A Stichometric Allusion to Catullus 64 in the Culex

‫ۺ۠ۦۙۨۦٷ۩ۏڷ۠ٷۗ۝ۧۧٷ۠‪Ө‬ڷۙۜے‬ ‫ۏۆ‪ۛҖӨ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜ‬ ‫‪ẳẰΝ̀ặẬẾẾẴẮẬặΝỀẬẽếẰẽặỄ‬ڷۦۣۚڷۧۙۗ۝۪ۦۙۧڷ۠ٷۣۢ۝ۨ۝ۘۘۆ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۧۨۦۙ۠ٷڷ۠۝ٷۡٮ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۣۧۢ۝ۨۤ۝ۦۗۧۖ۩ۑ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۧۨۢ۝ۦۤۙۦڷ۠ٷ۝ۗۦۣۙۡۡ‪Ө‬‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃڷۙۧ۩ڷۣۚڷۧۡۦۙے‬ ‫‪І‬ٲڷۀڿڷۑۓۋۋۓےۆ‪Ө‬ڷۍےڷ‪І‬ۍٲۑۓۋۋۆڷ‪Ө‬ٲېےٮیۍٱ‪Ө‬ٲےۑڷۆ‬ ‫‪̀Ạϋả‬ڷٮٱے‬ ‫ۣۙ۫ۋڷۢٷۨۧۢ۩‪ө‬‬ ‫‪Ң‬ڿہڷ‪Ғ‬ڷھڿہڷۤۤڷۃۀڽڼھڷۦۙۖۡۙۗۙ‪ө‬ڷ‪Җ‬ڷھڼڷۙ۩ۧۧٲڷ‪Җ‬ڷۀڿڷۙۡ۩ۣ۠۔ڷ‪Җ‬ڷۺ۠ۦۙۨۦٷ۩ۏڷ۠ٷۗ۝ۧۧٷ۠‪Ө‬ڷۙۜے‬ ‫ۀڽڼھڷۦ۪ۣۙۖۡۙ‪І‬ڷڼھڷۃۙۢ۝ۣ۠ۢڷۘۙۜۧ۝۠ۖ۩ێڷۃﯥۀھڼڼڼۀڽہہڿہۂڼڼڼۑ‪Җ‬ۀڽڼڽ‪ғ‬ڼڽڷۃٲۍ‪ө‬‬ ‫ﯥۀھڼڼڼۀڽہہڿہۂڼڼڼۑٵۨۗٷۦۨۧۖٷ‪ۛҖ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜڷۃۙ۠ۗ۝ۨۦٷڷۧ۝ۜۨڷۣۨڷ۟ۢ۝ۋ‬ ‫ۃۙ۠ۗ۝ۨۦٷڷۧ۝ۜۨڷۙۨ۝ۗڷۣۨڷۣ۫ٱ‬ ‫ٮٱےڷ‪І‬ٲڷۀڿڷۑۓۋۋۓےۆ‪Ө‬ڷۍےڷ‪І‬ۍٲۑۓۋۋۆڷ‪Ө‬ٲېےٮیۍٱ‪Ө‬ٲےۑڷۆڷ‪ғ‬ۀۀڽڼھڿڷۣۙ۫ۋڷۢٷۨۧۢ۩‪ө‬‬ ‫ﯥۀھڼڼڼۀڽہہڿہۂڼڼڼۑ‪Җ‬ۀڽڼڽ‪ғ‬ڼڽۃ۝ۣۘڷ‪Ң‬ڿہ‪Ғ‬ھڿہڷۤۤڷۃۀڿڷۃۺ۠ۦۙۨۦٷ۩ۏڷ۠ٷۗ۝ۧۧٷ۠‪Ө‬ڷۙۜےڷ‪̀Ạϋảғ‬‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃڷۣۧۢ۝ۧۧ۝ۡۦۙێڷۨۧۙ۩ۥۙې‬ ‫ۀڽڼھڷ۪ۣ‪І‬ڷڽھڷۣۢڷڿھڽ‪ғ‬ڽۂ‪Ңғ‬ڽڽ‪ғ‬ۀہڷۃۧۧۙۦۘۘٷڷێٲڷۃۏۆ‪ۛҖӨ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜڷۣۡۦۚڷۘۙۘٷۣۣ۠ۢ۫‪ө‬‬ 862 S H O R T E R N OT E S A STICHOMETRIC ALLUSION TO CATULLUS 64 IN THE CULEX* In a recent note, I collected instances of ‘stichometric allusion’, the technique in which poets allude, in one or more of their own verses, to source verses with corresponding line numbers.1 The technique existed in Hellenistic Greek poetry, but seems more prevalent (or at least, detectable) among the Latin poets of the Augustan era, who applied it to Greek and Latin predecessors alike, as well as internally to their own work. New illustrations of each type may be added here to those previously brought to light.2 Further examples, detected in an unsystematic fashion, no doubt lie dormant in published discussions and commentaries. Callimachus is still the only known Greek practitioner; perhaps his Roman successors considered the technique not merely Hellenistic but Callimachean. Authors of later ages employ the same techniques in equally haphazard fashion,3 although this does not mean that they had necessarily noticed examples from antiquity. Here I propose a new case in the pseudo-Virgilian Culex, which is more exact than any previously noted because it contains verbal parallels in two consecutive verses. The passage in question is 131–3: * I am grateful to Donncha O’Rourke and William Levitan for stimulating discussions which improved this article, and to CQ’s anonymous reader for a reminder that meaning is everywhere. 1 D. Lowe, ‘Women scorned: a new stichometric allusion in the Aeneid’, CQ 63 (2013), 1–3. 2 The following list extends that of Lowe (n. 1); several items are drawn from the valuable discussion by D. O’Rourke, ‘Intertextuality in Roman elegy’, in B.K. Gold (ed.), A Companion to Roman Love Elegy (Malden, MA, 2012), 390–409. A compelling Callimachean example is when the rare participle τεθυωμένον (‘sweet-smelling’) appears at Hom. Hymn Aph. 63 and Callim. Hymn Ath. 63, in the same sedes (F. Hadjittofi, ‘Callimachus’ sexy Athena: the Hymn to Athena and the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite’, MD 60 [2008], 9–37, at 32). In Roman comedy, there is a close resemblance between Plaut. Capt. 800 and Ter. Eun. 801 (M. Fontaine, ‘Dynamics of