius’ detached, hated aggressor (Theb. 5.327 invisa Polyxo) has no resemblance to Hypsipyle’s gentle, beloved nurse in Apollonius (ARh. 1.668 φίλη τροφὸς), but she is “an original and effective creation”.81

29 Despite these significant changes in Polyxo’s character portrayal, the comparison and parallelism between Hypsipyle and Polyxo are still preserved in the Thebaid through their corresponding loss of and responsibility for the death of a male infant (Theb. 5.159-63: Polyxo’s son ~ Theb. 5.499-554a: Hypsipyle’s nurseling), which serves as a catalyst for the fighting (Theb. 5.159-69: the Lemnian manslaughter ~ Theb. 6.41-4: the Theban war), their divine inspiration (Bacchus instils Polyxo with maenadic furor in Theb. 5.90-103, but enables Hypsipyle to save her father at Theb. 5.265-95; Hypsipyle is also the only one who is not under the control of Polyxo’s main inspiration Venus: Theb. 5.296-319), as well as the hatred both characters eventually incur from their fellow Lemnian women (Theb. 5.326-34: Polyxo for instigating the androcide ~ Theb. 5.486-92: Hypsipyle for proving their personal guilt through her abstention from the crime).82 Statius therefore turns Apollonius’ and Valerius’ positive character into an

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 15

antagonist and negative foil, “a Junonian figure, promoting nefas that Hypsipyle, a figure of pietas, will resist”.83

30 As mother of four sons84 and wife of Charops85, Statius’ Polyxo is a representative of the Lemnian collective and as such a speaker who, in comparison to Apollonius’ old nurse and Valerius’ vates, is much more directly invested in the outcome of the council. Polyxo’s new double role as mother and wife allows Statius to maximize the dramatic effect of her transformation into a murderous and merciless Fury who is not only capable of, but even the initiator of the infanticide and mariticide.86 Polyxo’s transformation in the Thebaid is abrupt and the circumstances under which she suddenly falls into a Bacchic trance and Venusian frenzy (Theb. 5.49-103) remain unclear and are not unequivocally determined in Hypsipyle’s narrative.87 There can however be no doubt that her furor is instigated (Theb. 5.57-74), controlled (Theb. 5.157b-8), and eventually soothed by divine intervention (Theb. 5.302-3a).88 Statius again seems to combine Apollonius’ and Valerius’ version when he omits the reason for the Lemnians neglect of Venus’ cult like the former (Theb. 5.57-9a) while briefly describing Venus’ personal involvement in the dissemination of hatred and marital discord among the Lemnians like the latter (Theb. 5.59b-84).89

31 It has widely been recognized that Statius’ Medea-like portrayal of Polyxo as sword- swinging, child-murdering Fury (Theb. 5.90-103), who infects the Lemnian women with cruel passion and urges them to commit homicide, strongly resembles Valerius’ goddesses Fama (as Neaera) and especially Venus (as Dryope) in her appearance, speech, and actions.90 Statius amplifies the atrocity of the manslaughter and further dramatizes Apollonius’ and even Valerius’ vivid narration by casting Polyxo in the role of Valerius’ Venus and making a Lemnian woman the ringleader of the massacre (Theb. 5.90-151).91 The initiator of the crime is thus not a traditional, anthropomorphic goddess in disguise, such as Virgil’s Allecto/Calybe, Iris/Beroe and Valerius’ Fama/ Neaera and Venus/Dryope, but a mortal Lemnian woman.92 The narrative context complicates the interpretation. This seminal change could stem from Hypsipyle’s character-focalization and either reflect her attempt to underline the Lemnian women’s personal guilt, as opposed to her own innocence, or it could be indicative of Hypsipyle’s limited knowledge as an internal narrator and her failure to recognize the divine disguise that is so prominent in the Virgilian and Valerian model.93 Irrespective of the narrative perspective, the depiction could also be understood as an interpretation of the divine influence portrayed in Statius’ predecessors and an illustration of “the weak and helpless state of humankind, its inability to control its own destiny, and its lack of free will”.94

c) Polyxo and Oedipus

32 Unlike in the Argonautic intertexts, Polyxo’s most important male counterpart is not Hercules, who only plays a very minor role in Hypsipyle’s narrative (Theb. 5.441-4), but the instigator of the Theban civil war and motivating force of the Theban narrative, Oedipus.95 Just as the character doublets Polyxo/Hypsipyle and Henioche/Medea serve to highlight the intratextual parallelism between the Lemnian and Colchian narrative in the Flavian Argonautica, Statius’ transformation of Polyxo emphasizes the similarities between the Lemnian digression and the Theban narrative and prefigures the Theban nefas.96 In addition to Polyxo’s explicit comparison to a Theban maenad and distinct verbal echoes, Polyxo and Oedipus share similar characteristics.97 They are of old age

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 16

(Theb. 1.240 ~ Theb. 5.90) and are suddenly blinded (literally: Theb. 1.46-8 ~ figuratively: Theb. 5.95-7a) in their solitude and isolation (Theb. 1.49-52 ~ Theb. 5.91-2a) by their vindictive madness (Theb. 1.46-55 ~ Theb. 5.91-103).98 Consequently, they express their desire for retribution and vow to end their sons’ lives (Theb. 1.73-87 ~ Theb. 5.125-9a).99 Under the influence of a personified Fury (Tisiphone: Theb. 1.88-130 ~ Venus: Theb. 5.49-103)100 Oedipus and Polyxo turn into “agents of divine vengeance” 101 and their personal anger, guilt, and familial discord is spread to the entire population and leads to civil conflict (Theb. 1.123-30 ~ Theb. 5.143-51). Their prominent speeches not only function as the starting point of the violence (Theb. 1.56-87 ~ Theb. 5.104-42),102 but also reveal the complex divine hierarchies and the inevitability of Jupiter’s fata (Theb. 1.197-247 ~ Theb. 5.49-334).103

d) Polyxo and Argia

33 It has been widely recognized that Hypsipyle serves as a prefiguration of Argia’s pietas in Book 12 of the Thebaid,104 but the similarities between Hypsipyle’s negative foil Polyxo and Argia as an intratextual female counter-figure in the Theban narrative are often neglected. Both women are characterized as wives and mothers with young offspring (Theb. 5.98b-9a ~ Theb. 3.697b-8a) before they abruptly fall into a state of Bacchic furor (Theb. 5.95-102a ~ Theb. 12.204-27) during which they have terrifying visions (Polyxo of the goddess Venus: Theb. 5.134b-6; Argia of her dead husband Polynices: Theb. 12.187-93).105 They deliver emotional speeches, which draw special attention to them due to the rare, dramatic insertion of a direct speech (Theb. 5.136b-8 ~ Theb. 12.333b-5), in which they look back to their encounter with the object of their vision, which eventually causes them to transgress gender boundaries.106 Just like Polyxo (Theb. 5.105b) Argia also renounces her sex (Theb. 12.178 sexuque inmane relicto) and abandons the traditional gender role when she actively encourages her father Adrastus to declare war against Eteocles (Theb. 3.460-721) and despite Creon’s explicit instructions she sets out to cremate Polynices (Theb. 12.173-261).107 Whereas Polyxo is driven to violence by marital discord and explicitly vows to murder her husband (Theb. 5.123-8), Argia acts out of spousal devotion (Theb. 3.679-710), but her untraditional war request nonetheless results in the Theban fratricide and her husband’s death (Theb. 11.136-50).108 The quality of their marriages is similarly reflected in the shared wish for a better, second union. While Argia’s husband Polynices before his death asks Adrastus to ensure a better marriage for his daughter (Theb. 11.192b et natae melius conubia iungas), Polyxo resolves to kill her current husband for a worthier union promised to her by Venus (Theb. 5.138 ipsa faces alias melioraque foedera iungam). Argia’s contrastive comparison with Polyxo on the one hand “serves partially to undermine the pietas of Argia’s act”, 109 on the other hand the fact that both women trigger similar catastrophes despite their diametrically opposed intentions highlights that any transgression of the traditional gender roles, irrespective of the underlying reason, is bound to cause calamity in the Thebaid.110

e) Polyxo’s Speech (Theb. 5.104-42)

34 The fact that Polyxo’s speech is not only embedded in the longest first-person narrative of the Thebaid together with three other inserted speeches (Theb. 5.49-498), but also the only speech that contains an embedded quaternary narration-focalisation immediately

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 17

draws special attention to her words.111 While Polyxo’s authority is based on her old age and divine inspiration in the Argonautic epics,112 it is her ferociousness and drive that establish her dominance in the Thebaid. This aggressive speaker, who begins the meeting by drawing her sword and forcefully demanding silence to call for violence against all Lemnian men (Theb. 5.102b-3), is the complete opposite of Apollonius’ soft- spoken nurse and the Valerian vates, who calmly advocate a peaceful approach in response to the Argonauts’ arrival and try to limit the damage of the manslaughter.

35 It is important to note that Statius’ emergency council is not directly caused by the return of Lemnian men or the women’s fear of adultery, but by the sudden onset of Polyxo’s maenadic frenzy for which there does not seem to be a specific external trigger other than her personal frustration over the men’s long absence (Theb. 5.95-102a).113 Unlike Apollonius’ Polyxo who shuns the mention of sexual desire and intercourse and presents reproduction as a civic duty, and Valerius’ prophetess who more directly, but abstractly and in modest terms, appeals to the women’s personal desire for motherhood and highlights the divine investment in the Lemnians’ union with the Argonauts, in the Thebaid Polyxo’s words “seethe with sensuality”114 when she openly and at length urges the Lemnian women not to accept their solitude, sexual frustration, and lack of childbirth during their fertile years (Theb. 5.106-8). In an associative play on absence and death Polyxo poignantly addresses the women, in the first of many emphatic apostrophes, as viduae (Theb. 5.105) and appeals to their anger by highlighting the length of the men’s absence in a chain of affective questions (Theb. 5.112-6a) before provokingly comparing their situation to that of animals and calling the Lemnian women lazy (Theb. 5.116b-7)115 and lethargic for accepting their desolation (Theb. 5.120a). She asks them to resort to violence and to renounce their sex (Theb. 5.105b Armate animos et pellite sexum!)116 in order to renew their love through violence (Theb. 5.110a qua renovanda Venus).117 Polyxo also uses the geographically close mythic examples of the Danaides to prove that women are capable of collective mariticide (Theb. 5.117b-9) and the example of Procne, wife of Thracian king Tereus, as a model for vengeful infanticide as punishment for a husband’s adulterous crimes (Theb. 5.120b-2).118 Polyxo then vows to set an example herself by sacrificing her four sons to inflict the greatest possible psychological pain on her husband before murdering him, too (Theb. 5.123-8).119

36 At the climax of her speech, when Polyxo asks the women to follow her example (Theb. 5.129a), the frame speaker Hypsipyle dramatically pauses in her report to announce the sudden arrival of the Lemnian fleet.120 It is this abrupt pause, which Statius highlights with one of the longest speech transitions in Roman epic (Theb. 5.129b-32a), that draws the readers’ attention to the striking parallels between Valerius’ and Statius’ account in the second half of Polyxo’s speech, but more importantly to Statius’ reinterpretation of the Valerian version with its many ingenious twists.121 Just as Apollonius’ and especially Valerius’ Polyxo use the arrival of the Argonauts in support of their argument, Statius’ character eagerly declares the Lemnian men’s return to be a sign of divine approval (Theb. 5.133b-4a deus hos, deus ultor in iras / adportat coeptisque favet).122 In an echo and intertextual confirmation of the claim of Valerius’ Polyxo (VF. 2.323-4 melior Lemno deus aequore flexit / huc Minyas; Venus ipsa volens dat corpora iungi) Statius’ speaker dramatically reports Venus’ words in oratio recta (Theb. 5.138 ipsa faces alias melioraque foedera iungam).123

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 18

37 The interpretation of this passage is rendered extremely difficult by the complex character-focalization, which makes it impossible to determine whether Venus’ reported appearance and instructions (Theb. 5.134b-6) are a dream vision, a rare example of a traditional epiphany and divine interference in the Thebaid, an allegory and as such one of the common abstract personifications of a deity, here a manifestation of Polyxo’s sexual desire and “frustrated lusts”,124 a “psychological breakdown”,125 or merely the invention of an overenthusiastic imagination of an unreliable embedded speaker (Polyxo), frame speaker (Hypsipyle), or the primary narrator.126 There are several discrepancies in Polyxo’s account. Whereas in Valerius the recommendation of a union with the Argonauts follows the Lemnian massacre and is a remedy against the Lemnians’ extinction and the goddess of love approves of the sexual relations for the purpose of reproduction and the survival of the Lemnian people, Statius’ Polyxo claims divine approval of infanticide and mariticide for a union that only brings temporary relief.127 This paradox is further emphasized by Venus’ use of “the language of lustration in her exhortation toward sacrilegious violence”128 when she appeals to the Lemnian women not to waste their fertile years, but to purge their marriage chambers of their lawful husbands (Theb. 5.137b age aversis thalamos purgate maritis).129

38 It is striking that, just like the frame speaker, Polyxo concludes her report of Venus’ speech with an exhortation to mariticide followed by transitional stage directions that claim divine approval. Polyxo reports that Venus herself left her the sword she has been holding in her hands during the speech and thus indirectly uses the weapon as proof of Venus’ appearance (Theb. 5.139-40a).130 She then comes back to the first sign of divine will, the concurrent return of the Lemnian men, emphasizing the necessity for immediate action (Theb. 5.140-1a). The arrival of the ship serves as background for the most important intertextual echo, Polyxo’s suggestion of the Lemnian men’s infidelity: Theb. 5.141b-2 en ualidis spumant euersa lacertis / aequora Bistonides ueniunt fortasse maritae.131 The adultery is the key reason for the Lemnian manslaughter in Apollonius where the Venus-induced infidelity is presented as a fact by the primary narrator (ARh. 1.611-4) and in Valerius where Venus with Fama’s help creates a rumour of the adultery in order to incite the women to androcide (VF. 2.131f.). As Statius’ Polyxo is cast in the role of Valerius’ Venus it is internally consistent that she too proclaims the Lemnian men’s unfaithfulness. Her revelation however is much less prominent and is presented as one of many reasons – a final thought rather than the crucial factor that decides the Lemnian men’s fate. The tentative phrasing (Theb. 5.142 fortasse)132 not only emphasizes the uncertainty of the information, but the clear intertextual echo also suggests that Statius discards Valerius’ account with the “simple explanation of jealousy as too crude and obvious”.133 This impression is corroborated by the direct contrast between the unsubstantiated claim and the excessive violence that follows Polyxo’s speech.

39 Hypsipyle’s ensuing description of the bloodbath reveals that Polyxo’s vows and instructions are immediately put into action. She compares the Lemnian women to (Theb. 5.144-6), the “paradigmatic examples of gender inversion and perverse sexuality”134, and reports in great detail how they renounce their sex, push their children from their breasts (Theb. 5.150f.), and begin the onslaught with a sacrifice of Polyxo’s infant son (Theb. 5.143-69) before murdering their own husbands in cold blood (Theb. 5.170-312).135 Just as the nature of Venus’ occurrence in Polyxo’s speech is ambiguous, Hypsipyle’s declaration of Venus’ ubiquitous influence (Theb. 5.157b-8 sed

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 19

fallit ubique / mixta Venus, Venus arma tenet, Venus admovet iras)136 can be interpreted as a traditional divine interference by the goddess or a personification of the Lemnian women’s desire for new love relations that serve as their main source of motivation according to Polyxo (Theb. 5.110a qua renovanda Venus). It is her speech (Theb. 5.138 meliora … foedera) with the promise of better unions as well as the pervading influence of Venus during the Lemnian massacre that establish a close link to the Argonauts’ subsequent arrival and give the Lemnian episode a greater “inner unity”137 in comparison to Apollonius’ and Valerius’ account. This is also reflected in the Argonauts’ reception. Whereas in the Argonautic epics Polyxo’s speech prevents the Lemnian women from providing the Argonauts with a hostile reception, Statius’ Hypsipyle is consistent in her portrayal of the mad Lemnian women as Amazons and has them attack the Argonauts upon their arrival (Theb. 5.335-421).138 The circumstances that lead to the concomitant disappearance of the Lemnian women’s furor remain in the dark, just as its initial cause,139 and the Lemnian narrative is fittingly concluded with two striking intratextual allusions that highlight the ring composition: the Lemnian women finally return to their traditional gender roles (Theb. 5.397 rediit in pectora sexus) and love is renewed, as Polyxo predicted (Theb. 5.445-6a).140

5. Conclusion

40 Polyxo speaks and appears only once in propria persona in the context of an all-female counselling scene in the Lemnian episode. Despite the similar context and numerous structural and thematic parallels, Polyxo is the only female speaker of these epics, whose role and function undergo a significant change. Apollonius depicts Polyxo as the beloved old nurse of Hypsipyle. Her expertise as a speaker is based on her life experience and she acts as an elderly advisor to the young inexperienced Lemnian queen. Valerius presents Polyxo as an otherwise unknown priestess of Apollo. The speech of the seeress requires a special vatic ritual and she serves as a divine mouthpiece communicating the regained divine benevolence to the Lemnian women. Statius’ character is depicted as a Lemnian mother and wife, who under divine influence becomes the ruthless instigator of the manslaughter and with her forceful exhortation infects the other Lemnian women with her Venusian furor.

41 The level of inclusion in the female collective varies with the different roles of the speaker. Apollonius focuses on Polyxo’s personal relationship with Hypsipyle and has the speaker distance herself from the subject matter and the long-term benefits of her proposal for the collective as a result of her old age and impending death. Valerius’ mysterious priestess, whose journey from Egypt to Lemnos is discussed in her introduction, is the most removed of the three characters and her description entirely focuses on her profession and vatic ritual. By contrast, Statius’ persona is the most involved speaker, as she is directly affected by the barrenness and sexual frustration of the Lemnian women that result from their husbands’ continued absence. All three characters are moreover accompanied by a small entourage that serves as an intertextual link and further highlights the character’s respective function: Hypsipyle’s elderly nurse is escorted by four white-haired virgins in Apollonius. This portrayal of Apollonius’ entourage, which creates a parallel to the four sons of the Odyssey’s elderly advisor Aegyptius, may have inspired Valerius’ transformation of Polyxo into a priestess of Apollo. In the Flavian Argonautica, the seer is drawn to Lemnos from Egypt

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 20

by a team of seals, an image, which also echoes a Homeric intertext, the prophetic nymph, Eidothea. In Statius’ case, the entourage serves to underline the stark contrast between the Thebaid’s lustful warmonger and Apollonius’ irenic, demure nurse. Whereas the Apollonian virgins highlight Polyxo’s virtue in the Hellenistic Argonautica, the four children, whom Statius’ Lemnian mother and wife vows to sacrifice, emphasize her ruthlessness and cruelty.

42 Although the general context of the Lemnian council scenes is comparable, the length and exact placement of Polyxo’s speech in the respective episodes varies in accordance with Polyxo’s different roles. The character’s speech receives special attention in all three episodes and succeeds in decisively changing the Lemnians’ course of action. In Apollonius, Polyxo’s long speech (22 verses) is placed in the centre of the council scene, which contains seven speech acts in a complex ring composition; in Valerius, Polyxo’s brief utterance (3 5/6 verses) is the only remaining speech from Apollonius’ Lemnian council scene; and Polyxo’s speech (36 1/3 verses) in Statius is not only the longest of the three, but it is also embedded in the longest character narration of the Thebaid, contains the only quaternary narration-focalisation of the epic, and is dramatically interrupted by stage directions. By comparison, Polyxo’s speech in Apollonius and the Lemnian episode as a whole is the least dramatic version, as the speech is delivered one year after the Lemnian androcide and only after the Argonauts have already been identified as friendly guests through prior communication; Valerius increases the suspense by presenting the council as an emergency meeting that is held in response to the Argonauts’ unexpected arrival. The juxtaposition of the Lemnians’ return and the Argonauts’ arrival as well as the change of perspective from the Lemnian men to their wives render the events more tragic and mark Polyxo’s speech in Valerius as the conclusion to the vividly described Lemnian manslaughter. Statius’ changed narratological context and character-focalization increase the tension and importance of Polyxo’s words even further, as her speech serves as the starting point and immediate trigger of the Lemnian bloodbath.

43 Despite their different placement and function, the three speeches share three themes: they refer to divine will, urge the Lemnian women to put an end to their barrenness, and strife for new sexual relations. In Apollonius, Polyxo only uses divine benevolence as a hypothetical example to emphasize that even if the gods protected the Lemnian women from a hostile attack at that point, they would still continue to depend on men for their general safety and the chance to reproduce. The divine intervention in connection with Polyxo and the Lemnian council scene is not explicitly discussed in Apollonius, while Polyxo’s speech in Valerius is presented as a reproduction of divine instructions and the union with the Argonauts as a part of Jupiter’s fata. The seeress acts as a mouthpiece for the gods in their communication with the Lemnians, which is a common pattern for the indirect communication between mortals and immortals in the Flavian Argonautica. In Statius, Polyxo speaks in maenadic frenzy and even becomes the embodiment of Valerius’ vengeful and destructive goddess Venus. The changes regarding Polyxo’s character are thus not only representative of her portrayal as a mortal female character in the respective Lemnian episode and epic as a whole, but they also reflect the use and function of the epics’ Götterapparat.

44 Just as the method and intensity of the references to divine will and interference vary, so do the line of argument and explicitness of the speaker’s reference to sexual intercourse in accordance with the speaker’s respective profession. Whereas

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 21

Apollonius’ and Valerius’ Polyxo recommend a union with the Argonauts as a remedy for hardship in order to save the Lemnian people and restore the previous status, Polyxo’s desire for a new and better union is not derived out of need or for prevention in the Thebaid, but it is in fact the reason why she urges her fellow Lemnian women to kill their husbands. Apollonius’ elderly nurse phrases her request most delicately and appeals to the women’s sense of civic duty and pragmatism and accordingly advocates procreation to avoid future hardship, prevent the extinction of the Lemnian people, and return to the traditional gender roles. The speech of Valerius’ vates seems to appeal to the women’s personal aspirations for motherhood and their sexual desire. The prospective union with the Argonauts is presented as a divine remedy and restoration of the traditional status. Statius’ wife and mother is completely overcome by her sexual desire and openly urges the Lemnian women not to accept their sexual frustration and lack of childbirth, but to leave behind the alleged weakness of their gender and kill their husbands in revenge. However, Statius’ Polyxo, just like other women in the Thebaid, is severely punished for renouncing her sex and transgressing traditional gender roles and causes widespread calamity as a result of it.

45 The comparative analysis of the portrayal of the epic persona Polyxo in Apollonius Rhodius’ and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica as well as Statius’ Thebaid revealed a high level of intra- and intertextual engagement that draws attention to the drastic change Polyxo’s character undergoes from Apollonius’ to Statius’ adaptation of the myth. Apollonius combines several Homeric council scenes in his depiction and uses both young and old male advisors as well as Odysseus’ elderly nurse Eurykleia as a model for Hypsipyle’s old nurse Polyxo. These intertextual allusions on the one hand serve as an example of the wisdom of old age and highlight the prominent theme of the generation conflict in Apollonius’ Lemnian episode; on the other hand the contrastive allusion to the male-dominated Homeric council scenes also emphasizes the transgression of traditional gender roles in Apollonius and the change from a focus of combat and topics in Homer to love and marital topics in Apollonius’ female council scene. Traditional gender roles and civic duties of men and women are also in the centre of both Polyxo’s and her intratextual male counterpart’s speeches in the Hellenistic Argonautica. In their roles as experienced advisors to their young leaders and their respective collectives, Herakles and Polyxo both advocate traditional gender stereotypes. Even though Valerius keeps Apollonius’ intratextual character pairing and also has Hercules end the Argonauts’ stay on Lemnos with his criticism of the Argonauts’ effeminate and forgetful sojourn on Lemnos, the focus of the Valerian scene lies on Lemnos as an all-female community. This is also reflected in the distribution of speech acts. The Lemnian episode contains the longest chain of female speech acts – as opposed to Apollonius’ gender pairing – and the two remaining male speech acts that frame the episode only bring bereavement and solitude upon the Lemnian women. As in Apollonius, it is a Homeric allusion that provides the backdrop and a key to the understanding of Polyxo’s role. The reference to the prophetic Odyssean sea nymph Eidothea firmly establishes Polyxo as vates and creates an intratextual parallel to the other seers of Apollo in the Flavian Argonautica – Idmon and Mopsus . Like them, Valerius’ Polyxo serves as a facilitator for the communication between gods and humans when she presents the Argonauts as divinely-sent saviours on a civilization mission. The Eidothea-allusion supports yet another intratextual parallel in Valerius and shows how skillfully the Flavian epicist combines different inter- and intratextual allusions. Just as the description of Apollonius’ elderly nurse resembles that of the old

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 22

seer Phineus, Valerius’ vates is created as a character doublet to Medea’s nurse Henioche. Polyxo’s speech in response to the Argonauts’ arrival at Lemnos and her recommendation of a union with the strangers prefigure Henioche’s speech to Medea upon Jason’s arrival in Colchis and her facilitation of her nursling’s subsequent union with Jason. The intertextual allusion to Eidothea, another daughter who betrays her father to help a stranger return home, therefore not only supports Valerius’ reinvention of Polyxo as a vates, but it also strengthens the Argonautica’s intratextual character doublet. Statius conducts an even more radical transformation of the Polyxo character as well as the entire narratological context of the Lemnian episode in general. The Thebaid’s maenadic ringleader of the manslaughter is in many respects the exact opposite of Apollonius’ demure and gentle nurse. Like Apollonius’ Polyxo, who respectfully advocates a return to the traditional gender roles and the civic duty and value of mother- and wifehood, Statius’ Lemnian mother and wife in blind furor drives her fellow women to mariticide and infanticide. In an allusion to Vergil’s and Valerius’ vengeful goddesses in disguise Statius increases the suspense and tragedy of the Lemnian nefas by having a fellow Lemnian act as instigator and ringleader of the crime. Statius Polyxo’ is not only the mouthpiece of Venus, but she turns into Valerius’ ruthless divine warmonger herself. Just as Statius’ further dramatizes the account of the manslaughter, he also turns Polyxo’s reference to Venus’ will in Valerius’ vatic speech into an embedded speech in which the goddess herself encourages the manslaughter. Polyxo’s speech and especially the inserted stage directions with the reference to Venus’ sword strongly echo Valerius’ version. In a similar way to Valerius, who employs the collective direct speech of the Lemnian men, a parallel to Polyxo’s speech, to correct Apollonius’ presentation of the Lemnian men’s adultery as a fact and turn it into a rumor created by Venus and Fama, Statius uses Polyxo’s speech to discard Valerius’ version that the mere report and suspicion of the Lemnian men’s adultery could be a sufficient justification for the Lemnian women’s excessive violence. Statius instead proposes a third explanation – Polyxo’s inability to control her own fate as a result of mankind’s general helplessness and lack of free will.

46 Just as Valerius’ character doublets Polyxo/Hypsipyle and Henioche/Medea serve to highlight the intratextual parallelism between the Lemnian and Colchian narrative in the Flavian Argonautica, Statius’ intratextual comparison of Polyxo to Argia and Oedipus, two of the key instigators of the Theban civil war and motivating forces of the Theban narrative, stresses the similarities between the Lemnian digression and the Theban narrative, prefigures the Theban nefas, and reveals Polyxo as both an agent and the subject of divine vengeance as well as a dangerous woman who is transgressing the traditional gender stereotypes. Statius also takes Valerius’ portrayal of Polyxo as a character doublet to Henioche, the facilitator of Medea’s union with Jason, one step further by turning Polyxo into another Medea; to be more precise into the tragic mother who turns into a child-murderer to punish her adulterous husband, the very part of Medea’s story that is only foreshadowed but not fully developed in Apollonius’ and Valerius’ version of the myth.

47 The intricacies of the individual authors’ unique, multi-facetted portrayal of the Polyxo character, the fact that this is the only female speaker who occurs in all three epics while undergoing a significant role change, and the many intra- and intertextual allusions employed in the depiction of this epic persona leave no doubt that Polyxo is not only one of the key characters of the Lemnian episode, but also an interesting case study and striking example of the authors’ complex use of combinatorial intra- and

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 23

intertextual allusive techniques in their strife for originality and ingenuity in the adaptation of a popular myth.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adamietz, J. (1976), Zur Komposition der Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus. Munich.

Ardizzoni, A. (1967), Apollonio Rodio, Le Argonautiche, libro I. Testo, traduzione e commentario. Rome.

----- (1965), ‘Apollonio Rodio 1.177’, Helikon 5: 532-3.

Arend, W. (1975), Die typischen Szenen bei Homer. Berlin.

Augoustakis, A. (2010), Mourning Endless: Female Otherness in Statius’ Thebaid. Oxford.

Bahrenfuss, W. (1951), Das Abenteuer der Argonauten auf Lemnos bei Apollonios Rhodios (Arg. 1.601 bis 909), Valerius Flaccus (Arg. 2.72 bis 430) und Papinius Statius (Theb. 4.746 bis 5.498). Diss. Kiel.

Barker, E. T. T. (2009), Entering the Agon. Dissent and Authority in Homer, Historiography, and Tragedy. Oxford.

Berkowitz, G. (2004), Semi-public Narration in Apollonius' Argonautica. Leuven.

Bernstein, N. W. (2015), ‘Family and Kinship in the Works of Statius’, in: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands, and K. Gervais (edd.), Brill’s Companion to Statius, Leiden 2015, 139-54.

----- (2008), In the Image of the Ancestors: Narratives of Kinship in Flavian Epic. Toronto.

Blumberg, K. W. (1931), Untersuchungen zur epischen Technik des Apollonius von Rhodos. Diss. Leipzig.

Boner, C. (2006), ‘Hypsipyle et le crime des Lemniennes des premières attestations à Valerius Flaccus’, Euphrosyne 34: 149-62.

Brown, J. (1994), Into the Woods. Narrative Studies in the Thebaid of Statius with Special Reference to Books IV-VI. Diss. Cambridge.

Buckley, E. (2013), ‘Visualising Venus: epiphany and anagnorisis in Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica’, in: H. Lovatt and C. Vout (edd.), Epic Visions: Visuality in Greek and Latin Epic and Its Reception, Cambridge 2013, 78-98.

Bulloch, A. (2006), ‘Jason's Cloak’, 134: 44-68.

Burkert, W. (2005), ‘Signs, Commands and Knowledge: Ancient Divination between Enigma and Epiphany’, in: S. Iles Johnston and P.T. Struck (edd.), Mantikê: Studies in Ancient Divination, Leiden 2005, 29-49.

Bury, J. B. (1896), ‘Some Passages in Valerius Flaccus’, CR 10.1: 35-9.

Bussi, C. (2007), ‘L'ira di Venere tra Stazio e Apuleio’, Acme 60: 281-94.

Casali, S. (2003), ‘Impius , impia Hypsipyle: narrazioni menzognere dall’Eneide alla Tebaide di Stazio’, Scholia 12: 60-68.

Chinn, C. (2013), ‘Orphic Ritual and Myth in the Thebaid’, in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic, Oxford 2013, 319-34.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 24

Clauss, J. J. (1993), The Best of the Argonauts: The Redefinition of the Epic Hero in Book 1 of Apollonius’ Argonautica. Berkeley.

Daniel-Müller, B. (2012), ‘Une épopée au féminin? La question des genres dans le livre III des Argonautiques d’Apollonios de Rhodes’, Gaia 15: 97-120.

Dee, N. (2013), ‘Wasted Water: The Failure of Purification in the Thebaid’, in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic, Oxford 2013, 181-98.

DeForest, M. M. (1994), Apollonius’ Argonautica: A Callimachean Epic. Leiden.

De Jong, I. J. F. (2001), A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey. Cambridge.

Delarue, F. (2000), Stace, poète épique. Originalité et cohérence. Leuven.

----- (1970), ‘La haine de Vénus’, Latomus 29: 442-50.

Dominik, W. J., (2012), ‘Critiquing the Critics: Jupiter, the Gods and Free Will in Statius’ Thebaid’, in: T. Baier (ed.), Götter und menschliche Willensfreiheit. Von Lucan bis Silius Italicus, Munich 2012, 187-98.

----- (1997), ‘Ratio et Dei: Psychology and the Supernatural in the Lemnian Episode’, in: C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in and Roman History. VIII, Bruxelles 1997, 29-50.

----- (1994), The Mythic Voice of the Poet: Power and Politics in the Thebaid. Leiden.

Dräger, P. (ed.) (2003), Valerius Flaccus: Argonautica. Die Sendung der Argonauten. Frankfurt a.M.

Ehlers, W.-W. (ed.) (1980), Gai Valeri Flacci Setini Balbi Argonauticon libros octo. Stuttgart.

Elderkin, G. W. (1913), ‘Repetition in the Argonautica of Apollonius’, AJP 34: 198-201.

Elm von der Osten, D. (2007), Liebe als Wahnsinn. Die Konzeption der Göttin Venus in den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus. Stuttgart.

Feeney, D. C. (1991), The Gods in Epic. Poets and Critics of the Classical Tradition. Oxford.

Finkmann, S. (2014), ‘Collective Speech and Silence in the Argonautica of Apollonius and Valerius’, in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Flavian Poetry and Its Greek Past, Leiden, 73-93.

Franchet d'Espèrey, S. (1999), Conflit, violence et non-violence dans la Thébaïde de Stace. Paris.

Fränkel, H. (1968), Noten zu den Argonautika des Apollonius. Munich.

----- (ed.) (1961), Apollonii Rhodii Argonautica. Oxford.

Frings, I. (1996), ‘Hypsipyle und Aeneas - Zur Vergilinterpretation in Thebais V’, in: F. Delarue, S. Georgacopoulou, P. Laurens, and A. M. Taisne (edd.), Epicedion. Hommage à P. Papinius Statius 96-1996, Poitiers 1996, 145-60.

Ganiban, R. T. (2013), ‘The Death and Funeral Rites of Opheltes in the Thebaid’ in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic, Oxford 2013, 249-65.

----- (2007), Statius and Virgil: The Thebaid and the Reinterpretation of the Aeneid. Cambridge.

Garson, R. W. (1964), ‘Some Critical Observations on Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica. I’, CQ. NS 14: 267-79.

George, E. V. (1972), ‘Poets and Characters in Apollonius Rhodius’ Lemnian Episode’, Hermes 100: 47-63.

Gervais, K. G. (2015), ‘Parent-Child Conflict in the Thebaid’, in: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands, and K. Gervais (edd.), Brill’s Companion to Statius, Leiden 2015, 221-39.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 25

----- (2008), Dealing with a Massacre. Spectacle, Eroticism, and Unreliable Narration in the Lemnian Episode of Statius’ Thebaid, MA Thesis Kingston Ont.

Giangrande, G. (1977), ‘Polisemia del linguaggio nella poesia alessandrina’, QUCC 24: 98-9.

Gibson, B. (2004) ‘The Repetitions of Hypsipyle’, in: M. Gale (ed.), Latin Epic and Didactic Poetry: Genre, Tradition and Individuality, Swansea, 149-80.

Götting, M. H. (1969), Hypsipyle in der Thebais des Statius. Wiesbaden.

Gross, A. (2003), Prophezeiungen und Prodigien in den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus. Munich.

Happle, E. M. (1957), Die drei ersten Fahrtenepisoden in den Argonautika des Apollonios Rhodios und Valerius Flaccus. Diss. Freiburg i. Br.

Hardie, P. R. (2012), Rumour and Renown. Representations of Fama in Western Literature. Cambridge.

----- (1989), ‘Flavian Epicists on Virgil's Epic Technique’, Ramus 18: 3-20.

Harper Smith, A. H. (1987), A Commentary on Valerius Flaccus Argonautica II. Diss. Oxford.

Hershkowitz, D. (1998), The Madness of Epic: Reading Insanity from Homer to Statius. Oxford.

----- (1997), ‘Parce Metu, Cytherea: Failed Intertext Repetition in Statius’ Thebaid, or, Don’t Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before’, MD: 35-52.

----- (1994), ‘Sexuality and Madness in Statius' Thebaid’, MD 33: 123-47.

Highet, G. A. (1972), The Speeches in Vergil's Aeneid. Princeton.

Hill, D. E. (ed.) (1983), P. Papini Stati Thebaidos Libri XII. Leiden.

Höfer, O. (1909), ‘Polyxo’, in: W. H. Roscher (ed.), Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie. 3.2, Leipzig 1909, 2745.12-2747.30.

Holmberg, I. E. (1998), ‘Ϻῆτις and Gender in Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica’, TAPhA 128: 135-59. Hubert, A. (2013), ‘Malae preces and their Articulation in the Thebaid’, in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic, Oxford 2013, 109-26.

Hübscher, A. (1940), Die Charakteristik der Personen in Apollonios’ Argonautika. Diss. Freiburg.

Hurst, A. (1967) Apollonios de Rhodes. Manière et cohérence. Contribution à l'étude de l'esthétique alexandrine. Rome.

Ibscher, R. (1939), Gestalt der Szene und Form der Rede in den Argonautika des Apollonios Rhodios. Diss. Munich.

Iglesias Montiel, R. M. (1973), Estudio mitográfico de la Tebaida de Estacio. Diss. Murcia.

Janko, R. (1994), The Iliad: A Commentary. Volume IV: Book 13-16. Cambridge.

Karydas, H. P. (1998), Eurykleia and Her Successors: Female Figures of Authority in Greek Poetics. Lanham.

Keith, A. M. (2000), Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic. New York.

Knight, V. (1995), The Renewal of Epic: Responses to Homer in the Argonautica of Apollonius. Leiden.

Köstlin, H. (1889), ‘Zur Erklärung und Kritik des Valerius Flaccus’, Philologus 48: 647-73.

Krevans, N. (2002/3), ‘Dido, Hypsipyle, and the Bedclothes’, Hermathena 173/4: 175-83.

Krumbholz, G. (1954), ‘Der Erzählungsstil in der Thebais des Statius’, Glotta 34: 93-139.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 26

La Penna, A. (1981), ‘Tipi e modelli femminili nella poesia dell’epoca dei Flavi (Stazio, Silio Italico, Valerio Flacco)’, in: Atti del congresso internazionale di studi vespasianei, Rieti 1981, 223-51.

Legras, L. (1905), Les légendes thébaines en Grèce et à Rome. Étude sur la Thébaïde de Stace, Diss. Paris.

Levin, D. N. (1971), Apollonius' Argonautica Re-examined, I. The Neglected First and Second Books, Leiden.

Lewis, C.S. (1936), The Allegory of Love. Oxford.

Liberman, G. (1989), ‘Notes sur Valerius Flaccus’, Mnemosyne 42: 111-6.

Lipscomb, H. C. (1909), ‘Aspects of the Speech in Vergil and the Later Roman Epic’, ClW 2.15: 114-7.

Lloyd-Jones, H. (ed.) (1996), Sophocles. Fragments. III. Cambridge Mass.

Lohmann, D. (1970), Die Komposition der Reden in der Ilias. Berlin.

Lovatt, H. (2015), ‘Following after Valerius: Argonautic Imagery in the Thebaid’, in: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands, and K. Gervais (edd.), Brill’s Companion to Statius, Leiden 2015, 408-24.

Maciver, C. A. (2012), ‘Representative Bees in Quintus Smyrnaeus’ Posthomerica’, CPh 107: 53-69.

Manioti, N. (2012), All-Female Family Bonds in Latin Epic. Diss. Durham.

Manuwald, G. (2013), ‘Divine Messages and Human Actions in the Argonautica’, in: A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic, Oxford 2013, 33-51.

----- (2009), ‘What Do Humans Get to Know about the Gods and Their Plans? On Prophecies and Their Deficiencies in Valerius Flaccus' Argonautica’, Mnemosyne 62: 586-608.

----- (1999), Die Cyzicus-Episode und ihre Funktion in den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus. Göttingen.

Masciadri, V. (2004), ‘Hypsipyle et ses soeurs’, in: S. des Bouvrie (ed.), Myth and Symbol. II. Symbolic Phenomena in Ancient Greek Culture, Bergen 2004, 221-41.

Mauri, R. (1999), Saggio di commento a Stazio: Tebaide V 1-497. Diss. Bologna.

McNelis, C. (2007), Statius' Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War. Cambridge.

Mori, A. (2007), ‘Acts of Persuasion in Hellenistic Epic: Honey-Sweet Words in Apollonius’, in: I. Worthington (ed.), A Companion to Greek Rhetoric, Chichester 2007, 458-72.

Natzel, S. A. (1992), Κλέα γυναικών. Frauen in den Argonautika des Apollonios Rhodios. Trier. Nelis, D. P. (1991), ‘Iphias. Apollonius Rhodius, Argonautica 1.311-316’, CQ 41: 96-105.

Nishimura-Jensen, J. (1998), ‘The Poetics of Aethalides: Silence and Poikilia in Apollonius’ Argonautica’, CQ 48.2: 456-69.

Nugent, S.G. (1996), ‘Statius’ Hypsipyle: Following in the Footsteps of the Aeneid’, Scholia 5: 46-71.

Papanghelis, T (1994), ‘Hoary Ladies: Catullus 64.305ff. and ’, Symbolae Osloenses 69 (1994), 41-6.

Parkes, R. (2014), ‘The Epics of Statius and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica’, in: M. Heerink and G. Manuwald (edd.), Brill's Companion to Valerius Flaccus, Leiden 2014, 326-39.

Pavlock, B. (1990), Eros, Imitation, and the Epic Tradition. Ithaca.

Pearson, A. C. (ed.) (1917), The Fragments of Sophocles. II. Cambridge.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 27

Pollmann, K. (ed.) (2004), Publius Papinius Statius. Thebaid 12: Introduction, Text, and Commentary. Paderborn.

Poortvliet, H. M. (1991), C. Valerius Flaccus Argonautica Book II: A Commentary. Amsterdam.

Prescott, H. W. ‘Marginalia on the Hellenistic Poets’, CPh 4.3 (1909): 320-22.

Schetter, W. (1960), Untersuchungen zur epischen Kunst des Statius. Wiesbaden.

Scott, B. (2012), Aspects of Transgression in Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica. Diss. Liverpool.

Shelton, J. E. (1971), A Narrative Commentary of the Argonautica of Valerius Flaccus. Diss. Vanderbilt.

Smolenaars, J. J. L. (1994), Statius, Thebaid VII, A Commentary. Leiden.

Soerink, J. (2014), Beginning of Doom, Statius Thebaid 5.499-753: Introduction, Text, Commentary. Diss. Groningen.

Spaltenstein, F. (2002), Commentaire des Argonautica de Valérius Flaccus (livres 1 et 2). Brussels.

Strand, J. (1972), Notes on Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica. Gothenburg.

Summers, W. C. (1894), A Study of the Argonautica of Valerius Flaccus, Cambridge.

Taisne, A. M. (1994), L’esthétique de Stace. La peinture des correspondances. Paris.

Thome, G. (1993), Vorstellungen vom Bösen in der lateinischen Literatur: Begriffe, Motive, Gestalten. Stuttgart.

Vessey, D. W. T. C. (1985), ‘Lemnos Revisited: Some Aspects of Valerius Flaccus, Argonautica 2.77-305’, CJ 80: 326-39.

----- (1973), Statius and the Thebaid. Cambridge.

----- (1970), ‘Notes on the Hypsipyle Episode in Statius, Thebaid 4-6’, BICS 17: 44-54.

Walter, A. (2014), Erzählen und Gesang im flavischen Epos. Berlin.

Zissos, A. (1999), ‘Allusion and Narrative Possibility in the Argonautica of Valerius Flaccus’, CPh 94: 289-301.

APPENDIXES

Fig. 1: Direct Speech Acts in Apollonius Rhodius’ Lemnian Episode

Speaker Lines Length (in vv.) Addressee(s) Speech Cluster

Argonauts 1.640-1a (NRSA)141 Aethalides M142

Aethalides 1.650-1a (NRSA) Hypsipyle M

Hypsipyle 1.657-666 10 Lemnian women G1143

Polyxo 1.675-696 22 Lemnian women G2

Hypsipyle 1.700-701 2 Lemnian women G3

Hypsipyle 1.703-707 5 Iphinoe M

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 28

Iphinoe 1.712-716 5 Argonauts M

Hypsipyle 1.793-833 41 Jason M

Herakles 1.865-874 10 Argonauts M

Hypsipyle 1.888-898 11 Jason D1144

Jason 1.900-909 10 Hypsipyle D2

Fig. 2: Direct Speech Acts in Valerius Flaccus’ Lemnian Episode

Speaker Lines Length (in vv.) Addressee(s) Speech Cluster

Lemnian men 2.113-114 2 coniunx, patria M

Venus 2.127-134 8 Fama M

Fama (as Neaera) 2.142b-160a 18 1/6 145 Eurynome M

Venus (as Dryope) 2.176b-184a 8 5/12 Lemnian women M

Venus (as Dryope) 2.213b-214a 1 1/6 Lemnian women M

Hypsipyle 2.249b-253a 3 5/6 Thoas M

Hypsipyle 2.256-257a 1 1/12 Bacchus M

Hypsipyle 2.274b-276 2 7/12 Bacchus M

Hypsipyle 2.290-299 10 Thoas, Luna M

Polyxo 2.322-325 3 5/6 Lemnian women M

Hypsipyle 2.335b-339 4 1/3 Jason M

Hercules 2.378-384a 6 7/12 Jason, Argonauts M

Hypsipyle 2.403-408a 5 1/4 Jason M

Hypsipyle 2.419-424 5 5/6 Jason M

Fig. 3: Overview of All Direct Speech Acts by Mortal Female Speakers Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica

Speaker Length Female Speech No. of Speeches in total (vv.) (%)

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 29

1 Medea**146 251 38.91% 17

2 Hypsipyle 69 10.70% 5

3 Chalciope 28 4.34% 4

4 Arete 23 3.57% 1

5 Polyxo 22 3.41% 1

6 Alcimede 14 2.17% 1

7 10 1.55% 1

8 γυναίκες 9 1.40% 1

9 Iphinoe 5 0.78% 1

423 (av. 47.89) 100% 32 (av.3.56)

Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica

Speaker Length Female Speech No. of Speeches in total (vv.) (%)

1 Medea*** 212 3/4 37.29% 23

2 Hypsipyle 32 11/12 5.77% 7

3 Eidyia 26 11/12 4.72% 1

4 Hesione 21 5/6 3.83% 1

5 Alcimede 18 4/7 3.26% 2

6 Clite 13 3/4 2.41% 1

7 Henioche 3 11/12 0.69% 1

8 Polyxo 3 5/6 0.67% 1

9 famula 3 1/2 0.61% 1

337.99 (av.37.55) 38 (av. 4.22)

Fig.4: Hypsipyle’s Lemnian Narrative and Embedded Speech Acts

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 30

Speaker Speaker Embedded Embedded Lines Speech Embedded Embedded Addressee(s) Addressee(s) (L1)147 (L2)148 Speaker Speaker Length Addressee(s) Addressee(s) (L2) (L1) (L3)149 (L4)150 (L4) (L3)

epic external narrator audience

Hypsipyle 5. 49-498 449 5/6 Adrastus & Argive warriors

Polyxo 5. 104-29a 25 3/4 Lemnian 5. 132b-42 10 7/12 women

Venus 5. 136b-8 2 1/3 Polyxo

Hypsipyle 5. 245b-7a 2 1/6 Thoas

Bacchus 5. 271b-84a 13 1/6 Thoas and Hypsipyle

Lemnian 5. 491-2 2 secum women

NOTES

1. Cf. Bahrenfuss (1951) 157-276, Krumbholz (1954) 125-39, Vessey (1973) 171-8, Poortvliet (1991) 65-70, Brown (1994), 57-93, Dominik (1997) 29-50, Delarue (2000) 130-3, and Boner (2006) 149-62. 2. Cf. Götting (1969), Vessey (1970) 44-54, Iglesias Montiel (1973) 225-331, Frings (1996) 145-60, Nugent (1996) 46-71, Krevans (2002/3) 175-83, Casali (2003) 60-8, Gibson (2004) 149-80, Masciadri (2004) 221-41, Ganiban (2007) 71-95, and Walter (2014) 208-39. 3. This article works under the general assumption that Valerius’ account of the Lemnian episode preceded Statius’. See also Vessey (1970) 44-48, Smolenaars (1994) xxxv-xlii, Ganiban (2007) 77, and Lovatt (2015) 408-24. All line references and quotations follow the editions of Fränkel (1961), Ehlers (1980), and Hill (1983). 4. Due to the limited scope, with the exception of important individual references, the intertextual analysis has to be restricted to the three epics under discussion and Homer as a model for Apollonius. 5. The narrator’s summary is contrasted with a report of the events by a character-focalizer (Hypsipyle) that differs in several respects from the first account and emphasizes Hypsipyle’s preoccupation with protecting the Lemnians’ reputation. In a highly deceptive speech the queen tries to conceal the homicide by explaining the complete absence of Lemnian men with a divinely-induced abandonment of their wives in favour of their Thracian mistresses and their decision to take their sons with them to Thrace (ARh. 1.793-833). For a detailed comparison of Hypsipyle’s and the primary narrator’s accounts, cf. Berkowitz (2004) 46-52. In Apollodorus 1.9.17 Venus casts a bad smell on the Lemnian women that repels their husbands. 6. Cf. Nishimura-Jensen (1998) 456-69 for a detailed discussion of the messenger scene.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 31

7. Cf. Appendix, fig.1. See also Elderkin (1913) 198-201, Ardizzoni (1965) 257f., Hurst (1967) 61, Levin (1971) 63f., George (1972) 54, Clauss (1993) 114f., DeForest (1994) 86, and Nishimura-Jensen (1998) 463f. 8. See also Clauss (1993) 108-10. 9. Cf. Knight (1995) 115: “an intriguing substitution of militia amoris for real conflict”. See also Arend (1975) 116-21, Pavlock (1990) 45-51, Clauss (1993) 117-9, De Jong (2001) 45 n.3, and Daniel- Müller (2012) 100-7. 10. It is striking that Hypsipyle includes herself in the guilty collective (ARh. 1.662 ἐπεὶ μέγα ἔργον έρέξαμεν), although she alone abstained from the crime (ARh. 1.620-1). Cf. also Ibscher (1939) 15 and Levin (1971) 64. 11. Cf. the elderly Nestor at Il. 14.52-63. See also Lohmann (1970) 138f., Levin (1971) 65, George (1972) 55, Clauss (1993) 116, and Janko (1994) 155. 12. Cf. Clauss (1993) 117-9 and DeForest (1994) 87f. 13. Cf. George (1972) 56 and Clauss (1993) 137. See also Karydas (1998) 3: “(f)or women, especially, age conferred authority and power”. For a comparison of Apollonius’ elderly advisors Polyxo, Phineus, and Iphias, cf. Hübscher (1940) 69f. and Nelis (1991) 97. On Polyxo’s portrayal as Hypsipyle’s nurse in Sophocles’ Lemniai, see Pearson (1917) 52 and Lloyd-Jones (1996) 205. 14. For Eurykleia as an astute advisor, cf. Od. 1.438 and Od. 2.346. See also Karydas (1998) 24f. 15. For more structural parallels, cf. Clauss (1993) 106-19, Bulloch (2006) 50-2, and Barker (2009) 95-9. 16. Cf. Höfer (1909) 2747,13-30 s.v. ‘Polyxo’ (no.7) and Hyg. Fab. 15: Polyxo aetate constituta dedit consilium. 17. Cf. Clauss (1993) 118f., De Jong (2001) 47, and Barker (2009) 95f. For more parallels between Polyxo and Telemachus, cf. Bulloch (2006) 51f. 18. Polyxo’s four female companions (ARh. 1.671-2) correspond to Aegyptius’ role as father of four sons (Od. 2.17-23). Cf. Clauss (1993) 119f., DeForest (1994) 87, and Bulloch (2006) 52. 19. George (1972) 57. See also Clauss (1993) 119. 20. George (1972) 56. 21. On the reduction of the nurse’s introduction to her age and profession, see Levin (1971) 65 and Nelis (1991) 99. Homer’s Diomedes begins his reply to Agamemnon with a lengthy preface of his own lineage to legitimize his authority and to compensate for his inexperience (Il. 14.110-27). 22. The similarities in their depiction may have inspired Polyxo’s role transferral from Hypsipyle’s elderly nurse in Apollonius to a prophetess of Apollo in Valerius. On Polyxo and her companions’ description as an inspiration for Catullus’ portrayal of the Fates, cf. Papanghelis (1994) 45f. 23. For a more detailed discussion of the virgins’ white hair and old age, see Prescott (1909) 320, Ardizzoni (1967) 280, Fränkel (1968) 97, Levin (1971) 42f., Giangrande (1977) 98f., and Papanghelis (1994) 44-47. 24. Cf. Manioti (2012) 62f. For echoes of Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae, see Nishimura-Jensen (1998) 465. 25. See also George (1972) 55-7 and Natzel (1992) 180. 26. See also Mori (2007) 465. 27. On Polyxo’s influence on Hypsipyle’s second speech, cf. George (1972) 55 and Holmberg (1998) 135-59. 28. Polyxo’s viewpoint is shared by the female collective: the Lemnian women are acutely aware of their helplessness against a hostile attack (ARh. 1.633-9). Her plea to restore the traditional gender roles and leave warfare to men inevitably echoes Hector’s chastisement of Andromache in the Iliad (Il. 6.490-3). Cf. Blumberg (1931) 16f. and Nishimura-Jensen (1998) 466. 29. Cf. George (1972) 57f. and Berkowitz (2004) 147. 30. Cf. George (1972) 60 and Clauss (1993) 117-9.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 32

31. George (1972) 60. On the verbal similarities between Aethalides’, Hypsipyle’s, and Polyxo’s agreement and soft-spokenness, cf. Levin (1971) 66f. and George (1972) 56. 32. Herakles’ provocative question also echoes Hypsipyle’s speech (ARh. 1.795-6a). 33. Herakles’ criticism and abstinence (ARh. 1.874b) correspond to Hypsipyle’s innocence and her concern for the reputation of the guilty collective (ARh. 1.661-2). See also Clauss (1993) 137. 34. On the dramatic irony of Herakles’ statements regarding the future success and glory of Jason’s amorous affairs (ARh. 1.874b), cf. Clauss (1993) 137. 35. Cf. Appendix, fig. 2. On Apollonius’, Valerius’, and Statius’ episode division, see Dominik (1997) 30-47. 36. In both versions Venus/Aphrodite avenges the Lemnians’ neglect of worship by either literally (ARh.) or figuratively (VF.) generating the Lemnian men’s adultery and instilling jealousy and fatal frenzy in their wives. 37. Zissos (1999) 300 describes Valerius’ Argonautica as “a demanding and hyper-allusive text”. 38. The juxtaposition highlights the inherent paradox in Apollonius and Valerius: the Lemnian women greet their husbands with a massacre and invite strangers into their homes and beds. See also Harper Smith (1997) 142. 39. Valerius’ omniscient narrator declares that the Lemnians’ rage would have stirred them on to attack the Argonauts, too, had Vulcan not soothed Venus’ anger (VF. 2.313b-5). Apollonius’ reference to Venus’ post-massacre support of the Lemnians on behalf of could have served as a model (ARh. 1.850b-2). The circumstances under which the Lemnians’ rage abates remains unclear in Apollonius’ episode (ARh. 1.634-8). 40. On the structural importance of Valerius’ collective speeches, cf. Finkmann (2014) 73-93. For a more detailed analysis of the parallel, see chap. 3 par. g) below. 41. Cf. Appendix, fig. 3. 42. See also Poortvliet (1991) 186 and Dräger (2003) 387 who understands portum demus as a sexual innuendo. 43. Cf. Polyxo’s explicit reference to the goddess’ wishes as well as the narrator’s confirmation of Venus’ milder position towards Lemnos (VF. 2.369 divae ... melioris) and her concealment of the women’s guilt (VF. 2.327b-8). See also Hercules’ counter-speech: VF. 2.380b-1a me tecum solus in aequor / rerum traxit amor. 44. Cf. Summers (1894) 72 and Spaltenstein (2002) 396. On the predominantly indirect divine interaction with humans in Valerius’ Argonautica, see Manuwald (2013) 33-51. 45. Manuwald (2009) 596 n.26. See also Adamietz (1976) 35, Gross (2003) 142, and Manuwald (2013) 42. 46. Cf. Bahrenfuss (1951) 131, Hurst (1967) 60, Shelton (1971) 90-4, La Penna (1981) 248-50, Harper Smith (1987) 145f., Poortvliet (1991) 68f., Manuwald (1999) 179f., and Gross (2003) 141. 47. Cf. Gross (2003) 143. 48. See also Harper Smith (1987) 142f. 49. Nishimura-Jensen (1998) 466 n.60. 50. Cf. Venus’ deceitful manipulation of Medea in Book 7 (VF. 7.101-538), which contains the same number of female speech acts (10). For further parallels, cf. Elm von der Osten (2007) 106-58 and Scott (2012) 124-46. 51. The queen’s four successive speeches - the highest number of uninterrupted speech acts by a Valerian speaker - and seven speeches overall confirm Hypsipyle as the most important character-focalizer of this episode. 52. For a detailed discussion of the mss., see Bury (1896) 36, Köstlin (1889), 655-7, Harper Smith (1987) 144-7, and Poortvliet (1991) 182-8. 53. All three prophets in Valerius’ Argonautica (cf. VF. 1.228, 1.383-4, 3.372) as well as the primary narrator (VF. 1.5-7) are linked to Apollo. On the similarities between Idmon, Mopsus, and Polyxo, cf. Levin (1971) 150f. and Manuwald (2013) 41.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 33

54. See also Harper Smith (1987) 145 and Poortvliet (1991) 185. 55. Köstlin (1889) 656 suggests an explicit age reference with the variant reading sed, maxima, teque (VF. 2.317). 56. Cf. Spaltenstein (2002) 394, Dräger (2003) 386, Gross (2003) 141-4, and Manuwald (2009) 587. 57. Köstlin’s argument (1889, 656) that Polyxo is dipping under water to cleanse herself in a similar fashion to Medea (ARh. 3.859-60) and Atalanta (Theb. 9.572-4) prior to the consultation, is unconvincing. 58. Ambivalent descriptions are common for this profession and prophetic scenes in general, and the portrayal of everything mystical and supernatural in Valerius’ Argonautica in particular. See also Burkert (2005) 36. 59. See also Harper Smith (1987) 144f., Liberman (1989) 114, and Poortvliet (1991) 183f. 60. Cf. Harper Smith (1987) 144, Poortvliet (191) 184, and Dräger (2003) 386f. Another source of inspiration could be the tradition of Polyxo as a of the Nile. Cf. Höfer (1909) 2745, 33-4 s.v. ‘Polyxo’ (no.3). 61. Maciver (2012) 61. 62. Medea’s old nurse does not feature in the Greek model, where it is Medea’s sister Chalciope who encourages her to meet Jason in private (ARh. 3.674-739). 63. Apollonius’ description of Polyxo and her entourage of virgins (ARh. 1.671f.) may have evoked associations to the Roman Vestal cult and inspired Valerius’ transformation of Polyxo into a vates. Cf. Garson (1964) 275. 64. Cf. Poortvliet (1991) 188f. and Gross (2003) 142. 65. All secondary collective speeches in Valerius’ Argonautica are used as intertextual markers and highlight a significant digression from the Apollonian model, cf. Finkmann (2014) 79-81. 66. The context of the corrective exclamation is problematic and further emphasizes Valerius’ intertextual engagement and interesting twist on Apollonius’ version. Cf. Vessey (1985) 329-32 and Poortvliet (1991) 91. 67. For the Lemnian women’s continued belief in their husbands’ adultery, cf. VF. 2.343-5. 68. The Lemnian men’s declaration of their wives’ loving concern for their husbands (VF. 2.117 anxia curis) is full of dramatic irony, as the women’s excessive worry (VF. 2.137 exesam curis) is turned into anxious jealousy by Venus and Fama (VF. 160b-1 sic fata querellas / abscidit et curis pavidam lacrimisque relinquit). 69. Valerius attributes the lack of worship to Venus’ adultery with Mars. The Lemnians’ strong response on behalf of their patron god Vulcan (VF. 2.82-106) makes their excessive rage after the alleged adultery internally consistent, reveals the full irony behind the adulterous goddess’ choice of scheme, and explains why Venus is able to turn the Lemnian women against their husbands so quickly. For a more detailed discussion of the anticipatory doublet, cf. Vessey (1985) 327f. and Dominik (1997) 32. 70. See also VF. 2.147 iamque aderunt, thalamisque tuis Threissa propinquat and VF. 2.163b-5a totam inde per urbem / personat, ut cunctas agitent expellere Lemno, / ipsi urbem Thressaeque regant. For a detailed discussion of Venus’ influence in the Lemnian episode, cf. Elm von der Osten (2007) 18-52. 71. Cf. George (1972) 48, Vessey (1973) 172, and Berkowitz (2005) 43-6. See also Pearson (1917) 53: “there is nothing tragic in Apollonius’ account”. 72. For Valerius’ tendency to repeat the contents of a phrase in different words, cf. Harper Smith (1987) 13. Both speakers use the time limitations to their fertility and the opportunity presented by the strangers’ arrival in their argument, cf. ARh. 1.681-5, ARh. 1.694-6. On Polyxo’s correct identification of the foreigners as Minyas (VF. 2.324), cf. Harper Smith (1987) 146: “the poet might have assumed such knowledge for poetic convenience”. 73. For further references, cf. Strand (1972) 82, Poortvliet (1991) 187, Hardie (2012) 200, and Scott (2012) 130f.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 34

74. Cf. Vessey (1985) 331, Feeney (1991) 247-9, Hardie (2012) 200, and Buckley (2013) 86f. On Fama as a metaliterary trope, cf. Zissos (1999) 297. 75. See also Happle (1957) 42. 76. Cf. Gross (2003) 143. 77. See also Götting (1969) 73-86, Vessey (1970) 44-54, Brown (1994) 117-23, Nugent (1996) 60f., Dominik (1997) 31, Mauri (1999) 11f.,Casali (2003) 60-68, Gibson (2004) 157-66, and Ganiban (2007) 73f. 78. Cf. Vessey (1973) 171-9, Dominik (1994) 59-61, and Gervais (2008) 18-20, 79. Pearson (1917) 53 suggests Sophocles’ Lemniai “may have ended with the selling of Hypsipyle into slavery”. 80. See also Schetter (1960) 6f., Vessey (1985) 45f., Nugent (1996) 60f., and Ganiban (2007) 79. 81. Vessey (1973) 173. For Polyxo’s old age and infant children (Theb. 5.99), see also Nugent (1996) 59. 82. Cf. Dominik (1997) 57-9, Hershkowitz (1998) 47f., Gervais (2008) 32, Augoustakis (2010) 49f., and Soerink (2014) 77f. for a list of verbal echoes. The parallel between Opheltes’ death and the Lemnian manslaughter already exists in Euripides’ Hypsipyle, cf. Ganiban (2013) 250f. 83. Ganiban (2007) 79. 84. Polyxo’s four children correspond to her entourage of four virgins in Apollonius, cf. fn. 18. 85. On Charopeia coniunx (Theb. 5.159), cf. Thome (1993) 162f., Soerink (2014) 97, and Gervais (2015) 228. On the allusion to Iris’ disguise as Beroe (Aen. 5.620 Tmarii coniunx longaeva Dorycli), cf. Gervais (2008) 66. 86. A historical source of inspiration for Polyxo’s radical transformation into a child murderer could be the mother of Vettius Crispinus. Cf. Vessey (1973) 179 n.2. 87. Cf. Vessey (1973) 171-84, Thome (1993) 161-3, Taisne (1994) 240f., Dominik (1997) 56-60, Hershkowitz (1998) 47f., Ganiban (2007) 78f., and Gervais (2008) 17f. 88. Cf. Vessey (1973) 172, Dominik (1997) 33, and Delarue (2000) 315-7. 89. See also Nugent (1996) 60f. and Ganiban (2007) 79. 90. Cf. VF. 2.123-4a talem diva sibi scelerisque dolique ministram / quaerit avens. For a more detailed discussion, cf. Bahrenfuss (1951) 185-7, Delarue (1970) 444, Vessey (1973) 172f., Thome (1993) 161f., Bussi (2007) 281-9, Ganiban (2007) 78f. and Walter (2014) 211-4. 91. Cf. Vessey (1985) 45f., Dominik (1994) 59, Thome (1993) 130-81, and Hershkowitz (1998) 249-60. 92. On Statius ‘combinatorial imitation’ of Virgil’s Venus and Allecto, cf. Legras (1905) 65, Bahrenfuss (1951) 185-7, Götting (1969) 76, Hardie (1989) 5-9, Nugent (1996) 59, Parkes (2014) 330f., Soerink (2014) 77, Walter (2014) 213, and Gervais (2015) 226-8. Polyxo’s actions prefigure Tisiphone’s and Megaera’s influence on Polynices at Theb. 11.57-118. Statius’ Polyxo has also commonly been recognized as a model for Silius’ Fury Tisiphone who disguises as Murrus’ wife Tiburna to drive the Saguntine women to suicide (Sil. 2.526-649). 93. Cf. Harper Smith (1987) 74, Dominik (1997) 33, and Gervais (2008) 39-48. 94. Dominik (2012) 198. 95. Cf. Schetter (1960) 6f., Vessey (1970) 45f., and Dominik (1994) 59. 96. On structural similarities, cf. Vessey (1973) 174 and Augoustakis (2010) 47. 97. For a list of the most important verbal echoes, cf. Vessey (1973) 175 n.2. 98. Cf. Vessey (1973) 175. 99. The death of their spouses is directly linked to their sons’ death, but whereas Polyxo vows to kill her husband (Theb. 5.128-9a), whose death is only implied by the collective homicide (Theb. 5.491), Oedipus is unaware that he is indirectly announcing and causing Iocasta’s suicide (Theb. 1.68-72), which is explicitly described (Theb. 11.634-47).

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 35

100. Cf. Vessey (1973) 174. Tisiphone’s vengeful ascent to earth after Oedipus’ speech strongly resembles Venus’ descent from heaven after the exclamation of the Lemnian men in Valerius (VF. 2.115-25). 101. Vessey (1973) 174. 102. Oedipus delivers the programmatic first speech of the Thebaid and Polyxo the first embedded speech of Hypsipyle’s Lemnian narrative. See also Hubert (2013)120f. 103. Cf. Theb. 1.240b-1a meruere tuae, meruere tenebrae / ultorem sperare Iovem and Theb. 5.133b-4a deus hos, deus ultor in iras / adportat coeptisque favet. See also Dominik (1994) 25-2 and McNelis (2007) 130. 104. See also Bernstein (2008) 99f., Gervais (2008) 40f., Augoustakis (2010) 47, and Chinn (2015) 334. 105. Cf. Schetter (1960) 7 and Hershkowitz (1997) 37. 106. Cf. Soerink (2014) 184 and Chinn (2015) 334. 107. See also Hershkowitz (1998) 38, Augoustakis (2010) 84f., Chinn (2013) 332-4, and Hubert (2013) 109-26. 108. Cf. Vessey (1973) 160, Dominik (1994) 130-3, Pollmann (2004) 46f. and Bernstein (2008) 5. 109. Chinn (2015) 334. 110. See also Ganiban (2007) 141. 111. Cf. Appendix, fig. 4. The parallel between Hypsipyle’s and by extension Polyxo’s speech and that of the famously unreliable narrator Sinon (Aen. 2.108-44) calls the veracity of Polyxo’s claims into question and especially the report of Venus’ words. For verbal echoes, cf. Highet (1972) 247f. and Ganiban (2007) 75 n.14. 112. Due to Polyxo’s direct involvement, her age is not an attribute of wisdom and experience as for her Virgilian and Argonautic counterparts, but it is primarily a personal factor (Theb. 5.106b-8) that increases her anxiety about her fading fertility. For a discussion of Polyxo’s age, cf. Vessey (1973) 179. On the contrast between Valerius’ young Neaera and Statius’ aged Polyxo, cf. Harper Smith (1987) 74. 113. See also Vessey (1985) 45f. 114. Vessey (1973) 180. On the Lemnian women’s sexual aggression in Aeschylus’ Hypsipyle, cf. the Apollonian scholiast (ARh. 1.769-73). See also Dominik (1994) 5 and Nugent (1996) 60. 115. On Statius’ use of animal imagery to reflect dehumanization, cf. Franchet d’Espèrey (1999) 172-205. 116. See also Delarue (2000) 451, Keith (2000) 33, and Augoustakis (2010) 49. 117. Cf. Theb. 5.70 protinus a Lemno teneri fugistis Amores. Hypsipyle later describes her forced union with Jason and her own motherhood in similar terms: Theb. 5.465 duroque sub hospite mater / nomen avi renovo. Without the Argonautic intertexts, Polyxo’s proposal would appear extreme, if not illogical. Cf. Krumbholz (1954) 134, Vessey (1973) 179, Nugent (1996) 59, and Gervais (2015) 227f. 118. On the tradition of Polyxo as mother of the Danaides (Apollod. 2.1.5.), cf. Höfer (1909) 2745, 33-34 s.v. ‘Polyxo’ (no.3). On fatal marriages in the Thebaid and their special importance for the Argives and Thebans, cf. Thome (1993) 162, Bernstein (2015) 147, and Gervais (2015) 228. 119. Theb. 5.125b decus et solacia patris is echoed by Hypsipyle’s lament over Opheltes (Theb. 5.609b-10a o rerum et patriae solamen ademptae / servitiique decus). See also Soerink (2014) 77f. and Gervais (2015) 228. 120. Cf. Nugent (1996) 60. 121. Cf. Lipscomb (1909) 116. 122. Cf. VF. 1.245b-7 deus haec, deus omine dextro / imperat ... / Iuppiter. See also Vessey (1973) 175, Gervais (2008) 36, and Walter (2014) 213. 123. Cf. Harper Smith (1987) 78, Gervais (2008) 32, and Walter (2014) 213. 124. Vessey (1973) 181.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 36

125. Gervais (2008) 17. 126. Cf. Hypsipyle’s attribution of Opheltes’ death to Venus: Theb. 5.621f. numquam impune per umbras / attonitae mihi visa Venus. See also Lewis (1936) 50-2, Vessey (1973) 179-81, Feeney (1991) 375f., Brown (1994) 119f., Dominik (1994) 54f., McNelis (2007) 90, Gervais (2008) 28-32, and Soerink (2014) 140. 127. Cf. Schetter (1960) 55, Vessey (1973) 180f., and Gervais (2008) 17. 128. Dee (2013) 193. See also Ganiban (2007) 78. 129. Venus’ quid perditis aevum? (Theb. 5.136b) and Polyxo’s quin o miserae, dum tempus agi rem / consulite (Theb. 5.140b-1a) correspond to VF. 2.325 dum vires utero maternaque sufficit aetas. See also VF. 2.114 has agimus longi famulas tibi praemia belli. 130. Polyxo’s claim confirms Valerius’ version in which Venus forces swords into the hands of the Lemnian women (VF. 2.209-15) and drives them to murder their husbands (VF. 2.216-41). 131. Cf. Vessey (1973) 172, Gervais (2008) 68f., and Walter (2014) 212. 132. The affective gemination hoc ferrum stratis, hoc, credite, ferrum / imposuit (Theb. 5.140b-1a) recalls Theb. 5.133b-4a deus hos, deus ultor in iras / adportat coeptisque favet and Bistonides veniunt fortasse maritae (Theb. 5.142b) the more assertive proclamation in VF. 2.322-3 fatis haec, credite, puppis / advenit, VF. 2.147 iamque aderunt, thalamisque tuis Threissa propinquat, and VF. 2.158a iam veniet durata gelu. 133. Vessey (1973) 180. See also Dominik (1997) 33. 134. Hershkowitz (1998) 48. See also Theb. 12.529 ipsae autem nondum trepidae sexumve fatentur. On gender differentiation in the Thebaid, cf. Krumbholz (1954) 134 and Thome (1993) 162. 135. Cf. Götting (1969) 76, Vessey (1985) 45f., Soerink (2014) 77, Walter (2014) 213, and Gervais (2015) 228. 136. Cf. Theb. 5.192b-3a dederat mites Cytherea suprema / nocte viros. See also Krumbholz (1954) 134, Vessey (1973) 174, Dominik (1997) 31-4, Gibson (2004) 158f., McNelis (2007) 90, and Walter (2014) 211. 137. Schetter (1960) 55. See also Vessey (1973) 174f., Gibson (2004) 158f., and McNelis (2007) 90. 138. According to the Apollonian scholiast (Schol. ARh. 1.769), Statius follows the accounts of Sophocles and Aeschylus. See also Krumbholz (1954) 134, Harper Smith (1987) 142, and Gervais (2008) 15. 139. The simultaneous soothing of the storm (Theb. 5.420-44) strongly suggests divine influence. See also Vessey (1973) 177 and Gervais (2008) 106f. 140. Cf. Krumbholz (1954) 134 and Thome (1993) 162. 141. NRSA = Narrative report of a speech act. 142. M = Monologue with no reply. 143. G = General interlocution 144. D = Dialogue 145. The length of the speeches is calculated in metrical half feet. No distinction is made between a trochaic word and a monosyllabic word of one-half foot. 146. Medea is the only mortal female speaker whose occurrence is not confined to a single book (the number of books is indicated by *). 147. L1 = level 1 : primary narrator. 148. L2 = level 2 : secondary narrator. 149. L3 = level 3 : tertiary narrator. 150. L4 = level 4 : quaternary narrator.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 37

ABSTRACTS

This paper examines the main similarities and differences in the portrayal of the minor mortal female character Polyxo in Apollonius Rhodius’ and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica as well as Statius’ Thebaid. In a close reading of the three epics, Polyxo is identified as the key character of the Lemnian episode. Even though she speaks only once in oratio recta and merely appears in propria persona in one section of the episode, Polyxo is the driving force of the Lemnian narrative and her words contain striking intra- and intertextual allusions which draw attention to the drastic change her character undergoes from Apollonius’ to Statius’ adaption of the myth. The comparative analysis of her character portrayal reveals a high level of intertextual engagement and shows that a full appreciation and understanding of the respective Polyxo character and its function in the Lemnian episode and the epic plot as a whole is impossible without a careful examination of its intertexts which can retrospectively affect the interpretation and create a new meaning. As Polyxo’s portrayal is inextricably linked to the depiction of the goddess Venus, the changes in her characterization are not only the result of intertextual rivalry, but they are also reflective of the use and function of the divine apparatus in the three epics under discussion.

INDEX

Keywords: Apollonius, Argonautica, council scenes, Hercules, Hypsipyle, intertextuality, Lemnos, narratology, Polyxo, speech presentation, Statius, Thebaid, Valerius, Venus

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 38

Statius’ Nemea / paradise lost

Jörn Soerink

Introduction

1 In the fourth book of Statius’ Thebaid, the expedition of the Seven against Thebes is stranded in Nemea. Tormented by thirst – Bacchus has caused a drought in Nemea in order to delay the expedition against his favourite city – the Argives encounter Hypsipyle nursing Opheltes, son of Lycurgus and Eurydice, king and queen of Nemea. In order to guide the soldiers as fast as possible to the one remaining spring, Langia, Hypsipyle places her nurseling on the ground. When the Argives have quenched their thirst, Hypsipyle (re)tells them the story of the Lemnian massacre, which takes up most of the following book (5.49-498). In their absence, the infant Opheltes is accidentally killed by a monstrous serpent sacred to Jupiter (5.534-40).

2 The death of Opheltes nearly plunges Nemea into war. When Opheltes’ father Lycurgus hears of his son’s death (5.638-49), he wants to punish Hypsipyle for her negligence and attempts to kill her, but the Argive heroes defend their benefactress ; without the intervention of Adrastus and the seer Amphiaraus, this violent confrontation between the Argives and their Nemean allies doubtless would have ended in bloodshed (5.650-90). Moreover, when the vanguard of the Argive troops, which have already arrived in Nemea town, hear false rumours that Hypsipyle has been (or is about to be) killed, they angrily begin to attack Lycurgus’ palace ; only the intervention of king Adrastus prevents the situation from getting out of hand (5.690-709). Without Adrastus and Amphiaraus, then, readers of the Thebaid would have witnessed full-scale fighting long before the Argives’ arrival at the gates of Thebes.

3 In Statian scholarship, this aspect of the Nemean episode has received little attention. Most critical energy has been invested in Statius’ intertextual engagement with Euripides’ tragedy Hypsipyle,1 Hypsipyle’s narration, 2 and especially the Callimachean features of the Nemean episode.3 In his 2007 monograph Charles McNelis has argued that, in the Thebaid, there is a strong tension between, on the one hand, the martial epic poetics that propels the narrative forwards to the fraternas acies that are its theme and telos, and, on the other, the Callimachean poetics that diverts and delays this epic

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 39

project. Nemea, in his interpretation, looks back primarily to Callimachus’ Victoria Berenices ; it is a Callimachean locus which ‘deflects the narrative away from martial themes’.4 McNelis expands on the ideas of Joanne Brown and François Delarue, who similarly argues that in the Nemean episode ‘tout est fait [...] pour laisser croire que la guerre contre Thèbes, sontes Thebas, et à plus forte raison le conflit des fils d’Œdipe [...] sont oubliés’.5 However, in the Victoria Berenices Opheltes scarcely plays a role : the Alexandrian poet is concerned with Hercules rather than Opheltes, which makes McNelis’ claim that Statius’ story of Opheltes is ‘a Callimachean aetion for the Nemean games’6 highly problematic. We may also point out that in Statius’ version Opheltes’ father is called Lycurgus as in Euripides, not Euphetes as in Callimachus ; and Statius suppresses the element of wild celery, which plays such an important role in the Victoria Berenices. McNelis, however, persists that ‘Callimachus [...] is the Greek author upon whom Statius draws for this aetion’.7 In his eagerness to make Nemea as Callimachean as possible, he also plays down the more epic elements of Statius’ Nemea, such as Hypsipyle’s narrative about the Lemnian massacre, the Nemean serpent and its death at the hands of Capaneus, the near outbreak of war, and the games.

4 In this article, it will be argued that the Nemean episode does not deflect the narrative away from martial themes. Admittedly, Nemea is introduced as a peaceful, pastoral, Callimachean world, but with the arrival of the Argives it is brutally swept along in the poem’s maelstrom of fraternas acies. I will focus on the elements of civil war and the violent (epic) destabilisation of Nemea’s peaceful (pastoral) world. First I will lay bare the disturbing allusions to Lucan and Vergil in the aforementioned scenes (5.650-709). Then I will show how Nemea’s peace and quiet is disrupted by the incursion of the Seven against Thebes. Finally I will discuss Statius’ engagement with two Vergilian creations which, in my interpretation, are crucial for our understanding of the Nemean episode : the Calabrian water-snake in the third Georgics and the prodigious child of the fourth Eclogue. Statius’ Nemean episode, I believe, can be read as a pessimistic inversion of Vergil’s optimistic fourth Eclogue, suggesting the impossibility of an Augustan Golden Age in the Flavian poem’s world of fraternal strife.8

Near civil war in Nemea

5 It is made abundantly clear that we are to understand the hostilities between Argives and Nemeans in book 5 in terms of civil war – even though, strictly speaking, war between Argos and Nemea might not count as such. When Amphiaraus intervenes, he speaks as follows (5.669-71) :9 Amphiaraus † ait : ‘ne, quaeso ! † absistite ferro, unus auum sanguis, neue indulgete furori, tuque prior.’

6 The words unus auum sanguis (‘the blood of our ancestors is one’) state unambiguously that Lycurgus and the Seven have the same blood running through their veins. Armed conflict between Argives and Nemeans, the seer warns them, would thus be an instance of bella plus quam ciuilia. Ironically, of course, Amphiaraus’ words are equally applicable to the Argives’ expedition against Thebes, not only because Eteocles and Polynices have unus sanguis (cf. 4.398 unusque ... sanguis), but also because Argos and Thebes have unus sanguis, namely Jupiter’s (cf. 1.224-6, reworking Aen. 8.142).

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 40

7 I used the Lucanian phrase (Bellum ciuile 1.1) on purpose. As scholars have observed,10 Amphiaraus’ speech is modelled on Aen. 6.832-5, where Anchises calls upon Caesar and Pompey to cease their civil war – Caesar first of all (Aen. 6.832-5) : ne, pueri, ne tanta animis adsuescite bella neu patriae ualidas in uiscera uertite uiris ; tuque prior, tu parce, genus qui ducis Olympo, proice tela manu, sanguis meus !

8 In addition to the verbal echoes (underlined), the passages correspond in that both Amphiaraus and Anchises have knowledge of the future. The allusion suggests that the near violence between Argives and Nemeans is like the civil war between Caesar and Pompey.11

9 For the observant reader, the allusions to Caesar and Pompey need not come as a surprise. The passage under consideration begins with the heavily ironic exclamation fides superum ! (5.650) : the gods have shown fides in that the dreadful oracle about Opheltes’ death (5.647) has now become reality. The phrase fides superum is an allusion to Lucan’s Bellum ciuile (2.16-7 quantis sit cladibus orbi | constatura fides superum), where the gods show similar fides in that the portents they have sent are indeed followed by disaster. The allusion aligns the death of Opheltes with the prodigia in Lucan’s epic and, by implication, the Theban War to come with Rome’s civil war.12

10 Another unmistakable indication that the conflict between Lycurgus and his Nemean peasants versus the Seven and their Argives is to be understood as an upsurge of civil war, is found in the speech of Lycurgus, in reaction to Tydeus’ taunts (5.683-4) :13 pergite in excidium, socii si tanta uoluptas sanguinis, imbuite arma domi.

11 The phrase socii ... | sanguinis again reminds us that Argives and Nemeans are more than allies. Consciously or subconsciously, Lycurgus’ words are of course heavily ironic, since the expedition of the Seven is the result of lust for socius sanguis. Following sanguinis, the words imbuite arma domi are an unmistakable allusion to the outbreak of the civil war in the Aeneid (7.554 sanguis nouus imbuit arma, 541-2 sanguine bellum / imbuit). The allusion will be noticed easily, as the whole scene – Argive heroes confronting Lycurgus and his peasants (5.667 agrestum ... manus) – is reminiscent of the outbreak of war between the Trojans and the Latin peasants in Aeneid 7.505-39.

The epic disruption of Nemea’s pastoral world

12 That Nemea will not be safeguarded from the epic’s narrative of fraternas acies, is signalled right at the beginning of the Nemean episode, when Bacchus makes his appearance (4.652-79).14 The god brings war to Nemea, as the first line unambiguously states : marcidus edomito bellum referebat ab Haemo | Liber (4.652-3). Significantly, the god is not accompanied by satyrs or maenads, but by the grim personifications Ira, Furor, Metus, Virtus and Ardor (4.661-3).15 Bacchus’ drought implicates Nemea in the Theban War, as it leads not only to the death of Opheltes, an event which inaugurates the Seven’s doomed expedition against Thebes,16 but also, as we have seen, to the near outbreak of civil war in Nemea itself (5.650-709). The very Anger (Ira) that accompanies Bacchus, we may note, was also involved in the production of Harmonia’s necklace (2.287), which, as Charles McNelis has shown, ‘symbolises the evil, interfamilial

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 41

passions that drive the narrative’.17 If we consider the Nemean episode as mise en abyme of the epic as a whole, Bacchus plays the role that Mars will play in book 7.18

13 The disruption of Nemea is also figured in the metamorphosis of the landscape. In Thebaid 4, when the Seven against Thebes – and their readers – arrive in Nemea, they wander into an idealised landscape, which recalls not only ‘des paysages dits “idylliques” largement répandus dans la peinture romaine’,19 but also the landscapes of pastoral poetry, Vergil’s Eclogues in particular. The atmosphere contrasts starkly with the grim landscapes of the preceding books and especially with the horrid scene of the necromantic ritual at Thebes earlier in the same book (4.406-645). When the narrator introduces Nemea and invokes Phoebus to tell the Nemean interlude (4.646-51), he immediately evokes its greeneries (4.647 dumeta) and its pleasant coolness (4.646 gelidam Nemeen).20 We find refreshing waters – springs, streams and lakes (4.683-96)21 – and there is repeated reference to Nemea’s woods (e.g. 4.727 nemus, 4.746 siluas).22 Nemea is even called siluarum ... longe regina uirentum (4.832). As Brown has pointed out, to a Roman audience the very name Nemea would suggest woods (cf. nemus).23 This idealised world is typically inhabited by demigods, such as and Fauns (4.684, 696, 5.579-82, 6.95-6, 110-3).24 In short, the Nemean landscape is essentially pastoral, in stark contrast with the bleak landscapes of the first part of the epic.25

14 With Bacchus’ intervention and the arrival of the Argives, however, this landscape changes dramatically. Langia, the pure Callimachean spring, is muddied when the epic Argive soldiers plunge en masse into her gentle stream (4.823-30). 26 As a result, the female nymph (4.726 deae) becomes a swollen masculine river (4.837-50), characterised with the participle tumens, which is often used to describe the ‘swollen’ style of epic poetry. In order to stress the point, the Argives that drink from Langia’s stream are compared to an army plundering a city (4.828-30). Thus Nemea’s Callimachean stream becomes the site of epic warfare.27

15 Brown and Newlands have connected the pastoral landscape of Nemea with the idyllic landscapes of Ovid’s Metamorphoses in particular. Brown writes that ‘[w]oods so dominate the Ovidian landscape that on entering Nemea, the reader of the Thebaid is arguably obliged to recall the topography of Statius’ Augustan predecessor ; the woodland setting for Bacchus’ advent in Metamorphoses III and IV proves especially relevant’.28 Newlands points out that in Ovid the locus amoenus often sets the scene for horror and violence – one might think of Actaeon, Callisto or Salmacis. Indeed, in Ovid this pattern figures so frequently, that an idyllic wooded landscape qualitate qua forbodes violence and death. In the Thebaid, too, ‘the landscapes [...] provide a vivid canvas on which Statius displays the spreading evil of a civil war’.29 But Statius, Newlands rightly observes, goes one step further : in the Thebaid the idyllic landscapes not only provide the background for violence, the landscape itself falls victim to violence. Thus, she concludes, Statius presents ‘the dissolution of that Ovidian paradise’.30 In Statius’ Thebaid the violent destruction of an idyllic landscape symbolises the cost and suffering of civil war.