appropriation in Roman comedy: Menander’s Kolax in three Roman receptions [Naevius, Plautus, and Terence’s Eunuchus]’, in S.D. Olson [ed.], Ancient Comedy and Reception: Studies in the Classical Tradition of Comedy from Aristophanes to the Twenty-first Century [Berlin, 2013]). A. Schiesaro, ‘Ibis redibis’, MD 67 (2011), 79–150, suggests that Tristia 2.7–8 supplies the name suppressed at Ibis 7–8, ‘Caesar’. Augustan allusions to Greek include Virgil’s translation of Theocr. Id. 11.43–4 at Ecl. 9.43 (T. Keeline, ‘Virgil and the Theocritean scholia’, in R.F. Thomas and J.M. Ziolkowski [edd.], The Virgil Encyclopedia [Malden, MA, 2013]). Augustan allusions to Latin include Horace’s sole use of anhel– to describe Paris on Ida at Carm. 1.15.31, which recalls Catullus’ sole use of anhel– to describe Attis on Ida at 63.31 (M.C.J. Putnam, Poetic Interplay: Catullus & Horace [Princeton, NJ, 2006], 154 n. 21), and Propertius’ use of exsequiae at 4.7.5, which was a Virgilian hapax at Aen. 7.5 (O’Rourke [this note], 401). A more complex relationship exists between Ovid’s description of Elysium beginning at Amores 3.9.59, Tibullus’ at 1.3.59, and Propertius’ at 4.7.59 (F.W. Solmsen, ‘Propertius in his literary relations with Tibullus and Vergil’, Philologus 105 [1961], 273–89, at 274, 281–9; O’Rourke [this note], 402). Ovid’s line 60 (restat, in Elysia valle Tibullus erit) resembles Propertius’ line 60 (mulcet ubi Elysias aura beata rosas) and to a lesser extent Tibullus’ line 58 (ipsa Venus campos ducet in Elysios). One intratextual example is Propertius’ use of the yoking of bulls as a metaphor for desire’s burden at both 2.3.47–50 and 2.34.47–50 (O’Rourke [this note], 397). Although Lowe (n. 1) included incipit allusions (e.g. Calp. Sic. 5.1: ‘forte …’, imitating Verg. Ecl. 7.1), these are clearly a special case and not properly ‘stichometric’. 3 In Milton’s Paradise Lost, the array of hanging lamps at 1.726–30 recalls those at Aeneid 1.726–7. Intratextually, Dante describes Geryon and Lucifer as ‘ladders through Hell’ at Inferno 17.82–6 and 34.82–6 (R.M. Durling [tr.], The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri: Volume 1: Inferno [Oxford, 1996], 18), and uses the ‘self-rhyme’ of Cristo in Cantos 14 and 19 of Paradiso, both times in lines 104, 106, and 108 (T.E. Hart, ‘The Cristo-rhymes, the Greek cross, and cruciform geometry in Dante’s Commedia: “giunture di quadranti in tondo”’, ZRPh 106 [2009], 106–34, at 116). S H O R T E R N OT E S 863 posterius cui Demophoon aeterna reliquit perfidiam lamentandi mala, perfide multis, perfide Demophoon et nunc deflende puellis Later Demophoon left to her the endless agonies Of lamenting his treachery – Traitor! Traitor, Demophoon! Even now, you’re wept for by many a girl. The main model for these lines, directly or indirectly, may be the lost verses of Callimachus in which Demophoon was reproached for his faithlessness.4 However, another, less commonly remarked model5 is Catullus 64.130–3 (the identical elements appear in the same lines, 132 and 133): atque haec extremis maestam dixisse querellis, frigidulos udo singultus ore cientem: ‘sicine me patriis avectam, perfide, ab aris, perfide, deserto liquisti in litore, Theseu?’ And in her last complaints she spoke these grieving words, her damp mouth keening, shivering, gulping: ‘Is this how you’ve carried me from my homeland’s altars – traitor! Traitor! – deserting me on the lonely shore, Theseus?’ The features which these passages share – perfidy, repetition, vocatives – are typical of the so-called ‘neoteric’ style.6 This is enough to explain why looking near the 132-line mark yields similar features in four other poems, two Ovidian and two pseudo-Virgilian, which incidentally all involve betrayal and reproach.7 But it is very unlikely that the stichometric correspondence in the Culex is accidental. It involves the same repeated word, both times falling in the same metrical sedes (the author of the Culex inserts an additional perfidiam), and spanning the same – apparently arbitrary – line numbers. The authorship and date of the purportedly Virgilian Culex are still debated, though all agree that it postdates Catullus.8 It is therefore a valuable case study for this recently identified compositional technique. 4 Νυμϕίε Δημοϕόων, ἄδικε ξένε (‘Bridegroom Demophoon, unjust visitor’): Callim. fr. 556 Pfeiffer. 5 J. Wills, Repetition in Latin Poetry: Figures of Allusion (Oxford, 1996), 134, seems alone in noticing a Catullan debt here. The most recent commentary on the Culex (S. Seelentag, Der Pseudovergilische Culex: Hermes Einzelschriften 105 [Stuttgart, 2012]) does not mention the parallel. 6 ‘A lack of fides is the classic accusation against the deserting man’ (R.K. Gibson, Ovid: Ars Amatoria Book 3 [Cambridge, 2003], 286, with citations). There are repetitions of proper names at Cat. 64 19–21 (Thetidis … Thetis … Thetidi), 37 (Pharsaliam … Pharsalia), 285–6 (Tempe, | Tempe); Culex 131 and 133 (Demophoon … Demophoon), 271 and 273 and 275 (Ditis … Ditis … Ditis); Ciris 66 (Crataein … Crataeis), 105–6 (Alcathoi … Alcathoi), 130–1 (Scylla … Scylla), 295–6 (Britomarti … Britomarti), 498 (Iovis … Iovis) and 540 (Nisus … Nisus). The closest parallel to Demophoon … Demophoon is Ciris 295–6, where the repeated name is a four-syllable non-Latin vocative (Britomarti). On the stylistics of repeated nominal forms, see Wills (n. 5), 124–86. 7 The vocative perfide appears at Ov. Ib. 130 (speque tuae mortis, perfide, semper alar), and repeated proper nouns appear at Ov. Her. 5.127–8 (illam de patria Theseus – nisi nomine fallor – | nescio quis Theseus abstulit ante sua) and [Verg.] Ciris 130–1 (nec fuerat, ni Scylla novo correpta furore, | Scylla, patris miseri patriaeque inventa sepulcrum). Epanalepsis of a more common, non-Greek name appears at [Verg.] Dirae 129–30: fabula non vana est, tauro Iove digna vel auro | (Iuppiter, avertas aurem) mea sola puella est. 8 Seelentag (n. 5), 9–17, provides a convenient status quaestionis and accepts the dominant view (introduced by D. Güntzschel, Beiträge zur Datierung des Culex [Munich, 1972]) that the Culex is later than Ovid, but still early imperial. 864 S H O R T E R N OT E S Few would deny that Roman readers of the Culex were equipped to detect such an allusion; a better question is whether they would consider it ‘allusion’ at all. The close relationship between these two poems is already well known. Overall, they are similar in length, and each contains a reproachful lament, also of similar length.9 Ross has argued that the Culex is a parody of neoteric epic narrative technique, for which Catullus 64 is our prime example.10 Furthermore, the Culex contains several incidental borrowings from Catullus 64;11 it is no surprise to find Ariadne’s epanaleptic cry among these, since it had inspired many