16 Later in the Nemean episode, in book 6, the pastoral landscape is again brutally destroyed, as the Argives cut down the Nemean woods in their lignatio for the funeral pyre of the serpent (6.84-117).31 In their eagerness to ‘Callimacheanise’ the Nemean episode, critics have suggested that the destruction of woods is an element taken from Callimachus’ Victoria Berenices : Brown speculates that ‘possibly the poem features the transformation of the landscape around Cleonae, as Herakles enables Molorchus to cut

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 42

down the thickets to gather firewood’.32 It has also been suggested that ueteres incaedua ferro / silua comas (6.90-1) parallels Callimachus’ phrase δρεπάνου γὰρ ἀπευθέα τέρχν[ε]α (Suppl.Hell. 257.25 ‘shoots unacquainted with the pruning hook’).33 That might be true, but that does not mean that the action itself – cutting down a sacred grove – is also Callimachean. In my view, the whole point of the passage is the very destruction of the pastoral – Callimachean if you like – world of Nemea. Not coincidentally, the trees in the passage are largely taken from Vergil’s pastoral world.34 The pastoral Nymphs, Fauns and birds that live in the sacred grove have to flee, as do the equally pastoral gods Pales and Silvanus.35 The trees that are cut down become flammis alimenta supremis (6.100). Even if the phrase should be an allusion to Callimachus’ πυρὶ δ[ε]ῖ[πνον (Suppl.Hell. 257.23), 36 Statius uses it quite differently : the pastoral trees of Nemea become fuel for the funeral pyre of the epic serpent ! Other trees end up as spears that will drink blood in war (6.102-3). And again there is a simile, comparing the destruction of the grove to the capture of a city, while the final line of the passage – minor ille fragor quo bella gerebant (6.117) – hammers down the message that the cutting down of the grove mirrors war. In their very attempt to expiate their killing of the Nemean serpent, the Argives commit yet another sacrilegious crime.37

17 Thus the trees of Nemea end up as spears and firewood – which brings to mind Statius’ use of fire imagery in the episode.38 Martial Bacchus, as we have seen, is accompanied by heat personified (4.662 Ardor).39 And at the beginning of the Nemean episode, the Argives’ desire to destroy Thebes is described as ardor (4.648-9 iam Sidonias auertere praedas, / sternere, ferre domos ardent instantque).40 As they are tormented by thirst (4.730-45), their shields become ardentes too (4.730 ardentes clipeos)41 and the fire of their weapons even inflames the sun.42 Bacchus’ intervention delays the Argives’ expedition against Thebes, but at the same time, it seems, the god’s ardor only increases their warlike furor (cf. 4.671 recalet furor). On a poetic level, the Seven’s ardor may also be connected with the calor that figures in the proem of the Thebaid, as a metaphor for the poetic frenzy that propels the narrative forward (1.3 Pierius menti calor incidit).43 In any case, the heat and fire of both Bacchus and the Seven bring destruction to cool and moist pastoral Nemea.44

18 While its waters and woods are transformed into a landscape of martial epic, Statius’ Nemea also becomes the site of quintessentially epic events. Before the near outbreak of civil war (5.650-709 discussed above), there is the ‘Drachenkampf’ with the Nemean serpent (5.554-78), which is flagged as a thoroughly epic passage with an unmistakable echo of the incipit of Vergil’s Aeneid (5.557 armorum ... uirorum). We may also point out that the reunion scene towards the end of book 5 is not simply a happy end, as Euneus and Thoas are disturbingly reminiscent of Eteocles and Polynices,45 while their mother Hypsipyle is connected with Vergil’s Latinus awash with civil war and Mezentius under attack from the Etruscans.46 The games in honour of Opheltes in book 6 also belong to the world of martial epic rather than Callimachean poetry. Helen Lovatt calls them ‘a Callimachean celebration of the small, for the death of a baby, not a hero’,47 but it should not be forgotten that this Callimachean child has been killed by an epic monster, and that the funeral games that sink him to his grave are quintessentially epic, reworking above all Iliad 23 and Aeneid 5, and intimately connected with the Theban War – as Lovatt herself has convincingly shown.48 Perhaps the games in book 6 contain an allusion to the Victoria Berenices ;49 at the same time, however, Statius suppresses the wild celery, which is central to the Hellenistic poet’s αἴτιον, in favour of

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 43

the epic prizes that Callimachus says will not be awarded in the Nemean Games. 50 The games in book 6 are clearly epic, not Callimachean.

19 Finally we may point to Hypsipyle’s epic narrative about the Lemnian massacre. It is absolutely astounding to see how various scholars, in their eagerness to ‘Callimacheanise’ Statius’ Nemea, attempt to read Hypsipyle’s narrative as a Callimachean episode. Delarue even suggests that Statius’ Lemnian episode is modelled directly on Callimachus, who ‘avait raconté la légende dans une pièce lyrique’ – a claim which he bases on nothing but one little fragment (fr. 226 Pf. ἡ Λῆμνος τὸ παλαιόν, εἴ τις ἄλλη) from a work that in all likelihood was not even about the Lemnian massacre (witness the title Πρός τοὺς ὡραίους).51 McNelis’ argument that the Lemnian massacre is spurred by Venus and therefore opposes the poem’s martial poetics (Vulcan and his necklace) does not convince either.52

20 In book 4, the Argives enter an idyllic world, but in book 7 they leave behind a barren landscape. As Newlands puts it, ‘[t]he Nemean spring and grove represent a pastoral order that is sullied by the advent of war’.53 One should not Aonium tingere Marte nemus, Propertius writes (3.3.42), but that is precisely what Statius does in his Nemean episode. 54 The locus amoenus almost becomes a locus horridus. The arrival of the Argives, in combination with Bacchus’ intervention, sweeps Nemea along in the maelstrom of civil war. The pastoral dream of Nemea is transformed into an epic nightmare.

21 In this respect, Statius’ Nemea looks back to the pastoral world of king Evander and his Arcadians in the Aeneid.55 The woods, the humble peasants, and the presence of Jupiter are reminiscent of Pallanteum and the Arcadians in book 8.56 It is significant that Lycurgus, who loses his beloved son to the expedition of the Seven against Thebes, is intertextually modelled on king Evander, who similar loses his son Pallas to the war between the Trojans and the Latins57 – Pallas also being the key model for Statius’ Arcadian puer , whose mors immatura lies at the heart of the Thebaid.58

Nemea as paradise lost : Vergil’s fourth Eclogue

22 The monstrous serpent’s killing of the innocent child Opheltes inverts the more optimistic scenario in which promising babies are said to be safe from snakes, such as Iamos in Pindar’s sixth Olympian (Ol. 6.43-63) or the Horatian puer in the fourth Roman Ode (Carm. 3.4.17-8 ut tuto ab atris corpore uiperis / dormirem), or even conquer snakes, as does the infant Hercules in Pindar’s first Nemean and Theocritus 24.59 Most importantly, I believe, the death of Opheltes is an inversion – or perhaps annihilation – of Vergil’s fourth Eclogue, which famously heralds the birth of a prodigious child and the death of the evil serpent.

23 Since babies are rare in classical literature, Statius’ remarkable description of Opheltes playing around in the idyllic Nemean landscape (4.793-803) immediately brings to mind the most famous puer of Latin literature : the ‘Wunderkind’ of Vergil’s fourth Eclogue, who inhabits a similar landscape, the symbolic landscape of the Golden Age.60 The connection is reinforced by the emphasis on nourishment and flowers, as well as the intimate connection between child and earth, puer and tellus.61 The allusion to Vergil’s fourth Eclogue is underscored by the emphasis on Nemea’s siluae (‘woods’). Whereas Brown connects Nemea’s siluae with Statius’ Siluae62– which, between brackets, had not yet been published under that title before 92 AD63 – in my view the Nemean woods, in

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 44

combination with other pastoral buzzwords such as agrestis, primarily serve to evoke the pastoral landscapes of Vergil’s Eclogues, which are symbolically represented as siluae by Vergil himself.64 The word figures most prominently at the beginning of the fourth poem, Ecl. 4.3 si canimus siluas, siluae sint consule dignae. The end of book 4, with Opheltes in the idyllic landscape (4.793-800), surely recalls Vergil’s prophetic child (cf. esp. Ecl. 4.18-25). Vergil mentions the death of the serpent (4.24 occidet et serpens), creature par excellence and symbol of the powers that threaten the peaceful and prosperous world which the poem prophesies. In the Golden Age there is no place for snakes.65 Statius pointedly inverts Vergil’s scenario, as the serpent brings death to the child.66

24 That the Thebaid engages the poetic discourse on the Golden Age need not come as a surprise.67 The poem’s central theme, the nefas of fraternal strife, is one of the most prominent symbols of the degeneration of the Golden Age. As such it figures prominently in the finale of Catullus’ epyllion (64.399 perfudere manus fraterno sanguine fratres), where there is also mention of the incestuous relationship between mother and son (cf. 64.403 ignaro mater substernens se impia nato), which cannot fail to recall Theban myth. In Ovid’s narrative of decline we find fraternal strife too, as characteristic of the Iron Age (cf. Met. 1.145 fratrum quoque gratia rara est).68 And in Hesiod’s account the expedition of the Seven against Thebes and the Trojan War mark the beginning of the Heroic Age (Op. 161-3).69 In Thebaid 11, when Pietas leaves the earth and Jupiter turns his eyes away, we may be reminded of the climactic moment in the story of Atreus and Thyestes,70 but there is also an allusion to Astraea and the gods’ departure at the end of the Golden Age.

25 The allusions to Vergil’s fourth Eclogue can be seen to have a political dimension. In Augustan ideology serpents and often represent the powers that threaten the Pax Augusta, which itself is often figured as a return to the Golden Age.71 In the bleak world of the Thebaid, however, the optimistic aurea aetas prophesied in Eclogue 4 is utterly impossible : in the golden dream of the fourth Eclogue there is no place for the evil serpent, in Statius’ nightmarish epic there is no place for the innocent child.72 Thus, on a political level, the death of Opheltes can be connected with the Thebaid’s ‘rupture with Augustan optimism’ after Rome’s traumatic relapse into civil war in 68-69 AD.73 Statius’ Nemea, too, is affected by the horrors of civil war ; it is a paradise lost.74

Statius’ Vergilian plot : Georgics and Culex

26 We have seen that Nemea, inhabited by an infant reminiscent of the symbolic puer of Vergil’s fourth Eclogue, is associated with the Golden Age world. On closer inspection, however, it soon becomes clear that Nemea is not really a paradisal world. It is inhabited by shepherds and farmers, who do not belong to the Golden Age,75 for instance, and it harbours an enormous serpent (contrast Ecl. 4.24 occidet et serpens). In Vergil’s pastoral world, we may note, serpents are not entirely absent, witness the proverbial anguis in herba ( Ecl. 3.93-4). Perhaps Statius recreates Vergil’s pastoral world ? On even closer inspection, I would argue, Statius’ Nemea recreates neither the Golden Age world of the fourth Eclogue, nor the idealised world of pastoral poetry generally, but the complex world of Vergil’s Georgics.

27 In the first place, the Nemean serpent is sacred not to Saturn, but to his son Jupiter, who presides over Nemea (cf. 5.511 Inachio ... Tonanti) as he presides over the post-

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 45

lapsarian world. In the first book of the Georgics Jupiter famously puts an end to the Golden Age of his father Saturn, in order that men should employ their skills and labour (Geo. 1.118-46) ; the god’s very first action is to ‘add evil poison to dark snakes’ (1.129 ille malum uirus serpentibus addidit atris). This venomous Jovian serpent seems to underlie the Jovian serpent that looms dangerously in Statius’ Nemea. In the Georgics, as elsewhere, these dark snakes are the symbol par excellence of the calamities that threaten mankind, of the dark forces of nature that we must attempt to overcome – often in vain – with our toilsome labor improbus. And the clear allusion to Molorchus in 4.159 not only points to Callimachus, but also to the second proem of the Georgics (3.19).

28 Secondly, the very plot of the Nemean episode realises a scenario from Vergil’s Georgics. The death of Opheltes, who falls asleep in the meadow and is killed by the thirst- maddened serpent, looks back to Vergil’s Calabrian water-snake (Geo. 3.425-39) : 76 as long as streams gush forth from their sources, as long as the earth is moist, the Calabrian snake lives peacefully, lingering on river banks and feeding on fish and frogs ; when the snake is tormented by thirst, however, it changes into a lethal monster. The passage ends with the explicit warning not to fall asleep when that serpent is around (3.435-9). These lines certainly inform the death of Opheltes in the second half of Thebaid 5. Like its Calabrian counterpart, the Nemean serpent normally lives peacefully, dwelling on the river banks (5.514-7) ; when tormented by heat, however, it becomes ferocious (5.518-28).77 In Statius, Vergil’s worst case scenario becomes reality : Opheltes, or rather his nurse Hypsipyle, does not heed Vergil’s warning, and the innocent child falls asleep – and falls victim to the serpent. The structural and thematic parallels are reinforced by verbal echoes.78 It is also worth noting that the didactic poet advises to kill the snake with rock and with wood (Verg. Geo. 3.420-2), a scheme that we also find in Statius (Hippomedon’s rock and Capaneus’ spear in 5.558-74). On the brink of death, the snake flees away (3.422-4), something we also find in Statius (5.574-8). We may point out that in the remaining fragments of Euripides’ Hypsipyle there is nothing that suggests that the serpent that kills Opheltes is maddened by thirst, nothing that suggests that Opheltes has fallen asleep. These two elements are taken directly from the Georgics.

29 The Georgics is an immensely complex poem, and one should be careful not to reduce it to a simple moralistic message. Yet if there is one lesson to be learnt from Vergil’s didactic poem, it is that human life is fragile, that human existence is an everlasting struggle with the hostile powers of nature, against which men – and animals – are ultimately powerless. One of the most important passages, in this respect, is the poet’s discourse on diseases and the poignant description of the plague that concludes the third book (Geo. 3.440-566). And it is precisely this most somber episode to which the description of the Calabrian serpent forms a prelude. From a didactic perspective, the passage instructs farmers how to keep snakes away from their flocks and herds ; on a symbolic level, however, the Calabrian serpent can be read as a powerful symbol of the disastrous forces of nature that dominate the remainder of Georgics 3. The Nemean serpent in the Thebaid, as I have argued elsewhere, does the same.79

30 Statius’ engagement with Georgics 3 also seems to involve the pseudo-Vergilian Culex. The Culex does not figure prominently in discussions of the Thebaid or any other post- Vergilian poem : for modern readers the Culex is not Vergilian and therefore not important. We should remember, however, that Statius and other poets of the late first century AD regarded the Culex as an authentic Vergilian poem.80 The plot of the Culex – a

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 46

dangerous snake threatens to kill a sleeping goatherd – is clearly inspired by Georgics 3, where Vergil’s didactic persona warns his pupils not to fall asleep when a dangerous snake is around.81 Moreover, the serpent in the Culex also seems to represent the forces that threaten the idyllic pastoral world described at length in the first part of the poem : Janka plausibly suggests that in this respect the Culex looks back to Eclogue 4 : ‘Die Schlange als Symbol der Depravation, Falschheit und Gewaltsamkeit hat der CD [Culex-Dichter] vielleicht aus der Prophetie der vierten Ekloge übernommen [...] Die großartige Vision vom neuen, paradiesischen Goldzeitalter würde so zum scherzepischen Schlangentod verflacht.’82

31 That Statius has in mind the Culex as well as Georgics 3 is suggested by some striking verbal echoes in the description of the Nemean serpent.83 Other points of contact are the death of the Culex’ minuscule protagonist and the erection of an elaborate funeral monument which concludes the poem.84 When Opheltes falls asleep, he seems to play the role of the goatherd, but in the somber Thebaid there is no mosquito to save his life. Later, Opheltes rather plays the role of the little insect : as the death of the mosquito saves the life of the goatherd, so the death of Opheltes saves the lives of the Argives. It is tempting to see a further connection in that the Culex presents itself as a prelude vis- à-vis Vergil’s Aeneid, while the Nemean episode acts as a prelude to the Theban War in the second half of the Thebaid.85

Conclusion

32 We have seen that Statius’ Nemea does not ‘deflect the narrative away from martial themes’, as McNelis has argued. Although Nemea is introduced as an idyllic world, as a result of Bacchus’ intervention its peace and quiet is brutally disrupted by the incursion of the Seven against Thebes. The epic Argives destroy Nemea’s pastoral streams, woods and coolness. The death of Opheltes destabilises Nemea, as it deprives the king of Nemea of his heir and leads to near bloodshed. Allusions to Lucan and Vergil underscore that these (mythical) hostilities are to be understood in terms of (historical) bella plus quam ciuilia. Statius’ Nemean episode takes its plot from Vergil’s Calabrian water-snake in Georgics 3 (and the Culex) : Vergil’s didactic persona had warned not to fall asleep when such a dangerous snake is around ; in Statius’ somber universe, this warning is not heeded, which results in the death of Opheltes. The death of this innocent child not only plunges Nemea in near civil war, it is also a pessimistic inversion of Vergil’s fourth Eclogue. On a poetic level, we witness the epic dissolution of Nemea’s pastoral world. On a political level, the Nemean episode seems to suggest the impossibility of an Augustan Golden Age in the Flavian poem’s disturbing universe of nefas.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aricò, G. (1961) ‘Stazio e l’Ipsipile euripidea. Note sull’imitazione staziana’, Dioniso 35 : 56-67.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 47

Augoustakis, A. (2010) Motherhood and the Other. Fashioning Female Power in Flavian Epic (Oxford).

Brown, J. (1994) Into the Woods. Narrative Studies in the Thebaid of Statius with Special Reference to Books IV-VI (diss. Cambridge).

Cazzaniga, I. (1959) ‘Alcuni colori nicandrei in Stazio e Claudiano (Theb. V, 505 ; Gigant. II, 25)’, Acme 12 : 125-9.

Colace, P.R. (1982) ‘Il nuovo Callimaco di Lille, Ovidio e Stazio’, RFIC 110 : 140-9.

Deipser, B. (1881) De P. Papinio Statio Vergilii et Ovidii imitatore. Accedit appendix critica (diss. Argentorati [Strasbourg]).

Delarue, F. (2000) Stace, poète épique. Originalité et cohérence (Louvain & Paris).

Dominik, W.J. (1994) Speech and Rhetoric in Statius’ Thebaid (Hildesheim).

Fantham, E. (2009) Latin Poets and Italian Gods (Toronto).

Ganiban, R.T. (2013) ‘The death and funeral rites of Opheltes in the Thebaid’ in : A. Augoustakis (ed.) Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic (Oxford) 249-65.

Gibson, B. (2004) ‘The Repetitions of Hypsipyle’ in : M. Gale (ed.) Latin Epic and Didactic Poetry. Genre, Tradition and Individuality (Swansea) 149-80.

Hinds, S. (1998) Allusion and Intertext (Cambridge).

Janka, M. (2005) ‘Prolusio oder Posttext ? Zum intertextuellen Stammbaum des hypervergilischen Culex’ in : N. Holzberg (ed.) Die Appendix Vergiliana. Pseudepigraphen im literarischen Kontext (Tübingen) 28-67.

Leigh, M. (1999) ‘Lucan’s Caesar and the sacred grove : deforestation and enlightenment in antiquity’ in : P. Esposito & L. Nicastri (edd.) Interpretare Lucano : miscellanea di studi (Napoli) 167-205.

Lovatt, H. (2005) Statius and Epic Games : Sport, Politics, and Poetics in the Thebaid (Cambridge).

McNelis, C. (2007) Statius’ Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War (Cambridge).

Nauta, R.R. (2002) Poetry for Patrons. Literary Communication in the Age of (Leiden).

Newlands, C.E. (2004) ‘Ovid and Statius : Transforming the Landscape’, TAPhA 134.1 : 133-55.

Newlands, C.E. (2012) Statius, Poet between Rome and Naples. Bristol Classical Press.

Nugent, S.G. (1996) ‘Statius’ Hypsipyle : following in the footsteps of the Aeneid’, Scholia 5 : 46-71.

Parkes, R. (2012) Statius, Thebaid 4. Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Oxford).

Pavan, A. (2009) La gara delle quadrighe e il gioco della guerra. Saggio di commento a P. Papinii Statii Thebaidos liber VI 238-549 (Alessandria).

Thomas R.F. (1988), Virgil, Georgics, 2 vol. (Cambridge).

Thomas R.F. (2004-2005), ‘Torn between Jupiter and Saturn : ideology, rhetoric and culture wars in the Aeneid’, CJ 100: 121-147.

Seelentag, S. (2012) Der pseudovergilische Culex. Text – Übersetzung – Kommentar (Stuttgart).

Soerink, J. (2014a) ‘Tragic / Epic : Statius’ Thebaid and Euripides’ Hypsipyle’ in : A. Augoustakis (ed.) Flavian Poetry and Its Greek Past (Leiden) 171-91.

Soerink, J. (2014b) Beginning of Doom. Statius Thebaid 5.499-753. Introduction, Text Commentary (diss. Groningen).

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 48

Taisne, A.M. (1972) ‘Le rôle du serpent dans la mythologie de Stace’, Caesarodunum 7 : 357-80.

Vessey, D.W.T.C. (1970) ‘Notes on the Hypsipyle episode in Statius : Thebaid 4-6’, BICS 17 : 44-55.

Vessey, D.W.T.C. (1973) Statius and the Thebaid (Cambridge).

Vessey, D.W.T.C. (1986) ‘Pierius menti calor incidit : Statius’ epic style’, ANRW II 32.5 (Berlin-New York) 2965-3019.

NOTES

1. Aricò 1961, Vessey 1970, Brown 1994 : 57-93, Soerink 2014a. 2. Nugent 1996, Gibson 2004. 3. Brown 1994 : 30-56, Delarue 2000 : 123-40, McNelis 2007, Soerink 2014b : 47-56. 4. McNelis 2007 : 77. 5. Delarue 2000 : 135. 6. McNelis 2007 : 12 ; cf. 128 with n. 9. 7. McNelis 2007 : 91. 8. This article builds on chapter 5 of my dissertation, Soerink 2014b : 57-67. 9. Most editors read Amphiaraus ait : ‘ne, quaeso ! absistite ferro’. Although there are parallels for quaeso in Latin epic (e.g. 3.389, 6.171, 12.305, Aen. 8.573, 12.72-3, Val. 7.478, 8.280), the elliptical ‘ne, quaeso !’ is extremely awkward and without parallel. In an attempt to produce one fluent sentence, Hall conjectures adsistite : ‘Do not, I pray, make your stand with the sword’. However, ne ... adsistite is extremely unlikely in the light of Aen. 11.307 (Latinus speaking) nec uicti possunt absistere ferro (Deipser 1881 : 27 notes the parallel) ; cf. also Aen. 6.259 totoque absistite luco, Val. 3.451 absistite bellis. In my opinion, the text is corrupt. In addition to the awkard ‘ne, quaeso !’, the word ait cannot stand : like inquit, ait is always inserted after the commencement of the speech (for Statius’ speeches with ait see Dominik 1994 : 342-6). An alternative to ait does not easily present itself. There seems to be no other uerbum dicendi that fits the hexameter. Sometimes Statius omits the uerbum dicendi (see Dominik 1994 : 19 ; cf. e.g. 4.832) : could that be the case here ? In some MSS we find agit, which does not make sense. Perhaps adit (cf. 10.205) ? That seems unlikely after the preposition inter (667). ne seems to be warranted by neue in the following line (and by the Vergilian intertext). 10. Deipser (1881 : 30 ; cf. Parkes on 4.836). 11. The Vergilian passage also underlies 4.401 tu peior, tu cede (a few lines after 4.398 unusque ... sanguis mentioned above), where a maenad foresees a fight between two bulls (i.e. Eteocles and Polynices), aligning the fraternas acies of the poem with Roman civil war. 12. In 5.588-604 Statius reworks Luc. 2.20-8, which again puts the Theban War in the Thebaid on a par with the civil war in Lucan’s Bellum ciuile. See Soerink 2014b ad loc. 13. My interpunction follows Shackleton Bailey and Hall ; others punctuate pergite in excidium socii, si tanta uoluptas, / sanguinis. However, theenjambment and an oxymoronic combination of uoluptas and socii sanguinis seems congenial to Statius ; cf. the conditional clauses in 10.431-2 regem si tanta cupido / condere and 11.433 sceptri si tanta cupido est, where we find similar features : postponed si, enjambment, and a genitive or epexegetic infinitive that specifies cupido (cf. also 7.22 ferrique insana uoluptas, 10.266-7 uoluptas / caedis). 14. Brown has argued that the god’s entrance can also be read metapoetically as an indication that the following episode will be in tragic fashion, as the Nemean episode takes its plot from Euripides’ Hypsipyle (Brown 1994 : 57-9 ; cf. Soerink 2014a : 177-8). 15. Critics have been troubled by these companions, ‘more suited to the entourage of Mars, a god who also might be expected to arrive from Thrace’, than to Bacchus (Parkes on 4.661-3). Parkes

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 49

solves the problem by saying that ‘Statius emphasizes the martial aspect [...] in order to build up to the anticlimatic refusal of the god to use these forces’ (Parkes ibid.). Delarue even argues that Bacchus, despite everything, is a Callimachean figure, because the Mimallones (4.660) in his train are also mentioned in a fragment of Callimachus (Delarue 2000 : 127-8 ; cf. Callim. fr. inc. 503 Pf.). The one-sided emphasis on Nemea’s Callimachean aspects has blinded critics to the obvious : Bacchus brings war. 16. Soerink 2014b : 72-8. 17. See McNelis 2007 : 50-75 ; the citation is from Newlands 2012 : 86. 18. On the Nemean episode as mise en abyme see Soerink 2014b : 68-84. 19. Taisne 1972 : 358. 20. Brown’s argument that gelidam ‘casts a mysterious chill over the scene, recalling Eteocles’ ghastly lucus’ (1994 : 21-2) does not convince. Admittedly, the word also occurs in Statius’ description of the bleak Theban forest, but cold is not something ‘sinister’ (ibid. 17) in itself ; it takes its associations, positive or negative, from the context. And in the description of Nemea, as in other descriptions of idyllic landscapes, words like gelidus clearly refer to the pleasant coolness of shade (cf. e.g. Aen. 8.159 Arcadiae gelidos ... finis, Ov. Met. 2.455 nemus gelidum). 21. Bacchus’ speech (4.684-96) is notable for its variation in ‘water words’ ; we find fluuiorum, fontibus, amnes, stagna, riuos, liquor and gurgite. 22. Cf. 5.10, 6.91, 113, 155 etc. In the Siluae Nemea is given the epithet frondens (1.3.6). 23. Brown 1994 : 9 with n. 56. In Ʃ Pind. Nem. hypoth. c we find two Greek etymologies : the name should derive either from the nymph Nemea, daughter of and , or ἀπὸ τῶν βοῶν τῶν ὑπὸ Ἄργου νεμομένων ἐν τῷ χωρίῳ. 24. See Fantham 2009 : 181-4. 25. Elsewhere Statius employs the ideal locus amoenus to emphasise the horrors of the underworld. When Laius is leaving the underworld, an anonymous shade cries : heu dulces uisure polos solemque relictum / et uirides terras et puros fontibus amnes, tristior has iterum tamen intrature tenebras (2.23-4) ; cf. also 1.89-90 inamoenum Cocyton. Later in book 2, when Statius describes the locus horridus of the Sphinx, he calls attention to the very absence of Fauns and (2.521-2). 26. See McNelis 2007 : 87-8 ; Brown 1994 : 202 ; Parkes 2012 : xxiii ‘We may read this pollution as a signal of the narrative’s return to traditional martial epic’, with her note on 4.824-7. The source of muddied rivers as symbols of epic poetry is Callim. Ap. 108-12. 27. The epic character of the scene also appears from its being echoed in Hippomedon’s fight with the river in 9.225-569. 28. Brown 1994 : 12. 29. Newlands 2004 : 133. 30. Newlands 2004 : 134. 31. See Brown 1994 : 199-203 ; Newlands 2004 : 144-5 ; Ganiban 2013 : 260-1. 32. Brown 1994 : 50, in her extensive discussion of Callimachus’ poem, not making the connection with Statius. 33. Colace 1982 : 148 ; Brown 1994 : 45, 200 ; McNelis 2004 : 272. However, Statius may have in mind Ovid rather than Callimachus, cf. Am. 3.1.1 stat uetus et multos incaedua silua per annos, Fast. 2.435-6 multis incaeduus annis / Iunonis magnae nomine lucus erat, and esp. Met. 3.28 silua uetus stabat nulla uiolata securi. Cf. also Silv. 5.2.69-70 nescia falcis / silua. 34. In addition to its primary model Aen. 6.179-82, where the Trojans hew down a primordial Italian grove for Misenus’ pyre (a passage with clear metapoetic overtones ; see Hinds 1998 : 11-4), the catalogue of trees recalls Ecl. 6.1-8, 7.61-8 (Brown 1994 : 24, 202), while the destruction of the grove also looks back to Luc. 3.399-452 ; see Ganiban 2013 : 260-1 with references. 35. On the Italian inhabiting the Greek grove see Fantham 2009 : 181-4, Newlands 2012 : 34 ; cf. Ganiban 2013 : 261.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 50

36. Colace 1982 : 147-8 ; cf. Brown 1994 : 45 and 200, McNelis 2004 : 272. In all likelihood, however, Statius took his inspiration from some Latin predecessor, e.g. Ov. Met. 14.532 alimentaque cetera flammae (see further Fortgens ad loc.). 37. Ganiban 2013 : 261. On the sacrilegious aspects of deforestation see Frazer on Ov. Fast. 4.751, Hollis on Ov. Met. 8.741-2 and esp. Leigh (1999). It may be worth noting that, before they were conquered by Theseus, the Amazons also used to fell trees (12.526). 38. Although biographical approaches are no longer in vogue, it is possible that Statius’ description of the scorched landscape is connected with the eruption of Mt Vesuvius in 79 AD, on which his father was writing a poem when death overtook him (see Silv. 3.5.72-4, 4.4.178-86, Nauta 2002 : 195-6, 199). 39. This personifcation is probably a Statian innovation (Parkes ad loc.). 40. The destructive plague of Apollo is also described in terms of fire, cf. 1.634-5 ab aethere laeuus / ignis, 654 ignique, 662-3 ardentem ... Letoiden. 41. Parkes ad loc. notes that ardentes not only means ‘flashing’, but also ‘conveys the hotness of the sun-baked metal shields’. 42. 4.665 solem radiis ignescere ferri, an extremely daring inversion ; see Parkes ad loc. 43. Newlands (2012 : 59-60) nicely observes that the poem’s closure is associated with water, as the Thebaid reaches its harbour (12.809). For the narrator’s poetic furor cf. also 12.808 nouus ... furor. 44. Statius is not the first to assimilate the destructiveness of war to fire ; the metaphor has a long literary history ; see Harrison on Aen. 10.405-11, Tarrant on Aen. 12.521-6 and cf. e.g. Il. 11.153-7, 15.605-6, 20.490-2, Ap.Rh. 1.1026-8 ; Ross 2007 : 24 points out that the Georgics too ‘returns again and again to the opposition of fire and water, the destructiveness of war opposed to civilizing progress’. 45. The passage has always been read as an illustration of familial pietas, the loving brothers Thoas and Euneus contrasting with the sons of Oedipus (e.g. Vessey 1973 : 190, Brown 1994 : 218 n. 123, Lovatt 2005 : 26, McNelis 2007 : 92-3). Yet their brotherly pietas is seriously contaminated by some disturbing intra- and intertextual echoes. The description of the embrace (5.721-2 matremque auidis complexibus ambo | diripiunt alternaque ad pectora mutant) is troubled by the violent diripiunt, while auidis seems to have erotic overtones, esp. after causa uiae genetrix (5.715), which echoes Ov. Met. 10.23 causa uiae est coniunx and thus aligns Euneus’ and Thoas’ search for their mother with Orpheus’ quest for Eurydice, suggesting oedipal desires (often suggested for Eteocles and Polynices, see Hershkowitz 1998 : 271-82, 4.88 with Parkes, 7.499 teris with Smolenaars). We may also remember that the twins have been raised by Lycaste (a name that might echo Acaste, nurse of Argia and Deipyle, cf. 1.529-31), who killed her twin brother (cf. 5.226-35, 467). Most importantly, the phrase alternaque ad pectora mutant cannot fail to recall Eteocles and Polynices (cf. e.g. 1.138-9, 2.444, 10.800-1). Perhaps Hypsipyle’s sons, eager to hold and unable to share, are not so different from Eteocles and Polynices after all ? 46. Statius’ simile in 5.723-4 clearly echoes Vergil’s in Aen. 7.586-90 and 10.693-6. See Soerink 2014b ad loc. 47. Lovatt 2005 : 13. Cf. Brown 1994 : 54, who sees Callimachus’ influence ‘in the “magnification” of the tiny and domestic at the expense of the huge and heroic’. McNelis argues that the Nemean Games are essentially Callimachean, with reference to Prop. 2.34.37-8, where according to McNelis ‘Propertius singles out Archemorus’ funeral games as part of the Theban story that is appropriate for a Callimachean’ (2007 : 19) ; these controversial lines, however, may well express the very opposite idea (see Fedeli on Prop. 2.34.33-40). 48. Lovatt 2005 : 29, passim ; cf. most explicit 6.456-9. 49. 6.438-9 prior Hippodamus fert ora sequentum, / fert gemitus multaque umeros incenditur (cf. 6.603-5) may recall Suppl.Hell. 254.8-10 ἔθρεξαν προ[τέρω]ν οὔτινας ἡνιόχων / ἄσθματι χλι[αίνοντε]ς ἐπωμίδας ‘they ran nor did they warm with their breath the shoulders of anyone in

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 51

front of them’ (Colace 1982 : 144 ; cf. McNelis 2004 : 272). However, as Colace 1982 : 144 points out, ‘l’identità della situazione e l’impiego della medesima immagine basterebbero a garantire la presenza diretta del testo callimacheo alla memoria del poeta latino, se un’analisi di tutta la sezione della Tebaide relativa ai giochi non rivelasse altri preziosi echi tratti dalla Victoria Berenices’, and the phrase could also derive from Il. 23.380-1 πνοιῇ δ’ Εὐμήλοιο μετάφρενον εὐρέε τ’ ὤμω / θέρμετο (which underlies Callimachus ; cf. Colace loc. cit.) and Geo. 3.111 umescunt spumis flatuque sequentum (which looks back to Homer and, perhaps, Callimachus ; see Thomas ad loc.) ; see Pavan on 6.438-9 (who does not even mention Callimachus). 50. Despite Aet. fr. 58 Harder ἄξονται δ’ οὐχ ἵππον ἀέθλιον, οὐ μὲν ἐχῖνον / βουδόκον (‘and as a prize they will receive no racing-horse, no cauldron able to contain an ox’), in Statius we find a horse (6.644 equum) and a Herculean bowl (6.531-2 cratera ... Herculeum). 51. Delarue 2000 : 131. 52. McNelis 2007 : 90-1. Cf. also Augoustakis’ claim that ‘the middle of the Thebaid is transformed into an extensive Herois’ (2010 : 32), which similarly denies its epic nature. 53. Newlands 2012 : 52. 54. Cf. Ach. 1.10 Aonium nemus, where it refers to the grove of the Muses as well as the Thebaid. 55. Cf. Parkes 2012 : xxxiii n. 90 ‘in some respects the interlude at Nemea is also evocative of the pastoral delay of Aeneid 8 (cf. the stories of Hypsipyle in Theb. 5 and Evander in A. 8)’. Brown 1994 : 53-4 connects Thebaid 4-6 and Aeneid 8 in that both episodes look back to Callimachus’ Victoria Berenices, which underlies the theme of ‘theoxenic aetiology’ as well as Hercules’ presence in Aeneid 8. 56. Cf. Aen. 8.102-89, 306-69, 454-585 ; woods e.g. 8.104 and 125 luco, 8.108, 345 and 351 nemus, 314 haec nemora, 342 lucum ingentem, 348 siluestribus ... dumis, 350 siluam ; humble lifestyle 8.100 res inopes, 105 pauper, 176 gramineo ... sedili, 178 solio ... acerno, 360 pauperis Euandri, 455 humili tecto, 543 paruosque penatis ; presence of Jupiter 8.351-4 ; there is also mention of nymphs, Aen. 8.314, 336, 339. 57. Conspicuous echoes include 5.638-9 ~ Aen. 11.139-40, 5.651-2 ~ Aen. 11.145-6. 58. For the connection between Nemea and Arcadia cf. also Aen. 12.517-9 et iuuenem exosum nequiquam bella Menoeten, / Arcada, piscosae cui circum flumina Lernae / ars fuerat pauperque domus etc. and Val.Fl. 1.35-6 olim Lernae defensus ab angue / Arcas. 59. Brown 1994 : 137-42 discusses the ‘Wunderkind’ in the two Pindaric odes ; later (144-5) she also mentions Hor. Carm. 3.4.9-20. Strikingly, the Horatian puer falls asleep ludo fatigatumque somno (3.4.11), which parallels 5.502-4, while the poem also features a nurse (3.4.10 nutricis). Another example, we may note, is Glaucias in Silv. 2.1.48-9 cui sibila serpens / poneret. 60. Vessey 1973 : 105 ‘One is reminded of Virgil’s fourth Bucolic in which the birth of an infant is said to herald a new Golden Age ; in the Thebaid, the death of two babies [Opheltes and Linus] portends doom’. Brown 1994 : 133 develops the idea. In scholarly discussions of the Thebaid, however,Vergil’s Eclogues hardly play a role. Statius’ engagement with the Eclogues, according to silent communis opinio, occurs in his Siluae, not in his epic poetry : ‘The title [Siluae] also surely refers to Virgil’s programmatic use of the word siluae in the Eclogues. The connection with the Eclogues gives an attractive symmetry to St[atius]’s poetic corpus ; in his Thebaid he acknowledges the importance of the Aeneid (Theb. 12.816-7), and in the Siluae he makes literary homage to the Eclogues which, like St[atius]’s poems, strikingly intermingle naturalism and artifice, fantasy and politics’ (Newlands 2012 : 6-7). 61. Opheltes is called puer in 4.793, 5.539 ; Vergil uses the same word in Ecl. 4.8, 18, 60 and 62. Cf. Theb. 4.788 floribus aggestis (with Parkes’ note) and Ecl. 4.23 ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores. For tellus cf. Ecl. 4.14 terras, 19 tellus, etc. Brown 1994 : 133 connects 4.796 renidens with the child’s smile in Ecl. 4.60-3. 62. Brown 1994 : 22-9. One of her central arguments is that, as the Nemean episode in the Thebaid delays the epic expedition of the Seven, so Statius’ Siluae delay his epic project (cf.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 52

1.5.8-9) ; and the many ecphrases in the Siluae, she ventures, have their counterpart in Hypsipyle’s narrative, ‘itself a form of narrative ecphrasis’ (28). 63. See Nauta 2002 : 249-50. On the possible relevance of Lucan’s Siluae nothing can be said. 64. Cf. Ecl. 1.2 siluestram ... musam, 6.2 nostra nec erubuit siluas habitare Thalea. Newlands 2012 : 9 n. 54 ‘The Augustan poet uses siluae as a collective image for his Eclogues’. We may add that siluae also represents the Eclogues in the false (but ancient) proem to the Aeneid, 1.1b egressus siluis. On the title Siluae, which not only looks back to Vergil’s Eclogues, but also carries associations with Greek ὕλη, speedy composition and (perhaps) variety, see Nauta 2002 : 252-4, Newlands 2011 : 6-7 with references. 65. Cf. Alfred Tennyson To Virgil ‘summers of the snakeless meadow’. For the serpent as symbol of the powers that threaten peace and prosperity, we may also compare the laudes Italiae in the second book of the Georgics, where Vergil also mentions the absence of snakes : nec rapit immensos orbis per humum neque tanto / squameus in spiram tractu se colligit anguis (Geo. 2.153-4). For snakes as symbols of evil cf. also Aen. 7.753-5, Hor. Ep. 16.52 neque intumescit alta uiperis humus. 66. Statius’ emphatically enjambed occidis (5.538) might even echo Ecl. 4.24-5 occidet et serpens, et fallax herba ueneni / occidet. 67. Cf. McNelis 2007 : 174. 68. Where the preceding phrase, Met. 1.145 non socer a genero [sc. tutus], could be applied to Adrastus and Polynices. 69. Cf. also the extensive account in [Sen.] Oct. 391-434. 70. Cf. Sen. Thy. 249 (Pietas), 1021, 1035-6, 1070. Statius refers several times to Atreus and Thyestes, cf. 1.325, 2.184, 3.308-10, 4.308, 6.280, 284, 11.127-9. 71. See McNelis 2007 : 47-8 with references. 72. Cf. Ganiban 2013 : 258 ‘Perhaps we might also recall description of the Golden Age, such as in Eclogues 4.23-4, wherin flowers will form cradles (cunabula), and the serpens will die. The deaths of Statius’ Opheltes and Linus both would then suggest the opposite of a Golden Age.’ 73. The phrase is borrowed from Newlands 2012 : 3-4. 74. In the previous section we have seen that the dissolution of pastoral in favour of epic looks back to the second half of the Aeneid. Statius’ engagement with the fourth Eclogue and the poetic discourse of the Golden Age can also be connected with the Aeneid : in Thomas’ reading of the poem (Thomas 2004-2005), the primitive world of the Italians is a ‘golden’ Saturnian world, which the arrival of the Trojans and the following war corrupts into an ‘iron’ Jovian world. For a brief discussion and references see Lovatt 2005 : 147 n. 12. 75. Cf. e.g. 4.715 pastorum, 5.512 agricolae, 667 agrestum ... manus and also 4.681 aruis, 702-4 seges ... culmi ... pecus ... armenta. 76. To my knowledge, only Cazzaniga 1959 : 127 n. 4 has noted the parallel. Vessey 1986 : 2981-3 points to the relevance of the Calabrian water-snake for the snake simile in 2.410-4, but is silent on its connection with the Nemean serpent. 77. Theb. 5.520 saeuior and Cul. 175 acrior mark the second stage. 78. E.g. 5.538 extremae caudae < Geo. 3.423 extremae ... caudae. See further Soerink 2014b ad loc. 79. See Soerink 2014b : 82-4. 80. See S. 1 praef. et Culicem legimus et Batrachomyomachiam etiam agnoscimus, 2.7.73-4 (Lucan) haec primo iuuenis canes sub aeuo, / ante annos Culicis Maroniani, Mart. 8.55.19-20, 14.185-6. See Seelentag 2012 : 9-11. 81. See Seelentag 2012 : 144 ‘Dieses Szenario dient unserem Dichter als Grundlage’. 82. Janka 2005 : 40 n. 27. 83. See Soerink 2014b on 5.505-33. 84. Pavan on 6.242-8 notes the relevance of the culex’ tomb for Opheltes’ tumulus, also pointing to the correspondence between 5.558-67 and Cul. 192-7 (the killing of the serpent). 85. On ludus and praeludere see Janka 2005, Lovatt 2005 : 8-10.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 53

ABSTRACTS

This paper examines the Nemean episode of Statius’ Thebaid (4.646-7.104). It is argued, against recent interpretations, that the episodeis not simply a Callimachean digression from martial themes : the hostilities between Argives and Nemeans recall the bella plus quam ciuilia between Caesar and Pompey ; the incursion of the Argives violently destroys Nemea’s pastoral landscape ; and Nemea becomes the site of quintessentially epic events. The snake that kills Opheltes looks back to Vergil’s Calabrian water-snake in Georgics 3 (and the Culex) : Vergil’s didactic persona had warned not to fall asleep when dangerous snakes are around. The death of the child can also be read as a pessimistic inversion of Vergil’s fourth Eclogue. On a poetic level, we witness the epic dissolution of Nemea’s pastoral world. On a political level, the Nemean episode seems to suggest the impossibility of an Augustan Golden Age in the Flavian poem’s disturbing universe of nefas. Nemea is Statius’ paradise lost.

INDEX

Keywords: Callimachus, epic, Golden Age, intertextuality, Lucan, pastoral, Statius, Vergil

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 54

The intertextual matrix of Statius’ Thebaid 11.315-23

Astrid Voigt

1 In book 11 of Statius’ Thebaid, Jocasta rushes to stop Eteocles from confronting Polynices on the battlefield. She has performed the self-defacing ritual acts of lamentation and is accompanied by a group of women including her dutiful daughters. In this scene, Jocasta is described as oblivious to the social constraints of her gender and is compared to Agave who in a Dionysiac frenzy rips off her son’s head: at genetrix, primam funestae sortis ut amens expavit famam (nec tarde credidit), ibat scissa comam vultusque et pectore nuda cruento, non sexus decorisve memor: Pentheia qualis mater ad insani scandebat culmina montis, promissum saevo caput allatura Lyaeo. non comites, non ferre piae vestigia natae aequa valent: tantum miserae dolor ultimus addit robur, et exsangues crudescunt luctibus anni. (Theb. 11.315-23) But the mother, when at the first rumour of the deadly fate (and she was not slow to believe) she was terrified and out of her mind, was on her way, her hair and face torn, and her breast bare and bloodied, forgetting her sex and her propriety: like Pentheus’ mother when she climbed the top of the mad mountain in order to bring the promised head to fierce Lyaeus. Neither her companions nor her pious daughters are able to keep pace: such strength does the ultimate pain lend to the wretched woman, and her feeble age becomes fierce through her grief.1

2 This is a striking and shocking comparison. Why does the poet invite us to think of the mother who decapitates her own son when he tells us about Jocasta’s attempt to save her own two sons from mutual fratricide?2 While more optimistic readings of Jocasta’s character in the Thebaid appear to remain more or less silent on this simile, its ‘disturbing discrepancy’3 has led more pessimistic readers to incriminate Jocasta and cast doubt on her intentions at this point.4 Debra Hershkowitz, for example, concludes from it that ‘Jocasta is, in a way, ultimately responsible for the destruction of both her sons simply by having conceived them incestuously.’5 Randall Ganiban asks more

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 55

directly: ‘Will Jocasta in her fury also commit violence against her son?’6 In his intertextual reading, moreover, he maintains that ‘the intertextual aspects of Jocasta’s characterization [...] specifically show the intensification of her madness and nefas in Thebaid 11.’7 In this paper I will propose several intra- and intertexts for this passage which go beyond those examined by Ganiban. Exploring this ‘matrix of possibilities’8 will help us make deeper sense of this seemingly incongruous comparison and show that there are more facets to Jocasta’s characterization than madness and nefas. In some cases the intertextual relationship works on a larger cultural scale through the evocation of a model; in other cases the intertextual relationship is based on a resemblance on the micro-textual level or on a parallel in the narrative structure. Not surprisingly perhaps the intertextual matrix of this passage is constituted by texts from the accounts of other women, mostly mothers, whose characterization in other epic poems, tragedies, historiography or Statius’ Thebaid itself reflects on aspects of Jocasta here and make her, in turn, the Roman mother, the pious mother, the Theban mother, the grieving mother, the epic mother. Before I look at these accounts, I will briefly recapitulate Jocasta’s interventions in the tragic tradition.

Jocasta’s interventions in the tragic tradition

3 There are two types of intervention which Jocasta makes in order to prevent her two sons from killing each other in their power struggle for Thebes. The first is her attempt at reconciling both brothers before the actual battle has begun. The second occurs on the battlefield just before the immediate confrontation of both brothers in a fraternal duel. In Euripides’ Phoenician Women, Jocasta’s attempt at reconciling the brothers is realized in a truce which allows Polynices to come into the city of Thebes and meet face-to-face with Eteocles. At the end of their debate their positions remain unchanged and, when the brothers confront each other again on the battlefield, Jocasta arrives too late in to prevent the fatal duel. Seneca in his Phoenissae has conflated these two moments of Jocasta’s intervention. She is exhorted by her attendant and her daughter Antigone to interpose herself between the two brothers on the field (Sen. Phoen. 401-414), effectively using her body as a human shield. When she does that, she is temporarily successful and a lengthy debate between both brothers and Jocasta ensues (Sen. Phoen. 434-664). However, the play breaks off before Eteocles and Polynices engage in physical combat. In Statius’ Thebaid, both moments again have their own place in the narrative. However, this time, in Thebaid 7, Jocasta, together with her two daughters, goes out to Polynices’ camp outside the city walls in order to dissuade him from attacking his ancestral city. In Thebaid 11, the intervention that is of interest for this paper is addressed only to Eteocles at the moment when he dons his armour just before he meets his brother on the battlefield.9

Jocasta the Roman mother

4 Taken together, each scenes in Statius’ Thebaid in which Jocasta attempts to stop her sons from fighting each other has a distinct model from Rome’s early history: Veturia, mother of Coriolanus, tries to prevent him from attacking Rome together with the Volscians, a people previously at war with the Romans who received him after he had been banned by his own fellow Romans and made him their leader. Veturia’s story is

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 56

related by various ancient historians10 and we can expect it to be part and parcel of the early history of Rome as it would have been known to Statius’ contemporary audience. Like Polynices, Coriolanus had gained military strength in exile and intended to take his ancestral city by force. Just like Jocasta in Thebaid 7, Veturia goes to see her son in the camp which he has set up in front of the city gates. In Livy’s account, Veturia goes together with her daughter Volumnia and her two small sons after being implored by the female population of Rome (matronae). Coriolanus is receptive to their emotional appeal and the end of the account attests to the praise which the women received for their contribution to solving this public problem: their fame was acknowledged unreservedly and they received a monument in the temple to Fortuna Muliebris: Non inviderunt laude sua mulieribus viri Romani—adeo sine obtrectatione gloriae alienae vivebatur,—monumentoque quod esset, templum Fortunae muliebri aedificatum dedicatumque est. (Liv. 2.40.12) There was no envy of the fame the women had earned, on the part of the men of Rome—so free was life in those days from disparagement of another’s glory—and to preserve its memory the temple of Fortuna Muliebris was built and dedicated.11

5 While Veturia is generally accepted as a model for the scene in Book 7,12 she is also a model for Jocasta in book 11. Firstly, as has been noted, within the Thebaid this episode recalls the earlier one in Book 7.13 Secondly, like Veturia, Jocasta here is supported by her female company not only by Antigone, as in Euripides’ tragedy, or both of her daughters as in Thebaid 7, but also by an anonymous group of women (comites, Theb. 11.321).14 Thirdly, Jocasta and Veturia (or Volumnia as she is called by Plutarch) challenge their sons by making their maternal bodies a physical obstacle to the internecine violence. In Thebaid 11, Jocasta addresses Eteocles with the following words: [...] prius haec tamen arma necesse est experiare domi: stabo ipso in limine portae auspicium infelix scelerumque immanis imago. 340 haec tibi canities, haec sunt calcanda, nefande, ubera, perque uterum sonipes hic matris agendus. parce. (Theb. 11.338-343) [...] But first you must try out your arms at home. I shall stand in the very threshold of the gate, an unlucky omen, a frightful image of crimes. These my white hairs, these breasts, wicked man, you must trample, this horse you must drive through your mother’s womb. Spare me.

6 A similar warning appears in some of the accounts of Rome’s early history in Veturia’s speech to Coriolanus.15 Plutarch’s Life of Coriolanus offers a very concise example: [...] οὕτω διανοοῦ καὶ παρασκεύαζε σεαυτὸν ὡς τῇ πατρίδι μὴ προσμῖξαι δυνάμενος πρὶν ἢ νεκρὰν ὑπερβῆναι τὴν τεκοῦσαν. (Plut. Cor. 35.3) [...] be well assured that thou canst not assail thy country without first treading underfoot the corpse of her who bore thee.16

7 So Veturia’s / Volumnia’s loyalty to her city and the courage which earned her and the women who supported her great public respect reflect on Jocasta’s intervention in Statius Thebaid 11. Even though Veturia / Volumnia is successful in that Coriolanus refrains from attacking Rome and Jocasta is not successful, either with Polynices or with Eteocles, Veturia still can be seen as a model for Jocasta and as such emphasizes her loyalty to Thebes, her courage, and her potential for peace-making.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 57

8 Jocasta’s act of interposing herself in between the weapons of the brothers also recalls the legend of the Sabine women as told by Livy in his account of the early history of Rome.17 Even though, strictly speaking, the Sabine women do not act as mothers but as wives and daughters, they still provide a strong model for Jocasta’s scene in Thebaid 11 as they intervene on the battlefield in a kind of civil war. The Sabine women, too, have torn their hair and their clothes; they, too, are driven by their anguish to prevent inter- familial killings; they, too, transgress gender-boundaries and, like Veturia, they meet with unreserved approval: Tum Sabinae mulieres, quarum ex iniuria bellum ortum erat, crinibus passis scissaque veste victo malis muliebri pavore, ausae se inter tela volantia inferre, ex transverso impetu facto dirimere infestas acies, dirimere iras, hinc patres hinc viros orantes ne se sanguine nefando soceri generique respergerent, ne parricidio macularent partus suos, nepotum illi, hi liberum progeniem. [...] Ex bello tam tristi laeta repente pax cariores Sabinas viris ac parentibus et ante omnes Romulo ipsi fecit. Itaque cum populum in curias triginta divideret, nomina earum curiis inposuit. (Liv. 1.13) Then the Sabine women, whose wrong had given rise to the war, with loosened hair and torn garments, their woman’s timidity lost in a sense of their misfortune, dared to go amongst the flying missiles, and rushing in from the side, to part the hostile forces and disarm them of their anger, beseeching their fathers on this side, on that their husbands, that fathers-in-law and sons-in-law should not stain themselves with impious bloodshed, nor pollute with parricide the suppliants’ children, grandsons to one party and sons to the other. [...] The sudden exchange of so unhappy a war for a joyful peace endeared the Sabine women even more to their husbands and parents, and above all to Romulus himself. And so, when he divided the people into thirty curiae, he named these wards after the women.

9 Veturia and the Sabine women are celebrated legends from early Roman history and unequivocal examples of pietas, a fundamental value of Roman culture and society. The intertextual links between the episodes of Jocasta’s interventions in Statius’ epic and Roman historiography allows us to recognize that Jocasta shares the intentions and values of these two models of female loyalty and courage.

Jocasta the pious mother

10 In Thebaid 11 as a whole, Jocasta’s confrontation of Eteocles is a paradigmatic realization of a syntagmatic series of interventions. This, too, reveals piety as a crucial aspect of Jocasta’s characterization. Tisiphone prepares for the fraternal duel, the climax of her infernal ambitions, and seeks help from her sister Megaera. She then says: ambo faciles nostrique; sed anceps vulgus et affatus matris blandamque precatu Antigonen timeo, paulum ne nostra retardent consilia. (Theb. 11.102-105) Both are compliant, both ours. But I fear the doubtful mob and the mother’s pleas and Antigone, gentle in entreaty, lest they retard a little our designs.

11 The Fury clearly anticipates the series of interventions in the narrative of this book. In a truly structural fashion each of these moments provides us with an intertext which helps us decipher the others and the last one in this series, that of Pietas the

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 58

personification of piety herself (Theb. 11.457-495), appears to be the key.18 When the duel begins, neither of the brothers manages a successful assault (Theb. 11.447-56). In this apparent delay, Pietas comes down from heaven, where she had sat weeping about the fraternal conflict like ‘hapless sister or anguished mother’ (ceu soror infelix pugnantum aut anxia mater, Theb. 11.461). This simile alludes to both Jocasta’s and Antigone’s attempts at stopping each brother from encountering the other on the battlefield in the preceding narrative. What is more, Jocasta in some ways reciprocates her intertextual relationship with Pietas at that point in the narrative when the sheer presence of Pietas affects the combatants: desiluitque polo; niveus sub nubibus atris quamquam maesta deae sequitur vestigia limes. vix steterat campo, subita mansuescere pace agmina sentirique nefas; tunc ora madescunt pectoraque, et tacitus subrepsit fratribus horror. (Theb. 11.472-76) And she leapt down from heaven. Beneath the dark clouds a snow-white trail follows the goddess’ footsteps, sad though they were. Scarce had she set foot on the plain when the armies turned gentle in a sudden peace and the wickedness was perceived. Then faces and breasts are moistened and silent horror steals upon the brothers.

12 This temporary success is that of Jocasta in Seneca’s Phoenissae: Vadit furenti similis aut etiam furit. [...] victa materna prece haesere bella, iamque in alternam necem illinc et hinc miscere cupientes manus librata dextra tela suspensa tenent. paci favetur, omnium ferrum latet cessatque tectum—vibrat in fratrum manu laniata canas mater ostendit comas, rogat abnuentes, irrigat fletu genas. (Sen. Phoen. 427, 434-441) She presses on like a madwoman, or truly is mad. As an arrow flies swiftly when shot from a Parthian’s hand, as a ship is whirled along by the thrust of an insane gale, or as a shooting star falls from the sky, scoring the heavens and smashing a direct path with its speeding fires: so she has flown apace in her frenzy, and straightway separated the two battlelines. Conquered by a mother’s prayer, the warfare has halted. Now, though keen to join battle from each side in mutual slaughter, they hold their weapons suspended, their right hands poised. Peace wins the day; everyone’s weapons are sheathed and idle—but in the brothers’ hands they still quiver. The mother displays and tears her white hair, begs as they shake their heads, drenches her cheeks with tears.

13 Jocasta’s temporary success in Seneca’s play is probably also the model for her effect on the Argive troops in Thebaid 7.527-38, and also, in turn, for Antigone’s on Polynices in Theb. 11.382-87, since Antigone’s intervention is a duplicate of Jocasta’s interventions in the tragic tradition.19 So when we read Pietas’ intervention intertextually, she becomes indeed the key for reading Jocasta’s intervention in Thebaid 11. Jocasta’s strong association with this central Roman value which emerges here also reinforces the reading suggested in the previous section.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 59

Jocasta the Theban mother

14 But now back to our simile comparing Jocasta in Thebaid 11 to Agave who brings her son’s head to Dionysus. First of all, a comparison between Jocasta and Agave is not unheard of. In Seneca’s Oedipus, the chorus compares Jocasta’s response to the revelation that her husband is her son to that of Agave when she discovers her crime: En ecce, rapido saeva prosiluit gradu Iocasta vecors, qualis attonita et furens Cadmea mater abstulit nato caput sensitve raptum. (Sen. Oed. 1004-7) Look, Jocasta rushes out with urgent steps in violent turmoil, like the frenzied Cadmean mother when she tore away her son’s head, or when she recognised her theft.

15 In his Phoenissae, it is Jocasta herself who makes this comparison right at the beginning of her first speech in the play. Here Jocasta considers Agave lucky because she did not realize what she had done: Felix Agave! facinus horrendum manu, qua fecerat, gestavit et spolium tulit cruenta nati maenas in partes dati; 365 fecit scelus, sed misera non ultro suo sceleri occucurrit. (Sen. Phoen. 363-7) Lucky Agave! She carried that horrific deed in the hand that had committed it, a bloodstained maenad bearing spoils of her dismembered son; she committed the crime, but beyond that the poor woman did not come face to face with her crime.

16 In both cases, the comparison to Agave is made with respect to Jocasta’s incestuous relationship with Oedipus. Later on in Thebaid 11, in Tisiphone’s speech to Pietas the crimes of both women frame the history of Thebes when she accuses the Roman goddess of being absent throughout this history: ‘[...] nunc sera nocentes defendis Thebas. ubi tunc, cum bella cieret Bacchus et armatas furiarent orgia matres? aut ubi segnis eras, dum Martius impia serpens stagna bibit, dum Cadmus arat, dum victa cadit Sphinx, 490 dum rogat Oedipoden genitor, dum lampade nostra in thalamos Iocasta venit?’ (Theb. 11.486-492) ‘[...] Too late you now defend guilty Thebes. Where were you then, when Bacchus stirred up war and his orgies drove armed matrons mad? Or where were you idling while the Martian snake drank the unholy pool, while Cadmus ploughed and the Sphinx fell vanquished, while Oedipus was questioned by his father, while Jocasta came to the marriage chamber by our torch’s light?’

17 So, on a very general level it makes sense to compare Jocasta to Agave. As they are both defining examples of the history of Theban intra-familial crimes, crimes that range from Agave’s filicide and Oedipus’ patricide to Jocasta’s incest.20 But still, why is this comparison used at the point when Jocasta tries to prevent another crime being added to this history, the fratricide between Eteocles and Polynices? Why is it employed at a point when Jocasta’s action is associated with that of the personification of Pietas in the same book and with that of Veturia or the Sabine women, exemplary models of this Roman value? The answer is because this is Thebes and Jocasta is a Theban mother. In

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 60

the following, I will suggest a few more intra- and intertexts in order to unlock a further layer of meaning in this incongruous simile which goes beyond the immediate association of both Theban mothers on account of the crimes they have committed against their familial duties.

18 In the necromancy scene of Thebaid 4, the daughter of Tiresias, the Theban seer, describes to her blind father the Theban souls as they appear from the underworld. Amongst them is a group of Theban mothers, one of them Agave: Hic orbam Autonoën, et anhelam cernimus Ino respectantem arcus et ad ubera dulce prementem pignus, et oppositis Semelen a ventre lacertis. Penthea iam fractis genetrix Cadmeia thyrsis 465 iamque remissa deo pectusque adaperta cruentum insequitur planctu: fugit ille per avia Lethes et Stygios super usque lacus, ubi mitior illum flet pater et lacerum componit corpus Echion. (Theb. 4.562-69) Here we see bereaved Autonoë and panting Ino as she looks back at the bow and presses her sweet child to her breast, and Semele with arms outstretched to protect her belly. His Cadmean mother follows Pentheus with lamentation, her wand now broken, now released of the god, her breasts open and bleeding. He flees through Lethe’s wilderness even beyond the Stygian lake, where his kindlier father Echion weeps him and composes his torn body.

19 It is the echo of the mother’s grief about her son and their relationship to each other which reverberates between both passages. This echo is sounded in a set of almost identical words (Penthea ... genetrix Cadmeia ... pectusque adaperta cruentum, Theb. 4.566-7; genetrix ... pectore nuda cruento ... Pentheia, Theb. 11.315-18) and encourages us to take what is said about Agave here as a reflection about Jocasta in our primary passage, too. There are various aspects of Agave in this intratext which reflect on Jocasta in the episode in Thebaid 11: first of all, Agave appears last on a list of Theban mothers who are all ‘direct or indirect victims of divine power’.21 Secondly, Agave’s existence in the underworld is characterized not only by her grief at the revelation that she has killed her son, but also by her inability to find reconciliation with him. She follows him with lamentation (Penthea ... insequitur planctu), he flees from her (fugit ille). Finally, Ino and Semele are here shown to be protective of their sons, the one clasping her child, the other shielding her pregnant womb. This is the kind of relationship which Agave was not allowed to have.22 So through this intratext we are reminded that Jocasta, similar to Agave and the other Theban mothers named by Manto, is a victim of supernatural powers. At the same time this intratext conveys a strong feeling of guilt and the sense that the aspiration to realize a protective relationship towards her offspring will be thwarted. The eternal grief and the lack of reconciliation which Agave experiences in the underworld foreshadow the failure of Jocasta’s attempt to prevent her sons from killing each other.

20 In Seneca, too, Jocasta cannot realize her aspiration to be a pious mother.23 She says: nil possum pie pietate salva facere. Quodcumque alteri optabo nato fiet alterius malo. (Sen. Phoen. 380-82) I can do nothing loyally without destroying my loyalty; any hopes I have for one son will harm the other if realized.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 61

21 This pointed formulation shows that Jocasta’s dilemma is different from that of Agave. Jocasta has two sons and loyalty to one son will compromise her relationship with the other. The simile in the Thebaid, then, also appears to express this dilemma: even if Jocasta approaches one of her sons in order to prevent him from fighting with his brother, she will put one of the two at a disadvantage. So Jocasta will always have one son to whom her relationship is like that of Agave to Pentheus.24 However, while in Seneca’s play Jocasta’s dilemma is caused by the conflicting claims of both of Jocasta’s sons and would not exist if there was no fraternal strife, through the simile in Thebaid 11 it is more firmly linked to Jocasta’s Theban identity. P. J. Davis has identified heredity as one of the forms which determine the history of Thebes. Eteocles and Polynices, in particular, have inherited a disposition to rage (gentilis furor, Theb. 1.126) which they cannot escape.25 In the same way Jocasta cannot escape the history of other Theban mothers in spite of her aspiration to protect her sons.

Jocasta the grieving mother

22 If we look at the simile on a more general level, the comparison is one of Jocasta to a maenad. In Greek and Roman epic poetry, this is a topos which is used in situations of extreme grief.26 We find an early example of this topos in Homer’s Iliad. Andromache, the wife of the central Trojan hero responds to the news of her husband’s death: [...] ἄλοχος δ᾿ οὔ πώ τι πέπυστο Ἕκτορος· οὐ γάρ οἵ τις ἐτήτυμος ἄγγελος ἐλθὼν ἤγγειλ᾿ ὅττι ῥά οἱ πόσις ἔκτοθι μίμνε πυλάων, ἀλλ᾿ ἥ γ᾿ ἱστὸν ὕφαινε μυχῷ δόμου ὑψηλοῖο 440 δίπλακα πορφυρέην, ἐν δὲ θρόνα ποικίλ᾿ ἔπασσε. κέκλετο δ᾿ ἀμφιπόλοισιν ἐυπλοκάμοις κατὰ δῶμα. [...] κωκυτοῦ δ᾿ ἤκουσε καὶ οἰμωγῆς ἀπὸ πύργου· τῆς δ᾿ ἐλελίχθη γυῖα, χαμαὶ δέ οἱ ἔκπεσε κερκίς. ἡ δ᾿ αὖτις δμῳῇσιν ἐυπλοκάμοισι μετηύδα· [...] Ὣς φαμένη μεγάροιο διέσσυτο μαινάδι ἴση, 460 παλλομένη κραδίην· ἅμα δ᾿ ἀμφίπολοι κίον αὐτῇ. αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πύργον τε καὶ ἀνδρῶν ἷξεν ὅμιλον, ἔστη παπτήνασ᾿ ἐπὶ τείχεϊ, τὸν δ᾿ ἐνόησεν ἑλκόμενον πρόσθεν πόλιος· [...] τὴν δὲ κατ᾿ ὀφθαλμῶν ἐρεβεννὴ νὺξ ἐκάλυψεν, [...] ἡ δ᾿ ἐπεὶ οὖν ἔμπνυτο καὶ ἐς φρένα θυμὸς ἀγέρθη, 475 ἀμβλήδην γοόωσα μετὰ Τρῳῇσιν ἔειπεν· [...] (Il. 22. 437-442, 447-9, 460-4, 466, 475-6) [...] but the wife knew nothing as yet—the wife of Hector—for no true messenger had come to tell her that her husband remained outside the gates; but she was weaving a tapestry in the innermost part of the lofty house, a purple tapestry of double fold, and in it she was weaving flowers of varied hue. And she called to her fair-tressed handmaids through the house [...] But she heard the shrieks and the groans from the wall, and her limbs reeled, and from her hand the shuttle fell to the floor. Then she spoke again among her fair-tressed handmaids [...] So saying she rushed through the hall with throbbing heart like [a maenad], and with her went her handmaids. But when she came to the wall and the throng of men, then on the wall she stopped and looked, and caught sight of him as he was dragged before the city; [...] Then down over her eyes came the darkness of night and enfolded her [...] But when she revived, and her spirit returned into her breast, then she lifted up her voice in wailing and spoke among the women of Troy [...]

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 62

23 The situation bears more resemblances to that of Jocasta than just the comparison with a maenad: both Andromache and Jocasta are in female company and both move into the male martial sphere. Andromache leaves the female domestic sphere in order to join other Trojans on the city wall, from where they can see what is happening on the battlefield before the city. Jocasta confronts Eteocles at the moment when he dons his armour for his fight with Polynices.

24 The intertextual move from Statius to Homer is signposted through an intervening intertext which both relates back to Homer and forward to Statius. This passage comes from Virgil’s Aeneid. It describes the reaction of the mother of Euryalus, the young Trojan warrior who is killed in a nocturnal expedition: Interea pavidam volitans pennata per urbem nuntia Fama ruit matrisque adlabitur auris Euryali. at subitus miserae calor ossa reliquit, 475 excussi manibus radii revolutaque pensa. evolat infelix et femineo ululatu scissa comam muros amens atque agmina cursu prima petit, non illa virum, non illa pericli telorumque memor, caelum dehinc questibus implet. (Aen. 9.473-80) In the meantime winged Rumour, harbinger of news, flies swiftly through the fearful city and glides into Euryalus’ mother’s ears. Then suddenly warmth left the bones of the wretched woman, the shuttles were shaken from her hands and the threads unwound. She rushes, the ill-fated one, and with womanly shriek runs seeking the battlements and the frontlines of the army, her hair torn and out of her mind, she forgets the men, she forgets the danger and the weapons. Then she fills the sky with her lament.

25 This passage is very closely related to the passage in Statius’ Thebaid and again the relation is established through a couple of identical or almost identical words. In both passages the woman responds to a rumour (Fama), both women are out of their minds (amens) and both are characterized by the tearing of their hair (scissa comam), an important part of female ritual lamentation. Both women are ‘wretched’ (miserae), and their behaviour is described as being oblivious to how they transgress gender norms (non ... memor) as one sets out to confront the troops and the other her son. At the same time, as is commonly accepted, the lament of Euryalus’ mother in Virgil’s Aeneid is closely modelled on that of Andromache in Homer’s Iliad.27 Both women are hit by the news of the death of their loved ones while they are sat at the loom, both women run to the battlements and both women swoon when they face the dead body of their loved ones. Euryalus’ mother is not compared to a maenad, but in some ways her movement away from the loom suggests just that - as it is considered as characteristic of the female followers of Dionysus.28

26 So Jocasta’s confrontation of Eteocles is also motivated by her grief. This grief is reminiscent of the grief felt by Andromache for Hector and by Euryalus’ mother for her son. The former is the epitome of a loyal wife and the latter was singled out in Virgil’s poem for her piety as she was the only woman who followed Aeneas and his men after the rest of the Trojan women refused to continue their toils and their travels and remained on Sicily.29 This reminiscence underlines Jocasta’s piety and the intensity of her grief. However, different from Andromache and Euryalus’ mother, Jocasta’s grief empowers her to take action and make an attempt at preventing the impending violence.30

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 63

Jocasta the epic mother

27 Despite the ‘intertextual suspense’31 created through Veturia and the Sabine women as intertextual models for Jocasta in Statius’ Thebaid, Jocasta remains an epic mother. The failure of her attempt to stop her two sons from killing each other is already foreshadowed by the reference to Hecabe and Amata as mothers who similarly appeal in vain to their sons (or, in Amata’s case, son-in-law to be) to desist from the fatal duel with their arch-enemies.32 In particular, Jocasta’s bare breast and her references to her maternal organs in her speech to Eteocles (Theb. 11.342) are reminiscent of Hecabe’s supplication to Hector in Iliad 22: μήτηρ δ᾿ αὖθ᾿ ἑτέρωθεν ὀδύρετο δάκρυ χέουσα, κόλπον ἀνιεμένη, ἑτέρηφι δὲ μαζὸν ἀνέσχε· καί μιν δάκρυ χέουσ᾿ ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα· “Ἕκτορ, τέκνον ἐμόν, τάδε τ᾿ αἴδεο καί μ᾿ ἐλέησον αὐτήν, εἴ ποτέ τοι λαθικηδέα μαζὸν ἐπέσχον· [...]” (Il. 22.79-83) And for her part his mother in her turn wailed and shed tears, loosening the folds of her robe, while with the other hand she held out her breast, and shedding tears she spoke to him winged words: “Hector, my child, respect this and pity me, if ever I gave you the breast to lull your pain. [...]”

28 With Homer’s Hecabe being a shared model for both Statius’ Jocasta and Virgil’s Amata, 33 Jocasta also becomes closely associated with Amata who similarly confronts in Aeneid 12 (54-63). However, Amata in Aeneid 12 kills herself through hanging: et nodum informis leti trabe nectit ab alta (‘and from a lofty beam [she] fastens the noose of a hideous death’, Aen. 12.603). Again, Jocasta appears to reciprocate the intertextual relationship since this line recalls Odysseus’ encounter with Epicaste in the underworld who had chosen the same mode of suicide: ἡ δ᾿ ἔβη εἰς Ἀίδαο πυλάρταο κρατεροῖο,| ἁψαμένη βρόχον αἰπὺν ἀφ᾿ ὑψηλοῖο μελάθρου, | ᾧ ἄχεϊ σχομένη (‘but she went down to the house of Hades, the strong warder, making fast a deadly noose from the high ceiling, caught by her own grief’, Od. 11.277-9). So the poet establishes a structural similarity between Amata in Aeneid 12 and Jocasta in Thebaid 11 and links them together intertextually. He thus anticipates already at this point in the narrative Jocasta’s suicide later in the same book after her sons have killed each other (Theb. 11.634-47).34

Conclusion

29 In the end, Jocasta’s intervention is not successful. And neither are those of Antigone or Pietas later in the book. Tisiphone the Fury prevails and the history of Thebes, characterized by the perversion of pietas throughout, is overwhelming. Still, the intertextual matrix of the episode explored here allows us to appreciate the many different dimensions of Jocasta’s attempt to prevent her sons’ fratricide. Judging from the models from Roman history which underlie this scene Jocasta’s intervention deserves praise and does have the potential to be successful. However, through her incestuous relationship with Oedipus she remains caught up in the history of the intra- familial crime in the royal household of Thebes about which she feels guilty even though she is also a victim of supernatural powers and objectively innocent. Her immense grief gives her the power to try and prevent the fratricide in order to fulfil

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 64

her aspiration to be a pious mother. Eventually, though, she fails in this aspiration and cannot reconcile herself with her sons just like Agave. This failure ultimately makes her kill herself as the reader is made aware already at this point in the narrative. The tension created through the different pull of each individual intertext makes Jocasta’s characterization complex, powerful, and tragic.35

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Augoustakis, A. (2010): Motherhood and the other. Fashioning Female Power in Flavian Epic. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Augoustakis, Antony (2015): ‘Statius and Senecan Drama.’ In: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands and K. Gervais (eds.), Brill's Companion to Statius. Leiden: Brill, 377-92.

Bernstein, N. W. (2008): In the Image of the Ancestors: Narratives of Kinship in Flavian Epic. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Bessone, Federica (2011):La Tebaide di Stazio. Epica e potere. Pisa, Rome: Fabrizio Serra.

Bowie, E. (2014): ‘Poetry and Education.’ In: Mark Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch. Oxford, Malden: Wiley Blackwell, 177-90.

Davis, P. J. (1994): ‘The Fabric of History in Statius’ Thebaid.’ In:C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History VII. Bruxelles: Latomus, 464-83.

Dietrich, J. S. (1999): ‘Thebaid's Feminine Ending.’ Ramus 28: 40-53.

Dietrich, J. S. (2015): ‘Dead Woman Walking: Jocasta in the Thebaid.’ In: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands and K. Gervais (eds.), Brill's Companion to Statius. Leiden: Brill, 307-21.

Dominik, W. J. (1994a): The Mythic Voice of Statius. Power and Politics in the Thebaid. Leiden, New York, Cologne: Brill.

Dominik, W. J. (1994): Speech and Rhetoric in Statius' Thebaid. Hildesheim, Zürich, New York: Olms- Weidmann.

Dominik, W. J. (2015): ‘Similes and their Programmatic role in the Thebaid.’ In: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands and K. Gervais (eds.), Brill's Companion to Statius. Leiden: Brill, 266-290.

Fairclough, H. R. (ed.) (transl.) (1999): Virgil. Eclogues. Georgics. Aeneid I-VI. Revised by G.P. Goold. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Fairclough, H. R. (ed.) (transl.) (2000): Virgil. Aeneid VII-XII. Appendix Vergiliana. Revised by G.P. Goold. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Fantham, E. (1999): ‘The Role of Lament in the Growth and Eclipse of Roman Epic.’ In: M. Beissinger, J. Tylus, S. Wofford (eds.), Epic Traditions in the Contemporary World. The Poetics of Community. Berkeley et al.: California University Press, 221-35.

Feeney, D. C. (1991): The Gods in Epic. Poets and Critics of the Classical Tradition. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 65

Fitch, J. G. (ed.) (transl.) (2004): Seneca. Oedipus. Agamemnon. Thyestes. [Seneca]. Hercules on Oeta. Octavia. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Fitch, J. G. (ed.) (transl.) (2002): Seneca. Hercules. Trojan Women. Phoenician Women. Medea. Phaedra. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Foster, B.O. (ed.) (transl.) (1919): Livy. History of Rome, Volume I: Books 1-2. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Fowler, D. (1997): ‘On the Shoulders of Giants.’ Materiali e Discussioni 39, 13-34 (reprinted in Fowler, D. (2000): Roman Constructions: Readings in Postmodern Latin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 115-37.)

Franchet d'Espèrey, S. (1999): Conflit, Violence e Non-Violence dans la "Thébaïde" de Stace. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.

Frings, I. (1991): Gespräch und Handlung in der Thebais des Statius. Stuttgart: Teubner.

Ganiban, R. T. (2007): Statius and Virgil. The Thebaid and the Reinterpretation of the Aeneid. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hardie, P. (1994): Virgil Aeneid, Book IX. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hershkowitz, D. (1998): The Madness of Epic. Reading Insanity from Homer to Statius. Oxford: Oxford Clarendon Press.

Heslin, P. J. (2008): ‘Statius and the Greek Tragedians on Athens, Thebes and Rome.’ In: J. J. L. Smolenaars, H.-J. Van Dam & R. R. Nauta (eds.), The Poetry of Statius. Leiden: Brill (= Mnemosyne Supplement 306), 111-128.

Hinds, S. (1998): Allusion and intertext. Dynamics of appropriation in Roman poetry. Roman Literature and its Contexts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hulls, J. M. (2014): ‘Greek Author, Greek Past: Statius, Athens, and the Tragic Self.’ In: A.Augoustakis (ed.) Flavian Poetry and its Greek Past. Leiden et al.: Brill (= Mnemosyne Supplement 366), 193-213.

Keith, A. M. (2000): Engendering Rome. Women in Latin Epic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Lovatt, H. (1999): ‘Competing Endings. Re-Reading the End of the Thebaid through Lucan.’ Ramus 28.2: 126-51.

Lovatt, H. (2010): ‘Cannibalising History: Livian Moments in Statius’ Thebaid.’ In: John F. Miller and A.J. Woodman (eds.), Latin historiography and poetry in the early Empire: generic interactions. Leiden and Boston: Brill (= Mnemosyne Supplement 321), 71-86.

Marinis, A. (2015): ‘Statius’ Thebaid and Greek Tragedy. The Legacy of Thebes.’ In: W. J. Dominik, C. E. Newlands and K. Gervais (eds.), Brill's Companion to Statius. Leiden: Brill, 343-61.

Markus, D. D. (2004): ‘Grim Pleasures: Statius’s Poetic Consolationes.’ Arethusa 37.1: 105-35.

Micozzi, L. (1998): ‘Pathos e Figure Materne nella Tebaide di Stazio.’ Maia 50: 95-121.

Murray, A.T. (ed.) (transl.) (1919): Homer. Odyssey, Volume I: Books 1-12. Revised by George E. Dimock. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Murray, A.T. (ed.) (transl.) (1925): Homer. Iliad, Volume II: Books 13-24. Revised by William F. Wyatt. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Newlands, C. E. (2012): Statius, Poet between Rome and Naples. London: Bristol Classical Press.

Parkes, R. (ed.) (2012): Statius, Thebaid 4. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 66

Pease, A. S. (ed.) (1935):P. Vergilii Maronis Aeneidos liber quartus. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Perrin, B. (ed.) (transl.) (1916): Plutarch. Lives, Volume IV: Alcibiades and Coriolanus. Lysander and Sulla. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Shackleton Bailey, D. R. (ed.) (transl.) (2003): Statius. Vol. 2: Thebaid, Books 1-7; Vol. 3: Books 8-12. Achilleid. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Smolenaars, J. J. L. (1994): Statius, Thebaid VII. A commentary. Leiden et al.: Brill. (= Mnemosyne Supplement 134.)

Smolenaars, J. J. L. (2008): ‘Statius Thebaid 1.72: Is Jocasta dead or alive? The traditions of Jocasta's suicide in Greek and Roman drama and in Statius' Thebaid.’ In: J.J.L. Smolenaars, H.-J. van Dam, R.R. Nauta (eds.) The Poetry of Statius. Leiden, Boston: Brill (= Mnemosyne. Supplements 306), 215-238.

Stadter, P. A. (2014): ‘Plutarch and Rome’. In: M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch. Oxford, Malden: Wiley Blackwell, 13-31.

Soubiran, J. (1969): ‘De Coriolan à Polynice: Tite-Live modèle de Stace’. In: J. Bibauw (ed.), Hommages à Marcel Renard. Bruxelles: Latomus, 689-99.

Tarrant, R. (ed.) (2012): Virgil. Aeneid. Book XII. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Venini, P. (1970): P. Papini Stati Thebaidos Liber Undecimus. Florence: La Nuova Italia.

Vessey, D. W. T. C. (1971): ‘Noxia Tela: Some Innovations in Statius Thebaid 7 and 11.’ Classical Philology 66. 2, 87-92.

Vessey, D. (1973): Statius and the Thebaid. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Voigt (forthcoming): ‘The power of the grieving mind. Female Lament in Statius’ Thebaid’. Illinois Classical Studies 41.1.

NOTES

1. For the purpose of the present paper, I have used the following editions and translations: Shackleton Bailey (2003) for Statius’ Thebaid, Fairclough (1999) and Fairclough (2000) for Virgil’s Aeneid, Fitch (2002) and Fitch (2004) for Seneca’s tragedies, Foster (1919) for Livy’s History of Rome, Murray (1925) for Homer’s Iliad, Murray (1919) for Homer’s Odyssey and Perrin (1916) for Plutarch. 2. The simile used to describe Jocasta when she intervenes in the Argive camp in Thebaid 7 (477) has equally puzzled readers. See e.g. Keith (2000), 96; Dietrich (2015). Neither of them discusses the simile under examination here. For a reading of both similes in the context of female lamentation see Voigt (forthcoming). For similes in the Thebaid more generally see e.g. Dominik (2015). 3. Hershkowitz (1998), 291. 4. For an optimistic reading of Jocasta see e.g. Vessey (1973), 270-82. He attributes to her ‘a greater moral stature than in the tragedians’ and, although he sees in her ‘the helpless victim of fate’ he emphasizes ‘her love, her grief, her dignity’ (274). Franchet d’Espèrey (1999), 255, counts her among the ‘incarnations de la non-violence’ in Statius’ poem. For further reading on Jocasta in Statius’ Thebaid see also Augoustakis (2010), 62 n.68. 5. Hershkowitz (1998), 291.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 67

6. Ganiban (2007), 164. Cf. also Augoustakis (2010), 33: ‘Antigone and Jocasta are both transformed into Maenads in their final attempt to appease the brothers in book 11’. Similarly, Bessone (2011), 178-9 n.3. 7. Ganiban (2007), 160. 8. Fowler (1997), 24, talking about intertextuality as semiotic system. 9. On Statius’ relationship to Euripides’ and Seneca’s tragedies, see e.g. Vessey (1971); Vessey (1973), 270-82; Venini (1970); Smolenaars (1994); Heslin (2008); Augoustakis (2010); Bessone (2011), esp. 75-101; Hulls (2014); Augoustakis (2015;) Marinis (2015). 10. The most important ones for our present purpose are Liv. 2.40.1-12; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.39-55; Plut. Cor. 34-37. See Soubiran (1969), 690-91. 11. Cf. Plut. Cor. 37. 12. See esp. Soubiran (1969), but also Smolenaars (1994); Lovatt (2010); Dietrich (2015). 13. Vessey (1971) 88; Vessey (1973), 273; Frings (1991), 122; Smolenaars (1994), 216. 14. Pace Dietrich (2015). 15. See e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.51.1-3. 16. Even though Statius and Plutarch are contemporaries, it is not likely that Statius took his cue from Plutarch since Plutarch’s Lives are generally dated after Domitian’s reign, so after Statius finished writing his epic. Neither can we say with any certainty that Plutarch has read or listened to the Thebaid, though it is entirely possible since Plutarch travelled to Rome at various points of the period during which Statius will have composed the Thebaid and they may well have met each other at the imperial court or other gatherings of the Roman intellectual élite. On Plutarch’s relationship to Rome, see e.g. Stadter (2014); on his likely encounter with Greek and Roman intellectuals, including ‘writers in many genres of prose and poetry’, at Delphi and Athens, see Bowie (2014), esp. 177. Soubiran (1969), 691 n.2, suggests that Statius and Plutarch might have had reference to one common source, unknown to us. 17. Cf. Franchet d’Espèrey (1999), 258. 18. Cf. Feeney (1991), 388: ‘The defeat of Pietas happens many times, in other words. We see Adrastus, Iocasta, and Antigone fail to make the brothers listen to the claims of faith and piety, and then, when we expect finally to see the combat which must follow as a consequence, Statius encapsulates that failure once and for all with the abortive intervention of Pietas herself.’ Cf. also Vessey (1973), 276-77. 19. As for Jocasta’s attempt to stop Eteocles in Thebaid 11, the narrative does not explicitly report the reaction of either Eteocles or his company. However, all these intertexts (note especially the opening simile vadit furenti similis in Sen. Phoen. 427) and Antigone’s reference to Jocasta in her own speech to Polynices (Theb. 11.375-6) make it very probable that there is at least some effect on Eteocles, too. 20. Agave’s filicide and more importantly her grief when she recognizes what she has done is also one of the defining moments of Theban history as it is recounted in the poem by its own citizens (Theb. 3.188-90). 21. Parkes (2012) on 4.562-78. Autonoë had lost her son Actaeon to the divine wrath of Diana; Ino, tried to protect her son Palaemon from her husband Athamas who had been maddened by Juno; Semele, mother of Bacchus, died from Juno’s wrath against her relationship with Jupiter. 22. Cf. Frings (1991), 68. 23. Cf. Ganiban (2007), 161-62. 24. Note how Jocasta anticipates Eteocles’ objection to his uneven treatment in her speech (Theb. 11.348-553). 25. Davis (1994), esp. 473-4. 26. For further examples, see Pease (1935) on Aen. 4.301. For the possibility to activate a topos for the purposes of intertextual reading see Hinds (1998), 34-47. 27. See e.g. Hardie (1994) on Aen. 9.476, 481-97.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 68

28. See e.g. Eur. Bacch. 114-19. 29. Aen. 9.217-18. 30. On the empowering quality of grief in Statius’ Thebaid see Voigt (forthcoming). On female lament in Statius' Thebaid see also Dominik (1994a), 123-25; Dominik (1994b), 56, 59, 66-68, 119-32; Micozzi (1998); Dietrich (1999); Fantham (1999), 226-35; Lovatt (1999), 136-46; Markus (2004); Augoustakis (2010) ch.1; Newlands (2012), 110-16. 31. Lovatt (2010), 82. 32. On the evocation of Homer’s Hecabe and Virgil’s Amata in this scene see also Ganiban (2007), 153 n.1, 160, and Bernstein (2008), 91-93. 33. On Il. 22.25-92 as a model for Aen. 12.1-80, see e.g. Tarrant (2012), 83. 34. Even though in the Thebaid Jocasta kills herself with a sword, her suicide through hanging is still alluded to in the simile which concludes this episode (Theb. 11.644-7). On the different traditions of Jocasta’s suicide see Smolenaars (2008). On Jocasta’s suicide in Thebaid 11 see Dietrich (2015). 35. This paper has greatly benefited from the comments of the anonymous readers at Dictynna. Any remaining shortcomings are, of course, purely my own.

ABSTRACTS

In Statius’ Thebaid 11.315-23, the poet uses a striking simile in order to describe Jocasta’s attempt to stop Eteocles from confronting Polynices on the battlefield. He compares her to Agave when she brings her son’s head to Dionysus. This paper explores the ‘matrix of possibilities’ for this passage constituted by intra- and intertexts from the accounts of other women, mostly mothers, whose characterization in other epic poems, tragedies, historiography or Statius’ Thebaid itself reflects on aspects of Jocasta here and make her, in turn, the Roman mother, the pious mother, the Theban mother, the grieving mother, the epic mother. It will show that there are more facets to Jocasta’s characterization than madness and nefas.

INDEX

Keywords: Flavian Epic, Intertextuality, Jocasta, Simile, Statius, Thebaid, Women

AUTHOR

ASTRID VOIGT The Open University

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 69

Strings, Triangles, and Go-betweens: Intertextual Approaches to Silius’ Carthaginian Debates

Pramit Chaudhuri, Joseph P. Dexter et Jorge A. Bonilla Lopez

NOTE DE L'AUTEUR

The introduction and conclusion are the joint work of PC and JPD; Part 1 the work of JBL, with contributions by JPD and PC; and Part 2 primarily by PC. The sequence alignment tool discussed in Part 1 was designed and created by a research group led by JPD and PC, including Nilesh Tripuraneni, Tathagata Dasgupta, Edward Gan, and other contributors. Lea Schroeder contributed part of the data used in Part 1. Our thanks go to Ayelet Haimson Lushkov and the editors of this issue of Dictynna, as well as the two anonymous readers, for insightful criticism and suggestions for improvements. We also thank Neil Bernstein for sharing an unpublished paper on senatorial debate in the Punica; our approach is quite different from, but nevertheless complements, his rhetorical and intertextual analysis. All translations are our own. The project is supported by a CompX Grant from the Neukom Institute for Computational Science at Dartmouth College and a Digital Innovation Fellowship from the American Council of Learned Societies to PC. JPD is supported by a National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship. Triangles are my favourite shape Three points where two lines meet - Alt-J, “Tessellate”

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 70

Whither Flavian Epic Intertextuality? Explorations in Literary Theory and Methodology

1 So naturalised are the idea and practice of intertextuality to the Latinist that the term has almost become superfluous: Flavian epic intertextuality is nothing more than Flavian epic - for what other way would we understand the corpus than intertextually? For many years Latinists have instinctively turned to intertextuality as the dominant hermeneutic paradigm for reasons both historical and methodological. Amply discussed by theorists since Kristeva, its application to Latin literature is well suited to the ancient authors’ mode of composition and has yielded especially rich and productive readings.1 Thanks to the work of Stephen Hinds and others, building on an already extensive apparatus of older studies of allusion and imitation, intertextuality has become the Latinist’s tool of first resort, a powerful means of situating a text within various traditions, discourses, and networks.2 Above all, intertextuality directs the critic to the multiple points of view created by formal or semantic resemblance of various kinds, whether a single allusive word, a metrical pattern, a topos, or a theme: what is the significance of X looking similar to, or slightly different from, Y? And what impact does that relationship have on our view of X or Y or both? Those questions represent merely the building blocks of more complex interpretive structures, nowhere better illustrated than by the research on Flavian epic itself, which has seen an explosion of work charting its connections to Greek or Augustan predecessors, Neronian or other Flavian poets, and the reception history of the epics in Claudian or post-classical authors, to cite only a few examples.3 Given the wealth of existing scholarship, then, this special issue of Dictynna poses two pointed methodological questions: can the study of Flavian epic, in particular, do more than follow existing intertextual models? And, if so, can the resulting contribution affect literary critical practice more broadly, whether in Latin or beyond?