imitations, including the two Ovidian examples which gave our author the phrase perfide Demophoon.12 Wills traces its evolution, noting that perfide … perfide owes ‘a debt to Catullus’, just as perfide Demophoon owes one to Remedia Amoris 597 and ultimately to Callimachus.13 For a reader who is highly sensitive to the relationship between Catullus 64 and the Culex, there are ample opportunities for finding ‘point’, which makes the correspondence an allusion. The Catullan passage is the opening couplet of Ariadne’s impassioned reproach to Theseus, and thus very prominently placed, whereas the imitation in the Culex seems tangential to the main narrative, as if the author took pains to include it.14 A catalogue of trees leads on to the almond tree, which is obliquely named as ‘Phyllis’, the girl who transformed into one; unexpectedly, as Seelentag points out, the poet then digresses even further from the context by apostrophizing her fiancé rather than Phyllis herself.15 Yet Demophoon was the son of Theseus, and Roman poets frequently identified him as the heir of his father’s deceitfulness;16 thus, as Seelentag again observes, he constitutes an echo of Ariadne’s lament.17 From a Bloomian point of view, Demophoon – the infamous latecomer ( posterius, 131) who failed to retrace his steps – is thus the ideal vehicle for an allusion to Catullus, a gesture of literary filiation tinged with anxiety of influence.18 9 Catullus 64 is 408 lines long, with at least one lacuna, and the Culex is 414 lines long. Ariadne’s lament is 70 lines long (Cat. 64.132–201) and the gnat’s is 73 lines long (Cul. 210–382). 10 D.O. Ross, ‘The Culex and Moretum as post-Augustan literary parodies’, HSPh 79 (1975), 235–63. 11 According to D.L. Drew, Culex: Sources and Their Bearing on the Problem of Authorship (Oxford, 1925), esp. 68, 84, Catullus 64 is the major influence upon the Culex – after Lucretius. Although the majority of Drew’s parallels are loose, there are several specific verbal echoes. These include gaudia vultu (Cat. 64.34; Cul. 120), omnia … omnia (Cat. 64.186–7; Cul. 348–9), impia … impia (Cat. 64.403–4; Cul. 124–5), late … omnia frangens (Cat. 64.109) with obvia … carpens … late (Cul. 166– 7), and myrtus at the line-end, in a catalogue of flowers and linked with Laconia (Cat. 64.89; Cul. 400). 12 The direct link between Catullus’ perfide … Theseu (64.133) and the Culex poet’s perfide Demophoon (133) was Ovid’s intervening perfide Theseu (Fast. 3.473; cf. [Verg.] Aetn. 583). H. Jacobson, ‘The date of the Culex’, Phoenix 58 (2004), 345–7, suggests that the transformation of Phyllis into the almond tree is a variant which postdates Ovid, making the entire premise for the trope part of its ongoing evolution. 13 Wills (n. 5), 132–8, esp. 134. 14 Alternatively, since the poem’s main project is a plangent accumulation of allusions, the imitation is central to the poem. I thank CQ’s anonymous reader for this observation. 15 Seelentag (n. 5), ad loc. 16 For Demophoon as the heartbreaker son of the heartbreaker Theseus, see Prop. 2.22a.1–2, 24.43– 4; Ov. Her. 2.75–8, Ars Am. 3.35–8, 459–60 (see also Ov. Her. 4.65–6, where Phaedra hurls the same charge at Hippolytus). The apostrophe to Demophoon may also make the Culex an ‘heir’ to Ov. Her. 2, which is addressed to Demophoon in its entirety: both poems have funerary inscriptions as their closing couplets. 