2 Two serendipitous factors suggest that the answers to the above questions are both yes. First, unlike the Augustan writers, whose prior intertexts are often fragmentary (e.g., Ennius) or almost entirely lost (e.g., many of Nicander’s works), the Flavians were heavily influenced by texts that are still extant, and so enable us to engage in more philologically grounded study. Even late antique authors, despite their vantage point overlooking the preceding tradition, suffer because of the significant gaps in our knowledge of the intervening literature. Despite important lacunae, however, study of the Flavians benefits from their reuse of extant canonical and recent material.

3 Second, recent developments in computational approaches to intertextuality, exemplified by the Tesserae Project, have focused especially on epic poetry and Flavian epic, both because of the prior expertise of the researchers involved and because of the inherent suitability of the material for testing methods for large-scale identification of intertexts.4 Digital techniques that will prove an essential part of the critic’s toolkit are thus being developed using Flavian epic as one key testing ground. For contingent reasons, then, the corpus is well suited to yield insights - whether based on new intertextually-driven commentaries or monographs or digital tools - that are more broadly applicable in literary study.

4 In line with these suggestions, this essay examines a case study in Silius Italicus’ Punica using two distinct but complementary approaches to Flavian epic intertextuality: a methodological move to expand and further incorporate computational tools within

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 71

philology, and a literary theoretical move to combine intertextuality and thematic interpretation. The case study focuses on the debates in the Carthaginian senate described in Punica 2 and 11, both of which Silius adapts from similar scenes in Livy while also drawing on Vergil’s Aeneid at key points. The combined application of these moves elucidates - at both a lexical and a thematic level - the composition and dynamics of a “triangular network” between Silius, Livy, and Vergil. Leveraging the substantial survival of Livy and Vergil, the essay interprets the effects of three quite different texts being brought together, which results in striking conjunctions of history and mythology, Roman and non-Roman, one temporal frame and another, one ethical evaluation and another. Part 1 of the essay compares three computational tools for searching for intertextual parallels, first assessing their ability to detect intertexts in the Punica already noted in traditional scholarship. We then analyse a series of computationally identified parallels that have not been commented on previously and find that the tools can reveal morphologically and syntactically similar phrases of apparent literary interest. Part 2 examines a single case study in Silius’ triangulation of Livy and Vergil, the characterisation of the Carthaginian senator Hanno. Combining references to Livy’s historiographical account with allusions to the Aeneid, Silius turns Hanno from a shrewd judge of Roman character and strength into a far more ambivalent, Quisling-like figure. Moreover, the effect of blending the two sources is to make more porous the distinctions between nationalities and other categories that structure the reader’s response. Part 2 suggests, finally, that the context of these literary interactions - diplomacy and debate - itself figures the kind of negotiation taking place at a textual level between the various works and their worldviews.

5 Both debate scenes centre on the Carthaginians’ confidence in Hannibal and their military prospects against Rome: in the first (Punica 2, Livy 21) Roman envoys demand the surrender of Hannibal, and in the second (Punica 11, Livy 23) Hannibal requests aid to continue the war in Italy. In each scene, the sole Carthaginian to speak against the interests of Hannibal is the anti-Barcid politician Hanno, whose accurate predictions about the course of the war are rejected by the Senate. Throughout our sources Hanno is a fictionalised rather than strictly historical or fictional character, though the difference can be difficult to pin down. A Carthaginian statesman active for much of the 3rd century BC, Hanno is depicted by one Roman or Rome-friendly writer after another, from Polybius to Livy. Whatever fictionalising and elaboration went into the characterisation of Hanno - for who could really know the true inner workings of the historical Carthaginian senate and its personalities? - it’s no surprise that he is treated favourably in the Roman tradition. As the historian Appian tells us, after the end of the Second Punic War Hanno would end up leading the pro-Roman faction in the Carthaginian senate (App. Pun. 68). Silius takes a novel approach to emphasising Hanno’s political allegiances: when at the end of the first century AD - three hundred years after the Second Punic War - Hanno appears in the Punica, he is presented as a hybrid of his historiographical self in Livy and Vergil’s notoriously pro-Trojan Drances. As a mediator of Roman interests and as a locus for generic and ethnographic interplay, Silius’ Hanno - even more so than Livy’s - provokes a number of questions that bear on interpretation of the epic: what would it mean for the Carthaginians to heed Hanno’s advice, in terms of both plot and national identity? What are the effects of his being characterised in an emphatically hybrid way?

6 A central premise of the essay is that understanding this hybridity requires granular attention to Silius’ intertexts and systematic integration of identified intertexts into a

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 72

broader interpretive framework. Both accumulation and interpretation of the intertexts are coloured by the triangular relationship between Silius, Livy, and Vergil. The Punica is the point at which Livy and Vergil meet, and a complex remixing of Livy and Vergil underlies key aspects of the Carthaginian debates, including especially Silius’ characterisation of Hanno. This sort of triangulation of (inter)texts is not new; already in the 19th century, commentators noted that Silius’ Hanno resembled both Drances and Livy’s Hanno.5 Interrogation of such combinatorial allusions, to use the term coined by Philip Hardie more than a quarter-century ago, has been productive across Latin epic.6 Standard discussions of combinatorial allusion, however, have often privileged one source over another in the identification of “primary” and “secondary” intertexts, and have not dealt much with cases more complicated than triangulation (such as one:many and many:many intertextual networks). Our approach to triangulation extends conventional thinking about combinatorial allusion in two important ways. It first leverages multiple computational approaches, each with distinct strengths and weaknesses, to build a rich portrait of text reuse not fixated solely on “blockbuster” parallels. Using this data, it then maps (microscopically and macroscopically) the “shared world” that arises from the simple process of going from two texts to three.7 In our case study, this mapping reveals Silius’ depiction of diplomatic debate as a metapoetical model of his own negotiation of Livian and Vergilian influence.

7 Triangular thinking need not be restricted to cases in which two (source) texts converge at a third; higher-dimensional analogues fit readily into the framework (and are not uncommon in ancient literature).8 An attendant goal of the article is therefore to model, through rigorous consideration of an exemplary triangular case, how a critic might in the future “n-angulate” larger intertextual networks.9 Recognising the scalability of the framework in turn highlights the centrality of computation to it. Even with n = 3, it is easy to appreciate the challenge of filling in the intertextual profile using only manual review and critical intuition. For bigger networks the problem gets much worse. As n increases linearly the number of pairwise comparisons that must be made between texts increases much faster than linearly. This sort of “combinatorial explosion” is familiar in computer science, where many otherwise elegant algorithms are unusable in practice because they quickly require an absurd number of computations for larger inputs. The way around an inefficient algorithm is to develop a good heuristic, sacrificing exactness for speed. In the study of intertextuality, digital tools might be seen as a sort of heuristic for the classicist, allowing one to get a ready - but inevitably incomplete and noisy - handle on intertextuality in texts of any reasonable size.

8 With an eye toward the burgeoning role of computation in classics, this essay is interspersed with reflections on both the theory and practice of digital intertextuality. Three computational tools were used to generate data presented here: Diogenes, a word search tool that has long been an integral component of the philologist’s toolkit; Tesserae, an innovative approach to find repeated two-word phrases between pairs of texts; and a new method developed by our team for finding a range of inexact verbal parallels based on a bioinformatics technique known as sequence alignment. Of particular interest, Part 1 of the essay offers a practical introduction to the use, strengths, and limitations of sequence alignment.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 73

Part 1: The Practice and Perils of Aligning Silius’ Carthaginian Debates

9 Part 1 reports a practical evaluation of the use of computational search to detect intertextual parallels of literary significance. We provide a concise introduction to our recently developed sequence alignment tool and evaluate its ability to identify parallels generated using two existing digital search tools (Diogenes and Tesserae) or reported in a traditional commentary (François Spaltenstein’s Commentaire des Punica de Silius Italicus).10 Searches involving key phrases from the debate scenes in Punica 2 and 11 demonstrate that sequence alignment is well suited to detect language linguistically or morphologically similar, though not necessarily identical, to source material. We then examine in detail intertextual parallels found using sequence alignment that link the embassy scene in Punica 2 with the Aeneid and with Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps in Livy 21.

10 Sequence alignment is a method to compare two “strings” of arbitrary characters. This comparison is made on a character-by-character basis. “Alignment” means to position the strings side-by-side so that they match (i.e., have an identical character) at as many positions as possible. For an aligned pair of strings, a score known as the edit distance quantifies similarity - points are added to a tally for identical characters and subtracted for mismatches or gaps.11 As such, a more precise definition of the edit distance is the minimum number of single-character changes (additions, deletions, or substitutions) required to convert string A into string B. For instance, the edit distance of A = “kitten” and B = “sitting” is 3 because three changes (substitution of “s” for k”, substitution of “i” for “e”, and insertion of the final “g”) are required to turn A into B. Sequence alignment is foundational to genomics and bioinformatics, where tools like BLAST (Basic Local Alignment Search Tool) are used to search for homologous (similar) gene or protein sequences across large databases.12 To mention just one typical application, a biologist might want to track the presence or absence of a gene across many different species, so as to gain a better understanding of their evolutionary history. A crucial point is that homology between genes is never exact. Therefore, searching for identically matching sequences, although computationally easy, is not useful. The solution now universally adopted in bioinformatics is to do sequence alignment.

11 Inexact matching, of course, is also central to the study of intertextuality. If the computational identification of intertexts is to become as routine and useful as finding homologous genes, methods that can flexibly account for the “fuzzy logic” of Latin intertextuality, to borrow Stephen Hinds’ prescient metaphor, are likely to play an important role.13 With this goal in mind, we have developed a sequence alignment search tool, a sort of “BLAST for literature” that allows users to identify phrases (of arbitrary length) most similar on a character-by-character basis.14 The tool requires the user to enter a phrase and set as a parameter a “cutoff” score (the maximum edit distance score tolerated, with lower scores indicating better homology). The choice of cutoff has important consequences - an overly permissive cutoff can lead to a frustratingly low signal to noise ratio, while an overly restrictive one can screen out parallels of potential interest. A rough standard is to set the cutoff at 5 for bigram searches and between 10 and 15 for trigrams.15 We emphasise, however, that the cutoff is not a direct predictor of the significance of a potential parallel - banal intertexts

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 74

inevitably arise even with restrictive searches, and lexically dissimilar parallels can sometimes be of great literary interest.

12 We envision sequence alignment as a useful complement to Diogenes and Tesserae, which can identify repeated (pairs of) words and therefore trade some of the flexibility of sequence alignment for improved signal to noise ratio. Diogenes is a browsing and search tool that can be used to find common words (either exact repeats or differing by one or more “wildcard” characters) in texts of interest.16 The core Tesserae tool generates lists of repeated two-word phrases (ranked by inter-word distance and commonness of the words) for arbitrary pairs of Latin (or Greek) texts.17 In 2012 the Tesserae Project reported a systematic tracing of the reuse of the Aeneid in the Pharsalia, which provided an impressively granular picture of Lucan’s composition.18 Their approach can be repeated with any other pair of texts and has already been pursued for Flavian epic.19

13 Our sequence alignment tool operates on a particular phrase determined by the user, rather than comparing texts globally (as Tesserae does). As such, it requires judicious selection of input terms. The search corpus consisted of Punica 2 and 11, Livy 21 and 23, and the entirety of the Aeneid. In our searches, we usually entered phrases that were a point of focus or emphasis in the passages, such as noun-adjective pairs, head noun- dependent noun pairs (usually including a subjective or objective genitive), and verb- direct object pairs. To sort through long lists of potential parallels generated, we prioritised phrases syntactically and lexically similar to the entered search terms. As a general rule of thumb, we utilised a cutoff of 5 to conduct searches for bigrams (that is, two-word phrases) and a cutoff of 10 for trigrams. Cutoff values were subsequently adjusted based on the amount of data the tool produced. If a cutoff value produced few results for a given query, for example, the value would be raised incrementally. The Diogenes and Tesserae tools were not used systematically, but were rather deployed for ad hoc comparisons with the results generated through sequence alignment or with parallels reported by Spaltenstein.

14 We begin our methodological report with a failure. In several cases, all three tools were unable to detect a parallel listed by Spaltenstein. The tools commonly failed on lemmata that note scenes evoking a similar mood or utilising the same motif without much shared language. Consider, for instance, his comparison of Punica 2.312-14 (scilicet, immensae, uisis iuuenalibus armis, / subsident Alpes, “of course, the immense Alps will subside at the sight of the youth’s arms”) and Livy 21.10.8 (nec puer hic dux erat, “nor was this boy general”). Though Hanno emphasises Hannibal’s youth in both passages, they share no verbal parallels and, consequently, the similarity is missed computationally. Detection would likely require a tool that picks up on the semantic relationship between iuuenalibus and puer.20

15 The tools were often successful, however, in detecting verbal intertexts. The sequence alignment tool produced a parallel, also identified by Spaltenstein, between Silius’ Hanno and Vergil’s Drances, both of whom claim to be threatened with violence: neque enim cohibere minantum / irae se ualuere, Sil. 2.279-80; dicam equidem, licet arma mihi mortemque minetur, Aen. 11.348. A search for minantum irae with a cutoff at 9 yielded minetur. / lumina (Aen. 11.348-9). While the tool detected the parallel between Silius’ minantum and Vergil’s minetur, the result also included the word lumina, which is not part of the intertext. Nevertheless, this example illustrates the useful capaciousness of the tool. It is mere coincidence that lumina happens to contain characters also found in

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 75

minantum irae, thereby causing the Vergilian phrase to appear among the results. But sequence alignment allows us to catch such chance intertexts, which other methods would either exclude on grounds of insufficient similarity or include only when using very broad parameters. If one sought to identify the same intertext through Diogenes, for instance, the lack of any substantial similarity (the only shared element is min-) would be a major obstacle. Tesserae would face a different, but equally critical, problem - the apparent absence of any second shared word.21 The capaciousness of sequence alignment is double-edged, however, since many phrases composed of the same or similar letters are not related in any meaningful way. It is therefore incumbent on the user to exercise some judgement in determining suitable cutoffs and sorting through more and less meaningful results.

16 The intertext between Aen. 11.348 and Sil. 2.281 contains three common words (licet, arma, and mortem) and is therefore so overt that it can be detected with relative ease by all three tools. Sequence alignment is specifically useful for revealing a parallel (unremarked upon by Spaltenstein) between mortemque minetur in the Vergilian line and and toruumque minatur at Sil. 2.431, where it describes the ferocity of Hamilcar’s imago as depicted on the shield of Hannibal. It is something of an ideal parallel for sequence alignment - although there is just one shared word (that is morphologically variant) between the lines, the edit distance of mortemque minetur and toruumque minatur is only 4. Drances’ focus in the midst of a speech on the physical threat of arma is perhaps an appropriate recollection for the Silian ecphrasis.

17 The strength of sequence alignment is clear in identifying parallels that share linguistic units such as morphological endings, as with -tur in the above example. 22 A search for coquebat /... iras (Sil. 2.327-8) at a cutoff of 6, for instance, yielded aggerat iras (Aen. 11.342), a parallel noted by Spaltenstein. In this case, the tool located the Vergilian phrase because of the combination of the shared word iras and the -at endings of both verbs. Tesserae did not pick up the similarity between aggerat iras and coquebat /… iras because of the absence of any other shared word besides iras. In contrast, Tesserae excels at identifying lexically similar parallels in which the individual words are separated. For instance, Tesserae detected the parallel between Sil. 2.287/291 (monui et, dum uita monebo … / praedicit miseris haud uanus flamina nautis ) and Livy 21.10.3 (monuisse, praedixisse se, ne Hamilcaris progeniem ad exercitum mitterent), passages that share forms of moneo and praedico, as Hanno claims that he had “warned” and “foretold” the Carthaginians about the danger Hannibal would pose.

18 Sequence alignment was also useful for identifying parallels not noted by Spaltenstein. Our search results suggest the Aeneid often operates, to borrow Conte’s famous formulation, as a “code model” for Silius, in which an allusion to a model phrase or passage is deployed “for its generic qualities without evoking a meaningful analogy”.23 Our searches using sequence alignment yielded twelve parallels of apparent significance between the Punica and Aeneid (listed in Table 1), of which the majority seem to be of the code model variety.

Table 1. Parallels between the Punica and Aeneid detected by sequence alignment.

Punica Input Phrase Potential Intertext from Aeneid Edit distance24

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 76

conuersi foedere rupto (2.297) nec foedera rumpet (12.202) 11 altera foedera rumpi (12.582) 11

impatiens asperque coquebat (2.327) impatiens arrecto pectore (11.639) 15

tritas / desperare uias (2.356-7) ignotas temptare uias (8.113) 8

primi incendia belli (2.358) tanti incendia belli (1.566)* 4 coepti fiducia belli (2.162) 11

ponat formidinis aestus (2.360) coit formidine sanguis (3.30) 10

rapido circumdat gurgite (11.507) nigro circumdata turbine (11.596) 9

inuidia atque ira stimulantibus (11.543-4) dictis atque aggerat iras (11.342) 19

pacem orandum…arma reponendum25 pacem Troiano ab rege petendum* 16 (11.559-60) (11.230)

aeratas iussi texamus (11.586) denas Italo texamus* (11.326) 9

belli posceret usus (11.607) bello: pacem te poscimus omnes* 10 (11.362)

*These parallels are noted by Spaltenstein. Italics denote those words germane to the queried phrase but not part of the computational alignment.

19 Several of the intertexts in Table 1 above are superficial evocations of Vergil’s language and syntax in the Aeneid. For instance, in Punica 11 rapido circumdat gurgite refers to the river Aufidus flooding the Apulian plains, while in Aeneid 11 nigro circumdata turbine refers to the enveloping of Opis’ body in a dark whirlwind as she retrieves ’s corpse. Both phrases have an A-B-A (adjective-verb-noun) structure and share nearly identical diction. Moreover, both phrases are located in the exact centre of five word lines and occupy the middle four feet of the line. In each case, however, the phrase is applied somewhat differently and seems primarily intended to provide evocative description. It is reasonable to infer, then, that Silius has drawn on Vergil’s language for stock purposes without any further implications, though the incorporation of a phrase from Aeneid 11 is in keeping with Silius’ systematic use of the Latin debate from the same book. Furthermore, of the twelve parallels listed in Table 1, nine refer to the second half of the Aeneid. This concentration reflects the generally greater correspondence in subject matter between the Second Punic War and the Italian War (as opposed to Aeneas’ Odyssean voyage). In this context, even relatively generic intertexts of the code model sort can, in sufficient quantity or density, contribute to a larger sense of the Punica as a sequel to the Aeneid and its Italian War in particular, a point developed further in Part 2.

20 There are other parallels that at first appear to be instances of code models, or even of mere coincidental reuse, but upon closer inspection have a claim to greater significance. The similarity between the phrases primi incendia belli in Punica 2 and tanti incendia belli in Aeneid 2, for example, does not at first glance appear to be of any

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 77

interpretive consequence. Gestar uses the former of the “conflagration” of the First Punic War, whereas Dido uses the latter in relating how the “blaze” of the Trojan War - alluding to the sack of the city - has gained global notoriety. Despite (or perhaps even owing to) the invocation of a war in both passages, Silius seems to have appropriated the structure and (most of) the language of this phrase for generic reasons - perhaps because, in Spaltenstein’s words, “[l]e feu symbolise la guerre.”26 Moreover, each three- word phrase occupies half of its respective line and possesses an A-B-A structure, and so may function in a relatively formulaic way.27 Prompted by these similarities, one may press the intertext into service as an allusion to the Trojan War and especially to the place of the Trojan War within the Aeneid. On this view, the First Punic War assumes the fame of Vergil’s Trojan War, becoming a global phenomenon nevertheless destined to be exceeded by the current war (and subject of Silius’ epic). Furthermore, the image of fire ties Vergil’s sack of Troy to Silius’ fascination with the burning of cities from Saguntum (programmatic) to Rome (hypothetical) to Carthage (proleptic), and even to the near contemporary Rome of 69 AD (allusive). Like the code model intertexts with Vergil’s Italian War, this intertext also creates continuity between the wars of the Aeneid and the Punic Wars, and between their shared mythological origins in the anger of Juno against the Trojans and their Roman descendants. Silius’ incendia belli thus not only builds on a natural association between fire and war, as Spaltenstein suggests; through its allusive reach, the phrase also evokes the spread of those flames from one war to another, one city to another, one cause to another, and one epic to another.

21 The sequence alignment tool also detected parallels between the Punica and Livy’s Third Decade. At the end of his speech in Punica 2, Hanno claims he will have saved Carthage from much bloodshed if she should ultimately refrain from war (si bello absistis, 2.325). A similar conditional construction appears at Livy 21.6.6, where the envoys P. Valerius Flaccus and Q. Baebius Tamphilus are to go to Carthage to demand Hannibal’s surrender if he does not cease hostilities (si non absisteretur bello).28 The passages share other verbal parallels, mostly concerning the exacting of punishment as a response for the supposed violation of the Ebro Treaty. Hanno, for instance, asserts that the gods have turned against the treacherous Hannibal as a result of the broken treaty (conuersi foedere rupto / in caput infidum superi, Sil. 2.297-8) and expresses his hope that Hannibal pay the penalty for his actions without involving Carthage in his lot (sic propria luat hoc poena, 2.301). Similar phrasing is found in Livy, when he relates that the two envoys are to demand Hannibal’s individual surrender as punishment for the broken treaty (ducem ipsum in poenam foederis rupti deposcendum, 21.6.6). As a whole, these resemblances offer a revealing view of Silius’ compositional practice, which is to draw on Livy’s language while deploying it with certain changes, such as by putting it in the mouth of different speakers. The effect of attributing the Roman ambassadors’ language to Hanno, in particular, confers upon him a distinctly Roman quality, a point developed further in Part 2.

22 Another query, which also appears in Table 1 as intertextual with the Aeneid, was the phrase tritas / desperare uias, which yielded trita antea, quamuis (Livy 21.36.5) with the cutoff set at 13. The speaker, Hanno’s opponent Gestar, uses the phrase tritas uias in anticipation of the Carthaginians’ crossing of the Alps and, accordingly, their repetition of one of Hercules’ glorious feats: pudet Hercule tritas / desperare uias laudemque timere secundam; “it is shameful to despair of paths trodden by Hercules and to fear repeating his glory,” Sil. 2.356-7). The corresponding phrase appears in Livy precisely at the moment when Hannibal is crossing the Alps with great difficulty and the general sees

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 78

that there is no recourse but to traverse pathless and untrodden tracts of snow (haud dubia res uisa quin per inuia circa nec trita antea, quamuis longo ambitu, circumduceret agmen, Livy 21.36.4). While sequence alignment here profits from the chance similarity between Silius’ uias and Livy’s quamuis, the example well illustrates the strength of the technique in accommodating passages that might otherwise elude detection. trita- is the only element strictly common to both passages, to which a “manual” reading of the text can add -uia. Silius will go on to describe Hannibal’s crossing in great detail in Book 3, a passage that bears numerous similarities to Livy’s account. Gestar thus gives the reader a foretaste of the substantial intertextual engagement to come but, while his intent is to glorify Hannibal’s imminent feat, he in fact makes the crossing sound less challenging than it is. In the process, he accidentally diminishes the scale of Hannibal’s achievement - not a retreading of the same path already forged by Hercules, but rather, as the Livian account relates, a new and hazardous route. Indeed, in Book 3 Silius will explicitly describe Hannibal instructing his men to depart from the tracks of Hercules and proceed on a new path (Sil. 3.512-17).29

23 We hope the examples discussed in this section hint at the potential usefulness of sequence alignment as a (scalable) starting point for in-depth analysis of individual and collective intertexts. In particular, sequence alignment enables the discovery of parallels that rely on morphological - in addition to lexical - similarities between words and phrases. As with all such tools, the technique is best employed in conjunction with multiple search methodologies and in consideration of the manifold significance of literary intertextuality. It is to this latter aspect that we now turn.

Part 2: Problems of Identity, Genre, and Intertextuality in Silius’ Hanno

24 The triangulation of Silius’ Hanno with his Livian model and Vergil’s Drances is not in itself new. Already in the 19th century Drances was compared to Livy’s Hanno, and Silius’ Hanno to Drances.30 More recently, the copious list of verbal parallels and thematic similarities in Spaltenstein’s commentary includes several references to both of Silius’ models.31 No attempt, however, has been made to interpret the triangulation.32 Here we suggest that the resemblance to the dubious figure of Drances undermines Hanno’s essentially panegyrical view of the Romans in two ways: first, by reducing his moral authority, and second, by casting Silius’ Carthaginian debates as a reflection of the Latin debate in the Aeneid, a scene of intra-societal tension evocative of Rome’s recent and past civil strife. In this way, the Vergilian strand running through Silius’ representation of Hanno complicates the more positive characterisation inherited from Livy. As with all intertextual characterisation, however, the interpretive consequences are interesting precisely for their uncertainty: Silius’ Hanno may function as a re- reading of Livy’s Hanno, Vergil’s Drances, both, or neither, depending on the reader’s view of all three works.33 What is clear, however, is that Silius’ allusive practice signals his debt to Livy and Vergil, and that in so doing he invites the reader to reflect on the significance of the triangulation.

25 Silius introduces the debate in such a way as to suggest a clear evaluation of right and wrong (Sil. 2.273-6): mouet hinc foedusque fidesque et testes superi iurataque pacta parentum,

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 79

hinc popularis amor coeptantis magna iuuentae, et sperare iuuat belli meliora. On this side they were moved by the treaty and good faith, the gods who witnessed it, and the pact sworn by their fathers; on the other by the popularity of the ambitious young man, and they enjoyed the hope of victory in war.

26 Silius leaves no room for confusing the moral quality of the two sides: trustworthiness, gods, and sticking to the promises made by one’s father, on the one hand; the popularity and ambition of a precocious youth (i.e., Hannibal) and a false hope of victory, on the other. The strong connection between the formal obligations of a treaty (foedus) and the abstract characteristic of good faith (fides) is made clear by the collocation foedusque fidesque - a play on sound, an etymological connection, and a hendiadys.34 Despite this apparently Manichean distinction between the two parties in Carthage, however, we shall subsequently see that the word fides operates more subtly than the glib jingle of foedusque fidesque might suggest.35

27 Immediately following this sketch of the two positions, Silius has Hanno speak as the representative of those who would abide by the Ebro treaty and hand over Hannibal to the Romans. Before Hanno begins, however, Silius describes him in terms that recall not Livy’s Hanno, who is characterised largely positively (e.g., 21.4.10), but rather Vergil’s figure of envy and sedition, the Latin senator Drances (Sil. 2.276-7). Since this is merely the first of several allusions assimilating Hanno and Drances in both debates, for the sake of economy the most important intertexts are presented in Table 2.

Table 2. Parallels between the Punica and Aeneid involving Hanno and Drances.

Punica Aeneid

sed, olim / ductorem infestans odiis tum senior semperque odiis et crimine Drances / gentilibus, Hannon infensus iuueni Turno (2.276-7) (11.122-3) But Hanno, long hostile to the leader because Then Drances, an elder, ever hostile in his hatred of familial hatred and accusations against the young Turnus

haud tamen abstiterim, mortem licet arma dicam equidem, licet arma mihi mortemque propinquent. (2.281) minetur. (11.348) Yet I will not withdraw, though a violent Indeed, I shall speak, though he threaten me with a death threaten me. violent death.

frigida corda frigida dextera (2.339) (11.338-9) frozen heart frozen hand

quem gliscens gloria prauum / ductoris tum Drances idem infensus, quem gloria Turni / studio iam dudum agitabat acerbo obliqua inuidia stimulisque agitabat amaris (11.543-4) (11.336-7) a crooked man whom the swelling glory of Then Drances rose, hostile as before, whom the leader long since provoked to bitter Turnus’s glory provoked with the bitter sting of partisanship glancing envy.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 80

cui, simul inuidia atque ira stimulantibus, surgit et his onerat dictis atque aggerat iras. Hannon (11.554) (11.342) to whom Hanno, at once stung by envy and He rose and loaded his words with heaps of wrath. anger

28 Despite Silius’ clearly systematic comparison of the two figures, it’s important to recognise that the reader only realises the full extent of this relationship when seeing the same associations recur in the speech responding to Hanno (Sil. 2.339), and twice in Book 11. In other words, the hint of dubiousness that precedes and colours Hanno’s first speech grows in emphasis and significance the more we encounter him. Moreover, of the five principal allusions, most of which constitute personal criticisms of Hanno, three are delivered in the voice of the poet rather than an opponent, just as the narrator of the Aeneid had himself explicitly coloured our perception of Drances. And since the allusions are mutually reinforced by the poet and Hanno’s own speech, the characterisation is much harder to view as the focalisation of an unsympathetic Carthaginian audience. Readers of the Aeneid - implicitly Romans - are thus cued to be suspicious of the only Carthaginian character who touts the poem’s own pro-Roman rhetoric and gives the Carthaginians largely sound advice, a suspicion strengthened by Silius’ repeated allusions to Drances. Finally, and most strikingly, the effect of the allusions is to assimilate Roman readers of the Aeneid and the internal Carthaginian audience, both of whom - for very different reasons, but arguably in similar ways - feel suspicious of Hanno. Already, then, we see how intertextuality works to create cognitive effects that transcend the simple binary oppositions implied by such formulations as foedusque fidesque and Punica fides.

29 Without entering too deeply into the scholarly discussions of Vergil’s Drances, for which there’s insufficient space here, it’s nevertheless important to register one crucial disagreement with the current orthodoxy. Pulled in by the magnetic force of what we know will be the result of the Italian war, one can easily confuse what occurs in practice with what ought to happen - fact and value - especially from a Roman perspective, since the outcome will be the victory of Aeneas and the eventual foundation of Rome. It’s that instinct that leads critics to see the negatively characterised Drances as little more than the wrong man bearing the right message. In Philip Hardie’s reading, for instance, Drances makes us uneasy about rhetoric and perhaps even speech in general, but his policy of appeasement is nevertheless “the one that the Latins should be following.”36 This is not, however, the only possible, or even plausible, view. For if Drances’ appeasement is read not as a tolerable compromise but rather as utter self-abnegation on behalf of the Latins, and if his envy and dissension indeed foreshadow the political ills that will befall Rome, as many critics including Hardie have suggested, the supposed merits of his policy are in fact considerably more ambiguous than Hardie allows.37 In other words, the decision to follow a political policy may not be separable from - indeed, may entail - following the proponent of the policy, and when that proponent resembles Drances the consequences of granting such a figure authority are potentially dire. Whether readers ultimately remain open to this more pessimistic interpretation or favour Hardie’s pragmatic view, however, one thing is clear: Silius has used Vergil’s Drances to contaminate Livy’s sympathetic portrayal of an optimate Hanno starkly distinguished from his reckless brethren among the army, plebs, and senate (cf. Livy 21.3.4-4.1).

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 81

30 In his exchange with Mago in the second debate, Livy’s Hanno forces Mago to acknowledge the resilience of the Romans (Livy 23.12.15-13.4). Silius inflates this judicious appraisal into a panegyric of grotesque proportions, which the poet places in the first debate (Sil. 2.318-24): pubescit castris miles, galeaque teruntur nondum signatae flaua lanugine malae, nec requies aeui nota, exanguesque merendo stant prima inter signa senes letumque lacessunt. ipse ego Romanas perfosso corpore turmas tela intorquentis correpta e uulnere uidi, uidi animos mortesque uirum decorisque furorem. Their soldiers grow up in military camp, and their cheeks rub against the helmet before they’re marked by the golden stubble. Nor is rest known to them with age; even old men, blooded by long service, stand in the front rank and provoke death. I myself have seen Roman squadrons, when run through the body, seize the weapon from their wound and hurl it at the foe; I have seen their courage, their manner of dying, and their passion for glory.

31 If the claim of Silius’ hyperbole - or Hanno’s grotesquerie - itself seems exaggerated, the evidence bears closer scrutiny. This passage does not show merely the aggrandising idiom so often associated with Silver Latin literature, and which might be taken to normalise Hanno’s rhetoric. Once again, Silius draws on Drances, this time not from the Latin debate but from the embassy to Aeneas, in which Drances praises the Trojan hero to the heavens (Aen. 11.124-6). The intertext here is behavioural rather than verbal, but it nevertheless elaborates the connection between Drances and Hanno, and further distorts the Livian image.

32 Moreover, the first two lines of the Silian passage contain an ambiguity that punctures Hanno’s puffed up oratory: the very terms in which Hanno praises the Romans - as reared for warfare - apply most obviously to Hannibal himself, who was almost proverbially said to have been raised in camp. Indeed, earlier in the very same speech Hanno had claimed to have warned against the dangers of Hannibal being reared in camp (ne castris innutriretur, Sil. 2.286). This explains why Silius shifts Hanno’s praise of the Romans from the second debate to the first - to highlight the apparent inconsistency in his speech. Those who might try to defend Hanno as contrasting Hannibal and the Romans face the obvious objection that Hanno himself fails to draw attention to this contrast: he leaves implicit what requires - certainly to his internal audience - explicit distinction. Since Hanno is perfectly capable of making such clear distinctions regarding Hannibal elsewhere, the omission suggests that in fact he doesn’t notice the implicit praise of Hannibal (or criticism of the Romans) entailed by this intratextuality, and thus he likewise doesn’t notice the undermining of his own argument.

33 But there is a still more damaging problem for Hanno. The passage’s second line contains a further intertext, a generic reference to the appearance of beautiful young men. The diction recalls, in particular, Vergil’s apostrophe to the Italian warrior Cydon pursuing his youthful beloved (Aen. 10.324-5): tu quoque, flauentem prima lanugine malas / dum sequeris Clytium infelix, noua gaudia, Cydon (“You too, unhappy Cydon, while you followed Clytius, your new delight, his cheeks blond with the first down”).38 What distinguishes the significance of Hanno’s language from mere poetic idiom, however, is the context provided by his own speech, but taken from Livy rather

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 82

than Silius. In Livy, Hanno had specified the reason for arguing against Hannibal’s rearing in camp, offering grounds we don’t find in the Punica: by placing vulnerable youths at the mercy of the commanders, the practice perpetuated a series of sexual abuses - of Hasdrubal by Hamilcar, and now of Hannibal by Hasdrubal - that licensed the lusts, and ultimately the despotic tendencies, of these generals (Livy 21.3.5-7). And yet, despite these Livian morals, Silius’ Hanno speaks in admiration - even loving admiration - of boys raised in military camp, like Hannibal himself, boys not even at the point of showing the first, eroticised traces of adolescence. In that light, it may be reasonable to wonder whether, according to Hanno, the Romans have a passion for glory or, with decoris understood somewhat differently, a passion for beauty. Through the intertwining of Vergil and Livy, then, Silius creates an ironic distance between the audience of the Punica and Hanno, allowing the character to seem far more dubious to that audience than was warranted by the Livian model, at least. Moreover, Silius achieves this effect not only through the global appropriation of Vergil’s Drances but also through local allusion to elements of the Aeneid - such as Cydon’s pederastic love - which further complicate the character of Hanno.

34 Hanno’s hypocrisy aside, there is perhaps a more salient point about his praise of Roman courage. Its tone is so obviously misplaced for the internal audience of Carthaginians, it’s almost as if Hanno imagines himself speaking before a completely different audience, one altogether more sympathetic to his values - in other words, a Roman audience. It’s little surprise, then, that Hanno’s opponent in Punica 2, likely an invention of Silius’ named Gestar, accuses Hanno of being an enemy of the Carthaginians (Sil. 2.330-2; cf. Livy 23.12.4-6): “concilione” inquit “Libyae Tyrioque senatu, pro superi, Ausonius miles sedet, armaque tantum haud dum sumpta uiro? nam cetera non latet hostis.” “In the council of Libya”’ he says, “and in the Tyrian senate, by the gods - does a Roman soldier sit here? All that’s missing is for the man to take up arms - as for the rest, the enemy is in plain view.”

35 The speaker, whom Silius describes in negative terms as intolerant, harsh, and angry (Sil. 2.327-8) - hardly a ringing endorsement - responds to Hanno’s praise of the Romans by pointing to the Carthaginians’ own strengths and achievements. In playing the nationalist to Hanno’s appeaser, Gestar continues the larger intertextuality with Aeneid 11. For in opposing the Drances-like Hanno, and reviling his cowardice (Sil. 2.339; cf. Table 2), he takes on the role and even the diction of Turnus in the Latin debate.39 Gestar is fiercely proud of Carthaginian independence, a concept framed as a hardworking defence of freedom (pro libertate labores, Sil. 2.359) and a willingness to die rather than see his country enslaved (Sil. 2.366-7): occumbam potius nec te, patria inclita, dedam / aeternum famulam liberque Acheronta uidebo. The discourse of libertas - the defining quality of the Roman republic - leaves the curious impression of Gestar’s Romanness, even as Hanno had sounded almost parodically Roman in his praise. The phrase pro libertate, in particular, alludes to Vergilian descriptions of Roman republican heroism, including the paradigmatic figure of Brutus.40 Thus, both Silian speakers in the first debate - for all that they are opponents - take on a similarly Roman hue from even the most superficial reading of their speeches. This rhetorical colouring is added to dense layers of Vergilian intertextuality, which assimilate Hanno to Drances and Gestar to Turnus, both proto-Roman Latins. As so often in Latin literature, then, a type of ethnography (of the Carthaginians) has become a mirror of the Roman self - a claim

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 83

which, for all that it might also apply to, say, Livy’s history, is massively overdetermined by Silius’ compositional and intertextual choices.

36 Besides these moments of political or historical significance in the Aeneid, which can be seen as commensurate in kind with events in Livy, Silius deploys other types of Vergilian allusion that are more distinctively epic and mythological in nature. When, for instance, Gestar boldly declares that he would rather die than accept the servitude of his country, the phrase Acheronta uidebo represents a clear, though perhaps unexpected, echo of Vergil’s Juno as she seeks to use the resources of hell, embodied in the Fury Allecto, to disrupt the Trojans’ destiny: flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta mouebo (“if I am unable to bend the gods, I will move hell,” Aen. 7.312). The identical forms of Acheronta, the same placement of each phrase at the end of the line, and the similar inflections of the two verbs together strongly suggest a direct allusion.41 Moreover, Vergil’s opposition between the gods above (superos) and the metonymic river below finds an analogue of sorts in Gestar’s use of the phrase pro superi (368) in the very next line after Acheronta. The spatial contrast is less pointed than in Vergil, to be sure, but the diction nevertheless shows the same visual move, albeit in reverse, from the world below to the one above.

37 The effect of these changes from the source is crucial to the significance of the allusion: unlike Juno, Gestar is mortal and does not have recourse to the nether powers. His agency is defined not by moving hell but by going there, effectively via an act of suicide. In this Junonian context, Gestar’s adverbial aeternum (367) recalls the programmatic use of the adjective - also aeternum - at Aen. 1.36, where it describes the goddess’ “everlasting” resentment of the Trojans, which goes hand-in-hand with her favour towards Carthage and her consequent role in causing the Punic Wars.42 In both textual and historical senses, then, Gestar is a descendant of Vergil’s Juno.

38 At the same time, however, Silius makes us cognisant of the difference between Gestar’s human and Juno’s divine power - all the more so when later in the same book he will recapitulate Vergil’s Juno-Allecto scene, swapping Allecto with Tisiphone. Indeed, Silius’ Juno even utters the phrase Acheronta moues (Sil. 2.536), recalling both the Vergilian model and Gestar intratextually, as if to confirm the contrast between human and divine power implicit in the earlier shift from mouebo to uidebo - from a god marshalling hell to mortal suicide and now back to Juno’s power.43 Gestar’s Vergilian language thus does double duty in invoking politico-historical elements of the Aeneid as well as emphatically mythological elements (further substantiated by Silius’ Juno), precisely the triangulation that plays out on a larger scale between Vergilian and Livian sources. In doing so, the allusions represent a key feature of Silius’ macroscopic ambitions - the creation of an epic world that combines the full features of history and epic (in contrast to Lucan, for example) and casts the Punica as the historical and poetic sequel to the Aeneid.44

39 Silius’ cultural construction of ethics at the outset of the debate - foedusque fidesque, etc. - naturally agrees with the Roman envoy Fabius’ own view of events at the end of the first debate (Sil. 2.380-1): at postquam discordia sensit / pectora et infidas ad Martem uergere mentes (“but when Fabius perceived their divided will and saw that their treacherous minds were inclining to war”). In another example of Hanno’s Romanness, Fabius’ infidas is pre-empted by Hanno himself when he focuses the charge of treaty-breaking and bad faith on Hannibal in particular (Sil. 2.297-8): conuersi foedere rupto / in caput infidum superi (“the gods who have turned against this treacherous man for breaking

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 84

the treaty.”) The discourse of fides continues in Hanno’s second speech, against Mago in Book 11, where he claims that making peace with the Romans will remove Carthage’s reputation for treachery (Sil. 11.596-7): et fama fugetur ab urbe / perfidiae, Phoenissa, tua (“and the reputation for betrayal might be banished from your city, Dido”). In using language the same way Fabius and the narrator do, while the rest of the Senate is swept up in Hannibal’s madness and initial accomplishments, Hanno appears to be the one Carthaginian who sees and judges correctly. In this, Silius’ Hanno - just like Livy’s Hanno - fits the mould of the “tragic warner,” as several scholars have labelled the figure, the individual who warns a group that what they’re doing or about to do is wrong and that they will suffer for it, but whose warning isn’t believed.45 The possibility of Carthage’s redemption - a striking counterfactual that turns the meaning of Punica fides on its head and thus creates a wholly new national identity - is embodied in Hanno, and yet he represents an almost comically unsuitable medium for an ostensibly positive message.46

40 “Ostensibly,” because - as we argued in the case of Drances - the message is rather more freighted than critics have noticed, and it isn’t easily separable from the person who bears it. In the last quotation, for instance, Hanno invokes Dido, founder of Carthage, as Phoenissa partly to allude to the stereotype of Punica fides, which he wishes to banish once and for all. But for anyone familiar with the Aeneid Hanno inevitably evokes Vergil’s treatment of Dido, herself called Phoenissa (e.g., Aen. 1.714, 4.529), with fascinating consequences for the significance of good faith and bad. For in Book 4 of the Aeneid Dido three times calls Aeneas a traitor, perfidus ( Aen. 4.305, 366, 421), for abandoning their love affair, which she sees as a de facto marriage, in favour of departing for Italy. Now, leaving aside the insoluble question of whether Dido’s view is persuasive or not, what is much easier to appreciate is that in light of Vergil’s Dido, Hanno’s words possess a potent doubleness: he addresses Dido, Phoenissa, to wish for the end of Carthage’s reputation for treachery, when, on another view, it was Aeneas’ treachery and Dido’s resulting curse that would cause the enmity between Carthage and Rome and lead directly to Hannibal’s vengeance against Italy (Aen. 4.624-6, esp. nec foedera sunto at 624).47

41 These allusions to Dido are of a piece with Silius’ other innovations in the treatment of Hanno: Silius repeatedly exploits Vergilian intertextuality to call into question his motives and character, and to cast doubt on his moral evaluations. Hanno’s warnings may be as accurate as ever, but the bare fact of foreseeing the outcome of the war is arguably the least interesting feature of Silius’ Hanno, since in that respect he merely follows his portrayal in the preceding tradition. If we are to register the full significance of Silius’ characterisation, we must give due weight to the novel questions posed by the poet’s highly suggestive juxtapositions, and these appear designed to turn the tragic warner into a figure more notable for moral dubiousness than oracular knowledge. If Silius’ audience expected a versified rendition of Livy, replete with rhetorical flourishes suitable for controuersiae, they received more than they bargained for - whether they recognised it or not.

42 Thus far, it may seem as if Silius is largely playing Vergil against Livy in order to nuance the Carthaginian debate scenes and emphasise their multiple referentiality to Roman culture - in essence, a historiographical narrative of imperial heroism versus an epic narrative of civil (and divine) strife. Such a conclusion would do Livy, and Silius too, a great disservice. Indeed, the very generic distinction between prose and verse

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 85

intertexts is far less clear than the two characterisations of Hanno - as an optimate and patriot in Livy, and as an invidious Romanophile in Silius - might initially suggest.48 For one thing, Hanno’s hypocritical attitude to boys raised in military camps emerges from Silius’ clever selection and arrangement of both Livian and Vergilian source material. But we needn’t stop there: the Carthaginian debates contain a more spectacular example of such triangulation, which leads to some broader reflections on literary theory and Flavian epic intertextuality.

43 Livy had already broken down the prose-verse boundary through Hanno’s self- characterisation as a uates (Livy 21.10.14), who not only predicts disaster for Carthage but also - for the reader - functions as a surrogate for the author as he projects the narrative of the Third Decade from its very beginning. Silius then picks up on and amplifies this metapoetic role through Hanno’s self-reflexive words, haec serus uates Hannon canit (Sil. 2.285). But besides the Livian resonance, highlighted by Hanno’s belatedness (serus), the verb canit also recalls Turnus’ sarcastic condemnation of Drances’ obsequious praise for the Trojans - capiti cane talia, demens, / Dardanio (Aen. 11.399-400) - an intertext based in part on the single verb cano but secured by the contextual resemblance between the two characters, Drances and Hanno, who praise the enemy to the heavens. The metapoetics of the word cano in the wake of the Aeneid’s incipit hardly requires elaboration, and the mere threat of invoking mise-en-abyme may put off weary critics.49 But the vital consideration here is the particular role Hanno is playing, and the context in which he plays it - a speaker in a debate with other speakers, a politician engaged in diplomacy and international relations.50 Like Drances - and to a lesser extent like Gestar and Mago - Hanno is a mediator par excellence, a figure who functions as conduit, medium, and means of comparison. That role naturally befits the ambassador, councillor, or other representative, but it is also a role conferred by the context - even on as predominantly epic a figure as Turnus - when that context is characterised by debate, negotiation, and diplomacy. Just as an ambassador, for example, acts as a representative for an individual, institution, or country, and at times departs from or resists that representative role, so too a figure such as Hanno sings like Livy, like Drances, like Vergil, like Silius himself, but not exactly like any one of them. And it is Silius too who functions as an intermediary negotiating so frequently between two authors, Vergil and Livy, and two genres of which those authors are themselves representatives, epic poetry and prose history.51

44 Authors and readers are always in the business of creating proxies - mental images of each other, their predecessors, their successors - but these proxies, like representatives and advisers, take on a life of their own, never fully under our control, since we know that our images of authors and audiences are always liable to shift in response to some new piece of information, insight, or perspective. Works of art are - at the level of production - the result of the negotiation between the competing demands of various groups, especially other writers and audiences, and - at the level of fiction - works of art are the stage on which proxies play out their ceremonial, representative, and communicative roles. As Silius’ Carthaginian debates illustrate, debate and diplomacy are by definition conducted not through a single authoritative figure or speech - a prophet, an artist, a god, or a singer, to take the usual metapoetic paradigms - but rather through a space between speakers and their audience, where the characters play both parts - that of speaker and audience. Thus, we see modelled in these scenes a similar kind of negotiation to that between author and reader, one author and another, one text and another, one event and another. What lies at stake in the Carthaginian

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 86

debates, then, is more than the fate of two empires: through their exchange, Hanno and his opponents negotiate the nature of the epic as well as the plot of history. And what emerges from this negotiation - this triangulation of source, proxy, and audience - is a poetic form enriched by the diverse content and idiom of Livy and Vergil, and uniquely suited to give an account of Roman identity past and present.

Conclusion

45 There is little question that computation speeds the process of identifying intertexts and that, as we argued in the introduction, it will be key to the feasibility of making non-binary intertextual comparisons (and of mapping intertextuality in non-canonical texts with the granularity already achieved for classical epic). It would be a mistake, however, to conclude that the value of computation starts and ends with the accumulation of increasingly long lists of parallels, just allowing the critic to the turn the crank on existing machinery faster and with less fatigue. Rather, an added value of this kind of quantitative scaling up - “big data,” if you will - lies in its qualitative implications for literary criticism. We believe that our analysis of the Carthaginian debates, supported by a nascent interdisciplinary collaboration with computer scientists and bioinformaticians, reveals a few small hints of that promise.

46 The three computational tools used here - Diogenes, Tesserae, and sequence alignment - are united by many similarities. They are differentiated, however, in one specific way - flexibility. The tools can be placed non-hierarchically on an axis of specificity, with Diogenes the most constrained in what it can find, sequence alignment the most expansive, and Tesserae somewhere in the middle. Constrained should not be taken as a negative descriptor here - Diogenes, as most classicists hardly need reminding, is an exquisite tool for finding repeated words, with almost no off-target results. The practical costs of sequence alignment’s flexibility are a much lower signal to noise ratio and the need to tune multiple parameters to obtain useful results. The value of combinatorial application of tools, it should be clear, is greater than ever.

47 In its sensitivity to inexact similarity and broad applicability, sequence alignment is an excellent aid to the study of triangulation. Noting the complementarity, one might say that we simply chose the right tool for the job. Such a straightforward assessment, however, elides both the nascent status of computation in literary criticism and the productive symbiosis between methodology development and interpretative work that underlies our reading of Silian intertextuality. In some sense, it is difficult to assert any causal relationship between sequence alignment and triangulation. It is not that the enhanced capabilities of sequence alignment magically made possible a triangular study, any more than sequence alignment, which is supported by an enormous theoretical and empirical literature in computational biology, was purpose-designed for this particular application (or even for the study of intertextuality in toto). Perhaps a better statement is that a move toward more flexible forms of computation, which thrust inexact, non-blockbuster parallels out of the shadows, mirrors bidirectionally a hermeneutic move toward macro appreciation of non-binary intertextual networks.52

48 Triangulation has proven an apt term not only for the “n + 1” process of computational search but also for the resulting literary critical negotiation of multiple source models. In both cases, the sense of triangulation used in the course of this essay has often been intuitive - a turning of a relationship between two texts into a relationship among

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 87

three, or some extension thereof. In closing, however, we might add to the term a further significance drawn from the field of philosophy of language. Triangulation is also the name given to a theory, proposed by Donald Davidson, which was designed in part to address a number of philosophical questions about how we learn and use language, concerning in particular the objectivity of our interpretations of others’ speech.53 Our interest here doesn’t lie in debating the merits of Davidson’s theory per se, which is as controversial as it is influential.54 Where the theory does intersect with our interests is in its implications for understanding the effects of intertextuality, especially in scenes of debate and diplomacy.

49 For our purposes, the salient component of Davidson’s theory is the principle of charitable interpretation. According to this principle, one must charitably assume that other speakers share the same world as we do, and hence the objects, events, or concepts referred to in their speech are the same objects, etc. that we perceive in our experiential world. Triangulation thus consists in the act of a subject cross-referencing the speech of an interlocutor with the shared world to which both speakers are properly assumed to be referring, and it is through this process alone that communication can be successful. By extension, literary scholars have seen in this model a potential means of determining the validity of textual interpretation: they advert to the necessity for a shared world between author and audience to which the text is understood to refer.55 In both philosophical and literary contexts, then, the concept of a shared world is crucial as a basis of communication.

50 Intertextuality, however, complicates this process of making and understanding meaning. Consider, for instance, the effects of Silius’ Hanno resembling Vergil’s Drances as well as Livy’s Hanno, contaminating one characterisation with another, and causing the reader to be unsure - if only for a moment - of the nature of the shared world to which Hanno, or Silius, is referring: is it Carthage or Rome? Is fides to be understood positively or ironically? Is the text in question a history or an epic? Intertextuality causes different meanings to arise by referring to one shared world rather than another, while at the same time allowing multiple worlds to co-exist, however uneasily. Davidson’s theory, though contested and ultimately designed with other purposes in mind, nevertheless provides an attractive model against which the effects of intertextuality stand out more clearly. In identifying and parsing literary intertexts, we become more sensitive to the successes and failures of sharing worlds - between characters, between works, between critics - and to the questions of who is sharing what with whom. Viewed from that perspective, scenes of debate and diplomacy, wherein terms are already disputed and rival visions of the world are proferred - those scenes are especially liable to yield insights about communication of the most complex and self-reflexive kind.

51 It’s against this context of shared meaning that we are perhaps best able to appreciate the role played by figures like Hanno (and Drances), which takes the communicative and representative function of the ambassador or councillor to the furthest extreme. For the majority of this essay, our purpose has been to highlight the effect of Silius’ intertextuality to undermine Hanno, principally because critics have not fully registered the allusions and the interpretive significance of Silius’ innovations against the Livian and Vergilian background. We added to this characterisation a sense of the mediating role played by Hanno, whose predictive powers in both Livy and Silius render him a figure (though not a precise figure) for the author. In the Punica,

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 88

moreover, Hanno’s conjoining of epic poetry and prose history - though perhaps already subtly present in Livy - represents a form of intergeneric mediation: oscillating between the strategic councillor of history and a Quisling-like figure of myth, Hanno gestures towards multiple realms of time, place, nationality, and explanatory discourse.

52 Such exuberant referentiality, especially in terms of identity and generic idiom, is a familiar feature of epic poetics: consider the mythico-historical Book 8 of the Aeneid, or Vergil’s use of Epicurean philosophical language. But we wish to conclude with a slightly different observation. The very features that undermine Hanno as a character within the narrative - his almost eroticised affiliation with the Romans, his evocation of Drances - begin to take on a different significance in terms of his figural, mediating role. Hanno represents an overidentification with the other that sets him apart from the majority, and which defies the expectations underlying normal, everyday interpretation. The audience may anticipate a shared world of one kind, in which Carthaginians or genres conform to type, but a figure such as Hanno disrupts that notion with unusual explicitness and creates a world that is shared in a surprising and unfamiliar way. He is a Carthaginian separated from his brethren and bonded not only with second century Romans but also with a semihistorical Latin. In this way, the emotive demeanour of Hanno, which aligns him not with the people one would expect but with the supposed enemy, does not make him the “one good Carthaginian” - in fact, as we’ve seen, Silius goes to some lengths to reject that simplistic view. Rather, Hanno embodies the very principle of intertextual interpretation: a challenge to the idea of a single text inviting the reader into a single shared world. Instead one text aligns with another, almost decoupling from itself in the process, and one by one differently shared worlds proliferate for us to enter as our capacity and desire for identification permit.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Ahl, F. 1985. Metaformations: Soundplay and Wordplay in Ovid and Other Classical Poets. Ithaca.

Altschul, S. F., W. Gish, W. Miller, E. Myers, and D. Lipman. 1990. “Basic local alignment search tool.” J. Mol. Bio. 215: 403-10.

Ariemma, E. 2006. “Tentazioni demagogiche nei Punica di Silio Italico.” Aevum Antiquum 6: 217-42.

Augoustakis, A. (ed.). 2014. Flavian Poetry and its Greek Past. Leiden.

Bernstein, N., K. Gervais, and W. Lin. Forthcoming. “Comparative rates of text reuse in classical Latin hexameter poetry.” Digital Humanities Quarterly 9.3.

Chaplin, J. 2000. Livy’s Exemplary History. Oxford.

Chaudhuri, P. 2014. The War With God: Theomachy in Roman Imperial Poetry. Oxford.

Chaudhuri, P. 2015. “The Thebaid in Italian Renaissance Epic: The Case of Capaneus.” Brill’s Companion to Statius. Ed. W. Dominik, C. Newlands, and K. Gervais. Leiden: 527-42.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 89

Chaudhuri, P. Forthcoming. “Embassies and Self-Representation in Silius’ Punica.” A Companion to Latin Epic, 14-96 CE. Ed. L. Fratantuono and C. Stark. Malden.

Coffee, N., J.-P. Koenig, S. Poornima, R. Ossewaarde, C. Forstall, and S. Jacobson. 2012. “Intertextuality in the Digital Age.” TAPA 142: 383-422.

Coffee, N., J.-P. Koenig, S. Poornima, R. Ossewaarde, C. Forstall, and S. Jacobson. 2013. “The Tesserae Project: Intertextual analysis of Latin poetry.” Lit. Ling. Comput. 28: 221-8.

Conington, J., and H. Nettleship. 1871. P. Vergili Maronis Opera: The Works of Virgil. Vol. 3. London.

Conte, G. B. 1986. The Rhetoric of Imitation: Genre and Poetic Memory in Virgil and Other Latin Poetry. Trans. C. Segal. Ithaca.

Cordell, R. 2013. “‘Taken Possession of’: The Reprinting and Reauthorship of Hawthorne’s ‘Celestial Railroad’ in the Antebellum Religious Press.” Digital Humanities Quarterly 7.1.

Cowan, R. 2009. “Virtual Epic: Counterfactuals, Sideshadowing and the Poetics of Contingency in the Punica.” Brill’s Companion to Silius Italicus. Ed. A. Augoustakis. Leiden: 323-51.

Dasenbrock, R. W. (ed.). 1993. Literary Theory After Davidson. University Park.

Davidson, D. 2001. Subjective, Intersubjective, Objective. Oxford.

Edmunds, L. 2001. Intertextuality and the Reading of Roman Poetry. Baltimore.

Feeney, D. C. 1982. A Commentary on Silius Italicus Book 1. Diss. Oxford University.

Feeney, D. C. 1984. “The Reconciliations of Juno.” CQ 34.1: 179-94.

Finn, E. 2012. “Becoming Yourself: David Foster Wallace and the Afterlife of Reception.” The Legacy of David Foster Wallace. Ed. S. Cohen and L. Konstantinou. Iowa City: 151-76.

Fowler, D. 1990. “Deviant Focalisation in Virgil’s Aeneid.” PCPS 36: 42-63.

Ganascia, J.-G., P. Glaudes, and A. Del Lungo. 2014. “Automatic detection of reuses and citations in literary texts.” Lit. Ling. Comput. 29: 412-21.

Ghiban, I. C., and S. Trǎuşan-Matu. 2013. “Network Based Analysis of Intertextual Relations.” Advances in Intelligent Systems and Computing 206: 753-62.

Hampton, T. 2009. Fictions of Embassy: Literature and Diplomacy in Early Modern Europe. Ithaca.

Hardie, P. 1990. “Flavian Epicists on Vergil’s Epic technique.” The Imperial Muse: Flavian Epicist to Claudian. Ed. A. J. Boyle. Victoria: 3-20.

Hardie, P. 1993. The Epic Successors of Virgil: A Study in the Dynamics of a Tradition. Cambridge.

Hardie, P. 1998. “Fame and Defamation in the Aeneid: The Council of Latins (Aeneid 11.225-467).” Vergil’s Aeneid: Augustan Epic and Political Context. Ed. H.-P. Stahl. London: 243-70.

Henry, J. 1889. Aeneidea, or Critical, Exegetical, and Aesthetical Remarks on the Aeneis. Vol. 4. Dublin.

Hinds, S. E. 1998. Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry. Cambridge.

Horsfall, N. M. 2002. “Sallustian politicians and Virgilian villains.” SCI 21: 79-81.

Isaac, B. H. 2004. The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity. Princeton.

Knauer, G. N. 1964. Die Aeneis und Homer: Studien zur poetischen Technik Vergils mit Listen der Homerzitate in der Aeneis. Göttingen.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 90

Landrey, L. 2014. “Skeletons in Armor: Silius Italicus’ Punica and the Aeneid’s Proem.” AJP 135.4: 599-635.

Lavan, M. 2013. Slaves to Rome: Paradigms of Empire in Roman Culture. Cambridge.

Maltby, R. 1991. A Lexicon of Ancient Latin Etymologies. Leeds.

Manuwald, G., and A. Voigt (ed.). 2013. Flavian Epic Interactions. Berlin.

Momigliano, A. 1990. Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization. Cambridge.

Nicol, J. 1936. The Historical and Geographical Sources Used by Silius Italicus. Oxford.

Olsen, M., R. Horton, and G. Roe. 2010. “Something Borrowed: Sequence Alignment and the Identification of Similar Passages in Large Text Collections.” Digital Studies / Le Champ Numérique 2.1.

Pomeroy, A. J. 2009. “To Silius through Livy and his Predecessors.” Brill’s Companion to Silius Italicus. Ed. A. Augoustakis. Leiden: 27-46.

Pomeroy, A. J. 2010. “Fides in Silius Italicus’ Punica.” Silius Italicus: Akten der Innsbrucker Tagung vom 19.-21. Juni 2008. Ed. F. Schaffenrath. Frankfurt: 59-76.

Roskies, A. L. 2011. “Triangulation and objectivity: Squaring the circle?” Triangulation: From an Epistemological Point of View. Ed. C. M. Amoretti and G. Preyer. Frankfurt: 97-102.

Smolenaars, J. J. L. 1994. Statius Thebaid 7: A Commentary. Leiden.

Spaltenstein, F. 1986. Commentaire des Punica de Silius Italicus (livres 1 à 8). Geneva.

Spaltenstein, F. 1990. Commentaire des Punica de Silius Italicus (livres 9 à 17). Geneva.

Stocks, C. 2014. The Roman Hannibal: Remembering the Enemy in Silius Italicus’ Punica. Liverpool.

Thomas, R. F. 1986. “Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference.” HSCP 90: 171-98.

Verheggen, C. 2007. “Triangulating with Davidson.” Philosophical Quarterly 57: 96-103.

Woodman, A. J., with C. S. Kraus 2014. Tacitus: Agricola. Cambridge.

NOTES

1. See Edmunds 2001. 2. Formative applications include Conte 1986, Hinds 1998. A paradigmatic example of older studies of allusion is Knauer 1964. 3. E.g., Augoustakis 2014, Manuwald and Voigt 2013. PC discusses Flavian intertextuality with Greek and Roman predecessors in Chaudhuri 2014, and with Italian Renaissance successors in Chaudhuri 2015. 4. The core intertextuality search tool developed by the Tesserae Project is available at the following URL: http://tesserae.caset.buffalo.edu/. See Coffee et al. 2012 and 2013 for an overview of the project. 5. On Drances and Livy’s Hanno see Conington and Nettleship 1871: 336; on Drances and Silius’ Hanno see Henry 1889: 181. 6. Hardie 1990. A notable study of combinatorial allusion in Flavian epic is J. J. L. Smolenaars’ commentary on Thebaid 7 (Smolenaars 1994). For earlier discussions of allusions to multiple authors see Conte 1986 and Thomas 1986.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 91

7. The term is borrowed, not coincidentally, from Donald Davidson’s theories of interpersonal communication. Although beyond the scope of the present article, a fuller application of Davidsonian triangulation to literary intertextuality may prove extremely fruitful. See the conclusion for preliminary remarks in that direction. 8. Indeed the “source” tag too can be jettisoned. An appealing feature of a triangular model is that by default it implies neither hierarchy nor chronology, facilitating the practice, now standard in classical reception studies, of reading backwards from a later to earlier text. One might also exploit the structure to infer information about one of the three vertices solely from the other two, in closer analogy to triangulation in geometry and orienteering. 9. Although still largely unexplored in classics, network analyses, whether involving characters in a single work, a set of mutually allusive texts, or moments of artistic or critical reception, have had ample influence in literary criticism. For specific examples see Cordell 2013, Finn 2012, and Ghiban and Trǎuşan-Matu 2013. The Stanford Literary Lab (https://litlab.stanford.edu/), co- directed by Franco Moretti and Mark Algee-Hewitt, has pioneered the application of network analysis to modern literature. 10. Spaltenstein 1986 and 1990. 11. Many similarity scores besides edit distance exist, but they all follow the same basic principle. 12. Altschul et al. 1990. A widely-used implementation of BLAST is available through the National Center for Biotechnology Information at the following URL: http:// blast.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/Blast.cgi. 13. Hinds 1998: 50. 14. This character-by-character approach distinguishes our methodology from other applications of sequence alignment in literary study, which take complete pairs of words (or longer strings) as their basic unit. Examples of such methods, though not applied with classical languages in mind, include PhiloLine and Text::Pair (http://code.google.com/p/text-pair/). See Olsen et al. 2010, and J.-G. Ganascia et al. 2014. 15. The technical details of the tool will be described in a forthcoming publication, which will also report the results of ongoing testing using objective protocols. 16. The Diogenes software is available for download (along with substantial documentation) at the following URL: https://community.dur.ac.uk/p.j.heslin/Software/Diogenes/. 17. See the references in n. 4 for additional information on the Tesserae methodology. 18. Coffee et al. 2012. 19. Bernstein et al. forthcoming. 20. Candidates include experimental topic modeling and semantic matching tools now under development by the Tesserae Project (http://tesserae.caset.buffalo.edu/cgi-bin/lsa.pl). 21. We say “apparent” because it is unclear why the parallel between Vergil’s equidem … minetur and Silius’ quidem … minantum did not appear in the Tesserae results. 22. Similar morphological endings can be thought of as part of a general class of phonetic resemblances, whether in ending, root, or even at the level of individual syllables. Character-by- character sequence alignment is inherently well attuned to detect similarities in sound based on phonetic units constituted by letters. A further advantage of sequence alignment is that it can aid in the detection of anagrams, as illustrated here by the relationship between toruum and mortuum discussed above. As such we have also developed a tool for detecting anagrams that uses a similar method. The details of this tool will be reported in a publication now in preparation. On the role of the syllable in Latin soundplay see Ahl 1985. 23. The quotation is from Coffee et al. 2012: 396. See Conte 1986: 31 for further discussion of code models. Tesserae is especially effective at detecting reuse of formulaic phrases since the underlying method is based on two-word pairs and can account for morphological variations. In

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 92

this context note Tesserae’s identification of patribusque uocatis as a formula linking Sil. 2.383 and Aen. 11.379. 24. These results were obtained - indeed, could only be obtained - when the cutoff score set by the tester was equal to the edit distance or greater. 25. The search query consisted of these four words, exclusive of any intervening words. As mentioned above, our input terms consisted of phrases of central importance to the line or passage at hand, including verb-direct object pairs (as seen here). 26. Spaltenstein 1986: 140. 27. The only other instance of incendia belli occurs at Argonautica 6.739 (again occupying the second half of the line), when Perses rushes headlong into the “heat of battle” against the Colchians. The phrase incendium belli appears only at De Republica 1.1.3, notably in a passing reference to the nascent Second Punic War. Silius might have had Cicero’s text in mind as well. 28. This parallel was discovered through the use of both the sequence alignment tool and Diogenes. A search for conuersi foedere rupto using the former yielded poenam foederis rupti (Livy 21.6.6) at a cutoff of 10. A Diogenes search for “bell~ absist” (in place of the phrase bello absistis) pointed to absisteretur bello (21.6.6). Silius in effect collapses two embassies reported by Livy into one, such that the language drawn from Valerius and Baebius’ mission appears in the context of the later mission led by Fabius. On the relation between Silius and his historical sources see Pomeroy 2009, Nicol 1936; an up-to-date book-length treatment is a desideratum. 29. On this passage see Chaudhuri 2014: 238. 30. See n. 5 above. 31. Spaltenstein 1986: 133. 32. The relatively extensive discussion of the intertextuality between Silius’ Hanno and Vergil’s Drances in Ariemma 2006 mentions Livy only in passing. 33. On strategies for dealing with such hermeneutic multiplicity (exemplified by the problem of focalisation but broadly applicable to intertextuality too) see Fowler 1990. 34. See Maltby 1991: s.v. foedus. The word fides plays a crucial role in the Roman representation of the Second Punic War and indeed of the Carthaginians in general, notoriously in the oxymoronic and sarcastic phrase Punica fides, and Silius is no exception in his frequent reference to the concept. On Roman (and Greek) stereotypes of the Carthaginians see Isaac 2004: 324-35. On fides in the Punica see Pomeroy 2010, and the forthcoming proceedings of the conference on fides in Flavian literature held at Radboud University Nijmegen. 35. Silius’ treatment of the concept of foedusque fidesque in the Punica is far more nuanced than hinted at by this stark opposition in Book 2. When, in the katabasis of Book 13, Scipio confronts the shade of Hamilcar about Hannibal’s treaty-breaking (taliane, o fraudum genitor, sunt foedera uobis?, Sil. 13.738), Hamilcar responds by citing his son’s devotion (o pietas, o sancta fides, Sil. 13.749) not only to his father but also to the gods by whom the young Hannibal had sworn his oath of vengeance. The Roman pedigree of such virtues is indisputable, even if critics have debated whether Hannibal ultimately perverts them, or whether the values themselves serve purely personal ends to the detriment of the state. In any case, Silius allows Hamilcar the last word in this exchange, leaving the reader with a very different impression of foedusque fidesque - as an idea far more open to contestation - than the one implied in the passage in Book 2. On Hannibal’s Roman qualities see Stocks 2014. 36. Hardie 1998: 261. 37. See Hardie 1998: 245, with further references, and Horsfall 2002. Silius repeatedly gestures towards the problems the Roman republic will face after the fall of Carthage, which are supposedly caused by the removal of the metus hostilis (e.g., Sil. 3.588-90), so he is keenly aware of the very discord that Drances prefigures.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 93

38. Cf., e.g., Met. 9.398 (Iolaus), Theb. 9.703 (Parthenopaeus). Spaltenstein ad loc. notes this and other similar intertexts, but not the crucial implications of the Vergilian passage, nor the highly germane moralising of Livy’s Hanno. 39. Cf, e.g., Sil. 2.362 and Aen. 11.438 (the intertext was noted in the same Tesserae search as n. 40 below; it was scored at 10). On Gestar as Turnus see Ariemma 2006: 221-2. 40. A Tesserae comparison of Punica 2 against the whole of the Aeneid revealed two intertexts for the phrase pro libertate, both scored at 10, that strengthen the Roman quality of Gestar and which are not found in Spaltenstein: Aen. 6.821 (used of Brutus, who values republican freedom above the lives of his own sons), and 8.648 (used of the Romans who willingly sacrifice their lives in resisting Porsenna). The same search revealed another intertext, also scored at 10, between Gestar and Mezentius, opponent of Aeneas. The Etruscan envisages his horse, Rhaebus, dying with him and avoiding the prospect of bearing a Trojan master (occumbes at Aen. 10.865 echoed in Silius’ occumbam at 366). Silius thus combines in one Carthaginian nationalist a desire for autonomy seen in both Vergil’s Romans and the enemies of Aeneas. Gestar’s commitment to libertas should also be compared with the rhetoric of Calgacus in Tacitus’ Agricola, on whom see Woodman 2014: 19-25, and Lavan 2013: 127-42. 41. This is a good example of the kind of intertext amenable to discovery by sequence alignment but not, for instance, the Tesserae methodology. Since Tesserae focuses on the presence of the same pair of words across two texts, and since there is no such pair between the Silian and Vergilian lines, no parallel is logged. A sequence alignment search, by contrast, reveals the Vergilian intertext (at a cutoff of 6) because of the character-by-character similarity between the two phrases, even though the verbs are unrelated in meaning. Diogenes would include the Vergilian passage if searching for Acheronta alone, but not if searching for Acheronta uidebo. 42. On the temporal extent of Juno’s anger in the Aeneid see Feeney 1984. 43. The attribution of agency to the Fury implied by the 2nd person verb moues (whereas Vergil’s 1st person mouebo locates the agency in Juno herself) is consistent with the increased powers of hell in Silver Latin epic. See Hardie 1993. 44. On Flavian epic’s response to Lucan’s theology see Chapters 6-8 of Chaudhuri 2014. 45. Chaplin 2000: 78-9. 46. On counterfactuals in the Punica see Cowan 2009. 47. Cf. Momigliano 1990: 5: “Vergil came near to transferring Punica fides to Aeneas.” 48. Silius does not alter Hanno’s status as a member of the senatorial elite, but the allusions to Drances - a demagogue of mixed background (his mother is noble, but his father’s origins are unknown; cf. Aen. 11.340-1) - necessarily colour our perception of Hanno and emphasise class issues that are more subtly present in Livy (21.4.1). 49. On Silius’ repeated allusions to the incipit of the Aeneid, specifically the arma uirumque collocation, see Landrey 2014. 50. For a similar treatment of “diplomatic poetics” in early modern culture see Hampton 2009. For an initial application of some of Hampton’s ideas to classical literature see Chaudhuri forthcoming. 51. Silius signals his dual literary and historical parentage from the outset of the Punica: the incipit ordior arma alludes to both Livy and Vergil. Besides the resonance of arma with the opening of the Aeneid, participial forms of ordior appear twice in the last sentence of Livy’s preface. See Feeney 1982 ad loc. 52. Computation, of course, forces the critic to confront “n-angulation” in other ways. To give only one example, consider the Tesserae user interface, which contains drop-down menus with almost all extant classical material. Given such a resource, it would take a real failure of imagination (if not overt laziness) for a critic not to make a few additional comparisons and see what turns up.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 94

53. The theory is adumbrated across many of Davidson’s publications, but the key discussions can be found in the essays in Davidson 2001. Triangulation has several varied and crucially important functions in Davidson’s philosophy, which ramify well beyond the narrow concern with language relevant here. 54. One useful entree into the philosophical discussion, though avowedly in Davidson’s camp, is Verheggen 2007; see also Roskies 2011. 55. On triangulation’s role in literary theory see Dasenbrock 1993.

RÉSUMÉS

This article examines a case study in Silius Italicus’ Punica using two distinct but complementary approaches to Flavian epic intertextuality: a methodological move to expand and further incorporate computational tools within philology, and a literary theoretical move to combine intertextuality and thematic interpretation. The case study focuses on the debates in the Carthaginian senate described in Punica 2 and 11, both of which Silius adapts from similar scenes in Livy while also drawing on Vergil’s Aeneid. Part 1 of the essay introduces a new tool for finding a range of inexact verbal parallels based on a bioinformatics technique known as sequence alignment. After comparing the method with two other computational tools, Diogenes and Tesserae, we assess our tool’s ability to detect intertexts in the Punica already noted in traditional scholarship. We then analyse a series of computationally identified parallels that have not been commented on previously and find that all three tools can reveal morphologically and syntactically similar phrases of apparent literary interest. Part 2 focuses on a feature of Silius’ triangulation of Livy and Vergil, the characterisation of the Carthaginian senator Hanno. Through allusions to Vergil’s Drances, Silius turns Hanno from a shrewd judge of Roman character and strength, as he appears in Livy, into a far more ambivalent, Quisling-like figure. Moreover, the effect of blending the two sources is to make more porous the distinctions between nationalities and other categories that structure the reader’s response to Hanno and to the Punica as a whole. In concluding, we suggest that the context in which these literary interactions take place - diplomacy and debate - itself figures the kind of negotiation taking place at a textual level between the various works and their worldviews. The conclusion unifies the methodological and theoretical parts of the essay under the rubric of “triangulation”, in part by drawing on the application of the term in the philosophy of Donald Davidson.

INDEX

Keywords : Silius Italicus, Punica, Vergil, Aeneid, Livy, Flavian epic, genre, intertextuality, triangulation, Hanno, Drances, Carthage, Rome, fides, debate, diplomacy, metapoetics, sequence alignment, computation, digital humanities

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 95

Innuptae ritus imitata Minervae : une comparaison chez Claudien et ses connexions flaviennes

Valéry Berlincourt

Introduction1

1 Le rôle inspirateur que les épopées flaviennes ont joué dans la tradition littéraire, notamment dans l’antiquité tardive, est bien documenté dans les commentaires et discuté dans de nombreux travaux. En particulier, l’étroitesse des liens que l’œuvre de Claudien entretient avec ces épopées – comme avec les Silves de Stace – a de longue date attiré l’attention.2 Cependant, beaucoup reste à faire pour préciser ces liens, et surtout pour analyser leurs diverses modalités sous l’angle de la technique poétique ; aussi mes observations porteront-elles en priorité sur cet aspect. Le close reading d’un bref passage du Panégyrique pour le consulat d’Olybrius et Probinus – premier poème latin que Claudien ait produit en Italie à l’occasion d’une cérémonie officielle – illustrera spécifiquement la complexité de certains phénomènes intertextuels dans lesquels s’inscrit la réception des épopées flaviennes.3

2 Récité en janvier 395 quelques mois après la victoire de l’empereur Théodose sur Eugène à la bataille de la Rivière Froide, le panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus célèbre l’octroi du consulat, dans un geste de réconciliation envers l’ancienne capitale qui avait soutenu l’usurpateur, à ces deux jeunes frères issus de la haute aristocratie chrétienne de Rome.4 Sa structure est caractérisée – entre un proème (1–10) et un épilogue (266–279) évoquant l’entrée dans la nouvelle année – par la succession d’une partie ostensiblement orientée selon les topoi de l’éloge (11–70 : notamment la famille et l’éducation des consuls) et d’un vaste récit épique (71–265).5 La présence d’un tel récit – qui sert du reste les visées laudatives, tout comme l’éloge formel est pénétré d’éléments épiques – apparaît comme une notable innovation dans la tradition du discours panégyrique.6 Au sein de la pars epica, une large place est accordée à l’action divine : d’abord celle de Roma, qui s’en va solliciter de Théodose qu’il attribue le

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 96

consulat à Olybrius et Probinus (71–173), puis celle de Tiberinus, qui assiste avec joie à leur investiture (205–265).

3 Le passage qui nous intéressera touche à la représentation de la déesse Roma en tant que divinité épique (71–173), qui constitue, elle aussi, une innovation majeure.7 Cette représentation emprunte aux expressions cultuelles et iconographiques (notamment numismatiques) de Roma comme déesse et à la divinisation littéraire de l’idée de Rome, 8 mais également, puisque Roma prend la parole (136–163), à la tradition rhétorique des discours prononcés par de semblables personnifications.9 On constate, en particulier dans sa partie initiale, une remarquable insistance descriptive qui paraît explicable par le fait que Claudien “crée” cette figure épique :10 après une invocation à la Muse puis une exposition des motivations de Roma (respectivement 71–72 et 73–77a), Claudien relate la préparation du char de la déesse (77b–82), tourne son regard vers celle-ci en la comparant à Minerve (83–84), puis décrit en détail son apparence extérieure et ses attributs (85–99), avant de narrer son voyage jusqu’au Frigidus (100–112), de montrer Théodose se reposant des combats (113–123), et de reporter enfin les propos échangés par les deux personnages (124–173). Le point précis qui retiendra mon attention est la comparaison que Claudien établit aux vers 83–84 en déclarant la déesse Roma semblable à Minerve – une comparaison qui fait office de transition entre le récit de la préparation du char et la description de la déesse :11 ipsa, triumphatis qua possidet aethera regnis, adsilit, innuptae ritus imitata Mineruae. Par l’éther qu’elle tient, après avoir triomphé des royaumes, elle s’élance, imitant les façons de la vierge Minerve. (tr. Charlet)

4 J’examinerai ici la manière dont cette comparaison interagit avec l’intertextualité et les références iconographiques de la représentation de Roma, ainsi qu’avec le développement linéaire du texte de Claudien.12

Roma–Minerve/Athéna : iconographie et hypotexte iliadique

5 La comparaison de Claudien entre la déesse Roma et Minerve constitue une référence extralittéraire faisant appel à la culture visuelle du public.13 En comparant cette déesse à Minerve, Claudien se fonde sur le fait que ses représentations figurées empruntent des traits à celles d’Athéna, pour des raisons qui tiennent à ses équivalences idéologiques avec la divinité protectrice éponyme de la cité athénienne. En particulier, l’iconographie de Roma partage avec celle d’Athéna des attributs comme le casque, le bouclier et la lance.

6 A un niveau différent, la comparaison avec Minerve se réfère à un hypotexte structurel majeur de l’ensemble de la séquence consacrée au trajet de Roma, à savoir la scène du cinquième chant de l’Iliade qui inclut la préparation des chevaux et du char par Héra assistée d’Hébé (Il. 5.720–732 ~ Ol.Prob. 77b–82), puis la description d’Athéna (Il. 5.733– 747 ~ Ol.Prob. 85–99), suivie par le trajet des deux déesses vers la terre (Il. 5.748–772 ~ Ol.Prob. 100–112).14 Ce lien intertextuel – qui a également des implications idéologiques importantes par rapport au pouvoir de Théodose15 – contribue fortement, dans la continuité de l’invocation à la Muse (71–72), à marquer comme épique le récit même de Claudien.16 De manière plus directement pertinente pour la question qui nous occupe, il confère clairement à Roma la consistance d’une déesse épique, et, à travers la relation

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 97

qu’il établit entre elle et Athéna, il joue un rôle significatif dans sa caractérisation comme déesse guerrière – une caractérisation qu’enrichissent en outre d’autres liens intertextuels avec le dieu Arès/Mars, notamment tel qu’il apparaît chez Stace.17 Tandis que les similitudes avec Homère sont surtout nettes dans la partie initiale décrivant la préparation des chevaux et du char (77b–82),18 la comparaison explicite entre Roma et Minerve soutient la reconnaissance de ce modèle littéraire qui se combine avec la référence iconographique à Roma–Athéna. Le participe imitata remplit aussi, semble-t- il, la fonction de signal intertextuel indiquant que Roma “imite” une “Minerve” littéraire, qui est l’Athéna de l’Iliade.19

7 La comparaison opère de manière relativement simple en ce qui concerne les points mentionnés à l’instant. Elle répond en effet aux attentes nées de la culture visuelle du public (Roma possède des attributs communs avec Athéna) en faisant appel à sa culture littéraire (la scène de Claudien rappelle une scène homérique où figure Athéna).

De Roma–Minerve/Athéna à Roma–Amazone

8 Un examen plus approfondi de la comparaison entre Roma et Minerve, et en particulier de son contexte dans le poème de Claudien, fait apparaître des effets plus complexes qu’il n’y semble à première vue.

9 On observera tout d’abord que la relation avec l’hypotexte homérique est plus sophistiquée que ne le montrent les matériaux présentés dans la section précédente. Dans l’Iliade, la préparation des chevaux et du char n’implique pas Athéna mais seulement Héra (assistée par Hébé) ; en revanche, la déesse dont l’apparence extérieure est ensuite décrite est Athéna (nommée dans Il. 5.733 αὐτὰρ Ἀθηναίη). Comme elle ne porte que sur Minerve, la comparaison de Claudien souligne le fait que son texte concentre dans le personnage de Roma (et de ses auxiliaires) des éléments que l’Iliade répartissait entre deux déesses. De plus, l’insertion de cette comparaison au moment précis où l’attention passe du char à Roma (désignée par ipsa au vers 83) suggère spécifiquement que Claudien a alors atteint le point où Homère déplaçait son regard d’Héra à Athéna.

10 La complexité des effets produits se révèle pleinement lorsque l’on analyse la comparaison à la lumière du développement linéaire du panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus. Comme on va le voir dans le détail, la relation que la comparaison entretient avec la description qui la suit est troublante.

11 Quels sont exactement les ritus de Minerve que Roma “imite” ? On pourrait penser qu’il s’agit de ce qui a été dit dans le membre de phrase antérieur, ipsa … adsilit, c’est-à-dire que la ressemblance tient au bond qu’effectue Roma. Une telle lecture pourrait être étayée par le fait que ce bond rappelle, du moins de façon très générale, l’action de l’Athéna iliadique montant sur le char (Il. 5.745 ποσὶ βήσετο). 20 Cependant, de solides arguments existent pour rapporter ritus plutôt à ce qui suit, c’est-à-dire à l’apparence extérieure de Roma (85–99). Outre les similitudes iconographiques des deux déesses, cette lecture trouve un soutien dans la manière dont l’expression s’insère dans son contexte, puisque la présence de nam au début de la description de Roma, au vers 85, paraît établir une relation de nature explicative avec la comparaison des vers 83–84. De surcroît, elle aussi peut prendre appui sur l’hypotexte homérique, où le récit de la préparation du char était suivi de la description d’Athéna. La comparaison semble donc

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 98

suggérer que la description de Roma expliquera en quoi cette déesse ressemble à Minerve. Plus spécifiquement, l’auditeur ou le lecteur qui reconnaît l’allusion au modèle homérique peut être amené à attendre que le poète décrive Roma sous les traits d’Athéna et, en particulier, sous des traits similaires à ceux dont est dotée Athéna au cinquième chant de l’Iliade. Or les vers 85–99 déçoivent en partie cette attente.

12 Parmi les principaux attributs iconographiques de Roma–Athéna, la description détaillée de Claudien inclut certes le casque (92–93) et le bouclier (94–99), mais elle omet entièrement la lance.21 Cette omission est frappante par rapport non seulement aux représentations figurées, mais aussi à la scène homérique, qui s’intéressait au geste d’Athéna saisissant sa lance au moment où elle montait sur le char (Il. 5.745–747) – et elle l’est également par rapport aux poèmes postérieurs de Claudien.22 De plus, le bouclier de Roma, dont l’image montre les origines de la nation romaine, a bien moins de points communs avec celui d’Athéna (ou avec son égide décrite dans Il. 5.738–742) qu’avec l’ekphrasis virgilienne du bouclier d’Enée.23 Surtout, les attributs que Roma partage avec Athéna – casque et bouclier – n’apparaissent pas avant les vers 92–99. Les traits descriptifs qui suivent immédiatement la comparaison avec Minerve, aux vers 85–90, ne ressemblent guère à l’iconographie de Roma–Athéna ni à l’Athéna de l’Iliade, mais évoquent au contraire une femme chasseresse ou guerrière, et en particulier une Amazone : chevelure sans ornement, absence de bijoux, flanc droit et bras dénudés, poitrine découverte.

13 L’apparition de traits “amazoniens” dans la description de Roma aux vers 85–90 peut déconcerter le lecteur ou l’auditeur en raison de la comparaison avec Minerve présente dans les vers précédents et de la relation explicative que nam paraît établir avec elle. Cependant, le rapprochement explicite avec Minerve dispense aussi en quelque sorte Claudien de décrire la face “athénaïque” de Roma, puisqu’il souligne les liens de cette déesse avec Athéna et conforte dans l’esprit du public le souvenir de l’Athéna homérique, et il ouvre ainsi dans le récit un espace susceptible d’être occupé par une autre image. Or la nature “amazonienne” de cette image n’a en soi rien d’inattendu, puisque l’iconographie de Roma associe souvent, à la référence “athénaïque”, des traits d’Amazone qui jouent un rôle essentiel dans la caractérisation de la déesse : notamment la tunique courte, la poitrine découverte et des armes variées, dont le poignard.24 Claudien s’accorde avec de telles représentations figurées dans le panégyrique d’Olybrius et Probinus – ce qu’il ne fera plus dans ses poèmes postérieurs, où l’accent sera clairement mis sur la face “athénaïque” de Roma.25

14 Pour construire la face “amazonienne” de Roma, Claudien renonce prévisiblement aux traits les plus typiques des Amazones ou quasi-Amazones, comme l’arc et les flèches, et surtout le bouclier en croissant (pelta) ou la double hache (bipennis), qui n’appartiennent pas à l’iconographie de la déesse. Pour la plupart, les attributs “amazoniens” dont il dote Roma sont pour ainsi dire sous-déterminés, en ce sens qu’ils sont communs à diverses femmes et déesses guerrières ou chasseresses, tout comme c’est le cas des attributs “amazoniens” de ses représentations figurées. Le trait le plus distinctif qu’il mentionne est la poitrine découverte, également récurrente dans l’iconographie de la divinité tutélaire de Rome. Cette propriété du texte de Claudien se reflète dans son intertextualité. Alors que les principaux attributs des Amazones figurées que le poète omet – arc et flèches, pelte, bipenne – sont aussi des attributs fondamentaux des Amazones littéraires,26 la plupart de ceux qu’il retient sont, intertextuellement, liés de façon plus générale à diverses guerrières ou chasseresses.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 99

Tel est le cas du flanc et des bras dénudés (87 dextrum nuda latus, niueos exserta lacertos), dont la description, analysée en détail dans un récent article, se rattache à une riche tradition impliquant les épopées flaviennes, qui inclut d’autres types de personnages féminins aux côtés d’Amazones ou quasi-Amazones.27 On ajoutera à cet égard une remarque sur l’expression décrivant la poitrine de Roma, 88 audacem retegit mammam : si le nom mamma est peu spécifique en soi, son association avec l’adjectif audax peut plus particulièrement évoquer l’image de Penthésilée sur le temple de Carthage chez Virgile, Enéide 1.492–493 aurea subnectens exsertae cingula mammae | bellatrix, audetque uiris concurrere uirgo, où le verbe audere caractérise l’attitude de cette reine des Amazones.28

15 Les procédés intertextuels relevés à l’instant contrastent avec ceux qui sont à l’œuvre dans la construction de la face “athénaïque” de Roma. Tandis que la référence aux Amazones (que Claudien développe au sujet de l’apparence extérieure de la déesse) repose surtout sur une large tradition littéraire de figures guerrières et chasseresses, on a vu dans la section précédente que la référence à Athéna (que le poète développe pour une large part au sujet de l’action de Roma et de ses auxiliaires) repose au contraire sur un lien manifeste et même ostentatoire avec un hypotexte précis.

Mise en mots de la comparaison

16 La diction que Claudien utilise pour comparer Roma à Minerve, innuptae ritus imitata Mineruae (“imitant les façons de la vierge Minerve” tr. Charlet), mérite elle aussi l’attention sous l’angle de l’intertextualité, et en particulier de l’intertextualité avec les épopées flaviennes.29

17 L’expression ritus imitata n’a que deux parallèles dans la poésie latine conservée, tous deux dans les Punica de Silius Italicus. Seul l’un d’entre eux, 6.531–532, est cité par le commentateur moderne.30 ‘nec tibi nunc ritus imitantem irasque ferarum Pygmalioneam tentarem expromere gentem, si maius quicquam toto uidisset in orbe gens hominum, quam quod uestri ueneranda parentis edidit exemplum uirtus.’31 “Je ne tenterais pas de te dépeindre ici la race de Pygmalion, pareille aux fauves en ses pratiques furieuses, si, dans le monde entier, le genre humain avait jamais offert plus bel exemple de courage que celui de ton vénérable père.” (tr. Miniconi– Devallet)

18 Dans ce passage – où ne figure pas le participe parfait mais le participe présent du verbe imitari – la signification est semblable à celle que l’on trouve dans la comparaison de Claudien, puisque le nom ritus s’y réfère aux usages, aux coutumes. En revanche, le contexte est très différent, puisque ritus imitantem sert à comparer le peuple carthaginois, non à une déesse, mais à des bêtes sauvages (ferarum).

19 Un autre parallèle dans les Punica, 4.768–769, est plus proche du vers de Claudien par son contexte et sa forme. urna reducebat miserandos annua casus, sacra Thoanteae ritusque imitataDianae. Chaque année ramenait le tirage au sort de ces misérables victimes – à l’image du culte et des rites voués à Diane au royaume de Thoas. (tr. Miniconi–Devallet)

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 100

20 Ce passage – où figure le participe parfait comme chez Claudien (en position métrique identique32) – est sémantiquement différent de celui du panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus, en ce sens que le nom ritus n’y désigne pas les coutumes, mais plutôt les cérémonies rituelles – ce qui explique peut-être pourquoi il n’est pas cité par le commentateur. En revanche, il y est question d’une déesse. Qui plus est, la séquence verbale Thoanteae ritusque imitata Dianae est, dans son ensemble, formellement équivalente (et métriquement identique, exception faite de la syllabe additionnelle Tho‑ et de l’enclitique élidé ‑que) à la séquence innuptae ritus imitata Mineruae de Claudien.

21 Il convient, en passant, de souligner que les substitutions de noms propres, telles que l’on en observe entre Dianae chez Silius Italicus et Mineruae chez Claudien, constituent un phénomène plus difficilement repérable que d’autres au moyen des méthodes traditionnelles de l’analyse intertextuelle, et qu’il serait dès lors souhaitable qu’à l’avenir les nouvelles méthodes digitales leur accordent (ainsi qu’à des phénomènes voisins) une attention privilégiée. Le bénéfice que l’on peut attendre d’un tel développement est certes peu spectaculaire dans le cas qui nous occupe ici, puisque la correspondance entre les passages concernés repose aussi sur la présence commune de deux mots identiques, ritus et imitari, ce qui suffit à assurer son repérage par les outils existants (qu’il s’agisse d’outils d’analyse intertextuelle comme Tesserae [lien web : tesserae.caset.buffalo.edu] ou de bases de données que l’utilisateur interroge de manière ciblée). Ce bénéfice serait en revanche évident lorsque la correspondance ne repose que sur un mot identique commun, ou même sur aucun ; citons à titre d’exemple la remarquable équivalence (incluant une identité presque parfaite de structure métrique) entre l’ensemble du vers 17.196 des Punica de Silius Italicus, pulsat Agenoreas Rhoeteia lancea portas, et l’ensemble du vers 3.492 de la Thébaïde de Stace, soluere Echionias Lernaea cuspide portas.

22 Pour sa part, la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae est présente dans la même forme que chez Claudien (et en même position métrique) dans le deuxième livre de l’Enéide en relation avec la découverte du cheval de Troie,33 mais elle a également chez Stace, Thébaïde 12.529–531, un autre parallèle dont l’examen s’avère beaucoup plus fructueux. ipsae autem nondum trepidae sexumue fatentur, nec uulgare gemunt, aspernanturque precari, et tantum innuptae quaerunt delubra Mineruae. Elles-mêmes ne connaissent toujours pas la peur ni n’avouent être des femmes : loin de gémir comme les autres, elles dédaignent les prières et ne cherchent que le temple de la vierge Minerve. (tr. Lesueur)

23 Le contexte de ces vers est clairement pertinent pour le passage de Claudien, puisque Stace, occupé à décrire la procession triomphale de Thésée à Athènes, fait usage de la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae pour désigner le sanctuaire vers lequel se tournent, en quête d’une protection divine, les Amazones vaincues. Comment caractériser au juste ce lien intertextuel ? Il est paradoxal en un sens, puisque la iunctura qui est utilisée par Stace au sujet de l’action des Amazones est employée par Claudien pour comparer la déesse Roma, non aux Amazones, mais à Minerve/Athéna. Cependant, il se révèle moins paradoxal si on le met en relation avec le développement linéaire de la représentation de Roma : on a vu, en effet, que la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae y est elle-même immédiatement suivie de la description de traits qui appartiennent à l’image de Roma en tant qu’Amazone. Quoi qu’il en soit, l’affinité avec Minerve que Stace attribue aux Amazones offre un appui à l’articulation que Claudien construit entre la comparaison de Roma avec Minerve et la description de ses traits “amazoniens”.34 A cet égard, il vaut

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 101

la peine d’observer que la communauté de valeurs qui explique cette affinité se reflète dans le fait que le terme innupta, qui qualifie Minerve dans le passage cité ci-dessus,35 a été appliqué aux Amazones elles-mêmes plus haut dans le douzième livre de la Thébaïde (12.182 innuptis … cohortibus).36

24 Il est possible de pousser plus loin cette lecture intertextuelle si l’on se penche sur la relation que la représentation de Roma chez Claudien entretient avec la suite du récit du triomphe de Thésée, où Stace s’intéresse à la présence de la reine des Amazones dans le cortège (Theb. 12.532–539). primus amor niueis uictorem cernere uectum quadriiugis ; nec non populos in semet agebat Hippolyte, iam blanda genas patiensque mariti foederis. hanc patriae ritus fregisse seueros Atthides oblique secum mirantur operto murmure, quod nitidi crines, quod pectora palla tota latent, magnis quod barbara semet Athenis misceat atque hosti ueniat paritura marito. D’abord tous les regards se portent à l’envi sur le vainqueur dont quatre chevaux blancs entraînent le char ; Hippolyté aussi attire sur elle la curiosité populaire : maintenant son visage est aimable, elle s’est pliée au joug conjugal. Les femmes d’Athènes s’étonnent discrètement et murmurent en secret voyant qu’elle n’observe plus les rites sévères de sa patrie, que sa coiffure est soignée, que toute sa poitrine est cachée sous sa robe et que, barbare comme elle est, elle se mêle à la puissante Athènes et vient donner une progéniture à un ennemi, son mari. (tr. Lesueur)

25 Dans les vers cités ici, la reine que Stace nomme Hippolyté – et non Antiopé comme le fait souvent la tradition littéraire37 – a désormais abandonné les coutumes des Amazones. On remarquera que, pour se référer à ces coutumes au vers 12.535, le poète flavien recourt au nom ritus dans la même acception que le fait Claudien 38 (et en position métrique identique39) – ce qu’il fera du reste encore dans l’Achilléide à l’intérieur du discours où Thétis présente à Lycomède la “sœur d’Achille”, prétendument réfractaire au mariage (1.353 Amazonio conubia pellere ritu, où ritus occupe une position différente). Stace poursuit en précisant ce qui distingue désormais Hippolyté de ses sujettes, notamment le fait que sa chevelure est peignée et sa poitrine couverte. Dans son texte comme dans celui de Claudien, la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae précède donc une description de traits amazoniens – même si, en l’occurrence, la description porte sur les caractéristiques qu’Hippolyté ne possède plus.

26 Dans ces circonstances, il est tentant de lire les attributs “amazoniens” de la Roma de Claudien comme une inversion de l’Hippolyté de la Thébaïde – qui elle-même abandonne les caractéristiques des Amazones. Il est même permis de se demander si les qualités ekphrastiques de ces attributs ne seraient pas, en quelque sorte, stimulées par l’“invitation à l’ekphrasis” que semble constituer chez Stace l’étonnement qu’éprouvent les témoins de la transformation subie par Hippolyté.40 En tout état de cause, le fait que la comparaison de Claudien entre Roma et Minerve est immédiatement suivie de la mention de traits “amazoniens” qui impliquent une différence plutôt qu’une ressemblance avec Minerve apparaît dans une lumière nouvelle au vu du récit statien du triomphe de Thésée. Car, par la relation intertextuelle que la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae établit avec ce récit, la comparaison de Claudien rapproche Roma des Amazones elles-mêmes (Theb. 12.531) et des traits amazoniens inversés qui caractérisent la métamorphose de leur reine Hippolyté (Theb.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 102

12.535–539), et elle renforce ainsi la consistance littéraire de la représentation de Roma comme Amazone.41

27 L’analyse des liens qui unissent la déesse Roma du panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus aux Amazones de la Thébaïde mérite d’être mise en perspective par quelques vers d’une pièce postérieure de Claudien, le premier des poèmes fescennins pour les noces d’Honorius et de Marie (fesc. 1.31–39). tu si niualis per iuga Caucasi saeuas petisses pulcher Amazonas, peltata pugnas desereret cohors sexu recepto ; patris et inmemor inter frementes Hippolyte tubas strictam securim languida poneret, et seminudo pectore cingulum forti negatum solueret Herculi, bellumque solus conficeret decor. Si, parmi les monts du Caucase enneigé, ta beauté agressait l’Amazone en rage, la cohorte aux peltes cesserait la lutte pour recouvrer son sexe ; et, dans le fracas des clairons, oubliant son père, Hippolyte alanguie poserait sa hache brandie et dénouerait de son buste à demi nu le baudrier refusé au fort Hercule, et ton charme seul achèverait la guerre. (tr. Charlet)

28 En affirmant que la beauté du jeune empereur et époux amènerait les Amazones à abandonner le combat et leur reine Hippolyté à déposer sa hache et céder sa ceinture, Claudien se réfère expressément à l’épisode dans lequel cette reine résistait à Hercule (37–38 cingulum | forti negatum … Herculi) ; et il est proche, pour la représentation et la diction, des évocations de cet épisode dans les tragédies de Sénèque.42 Cependant, par le contexte comme par le contenu, il opère une inversion similaire à celle qui est dépeinte dans le douzième livre de la Thébaïde. En effet, le remarquable comportement amoureux qu’il imagine pour les Amazones, et en particulier pour Hippolyté, ressemble fort au comportement que Stace attribue à la reine des Amazones défilant dans le cortège de Thésée – une reine que le poète flavien, on l’a vu, nomme également Hippolyté. La fantaisie des vers fescennins paraît ainsi s’appuyer sur le même passage de la Thébaïde que la description des traits “amazoniens” de Roma dans le panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus.43

Conclusion

29 A l’examen de son contexte et de son intertextualité, la comparaison entre Roma et Minerve s’avère reposer sur une construction d’une grande complexité.

30 Fondée sur la parenté que les représentations figurées de Roma possèdent avec celles d’Athéna, cette comparaison tire une justification supplémentaire de la relation qui unit la scène de Claudien à son hypotexte iliadique. Elle introduit entre le récit des préparatifs de Roma et la description de son apparence une articulation calquée sur cet hypotexte, et souligne le fait que, dans l’articulation présente chez Homère, le regard se déplace d’Héra vers Athéna. Dans le même temps, alors que la comparaison, tout comme l’intertextualité homérique, semble faire attendre une description des traits

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 103

“athénaïques” de Roma, cette attente est frustrée par l’irruption d’une description – prévisible en soi, mais surprenante en cet endroit du texte – de ses traits “amazoniens”. La plupart de ces traits sont communs à diverses guerrières et chasseresses, et leur description ne s’appuie pas sur un modèle prédominant tel que l’est la scène de l’Iliade où agissent Héra et Athéna.

31 La comparaison avec Minerve montre de manière exemplaire combien les épopées flaviennes, à l’instar d’autres textes, font l’objet, dans l’imitatio pratiquée par Claudien, d’une appropriation profonde et parfois remarquablement attentive aux subtilités des modèles. L’expression ritus imitata a pour précédent un passage du quatrième livre des Punica où elle figure, dotée d’un sémantisme partiellement différent (pour ritus) et appliquée non à Minerve mais à Diane, dans une structure formellement équivalente à celle de Claudien. Pour sa part, la iunctura innuptae … Mineruae établit des liens fertiles pour l’interprétation avec le dernier livre de la Thébaïde. En rappelant – par le biais de la divinité vers laquelle elles se tournent – les Amazones captives défilant dans le cortège triomphal de Thésée, elle confère une pertinence intertextuelle à l’enchaînement, potentiellement déconcertant, entre la comparaison de Roma avec Minerve et la description de ses traits “amazoniens”. La richesse de ces liens est accrue par le fait que Stace, dans des vers sur lesquels le panégyrique pour Olybrius et Probinus semble renchérir, décrit les usages auxquels la reine des Amazones a renoncé. Du reste, Claudien paraît faire écho au même passage de la Thébaïde dans ses vers fescennins pour les noces d’Honorius et de Marie lorsqu’il évoque les Amazones et leur reine abandonnant leurs coutumes et cédant à l’empereur.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Berlincourt, V. (2013), Commenter la Thébaïde (16e–19e s.) : Caspar von Barth et la tradition exégétique de Stace, Leiden ; Boston.

Berlincourt, V. (2014), “Commenting on Claudian’s ‘Political Poems’, 1612/1650”, in K.A.E. Enenkel (ed.), Transformations of the Classics via Early Modern Commentaries, Leiden ; Boston, 125– 150.

Berlincourt, V. (2015), “Lucain et le souhait de domination de la déesse Roma (Claud. Ol. Prob. 160–163)”, in V. Berlincourt – L. Galli Milić– D.P. Nelis (eds.), Lucan and Claudian : Context and Intertext, Heidelberg.

Berlincourt, V. (à paraître [a]), “Dea Roma and Mars : Intertext and Structure in Claudian’s Panegyric for the Consuls Olybrius and Probinus.”

Berlincourt, V. (à paraître [b]), “Lien intertextuel et contexte dans l’œuvre-source : Claudien Ol. Prob. 163, Symmaque et les laudes Italiae”, Philologus.

Bernstein, N.W. (à paraître), “Rome’s Arms and Breast : Claudian Panegyricus Dictus Olybrio et Probino Consulibus 83–90 and its Tradition”, CQ.

Cameron, A. (1970), Claudian : Poetry and Propaganda at the Court of Honorius, Oxford.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 104

Charlet, J.-L. (ed.) (2000), Claudien : Œuvres, Poèmes politiques (395–398), t. II.1, Paris.

Christiansen, P.G. (1969), The Use of Images by Claudius Claudianus, The Hague ; Paris.

Christiansen, P.G. (1971), “Claudian and Eternal Rome”, AC 40, 670–674.

Dewar, M. (1996), Claudian : Panegyricus de sexto consulatu Honorii Augusti, Oxford.

Di Filippo Balestrazzi, E. (1997), “Roma”, LIMC t. VIII (suppl.), 1048–1068.

Döpp, S. (1980), Zeitgeschichte in Dichtungen Claudians, Wiesbaden.

Duval, Y.-M. (1984), “La figure de Théodose chez Claudien”, in La poesia tardoantica : tra retorica, teologia e politica : atti del V Corso della Scuola superiore di archeologia e civiltà medievali presso il Centro di cultura scientifica "E. Majorana", Erice (Trapani) 6–12 dicembre 1981, Messina, 133–185.

Ernesti, J. (1998), Princeps christianus und Kaiser aller Römer : Theodosius der Große im Lichte zeitgenössischer Quellen, Paderborn.

Fo, A. (1982), Studi sulla tecnica poetica di Claudiano, Catania.

Gillett, A. (2012), “Epic Panegyric and Political Communication in the Fifth-Century West”, in L. Grig – G. Kelly (eds.), Two Romes : Rome and Constantinople in Late Antiquity, Oxford, 265–290.

Hofmann, H. (1988), “Überlegungen zu einer Theorie der nichtchristlichen Epik der lateinischen Spätantike”, Philologus 132, 101–159.

Keudel, U. (1970), Poetische Vorläufer und Vorbilder in Claudians De consulatu Stilichonis, Göttingen.

Lawatsch-Boomgaarden, B. (1992), “Die Kunstbeschreibung als strukturierendes Stilmittel in den Panegyriken des Claudius Claudianus”, GB 18, 171–193.

Mellor, R. (1981), “The Goddess Roma”, ANRW t. II.17.2, 950–1030.

Müller, G.M. (2011), Lectiones Claudianeae : Studien zu Poetik und Funktion der politisch- zeitgeschichtlichen Dichtungen Claudians, Heidelberg.

Perrelli, R. (1992), I proemi Claudianei : tra epica ed epidittica, Catania.

Pollmann, K. (2004), Statius, Thebaid 12, Paderborn.

Riedl, P. (1995), “Die Romidee Claudians”, Gymnasium 102, 537–555.

Roberts, M. (2001), “Rome Personified, Rome Epitomized : Representations of Rome in the Poetry of the Early Fifth Century”, AJPh 122, 533–565.

Schindler, C. (2004), “Tradition – Transformation – Innovation : Claudians Panegyriken und das Epos”, in W.-W. Ehlers – F. Felgentreu – S. Wheeler (eds.), Aetas Claudianea : eine Tagung an der Freien Universität Berlin vom 28. bis 30. Juni 2002, München ; Leipzig, 16–37.

Schindler, C. (2008), “Claudians ‘pagane’ Götter : Tradition und Innovation in der spätantiken Panegyrik”, Gymnasium 115, 331–345.

Schindler, C. (2009), Per carmina laudes : Untersuchungen zur spätantiken Verspanegyrik von Claudian bis Coripp, Berlin ; New York.

Schmidt, P.L. (1976), Politik und Dichtung in der Panegyrik Claudians, Konstanz.

Taegert, W. (1988), Claudius Claudianus : Panegyricus dictus Olybrio et Probino consulibus, München.

Ware, C. (2012), Claudian and the Roman Epic Tradition, Cambridge.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 105

Wheeler, S. (2007), “More Roman than the Romans of Rome : Virgilian (Self-)Fashioning in Claudian’s Panegyric for the Consuls Olybrius and Probinus”, in J. Scourfield (ed.), Texts and Culture in Late Antiquity : Inheritance, Authority, and Change, Swansea, 97–133.

Zarini, V. (2012), “Epique et épidictique dans la poésie latine de l’antiquité tardive”, in N. Catellani-Dufrêne – M.-L.J. Perrin (eds.), La lyre et la pourpre : poésie latine et politique de l’antiquité tardive à la Renaissance, Rennes, 17–32.

NOTES

1. Si ce texte s’est épanoui dans le cadre de mon projet de recherche FNS Ambizione “Réécriture et auto-référence dans les poèmes politiques de Claudien” (Université de Bâle), ses premiers germes se sont développés dans le cadre des deux projets FNS “Latin Poetry : Studies in Intertextuality” et “Intertextuality in Flavian Epic Poetry” (Université de Genève, dir. Damien Nelis) ainsi qu’au cours d’un semestre à Université de Cincinnati rendu possible par le généreux octroi d’un Margo Tytus Fellowship. Ses diverses incarnations incluent une communication au colloque “Entre imitatio et intertextualité : citation et allusion dans la poésie latine” à la Fondation Hardt (2011) et une conférence à l’Université de Toronto (2013). Que mes collègues de Genève et de Bâle, les participants du colloque de la Fondation Hardt et le public de la conférence de Toronto, ainsi que les rapporteurs anonymes de Dictynna soient ici remerciés pour la contribution que leurs critiques et suggestions ont apportée à mes réflexions. Je suis en outre très reconnaissant à Neil Bernstein de m’avoir envoyé l’article cité n.19, 27, 28. 2. Voir notamment Ware 2012 (analyse générale de l’intertextualité épique chez Claudien) ainsi que les commentaires de Taegert 1988 sur Ol.Prob., qui nous concernera ici, de Keudel 1970 sur Stil. et de Dewar 1996 sur 6Hon. Cf. e.g. les commentaires de Barth 1612 and 1650 (sur Claudien) et 1664–65 (sur Stace), avec Berlincourt 2013 :406–407 et 490 ainsi que Berlincourt 2014 :144–148. 3. Pour une discussion générale de l’intertextualité dans ce poème, voir Wheeler 2007, qui souligne que Claudien s’y présente essentiellement comme un “nouveau Virgile” ; pour d’autres illustrations de la complexité des phénomènes intertextuels qui y sont à l’œuvre, Berlincourt 2015, à paraître (a) et (b). 4. Cameron 1970 :30–45, Döpp 1980 :50–60,Duval 1984 :135–144, Taegert 1988 :35–40, Perrelli 1992 :13–22, Ernesti 1998 :358–365, Charlet 2000 :5, Wheeler 2007 :98–99, Müller 2011 :75–90, Gillett 2012 :265–271. 5. Döpp 1980 :50–60, Taegert 1988 :35–51, Charlet 2000 :3–5, Schindler 2009 :60–76, Müller 2011 : 63–90. 6. Fo 1982 :30–33, Perrelli 1992 :22–28, Wheeler 2007 :99–104, Schindler 2009 :60–76 (cf. Schindler 2004), Müller 2011 :63–90. Sur les aspects génériques des poèmes politiques de Claudien plus généralement, voir en outre Cameron 1970, Schmidt 1976, Hofmann 1988, Gillett 2012, Zarini 2012. 7. Sur Roma chez Claudien (aussi Gild. 17–212, Eutr. 1.371–513, Stil. 2.223–407, 6Hon. 356–493), voir Christiansen 1969 :49–57 et 1971, Cameron 1970 :273–276 et 363–366, Taegert 1988 ad Ol.Prob. 73– 173, Riedl 1995 :538–544, Dewar 1996 ad 6Hon. 356–425, Roberts 2001 :535–538, Wheeler 2007 :110, Schindler 2009 :66–72, 97–101 et 132–137. 8. Mellor 1981, Di Filippo Balestrazzi 1997 (iconographie). 9. Notamment Cic. Catil. 1.17–19 et 27–29, Lucan. 1.183–203, Sil. 15.522–559, Paneg. 7[6].10.5–11.4, Symm. rel. 3.9–10, Ambr. epist. 18.7 (cf. 4–6 et 8), Paneg. 2[12].11.4–7, et, postérieur à Ol.Prob., Prud. c.Symm. 2.641–772. 10. Cette insistance sur la description de Roma (sans équivalent dans les poèmes suivants) est notamment relevée par Dewar ad 6Hon. 356–425, cf. aussi e.g. Christiansen 1969 :55.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 106

11. Pour imitatus, voir TLL 7.1.435.80sqq. “praevalet notio imitationis non voluntariae vel fortuitae fere i.q. similem esse, similem se gerere sim.” ; OLD s.v. 2b “to have the appearance of, resemble”. Pour ritus, OLD s.v. 2c “mode of behaviour, practice, usage, ways”. 12. Des aspects plus généraux de la construction de Roma comme divinité épique dans les vers 71–173 – notamment son intertextualité “structurelle” avec des passages de la Thébaïde de Stace – sont analysés dans Berlincourt à paraître (a). 13. La proximité entre la déesse Roma de Claudien et l’iconographie est soulignée dans la plupart des travaux cités n.7 ; sur la relation que les poèmes de Claudien entretiennent avec les représentations figurées, voir Lawatsch-Boomgaarden 1992. 14. Pour les détails, voir Taegert 1988 ad loc. 15. Voir Schindler 2008 :336–337 et 2009 :68–69 sur le fait que le voyage de Roma, contrairement à celui d’Héra et Athéna, ne précède pas la bataille mais la suit, et n’est donc pas utile à la victoire du héros. 16. Dans une certaine mesure, l’intertextualité avec d’autres poèmes épiques, dont les épopées flaviennes, exerce une fonction similaire. 17. Ces liens intertextuels avec Arès/Mars sont discutés dans Berlincourt à paraître (a). 18. En particulier, les vers 81–82 condensent Il. 5.722–723 et 729–732, comme le remarque Taegert 1988 ad loc. Un lien est cependant établi précédemment, dès les vers 77–78, avec Arès/Mars dans Hom. Il. 15 et Stat. Theb. 7 ; cf. sur ce point Berlincourt à paraître (a). 19. Cf. Bernstein à paraître, qui interprète imitata comme un signal relatif aux liens intertextuels que la description des vers 85sqq. entretient avec les personnages féminins cités infra n.27. 20. Sur les difficultés d’interprétation posées par adsilit, voir Taegert 1988 ad loc., qui considère que Claudien désigne par ce verbe “Romas Weg von ihrer Heimstatt im Tempel auf dem Palatin zum himmlischen Abflugort” ; si l’on adopte cette interprétation, le bond de Roma ne possède qu’un lien très général avec l’action d’Athéna montant sur le char. Observons aussi en passant cette différence : alors que l’action désignée par adsilit précède la description de Roma, celle décrite par ποσὶ βήσετο suit la description d’Athéna. 21. La lance de Roma est uniquement mentionnée en relation avec la préparation du char, plus haut dans le texte, à l’intérieur d’une proposition circonstancielle illustrant en termes généraux l’action de la déesse : 80 siue petat Parthos seu cuspide turbet Hydaspem. Sur la lance de Mars dans la comparaison des vers 119–123, et sur sa relation avec les armes de Roma, voir Berlincourt à paraître (a). 22. La lance de Roma est mentionnée dans Gild. 25 (hasta) et 212 (cornus). Elle ne l’est pas expressément dans Stil. 2.271–277 – où, du reste, Roma est comparée à Pallas en même temps qu’à Mars – mais on notera que 271 raptis … armis y reproduit le geste d’Athéna dans l’Iliade. 23. Voir notamment Taegert 1988 ad 96–99, Wheeler 2007 :110–113. 24. La présence de tels traits a conduit à opposer au type “Athéna” les types “Amazone” et “mixte” ; on tend aujourd’hui à nuancer cette opposition tout en insistant sur les difficultés que pose l’identification même de la figure de Roma dès lors qu’elle intègre des traits d’Amazone. 25. Riedl 1995 :540 relève que l’apparence de Roma correspond surtout au type “mixte” dans Ol.Prob. puis au type “Athéna” dans Gild. et Stil. 2 (cf. n.22 ; les autres passages cités n.7 n’incluent pas de vraie description). 26. Amazones : notamment, dans l’épopée latine, Verg. Aen. 1.490–493, 11.659–663 (comparans de Camille), Val.Fl. 5.131–139, 5.611–613, 6.370–380, Stat. Theb. 5.144–146, 12.523–528, Sil. 8.428–430 ; chez Claudien, rapt. 2.62–66, fesc. 1.31–39, Eutr. 1.332–334. Quasi-Amazones : notamment Camille dans Verg. Aen. 11.648–654 (cf. la comparaison citée ci-dessus), Asbyté dans Sil. 2.77–81. 27. Voir Bernstein à paraître, qui discute les liens unissant les traits descriptifs du vers 87 à Aen. 1 (Vénus chasseresse) et 11 (Camille), Val.Fl. 3 (Bellone) et 5 (Amazones), Sil. 2 (Asbyté) et 12 (Diane), et me permet ainsi de renoncer à inclure ici les pages que j’avais consacrées à ce vers dans ma communication à la Fondation Hardt.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 107

28. Sans audax / audere, le nom mamma est aussi utilisé au sujet des Amazones dans Prop. 3.14.15. Bernstein à paraître cite 88 audacem retegit mammam à propos du lien qui unit les traits descriptifs du vers 87 à Aen. 11.649 unum exserta latus pugnae, pharetrata Camilla. 29. Sur imitatus, cf. p.2 et n.11, ainsi que (sur l’allusion possible à l’imitatio elle-même) p.3 et n.19. 30. Taegert 1988 ad loc. 31. Dans cette citation et celles qui suivent, les signifiants identiques sont en gras, les signifiés identiques ou similaires en italique, et les sedes identiques en texte souligné. 32. Ce fait ne possède qu’une valeur relative, car cette position est une position préférentielle pour les mots de forme péon troisième comme imitata. 33. Verg. Aen. 2.31 pars stupet innuptae donum exitiale Mineruae. 34. Pour le rapprochement entre les Amazones et Minerve, comparer Val.Fl. 4.605, où Pallas, qualifiée de innuba, est mentionnée en tant que comparans des Amazones. 35. Comparer Theb. 2.251–252 innuptam limine adibant | Pallada. Voir aussi innuba dans Lucan. 9.665, Val.Fl. 1.87 et 4.605 (cf. n.34). 36. Sur la correspondance intratextuelle, voir Pollmann 2004 ad 12.181–182 et 531.Pour innupta appliqué aux Amazones, voir aussi Sil. 2.75 (comparans pour la quasi-Amazone Asbyté). Comparer le lien plus lâche entre Pallas innuba et les Amazones dans Val.Fl. 4.605 (cf. n.34). 37. Cf. Pollmann 2004 ad Theb. 12.534–535. 38. Cf. n.11. 39. Ici aussi (cf. n.32), ce fait ne possède qu’une valeur relative, car cette position est l’une des positions préférentielles pour les mots de forme “spondée” comme ritus. 40. L’idée que cet étonnement invite au développement d’une ekphrasis dans la réception du texte de Stace m’a été suggérée par Regina Höschele. 41. Cf. Berlincourt à paraître (b) pour un cas en partie comparable où l’intertextualité “locale” paraît entretenir des liens étroits avec le contexte du passage concerné au sein de l’œuvre- source. 42. Voir notamment Herc.O. 1449–1451 circa niualis Caucasi … latus et Tro. 243 saeua Amazon, cités par Charlet 2000 ad loc. 43. On relèvera encore que l’association observée ci-dessus chez Stace entre le terme ritus et les Amazones reparaît chez Claudien dans Eutr. 1.497–499 Eunuchi si iura dabunt legesque tenebunt, | ducant pensa uiri mutatoque ordine rerum | uiuat Amazonio confusa licentia ritu, et que la diction de ce passage est identique, non à celle de la Thébaïde (12.535), mais à celle de l’Achilléide (1.353 Amazonio … ritu en même position métrique). La dimension intertextuelle des liens verbaux et thématiques qui unissent entre eux les poèmes de Claudien se trouve au cœur du projet FNS Ambizione mentionné n.1.

RÉSUMÉS

Dans son Panégyrique pour le consulat d’Olybrius et Probinus (395), Claudien associe pour représenter Roma des traits descriptifs empruntés à la fois à Athéna et aux Amazones, en accord avec les codes des arts figurés. Cet article analyse et contextualise la comparaison que le poète établit entre Roma et Minerve (Ol. Prob. 84 innuptae ritus imitata Minervae) dans le but d’exposer la complexité des phénomènes intertextuels qui entrent en jeu dans la représentation de la déesse, et, en particulier, l’importance que revêtent à cet égard les modèles offerts par les épopées

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 108

flaviennes. Outre sa référence à l’iconographie de Roma, la comparaison avec Minerve fonctionne comme un marqueur intertextuel, puisqu’elle s’inscrit dans un ensemble de vers calqués sur un passage de l’ Iliade relatant l’action d’Athéna (et d’Héra). Elle peut produire un effet déstabilisant, puisqu’elle introduit des traits descriptifs qui sont ceux, non d’Athéna, mais des Amazones. La diction utilisée pour comparer Roma à Minerve, sur laquelle cet article se penche tout particulièrement, présente des parentés significatives avec Silius Italicus et Stace. Elle rappelle notamment, dans les Punica, une séquence verbale formellement équivalente appliquée non à Minerve mais à Diane. Surtout, elle établit un lien avec la représentation, dans la Thébaïde, des Amazones captives défilant dans le cortège triomphal de Thésée, ainsi qu’avec celle de leur reine Hippolyté, qui a abandonné les coutumes de ses sujettes pour s’unir au vainqueur. L’inversion qui caractérise l’Hippolyté statienne paraît du reste trouver un autre écho chez Claudien dans les vers fescennins, où le poète imagine les Amazones et leur reine cédant à la beauté de l’empereur Honorius.

INDEX

Mots-clés : intertextualité, comparaison, narration, Claudien, Homère, Silius Italicus, Stace

AUTEUR

VALÉRY BERLINCOURT Universität Basel, Latinistik, Departement Altertumswissenschaften Petersgraben 51, CH-4051 Basel [email protected]

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 109

Sis memor, oro, mei : la composition intertextuelle d’un faux discours d’adieu (Valerius Flaccus, Argonautiques, VII, 472-489)

Magalie Roux

1 La scène d’adieu entre l’épouse/l’amante et le héros qui poursuit sa mission fait partie des topoi du genre épique dans la littérature gréco-latine. Valerius Flaccus hérite ainsi d’une longue tradition littéraire lorsqu’il compose le discours d’adieu de Médée à Jason au chant VII de ses Argonautiques.

2 Médée fait ses adieux à Jason après avoir trahi son père et sa patrie, puisqu’elle vient de proférer des incantations qui procureront au héros le pouvoir de remporter les épreuves d’Éétès. Sa réplique occupe une place centrale entre le don des drogues magiques et la demande en mariage de Jason, qui promet à Médée de lui rester toujours fidèle. Elle est suivie d’un commentaire grinçant du poète révélant que Médée est en train d’utiliser ses pouvoirs pour rendre Jason amoureux d’elle. C’est donc un faux discours d’adieu, qui se conclut non sur la séparation des amants, mais sur la promesse de leur union. Cette réplique constitue également le seul moment de la scène de rencontre où Médée ose véritablement dire sa passion, et même le seul passage de l’œuvre où elle avoue avec une telle tendresse ses sentiments à Jason.

3 Valerius Flaccus compose ce chant d’amour en se référant à différents modèles littéraires, à la fois épiques, élégiaques et tragiques. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de repérer ces intertextes ni de s’en tenir à une interprétation thématique : leur présence engage des modifications d’ordre structurel, notamment générique1, dont la plus notable est l’infléchissement du poème vers le tragique2. En effet, la réplique de Médée contribue à précipiter les deux héros dans un malheur tragique, puisque grâce à son discours et à ses pouvoirs, Médée va obtenir que Jason soit liée à elle pour toujours, et pour le pire.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 110

4 Le discours de Médée comporte deux mouvements. Dans une série de souhaits, la jeune fille supplie Jason de ne pas l’oublier et de garder en mémoire le service qu’elle lui a rendu au point de se rendre criminelle envers les siens. Elle essaie de suivre Jason par le souvenir, puisqu’il n’est pas encore question de le suivre en Grèce. Puis, face au mutisme du héros et à son absence d’émotions, elle déplore son insensibilité et lui oppose ce que doit être un véritable amour.

I. La prière de Médée : ne pas être oubliée par Jason (VII, 472-482)

[…] Sic deinde locuta, iam magis atque magis mentem super alta ferebat aequora, pandentes Minyas iam uela uidebat se sine. Tum uero extremo percussa dolore arripit Aesoniden dextra ac submissa profatur : « Sīs mĕmŏr/, ōrŏ, mĕ/ī ; // cōn/trā // mĕmŏr / īpsă mă/nēbō, crede, tui. Quantum hinc aberis, dic quaeso, profundi ? Quod caeli spectabo latus? Sed te quoque tangat cura mei quocumque loco, quoscumque per annos, ātqu(e ) hūnc / tē // mĕmĭ/nīssĕ uĕ/līs // ēt / nōstră fă/tērī mūnĕră/, sēruā/tūm // pŭdĕ/āt // nēc / uīrgĭnĭs / ārtĕ. « […] Mais sur ces mots, déjà, de plus en plus, sa pensée s’envolait sur la mer, vers le large ; elle voyait déjà les Minyens déployer leur voilure sans elle. C’est alors que, frappée d’une douleur extrême, elle agrippe le fils d’Éson et humblement lui dit : ‘Ne m’oublie pas, je t’en supplie ; je ne t’oublierai pas moi-même, sois-en sûr. Quelle étendue de mer t’éloignera d’ici ? dis, je t’en prie ; quel horizon devrai-je regarder ? Mais toi aussi, ému, soucie-toi de mon sort, où que tu sois, si longtemps que tu vives ; de l’homme d’aujourd’hui, s’il te plaît, souviens-toi, reconnais mon service, et à l’art d’une vierge ne rougis pas d’avoir dû ton salut »3.

5 Dans la tradition épique gréco-latine, le modèle de cette scène d’adieu trouve son origine dans l’épopée homérique, tout particulièrement dans l’Odyssée. Parmi les figures féminines rencontrées par Ulysse durant son périple, c’est Nausicaa qui sert de premier modèle à la figure valérienne4.

L’intertexte homérique : les adieux de Nausicaa (Odyssée, VIII, 461-462)

Χαῖρε‚ ξεῖν’‚ ἵνα καί ποτ’ ἐὼν ἐν πατρίδι γαίῃ μνήσῃ ἐμεῦ‚ ὅτι μοι πρώτῃ ζωάγρι’ ὀφέλλεις. « ‘Je te salue, étranger, pour qu’une fois en ta patrie, il te souvienne de moi ; car c’est à moi, la première, que tu dois le prix de ton salut’. »

6 Le début du discours de Médée sis memor mei5 est formulé de façon semblable à la demande de Nausicaa, en début de vers μνήσῃ ἐμεῦ.

7 Mais les paroles de Nausicaa sont un véritable adieu. La jeune fille suggère simplement une forme de compensation à Ulysse. S’il se souvient d’elle une fois de retour à Ithaque et s’il raconte l’aide qu’elle lui a apportée, il manifestera sa reconnaissance et lui rendra ses bons services. Nausicaa dévoile cependant ses sentiments en étayant sa demande

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 111

d’un argument qui tente subtilement de convaincre le héros de rester auprès d’elle : elle lui rappelle qu’il lui doit son salut. Ulysse ne fait qu’acquiescer à son souhait : il l’assure de sa gratitude et la priera comme une déesse, une fois rentré dans son pays, si bien qu’il élude toute possibilité de l’épouser. Nausicaa fait preuve de pudeur puisqu’elle n’ose lui demander leur union ni rappeler explicitement à Ulysse les paroles qu’il lui avait adressées lors de leur première rencontre6. Elle se montre également respectueuse de son intention de rentrer à Ithaque.

8 Dans cette aventure, l’eros ne s’oppose pas aux buts d’Ulysse, mais l’aide à les réaliser. Les conseils de la jeune fille lui ont permis d’obtenir le soutien de ses parents qui lui offrent la possibilité de rentrer directement à Ithaque avec l’aide de leurs vaisseaux sans subir de nouvelles épreuves sur la mer. Le poète propose ainsi l’exemple d’une histoire amoureuse, interrompue avant d’avoir véritablement commencé, qui se résout sans difficulté : « Cet incident érotique, alors, ne connaît aucune complication : le héros agit positivement en laissant la jeune fille et ne reçoit d’elle aucun reproche pour sa conduite »7.

9 Valerius Flaccus développe davantage que son modèle homérique l’idée que Jason est redevable à Médée. Les indéfinis quocumque et quoscumque insistent sur la demande de souvenir, qui doit être effective quels que soient le lieu et le nombre d’années. Cette demande est martelée par la répétition de termes comportant l’idée de mémoire : le nom cura, en position forte en début de vers, les verbes meminisse et seruatum, mis en relief par les césures. Bien plus, Médée incite Jason à faire preuve d’un sens de l’honneur, en reconnaissant qu’il doit sa vie aux pouvoirs d’une jeune magicienne8. Cette idée est soulignée par l’encadrement du verbe pudeat entre les deux coupes. Faisant appel au pudor de Jason, les adieux de Médée se transforment en un discours de persuasion, qui vise à obtenir beaucoup plus qu’un simple souvenir.

10 Ainsi, dès les premiers vers, la répétition de l’adjectif memor et le balancement entre les pronoms mei et tui autour de l’adverbe contra, mis en relief entre les deux césures, établissent une relation réciproque entre les deux héros, où se dessine la création d’un couple. Dans le modèle homérique, la demande de souvenir est unilatérale de la part de Nausicaa. Ulysse doit se rappeler des bienfaits de la jeune fille sans que cette dernière précise qu’elle se souviendra du héros.

11 La réplique de Médée doit donc être rapprochée d’un autre intertexte, un passage d’Apollonios de Rhodes, où la jeune fille envisage une réciprocité dans le souvenir pour parvenir à ses fins : non pas dire adieu à Jason, mais l’épouser.

Un faux discours d’adieu dans les Argonautiques d’Apollonios de Rhodes (III, 1063-1071)

Ὣς ἄρ’ ἔφη‚ καὶ σῖγα ποδῶν πάρος ὄσσε βαλοῦσα̦‚ θεσπέσιον λιαροῖσι παρηίδα δάκρυσι δεῦε μυρομένη‚ ὅ τ᾿ ἔμελλεν ἀπόπροθι πολλὸν ἑοῖο πόντον ἐπιπλάγξεσθαι. Ἀνιηρῷ δέ μιν ἄντην ἐξαῦτις μύθῳ προσεφώνεεν‚ εἷλέ τε χειρὸς δεξιτερῆς· δὴ γάρ οἱ ἀπ’ ὀφθαλμοὺς λίπεν αἰδώς· « Μνώεο δ’‚ ἢν ἄρα δή ποθ’ ὑπότροπος οἴκα δ’ ἵκηαι‚ οὔνομα Μηδείης· ὣς δ’ αὖτ’ ἐγὼ ἀμφὶς ἐόντος μνήσομαι […] ».

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 112

« A ces mots, elle se tut : les yeux baissés à ses pieds, elle mouillait ses joues divines, versant de chaudes larmes à l’idée qu’il devait partir à l’aventure, bien loin d’elle, sur la mer. Puis le regardant à nouveau, elle lui dit ces paroles douloureuses en lui prenant la main droite, car la pudeur avait quitté ses yeux : ‘Mais souviens-toi, si jamais tu retournes dans ta patrie, du nom de Médée, comme je me souviendrai de toi, quand tu seras loin […]’ ».

12 Comme le démontre F. Bessone dans son article intitulé « Valerius Flaccus und die Medeen des Ovid »9, le poète flavien reste fidèle à la version d’Apollonios de Rhodes. Il inverse la distribution des rôles rapportée par la Médée ovidienne dans les Métamorphoses, où c’est Jason qui prend la main de Médée, lui parlant d’une voix humble (VII, 89-91) : Vt uero coepitque loqui dextramque prehendit hospes et auxilium submissa uoce rogauit promisitque torum, lacrimis ait illa profusis […]. « Cependant l’étranger commence à parler ; lui prenant la main, il lui demande d’une voix douce de venir à son aide et lui promet de partager sa couche avec elle ; alors elle lui dit, fondant en larmes […] ».

13 Valerius Flaccus signale le point de vue subjectif de la version ovidienne : Médée présente Jason comme un séducteur intéressé et cynique, ce que souligne l’association de sa demande d’aide à sa proposition en mariage. Valerius Flaccus suit le modèle alexandrin, en redonnant à la jeune fille l’initiative de saisir la main de Jason. Elle lui parle avec humilité, non pas directement de leur union, mais de ses sentiments (vers 476 : arripit Aesoniden dextra ac submissa profatur).

14 Dans les deux épopées, après avoir expliqué au héros comment se servir de ses pouvoirs magiques, Médée se tait et imagine le départ des Argonautes sur la mer, ce qui lui cause une vive douleur. Réagissant à cette pensée, elle demande à Jason de se souvenir d’elle comme elle se souviendra de lui.

15 Dans la version d’Apollonios de Rhodes, les deux verbes μνώεο et μνήσομαι, placés tous deux au début des vers, soulignent le lien créé entre les deux héros : grâce au souvenir, la jeune fille essaie de réduire la distance qui va les séparer. Mais en condensant les vers d’Apollonios autour du balancement entre le tu et l’ego (memor mei / memor ipsa tui), Valerius Flaccus souligne davantage l’élément décisif que Médée est en train de faire naître : son union avec Jason.

16 Dans l’épopée grecque, Jason promet à Médée qu’il ne l’oubliera jamais et lui propose de passer un accord avec Éétès en prenant l’exemple de Thésée qui s’est entendu avec Minos pour obtenir la main d’Ariane. Médée l’assure qu’aucun accord avec son père n’est possible et c’est désormais malgré la réprobation de ce dernier qu’elle réitère sa demande de souvenir en III, 1109-1111 : ἀλλ’ οἶον τύνη μὲν ἐμεῦ ὅ τ’ Ἰωλκὸν ἵκηαι, μνώεο̦‚ σεῖο δ’ ἐγὼ καὶ ἐμῶν ἀέκητι τοκήων μνήσομαι… « Mais, simplement de retour à Iôlcos, souviens-toi de moi et, de mon côté, même en dépit de mes parents, je me souviendrai de toi ».

17 Elle précise ainsi de plus en plus ses désirs, faisant davantage des propositions à Jason que des adieux. Imaginant une scène irréaliste, elle suggère de façon détournée qu’elle pourrait venir en Grèce et vivre auprès du héros. Si Jason se montre ingrat, elle souhaite qu’une tempête la conduise à Iôlcos pour lui rappeler de vive voix qu’il lui doit son salut. Une fois à ses côtés, elle pourrait rester dans son palais. L’amour naît de

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 113

façon naturelle dans le cœur de Jason au fur et à mesure de son dialogue avec Médée (III, 1077-1078), si bien qu’il répond par une promesse de mariage à ses souhaits de venir en Grèce.

18 Les vers 1115-1116 (σ’ […] μνήσω ἐμῇ ỉóτητι πεφυγμένον « en te rappelant que c’est grâce à moi que tu as été sauvé ») reprennent la demande de Nausicaa à Ulysse (VIII, 462) et inspirent celle de Médée à Jason chez Valerius Flaccus (VII, 482). Mais tandis que dans l’ Odyssée, la jeune Phéacienne parle avec mesure et tact, pleine de pudor, la Médée d’Apollonios de Rhodes ose évoquer son éventuelle union avec Jason car « la pudeur avait quitté ses yeux » (III, 1068). Bien plus, le subtil appel de Nausicaa à une forme de reconnaissance de l’aide qu’elle a apportée à Ulysse devient un éventuel reproche, voire des représailles, dans le discours de Médée. Cette perte cruciale de l’aidos accentue le contraste entre Nausicaa et l’héroïne d’Apollonios en laissant émerger une part d’agressivité dans le caractère de la jeune fille et une évolution de sa personnalité qui la rapproche de son double tragique euripidéen10. Dans l’épopée latine, Valerius Flaccus s’écarte de son modèle alexandrin. Bien que Médée ait perdu son pudor (VII, 462), elle se montre moins explicite sur son éventuelle venue en Grèce. Elle se présente d’ailleurs humblement comme une vierge (vers 482 : uirginis arte), laissant de côté la part obscure de son être, celle d’une magicienne aux pouvoirs redoutables. Le poète flavien n’adopte pas le même cheminement psychologique par lequel la Médée d’Apollonios de Rhodes parvient à son but en faisant naître l’idée d’un mariage dans l’esprit de Jason. Comme nous l’avons vu, la figure valérienne met davantage le héros face à ses obligations en faisant appel à son pudor11. Son discours est une véritable suasoire, cherchant à faire réagir Jason moralement pour le pousser à exprimer des sentiments envers elle.

19 Elle recourt ainsi à un autre topos pour le confronter à ses responsabilités morales et obtenir de lui davantage qu’une promesse de souvenir. Elle se présente sous les traits d’une femme abandonnée. Le poète ajoute au modèle d’Apollonios de Rhodes les traits des derelictae telles qu’elles sont représentées dans les Héroïdes d’Ovide.

L’intertexte élégiaque : l’image de la derelicta dans les Héroïdes

20 La représentation que Médée donne d’elle-même, seule sur le rivage, évoque la description de certaines femmes des Héroïdes.

21 Dans la version d’Apollonios de Rhodes, l’image du départ des Argonautes est présentée comme une idée qui traverse l’esprit de Médée (III, 1064-1066). Valerius Flaccus, lui, met son personnage en scène (VII, 472-475). Il nous fait imaginer l’éloignement des bateaux à travers les yeux de Médée (uidebat) et il accentue la dramatisation de la situation avec le rejet de se sine.

22 Dans l’épopée alexandrine, Médée pose des questions sur la géographie de la Grèce, voulant savoir où se trouve la ville de Jason (III, 1071-1074). La Médée valérienne questionne Jason non sur sa patrie, mais sur l’horizon marin qu’elle devra observer (VII, 478-479). L’évocation de son regard, fixé sur les voiles du navire, puis tourné vers l’horizon, reprend la scénographie de l’adieu et de l’attente dans les Héroïdes, comme Phyllis et Œnone en font l’expérience (Héroïde, II, 121-122 et V, 55-56)12: Maesta tamen scopulos fluctuosaque litora calco quaque patent oculis aequora lata meis […]. « Cependant, je foule, douloureuse, les rochers et les rivages battus des flots, et là où s’ouvre à mes yeux l’étendue des ondes […] ».

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 114

Prosequor infelix oculis abeuntia uela, qua licet, et lacrimis umet arena meis. « Je suis des yeux, autant qu’il est possible, les voiles qui s’éloignent et le sable est mouillé par mes larmes ».

23 La situation de Médée aux vers 474-475 rappelle également le réveil d’Ariane dans l’ Héroïde X. Dans les deux premiers vers de sa lettre, la jeune femme décrit les voiles des bateaux qui emportent Thésée et emploie une expression que l’on retrouve dans les pensées de Médée, sine me (se sine au vers 475 du texte flavien) : Quae legis, ex illo, Theseu, tibi litore mitto, unde tuam sine me uela tulere ratem. « Ce que tu lis, Thésée, je te l’envoie de ce rivage, d’où, sans moi, tes voiles emportèrent ton navire »13.

24 Les allusions aux Héroïdes créent un effet d’ironie qui préfigure le destin tragique de Médée, abandonnée par Jason. La certitude avec laquelle la Médée valérienne affirme qu’elle conservera le souvenir de Jason (crede au vers 477) est à rapprocher du premier vers de l’Héroïde XII. Le verbe crede (vers 477) s’avèrera exact, puisque la Médée ovidienne commence sa lettre en écrivant memini (At tibi Colchorum, memini, regina uacaui). Mais ce memini correspond au souvenir d’une femme abandonnée, si bien que le crede laisse entendre dans le passage flavien le futur reproche de la femme élégiaque, qualifiant Jason d’immemor (Héroïde XII, vers 16)14.

25 Mais Médée tente aussi de manipuler Jason en décrivant son futur sort de femme abandonnée. En effet, de façon plus détournée que la Médée d’Apollonios mais avec plus d’évidence que le discours de Nausicaa, elle lui suggère qu’il pourrait ne pas lui faire subir la condition d’une femme délaissée en l’emmenant avec lui en Grèce15.

26 Pourtant, la représentation de Médée s’éloigne du modèle des Héroïdes dans la suite de son discours, où changeant de ton, elle déplore l’insensibilité de Jason.

II. Une déploration amoureuse remise en cause par le recours à la magie (VII, 483-488)

Ei mihi ! cur nulli stringunt tua lumina fletus ? An me mox merita morituram patris ab ira dissimulas ? Te regna tuae felicia gentis, te coniunx natique manent ; ego prodita abibo. Nec queror, et pro te lucem quoque laeta relinquam. Protinus hospes ad haec (tacitis nam cantibus illum flexerat et simili iamdudum adflarat amore) […]. « ‘Pauvre de moi ! pourquoi la moindre larme ne vient-elle effleurer tes yeux ? Te dissimules-tu que bientôt je mourrai par le juste courroux d’un père ? Toi, t’attend le bonheur de régner sur ton peuple, et une femme et des enfants. Et moi, trahie, je partirai. Mais je ne me plains pas : pour toi je quitterai même la lumière avec joie’. A cela l’étranger aussitôt répondit (elle l’avait fléchi d’incantations muettes, lui inspirant depuis longtemps un même amour) ».

Les écarts avec l’intertexte des Héroïdes

27 Reprochant au héros de ne pas pleurer16, les propos de Médée dénoncent la vision subjective de la figure ovidienne. Dans l’Héroïde XII, cette dernière se rappelle avoir vu

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 115

les larmes de Jason : uidi etiam lacrimas (XII, 91). Le poète flavien refuse explicitement d’adopter le point de vue déformé de l’élégie. Il privilégie la version plus « objective » d’Apollonios de Rhodes, selon lequel seul le personnage de Médée verse des larmes (III, 1065, 1077, 1118). Le retour au texte grec, loin de la version déformante de l’élégie, réhabilite ainsi la représentation de Jason comme un héros d’épopée17.

28 Le fait que Médée refuse de se plaindre (vers 487 : nec queror) confirme la mise à distance de l’intertexte ovidien, puisque l’ultime espoir des derelictae dans les Héroïdes est précisément de faire entendre leurs plaintes au moyen d’une lettre.

29 Médée ajoute qu’elle est prête à mourir dans l’intérêt de celui qu’elle aime (pro te), dans une logique suicidaire ou sous le coup de la colère d’Éétès. Elle se montre capable d’un total désintéressement, ne tenant compte ni de sa propre souffrance ni de sa propre mort. Certaines figures des Héroïdes prennent la décision de se suicider à la fin de leur lettre, comme Phyllis, ou Déjanire. Mais les deux premières se tuent par désespoir et accusent leur amant d’être responsable de leur disparition. Quant à Déjanire, en se donnant la mort, elle se punit d’avoir causé celle d’Hercule.

30 La recherche des échos intertextuels entre le poème flavien et l’œuvre des Héroïdes achoppe sur ces deux derniers points18. Mais les reproches de Médée rappellent le jugement d’une autre femme abandonnée, cette fois dans une épopée : il s’agit de Didon.

L’intertexte virgilien : les reproches de Didon à Énée (Énéide, IV, 368-370)

31 Pour Didon, l’absence de larmes de la part d’Énée démontre sa perfidie, d’autant qu’il a voulu dissimuler son départ à la reine : Nam quid dissimulo aut quae me ad maiora reseruo ? num fletu ingemuit nostro ? num lumina flexit ? num lacrimas uictus dedit […] ? « Car pourquoi dissimuler ou pour quels pires maux me garder? A-t-il gémi quand je pleurais ? A-t-il tourné les yeux vers moi ? M’a-t-il, vaincu, donné ses larmes ? »19

32 Les larmes que Médée ne voit pas poindre dans les yeux de Jason manifestent également son insensibilité. Il ferait preuve d’une indifférence insupportable puisqu’il ne s’intéresse qu’à son exploit sans se soucier du prix à payer par Médée (vers 483-484). Les deux figures féminines tentent de montrer à chaque héros le caractère odieux de son attitude et de le placer en face de ses responsabilités. Médée confronte Jason à la gravité de la situation en insistant sur l’idée qu’elle, elle risque de mourir à cause de son crime : me mox merita morituram.

33 Mais, tandis que Didon n’obtiendra pas gain de cause, Médée poursuit sa stratégie rhétorique. Elle souligne l’opposition entre le bonheur de Jason, martelé par la répétition te, tuae, te, et le triste sort qui lui est réservé (un seul ego) : celui d’être trahie prodita. Mis en relation avec le début de son discours, ce demi-vers pourrait signifier que Médée sera trahie si Jason l’oublie. Mais l’idée de la trahison lui vient après l’image du bonheur familial de Jason. Médée dévoile ses sentiments et ses véritables attentes : elle se sentira trahie si le héros choisit une autre femme qu’elle et qu’elle se retrouve véritablement dans la situation d’une derelicta20.

34 Le topos de la derelicta est un argument stratégique. Il permet à Médée de faire comprendre à Jason ce qu’elle désire de lui : non pas un avenir comme femme

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 116

abandonnée, mais la fides qui, dépassant le simple souvenir, doit être scellée par une union.

35 Lorsque Médée affirme qu’elle mourrait avec joie dans l’intérêt de Jason, elle s’éloigne de la figure virgilienne. Le suicide tragique de cette dernière est remplacé par l’évocation d’une mort heureuse, dans un don total de sa vie à l’être aimé. Elle confronte ainsi Jason à un monde qu’il connaît peu : celui de la passion amoureuse et lui propose un autre ordre de comportements et de sentiments que celui d’un chef et d’un héros21.

36 Or tandis qu’elle compose cette image d’une femme totalement dévouée à son amour, elle use de ses pouvoirs pour inspirer à Jason des sentiments réciproques. Elle dénie, par l’usage de la magie, ce qu’elle est en train d’affirmer : le fait qu’elle assumera pleinement et avec bonheur son sort de derelicta. Le commentaire du poète confirme qu’à travers ce topos, elle cherche à provoquer Jason afin qu’il lui parle d’amour.

37 Son destin tragique est ainsi bien différent de celui de la reine de Carthage. Cette dernière n’est pas impliquée dans les labores d’Énée : l’accomplissement du Destin épique passe par son abandon. C’est la fuite du héros qui transforme le destin de la reine en un destin tragique. Comme le démontre G. B. Conte dans un article intitulé « Saggio d’interpretazione dell’Eneide : ideologia e forma del contenuto »22, selon les deux plans structurels du poème, le tragique est limité au niveau subjectif, aux seuls destins individuels des personnages secondaires, qui n’ont pas d’influence sur l’accomplissement du Destin épique, sens objectif de l’œuvre, incarné par Énée. La reine parvient seulement à maudire sa postérité, contre laquelle son propre descendant la vengera en menant les guerres puniques.

38 Médée, quant à elle, est l’actrice indispensable de la réussite de Jason. Son implication dans la quête héroïque est une donnée du mythe, déjà mise en œuvre par Apollonios de Rhodes. Mais sa nécessaire association au dessein épique cause sa perte et celle de Jason. Ses incantations, qui suscitent un amour réciproque dans le cœur de Jason23, forment l’élément déclencheur, qui les précipitera tous les deux dans un destin tragique.

39 Le serment par lequel Jason répond au discours de Médée, en nouant définitivement sa vie à celle de la magicienne, le transforme en une figure tragique au cœur de la narration épique, alors que Virgile, séparant les deux plans de son poème, évite la contamination du destin héroïque par le tragique au sein de l’épopée, et que la version d’Apollonios, plus romanesque, ne fait qu’annoncer à l’horizon de l’épopée l’avenir tragique du couple dans la tragédie d’Euripide.

L’intertexte sénéquéen : de la puella érotique à la magicienne redoutable de la tragédie

40 Le recours aux enchantements magiques est imaginé par Ovide dans la sixième lettre des Héroïdes24. Hypsipyle, jalouse de Médée, tente de justifier son abandon par Jason, en accusant sa rivale d’avoir usé de ses pouvoirs pour le rendre amoureux (VI, 93-94 : […] male quaeritur herbis / moribus et forma conciliandus amor « il est odieux de provoquer avec des herbes l’amour que doivent gagner la beauté et les vertus »). L’imagination d’Hypsipyle nuance le portrait négatif que la magicienne dresse du héros, dont elle fait un séducteur ingrat dans sa propre lettre (Héroïde XII). Prenant au premier degré les

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 117

propos subjectifs de la reine lemnienne, « Valérius utilise en quelque sorte Ovide contre Ovide pour réfuter son image noircie du héros »25.

41 L’Hypsipyle d’Ovide n’a cependant pas entièrement raison. Par ses incantations, Médée tente d’inspirer à Jason des sentiments semblables à ceux qu’elle éprouve (VII, 489 : simili amore). Mais elle obtient un serment de fidélité plutôt que d’amour. « Pour la compréhension de la relation Jason-Médée, il est toutefois essentiel que Médée ne puisse enchanter Jason d’un amour semblable similis amor. Elle essaie effectivement, mais n’y parviendra pas, comme tout lecteur le sait. Donc Jason ne peut aimer Médée comme elle l’aime »26.

42 Contrairement au jugement de Médée dans l’Héroïde XII, Jason n’est pas un calculateur perfide, qui aurait profité de ses sentiments pour conquérir la toison grâce à son aide magique. Mais à la différence de ce que pense l’Hypsipyle des Héroïdes, Jason n’est pas complètement manipulé par la magicienne. Dans l’épopée flavienne, il n’est que partiellement disculpé, comme le démontre F. Ripoll : « Les incantations de Médée ne donnent que l’impulsion émotive »27. Dans son serment, en réponse aux adieux de Médée, il invoque contre lui une terrible malédiction qui relève de sa responsabilité, si bien que ses châtiments seront mérités (VII, 509 : meritis poenis). Mais il reste sous l’influence surnaturelle des enchantements de Médée. « Il tombera dans le malheur non en raison de sa perversité, mais d’une erreur commise : c’est dire qu’il se rapproche de la définition aristotélicienne du héros de tragédie »28. A la fois fautif et non fautif, il devient une figure tragique.

43 Sa caractérisation tragique au sein de l’épopée remet aussi en cause, a posteriori, la vision subjective de la Médée sénéquéenne, qui le présente comme un opportuniste infidèle.

44 La substitution des incantations magiques aux larmes de Médée souligne l’écart avec la version d’Apollonios de Rhodes et le progressif glissement de l’épopée flavienne vers la tragédie de Sénèque. L’héroïne ne pleure pas, alors que le poète alexandrin indique ses larmes durant tout son entretien avec Jason.

45 Ce n’est plus la tendre jeune fille que Valerius Flaccus représente, mais la magicienne puissante, inuicta, capable d’employer ses arts magiques pour aboutir à ses desseins, ou se venger, loin de l’image inoffensive qu’elle veut donner d’elle-même dans son discours. En effet, le caractère de Médée, esquissé dans le mythe, ne peut correspondre à celui d’une figure passive qui accepterait la trahison de son amant, à qui elle consacrerait totalement son existence.

46 Ce sont les contours de la figure sénéquéenne qui se dessinent peu à peu, prévalant sur les autres modèles féminins29. Son acceptation d’être trahie sans réagir, laissant Jason avec sa nouvelle famille, se trouve ainsi contredite par la reprise d’un vers de Sénèque30 : te coniunx natique manent (VII, 486) // Sénèque, Médée, vers 543 : te noui nati manent. Comme le remarque F. Ripoll, « la similitude verbale et thématique s’accompagne d’une ironie tragique accrue par l’ajout de coniunx, qui fait songer à Créuse, autre victime tragique de Médée »31.

47 Le personnage de Valerius Flaccus s’affirme progressivement comme « la femme la plus puissante aux autels de la nuit » (VI, 440), jusqu’à l’accomplissement de sa personnalité dans la tragédie de Sénèque. Au chant VIII, lorsqu’elle découvre que Jason a décidé de la rendre aux siens, c’est la figure sénéquéenne qui sert de modèle à Valerius Flaccus :

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 118

Argonautiques, VIII, 425 :

[…] teque simul mecum ipsa traham « et je t’entraînerai moi-même dans ma chute ».

Médée, 414 et 427-428 : […] sternam et euertam omnia […]. Sola est quies, mecum ruina cuncta si uideo obruta. « […] j’abattrai et je renverserai tout […]. Mon seul repos est de voir tout à bas, ruiné avec moi »32.

48 Elle qui soutenait au chant VII qu’elle accepterait le rôle de derelicta sans se plaindre, elle s’épuise désormais en plaintes et en reproches nuit et jour (VIII, 453-458)33. Rappelant à Jason qu’ils sont unis par un serment, elle joint la menace à la plainte pour le persuader de ne pas se parjurer, de ne pas la réduire au statut de derelicta.

49 Se trouve ainsi confirmé ce que laissait entendre son faux discours d’adieu : Médée ne peut accepter d’être abandonnée. A chaque fois qu’elle risque d’être séparée de Jason dans les Argonautiques, la partie la plus sombre et inquiétante de son être resurgit34. Renonçant peu à peu à la jeune fille morale, elle deviendra véritablement Médée chez Sénèque (vers 910 : Medea nunc sum).

50 Le réseau intertextuel qui compose la réplique de Médée prend ainsi tout son sens. Au chant VII, la jeune fille est tombée dans le malheur en se rendant criminelle. Mais, malgré ses dires, cette magicienne redoutable ne peut se contenter d’avoir aidé l’homme qu’elle aime et de lui faire ses adieux en acceptant son départ : par son discours et ses pouvoirs magiques, elle pousse Jason à la suivre dans son destin tragique, un destin scellé par le serment du héros. L’originalité de Valerius Flaccus est de composer une trame épique contaminée par un destin tragique, qui se noue au chant VII pour les deux héros, et qui s’accomplira dans toute sa démesure dans la tragédie sénéquéenne, vers laquelle la généricité épique du poème glisse progressivement35.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Aricò Giuseppe, « La vicenda di Lemno in Stazio e Valerio Flacco », in Ratis omnia uincet : Untersuchungen zu den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus, hg. von Matthias Korn, Hans Jürgen Tschiedel, Hildesheim : G. Olms, 1991, p. 197-210.

Baldini Moscadi Laura, « Les métamorphoses de la magicienne : la « Médée » de Valerius Flaccus », in La magie tome III : Du monde latin au monde contemporain, Actes du colloque international (Montpellier, 25-27 mars 1999) éd. par Alain Moreau, Jean-Claude Turpin, Montpellier : Publications de l'Université Montpellier III, 2000, p. 277-288.

Barchiesi Alessandro, La traccia del modello : effetti omerici nella narrazione virgiliana, Pise : Giardini, 1984.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 119

- « Genealogie letterarie nell’epica imperiale. Fondamentalismo e ironia », in L’histoire littéraire immanente dans la poésie latine : huit exposés suivis de discussions, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique 47, Vandœuvres-Genève : Fondation Hardt, 2001, p. 315-362.

Bessone Federica, P. Ovidii Nasonis Heroidum Epistula XII. Medea Iasoni, Florence : F. Le Monnier, 1997.

- « Valerius Flaccus und die Medeen des Ovid », Ratis omnia vincet : neue Untersuchungen zu den "Argonautica" des Valerius Flaccus, hg. von Gesine Manuwald, Ulrich Eigler, Eckard Lefèvre, München : C.H. Beck, 1998, p. 141-172.

Cairns Francis, Virgil’s Augustan epic, Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 1989.

Clément-Tarantino Séverine, « Melpomène et Calliope : ennemies ou alliées », in Melpomène dans tous ses états, Actes du colloque (Lille 3, 20-21 juin 2008), éd. par L. Lefebvre, R. Glinatsis, revue en ligne Mosaïque 1, 2009, http://revuemosaique.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/ mosaique-1-3_clement-tarantino.pdf .

Conte Gian Biagio, «Saggio d’interpretazione dell’Eneide : ideologia e forma del contenuto», Materiali e discussioni per l’analisi dei testi classici 1, 1978, p. 11-48.

- « A proposito dei modelli in letteratura », MD 6, 1980, p. 147-160.

Dangel Jacqueline, « Devanciers grecs et romains de Sénèque le tragique », in Sénèque le tragique : huit exposés suivis de discussions, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique 50, Vandœuvres-Genève : Fondation Hardt, 2004, p. 63-120.

- « Rhétorique et poétique au féminin à Rome : figures emblématiques de femmes », Euphrosyne 34, 2006, p. 163-188.

- « L'héritage des genres grecs à Rome: épopée et tragédie, une généricité traversière? », BAGB, 2009, p. 146-164.

Eigler Ulrich, « Medea als Opfer : die Götterintrige im VII und VIII. Buch der Argonautica », in Ratis omnia uincet : Untersuchungen zu den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus, hg. von Matthias Korn, Hans Jürgen Tschiedel, Hildesheim : G. Olms, 1991, p. 155-172.

Franchet d’Espèrey Sylvie, « Réception et transmission des modèles : L’Énéide comme modèle aux époques néronienne et flavienne », in Réceptions antiques : lecture, transmission, appropriation intellectuelle, éd. par Laëtitia Ciccolini, Charles Guérin, Stéphane Itic, Sébastien Morlet, Paris : Éditions Rue d’Ulm, 2006, p. 73-86.

Genette Gérard, Palimpsestes : la littérature au second degré, Paris : Le Seuil, 1982.

Grewe Stefanie, « Der Einfluss von Senecas Medea auf die Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus », Ratis omnia uincet II : Neue Untersuchungen zu den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus, hg. von Ulrich Eigler, Eckard Lefèvre, München : C.H. Beck 1998, p. 173-190.

Hinds Stephen, « Essential Epic : Genre and Gender from Macer to Statius », in Matrices of Genre : authors, canons, and society, ed. by M. Depew, D. Obbink, Cambridge ; London : Harvard University Press, 2000, p. 221-244.

Hunter Richard Lawrence, Apollonius de Rhodes, Argonautica : book III, Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 1989.

- The Argonautica of Apollonius : Literary studies, Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Keith Alison, Engendering Rome : Women in Latin Epic, Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 120

La Penna Antonio, « Tipi e modelli femminili nella poesia dell’epoca dei Flavi (Stazio, Silio Italico, Valerio Flacco) », in Atti del congresso internazionale di studi vespasianei, Rieti : Centro di studi varroniani, 1981, p. 223-251.

Micozzi Laura, « Il tema dell’addio : ripetizione, sperimentalismo, strategie di continuità e altri aspetti della tecnica poetica di Stazio », Maia 54, 2002, p. 51-70.

Nelis Damien, Vergil’s Aeneid and the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, Leeds : Francis Cairns, 2001.

Pavlock Barbara, Eros, imitation and the epic tradition, Ithaca : Cornell University Press, 1990.

Rio Torres-Murciano Antonio, « Medea a bordo. Épica y tragedia en el libro octavo de Valerio Flaco », in Artes ad humanitatem II, ed. por Esperança Borrel Vidal, Lambert Ferreres Pérez, Barcelona, 2010, p. 109-116.

- El restablecimiento de la causalidad épica en Valerio Flaco, Problemas poslucaneos de una epopeya posvirgiliana, Saarbrücken: Editorial Académica Española, 2011.

Ripoll François, « Jason héros épique et tragique au chant VII des Argonautiques de Valérius Flaccus », Vita latina 169, 2003, p. 70-82.

- « L’inspiration tragique au chant VII des Argonautiques de Valérius Flaccus », REL 82, 2004, p. 187-208.

Rosati Gianpiero, « Epistola elegiaca e lamento femminile, introd. a Ovidio », Lettere di eroine - Publio Ovidio Nasone, Milan : Rizzoli, 1989, p. 5-46.

- « La boiterie de mademoiselle élégie : un pied volé et ensuite retrouvé (les aventures d’un genre littéraire entre les Augustéens et Stace) », in Elégie et épopée dans la poésie ovidienne, Héroïdes et Amours : en hommage à S. Viarre, 15 et 16 mai 1998, éd. par Alain Deremetz, Jacqueline Fabre-Serris, Lille ; Villeneuve d’Ascq : Université Charles de Gaulle - Lille 3, 1999, p. 147-163.

Roux Magalie, Poétique au féminin dans les épopées flaviennes : évolution esthétique et idéologique d’un genre, thèse de doctorat, Paris : Université Paris-Sorbonne, 2013, 562 p.

Salemme Carmelo, « Medea, la bella Proserpina », in Scritti classici e cristiani offerti a Francesco Corsaro, a c. di Carmelo Curti, Carmelo Crimi, Catania : Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia, Università degli Studi di Catania, 1994, p. 609-628.

Schaeffer Jean-Marie, « Du texte au genre. Notes sur la problématique générique », in Théorie des genres, éd. par Gérard Genette, Tzvetan Todorov, Paris : Le Seuil, 1986, p. 179-205.

- Qu’est-ce qu’un genre littéraire ?, Paris : Le Seuil, 1989.

Soubiran Jean, Valérius Flaccus, Argonautiques. Introduction, texte et traduction rythmée, notes et index, Louvain ; Paris : Peeters, 2002.

Tschiedel Hans Jürgen, « Medea : Zauberin und Liebende », in Ratis omnia uincet : Untersuchungen zu den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus, hg. von Matthias Korn, Hans Jürgen Tschiedel, Hildesheim : G. Olms, 1991, p. 211-223.

NOTES

1. Dans son article intitulé « Réception et transmission des modèles : l’Énéide comme modèle aux époques néronienne et flavienne » (2006), S. Franchet d’Espèrey dresse un bilan des études critiques sur l’intertextualité et son rapport avec la notion de modèle : le modèle « dépasse la simple reprise de termes que le lecteur est invité à repérer pour elle-même, il s’insère entre

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 121

l’auteur et le lecteur comme une grille de lecture qui renvoie à autre chose. […] A quoi servent les reprises verbales, les imitations au niveau de la phrase, les allusions ? […] Je dirais que ces reprises verbales sont des signaux de la présence du modello codice, […] ils disent l’emprunt, ils invitent à passer du niveau de la phrase au niveau de la structure » (p. 75 et 80). L’auteur s’appuie sur la terminologie de G. B. Conte (1980) distinguant le modello codice (modèle code) du modello esemplare (modèle copie) réservé aux simples reprises verbales, sur celle d’A. Barchiesi (1984) distinguant le modello esemplare et le modello genere (modèle genre) et sur celle de G. Genette (1982) proposant la constitution d’une « matrice d’imitation », d’un « modèle de compétence » entre le corpus imité et le texte imitatif. Notre conception de l’intertextualité s’inscrit plutôt dans la lignée des travaux de J.-M. Schaeffer (1986 et 1989) pour qui la généricité est « une composante textuelle » et « les relations génériques comme un ensemble de réinvestissements (plus ou moins transformateurs) de cette même composante textuelle » (1986, 186). De ce fait, la notion de généricité rend inutile la constitution d’un modèle générique comme un modello codice ou un modello genere : « La généricité peut parfaitement être expliquée par un jeu de répétitions, d’imitations, d’emprunts, etc., d’un texte par rapport à un autre, ou à d’autres, et le recours à un postulat aussi puissant que celui d’une structure ou matrice de compétence se révèle parfaitement superflu puisqu’il n’explique pas plus de choses que ne le fait une conception transtextuelle de la généricité » (ibid., 186). Qu’ils soient plus ou moins littéraux, plus ou moins explicites, les échos intertextuels mettent en évidence la tradition générique dans laquelle s’inscrit le texte imitatif mais aussi la généricité propre de ce texte qui module cette tradition ou qui s’ouvre à d’autres généricités. 2. L’ouvrage d’A. Rio Torres-Murciano (2011) démontre notamment comment la généricité des Argonautiques suit le modèle de l’Énéide tout en s’en écartant, afin de glisser progressivement vers le modèle tragique de la Médée sénéquéenne. Sur le rôle joué par les figures féminines dans le genre épique et particulièrement dans l’épopée flavienne, voir Dangel 2006, Hinds 2000, Keith 2000, La Penna 1981 et notre thèse de doctorat Roux 2013. 3. Les traductions des Argonautiques de Valerius Flaccus sont tirées de l’édition Soubiran 2002. Pour celles des autres textes anciens, nous avons eu recours aux traductions parues aux Belles Lettres, dans la Collection des Universités de France (Apollonios de Rhodes, Ovide et Virgile) et dans les Classiques en poche (Homère et Sénèque). 4. L’influence du modèle de Nausicaa est manifeste au chant V des Argonautiques lors de la première rencontre entre Jason et Médée. La comparaison de Médée avec Proserpine (V, 343-349) est une réécriture de la comparaison de Nausicaa avec Artémis lors de sa rencontre avec Ulysse (Odyssée, VI, 101-109 et 149-152), à laquelle Valerius Flaccus mêle deux autres intertextes : l’imitation du passage homérique par Apollonios de Rhodes comparant Médée à Artémis (Argonautiques, III, 876-886) et celle de Virgile assimilant Didon à Diane (Énéide, I, 498-504). Pour la mise en évidence de ces différentes réécritures intertextuelles, Cairns 1989, Nelis 2001, Pavlock 1990, Salemme 1994. 5. La même tournure sis memor conclut les dernières paroles d’Énée à son fils Ascagne en Énéide, XII, 438-440. C’est un faux discours d’adieu puisqu’Énée survivra à son duel avec Turnus. Mais ses propos montrent tout de même la fin de quelque chose : celle de sa destinée épique qu’il accomplira pleinement en tuant Turnus. L’expression sis memor se retrouve dans un écho cette fois intratextuel lors de la séparation d’ et d’Hercule en Argonautiques, IV, 36-37. C’est désormais un vrai discours d’adieu suivi d’un tournant important dans le poème avec le départ d’Hercule qui ne fera plus partie de l’expédition des Argonautes. Dans la prière de Médée, ces deux échos verbaux soulignent qu’il s’agit d’un moment décisif pour le héros, avec une certaine solennité empreinte de pathos. C’est un faux discours d’adieu puisque Médée s’échappera finalement de Colchide aux côtés de Jason. Mais ses propos marquent un tournant essentiel pour ce dernier : à cause des charmes magiques de Médée, il répond à sa demande de souvenir par un

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 122

serment de fidélité qui noue le renversement de son destin épique en un destin tragique (voir Ripoll 2003). 6. Nausicaa fait allusion au premier discours qu’Ulysse lui a tenu (VI, 149-185). Le héros la suppliait de l’aider car elle était la première personne qu’il rencontrait sur la terre des Phéaciens (175-176). Il jugeait également bienheureux le mortel qui l’aurait emmenée chez lui grâce à ses présents (vers 159). Connaissant son désir de retourner à Ithaque auprès de sa famille, elle n’évoque pas explicitement le souhait qu’il avait fait naître en elle de la prendre comme épouse, et encore moins la possibilité qu’il lui avait laissé entrevoir de l’accompagner à Ithaque. 7. Pavlock 1990, 10. 8. Lorsque la jeune fille exhorte Jason à se souvenir de l’homme qu’il est aujourd’hui, elle reste sous l’influence du mensonge de Vénus (Argonautiques, VII, 271-273). Cette dernière lui a fait croire que Jason, abandonné de ses soutiens divins, la suppliait de l’aider de ses pouvoirs magiques pour rester en vie. Cette supplication est le seul argument capable de convaincre moralement Médée de trahir son père et de secourir le héros. Sur le rôle joué par les déesses dans le sort de Médée, Eigler 1991. 9. Bessone 1998, 141-172. 10. Sur ce point, Hunter 1989 et 1993. 11. Dans l’épopée alexandrine, par un calcul intéressé, Jason vient demander son aide à Médée en accord avec les autres Argonautes et avec le soutien de Chalciopé. Il garantit alors à la jeune fille qu’il lui sera reconnaissant (vers 990-992). Dans le texte flavien, Jason ne demande pas son aide à Médée. Cette dernière, manipulée par Vénus, la lui propose. Elle doit donc s’assurer de la gratitude du héros, mais elle souhaite obtenir plus que sa reconnaissance. 12. Un second élément renforce l’idée que ce passage comporte une allusion intertextuelle à l’œuvre ovidienne. Les figures féminines des Héroïdes s’expriment en leur nom dans des lettres écrites au discours direct. De même, Médée décrit sa situation de femme abandonnée dans un discours direct qui présente son point de vue sur sa possible condition future et qui développe surtout sa stratégie argumentative afin de convaincre Jason de ne pas la quitter. Nous renvoyons à l’article de Rosati 1989 pour une description de la scénographie de l’adieu et l’importance d’une parole accordée aux femmes dans les Héroïdes, qui exposent leur vision subjective sur leur situation et qui espèrent par le biais de leur lettre faire entendre à leur bien aimé ce qu’elles vivent et éprouvent, voire, pour certaines missives, obtenir de lui une réaction ou tout du moins un signe de vie. Sur l’insertion du modèle élégiaque dans le genre épique, voir également Rosati 1999 : le critique retrace dans ses grandes lignes le « processus d’élégisation de l’épopée » de la période augustéenne à la période flavienne. 13. Ces vers font également écho à l’épyllion de Catulle qui décrit Ariane abandonnée par Thésée sur le rivage (64, 52-54). L’abandon du personnage féminin est également représenté par Stace dans la Thébaïde lorsque les Argonautes quittent les Lemniennes. Elles regardent les bateaux des héros s’éloigner dans l’horizon marin, non plus depuis le rivage mais du sommet des montagnes (V, 481-485). Ce passage de la Thébaïde est une réécriture intertextuelle du poème 64 de Catulle et des scènes d’adieu typiques des Héroïdes. Il fait également écho au chant II des Argonautiques qui relate le départ des Argonautes de l’île de Lemnos avec un ensemble d’allusions intertextuelles (pour une étude de l’intertextualité élégiaque qui compose les épisodes lemniens dans la Thébaïde et les Argonautiques, Aricò 1991, Micozzi 2002 et Roux 2013). 14. Le qualificatif immemor est aussi attribué à Thésée dans le poème de Catulle (64, 58 et 135). 15. Ainsi, A. Barchiesi définit le modèle épique flavien par « sa tendance constante […] à dramatiser la présence des modèles élégiaques […] vus comme des pièges au projet épique en cours » (2001, 331). Les allusions intertextuelles aux Héroïdes dans le discours de Médée montrent ce recours rhétorique et stratégique au modèle élégiaque : se mettant en scène comme une figure ovidienne, Médée incite le héros à ne pas l’abandonner. Elle referme ensuite le piège sur lui en

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 123

usant de ses pouvoirs magiques. Jason est piégé dans la mesure où il va se lier à la magicienne par un serment de fidélité qui le destine à un avenir tragique. 16. Médée s’étonne de cette absence de larmes puisque d’après le faux discours de Jason que Vénus feint de lui rapporter, le héros souhaitait attendrir la jeune fille par ses pleurs (VII, 269). Elle peut également être surprise de son insensibilité étant donné qu’il assurait la déesse qu’il serait lié corps et âme à la jeune fille (VII, 284-286). 17. Nous reprenons la démonstration de Bessone 1998, 142-143. 18. Une explication est proposée par F. Bessone dans son commentaire de l’Héroïde XII (1997). L’auteur souligne la difficulté pour Ovide de faire entrer le personnage de la magicienne dans le monde de l’élégie. Sa puissance nocturne lui confère une grandeur qui l’empêche de s’abaisser à devenir l’esclave d’un homme, même sur le plan purement sentimental. C’est ce que le poète indique au vers 212 qui termine sa lettre : Nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit. Médée laisse de côté l’élégie trop humble pour elle pour entrer en tragédie, la tragédie sénéquéenne (ou bien ovidienne), genre supérieur, qui correspond mieux aux crimes qu’elle fomente, mais aussi à la manifestation de toute sa puissance, en tant que femme trahie, mais magicienne. 19. Ce passage fait également écho aux reproches que la Médée d’Apollonios de Rhodes adresse à Jason aux chants III et surtout IV de l’épopée grecque. Pour une étude intertextuelle détaillée de ce discours de Didon, voir Nelis 2001, 164. 20. En cela, Médée fait preuve d’une clairvoyance tragique puisque Jason l’abandonnera pour une autre. 21. Au chant II, Jason a connu une aventure amoureuse avec Hypsipyle. Mais cette relation n’est pas passionnelle. La reine lemnienne accepte le départ du héros et lui fait ses adieux sans même lui demander de se souvenir d’elle. Elle souhaite seulement qu’il garde en mémoire la terre qui l’a recueilli et qu’il y revienne pour l’enfant qu’elle va mettre au monde (II, 422-424). Mais dans la Thébaïde, Hypsipyle fait des reproches à Jason (V, 472-474) qui évoquent ceux des Héroïdes. 22. Conte 1978, 11-48. 23. Nous suivons la traduction de J. Soubiran qui traduit iamdudum par « depuis longtemps ». C’est le sens de l’adverbe en VII, 243, 292. Cette traduction est ambiguë puisque nous ne savons pas depuis combien de temps Médée récite des incantations pour rendre Jason amoureux. Mais ce sens nous semble accentuer le caractère machiavélique de la jeune fille qui use de ses pouvoirs pour arriver à ses fins et corroborer le caractère ambigu de l’ensemble du passage puisque Médée affirme qu’elle accepte le rôle de derelicta alors qu’il n’en est rien ou qu’elle se dit trahie sans préciser clairement par qui ou par quoi. Dans sa traduction des Belles Lettres, G. Liberman propose de traduire l’adverbe par « venait de », en s’appuyant sur son second sens « sans délai » qu’il possède en VII, 237. Cette traduction essaie de suivre l’enchaînement des actions chez Apollonios de Rhodes. 24. Bessone 1998, 145. 25. Ripoll 2003, 76. 26. Grewe 1998, 188-189. 27. Ripoll 2004, 199. 28. Ripoll 2003, 77. 29. Les échos intertextuels nous font privilégier le modèle sénéquéen, mais nous ne pouvons que déplorer la perte de la Médée d’Ovide. Voir aussi Rio Torres-Murciano 2010. 30. Le rappel de ses bienfaits, opposé à l’ingratitude future de Jason, constitue aussi un leitmotiv des plaintes de l’héroïne, que l’on retrouve dans la tragédie de Sénèque : memorque nostri muneri parcat meo (Médée, vers 142). 31. Ripoll 2004, 205. 32. La traduction des vers de Sénèque est la nôtre. Médée joue le rôle d’Érinye que Jason lui a attribué dans son serment (VII, 548-508) et qu’elle tiendra effectivement dans la tragédie sénéquéenne.

Dictynna, 12 | 2015 124

33. La fin de la tragédie sénéquéenne remet aussi en cause les propos de la Médée valérienne lorsqu’elle dit qu’elle quittera la lumière avec joie dans l’intérêt de Jason (Argonautiques, VII, 486). Dans l’œuvre tragique, c’est au contraire vers la lumière qu’elle se dirige, victorieuse, sur son char ailé : lumière du soleil, son ancêtre, lumière des flammes par lesquelles elle a fait périr Créuse, lumière symbolique du feu de sa vengeance. Voir Dangel 2004. 34. Pour une analyse plus développée de cette caractérisation du personnage, Tschiedel 1991 et Baldini Moscadi 2000. 35. Sur les relations entre les généricités épique et tragique, Dangel 2009, Clément-Tarantino 2009 et Roux 2013.

RÉSUMÉS

Au chant VII des Argonautiques, alors que Médée vient d’offrir ses charmes magiques à Jason, Valerius Flaccus lui fait prononcer un discours d’adieu qui s’avère faux. Bien qu’elle semble accepter que Jason parte de Colchide sans elle, malgré l’aide qu’elle lui a apportée, le poète révèle qu’elle est en train de proférer des incantations magiques afin de le rendre amoureux d’elle et de le persuader de l’épouser. Pour composer ce discours rhétorique, par lequel la magicienne manipule Jason, Valerius Flaccus se réfère à différents modèles littéraires, épiques, élégiaques et tragiques. Son travail de réécriture intertextuelle, savamment orchestrée, montre comment il infléchit la trame épique de son poème vers le tragique, transformant ses deux héros en des figures de tragédie.

INDEX

Mots-clés : Valerius Flaccus, genre épique, généricité, tragédie, tragique, élégie romaine, élégie féminine, intertextualité, rhétorique, figures féminines

Dictynna, 12 | 2015