17 Seelentag (n. 5), ad loc. 18 Just as the initial ‘p’s at Cul. 131–3 echo Ariadne’s sobbing patriis … perfide … perfide, the words multis … et nunc signal the allusion as the sequel to many prior Phyllis-laments. They also activate the etymology of Demophoon as ‘Killer of the Many’, just as the Culex itself ‘culls’ the whole sub-genre of elegiac and epyllionic soliloquy. I thank CQ’s anonymous reader for these observations. S H O R T E R N OT E S 865 Yet the rich thematic possibilities of the Catullan allusion (upon which a psychologized reading rests) are far from explicit, and the stichometric correspondence can still be treated as a formal or visual phenomenon. Downplaying the allusive sensibilities of the Culex poet and his readership opens up the intriguing possibility of a method of allusion not inspired by thematic relevance. The overlap of only one syllable between the unrelated words deserto and Demophoon (and between the final syllables of aris and multis) is purely auditory or visual, with no real semantic import, implying that the author of the Culex engaged with the source text in a meticulous but localized manner. One possibility is that frequent recitation of the source text led to subconscious echoes in composition. Another is that the Culex author kept Catullus 64 physically present during the act of composition, drawing not only upon its content and stylistic properties but also upon its visual layout.19 In both cases we would expect more extensive imitation of the model, though the preceding and following lines show no further similarities, and a smattering of other potential parallels are far less convincing.20 As technology provides us with new ways to process and analyse text, further examples of stichometric allusion like the one in the Culex – whose thematic dimension is subtle and indirect – will come to light, and our understanding of ancient reading practices may consequently change. University of Kent DUNSTAN LOWE [email protected] doi:10.1017/S000983881400024X 19 Using what we know of how classical Latin poems were presented in written form, D. O’Rourke, ‘Paratext and intertext in the Propertian poetry book’, in L. Jansen (ed.), The Roman Paratext: Frame, Text, Readers (Cambridge, 2014), suggests that the placing of text, e.g. in adjacent columns, formed the basis for intratextual and paratextual allusions. 20 There are superficial visual or aural resemblances between words in the same sedes, especially at line endings: aequor/auctor (12), tuetur/petuntur (53), fluctibus in/talibus in (98), labello/capellae (104), pectus/per artus (138), femina/cacumina (143), tauro/torvo (173). The only exact verbal parallel is the unremarkable quis at the start of lines 145. On two occasions the same word appears in different positions in the line: sensus (189) and mente/mentem (200). These effects seem coincidental. APULEIUS, METAMORPHOSES 10.25.1 nec iuvenis sororis suae mortem tam miseram et quae minime par erat inlatam aequo tolerare quivit animo, sed … exin flagrantissimis febribus ardebat, ut ipsi quoque iam medela videretur esse necessaria. This is the text of the passage describing the reaction of the young man at the news that his beloved sister has been murdered flagris and titione candenti inter media femina detruso as it is transmitted by the Florentine MS (F).1 With the few exceptions which 1 I am transcribing the text directly from a photographic reproduction of F, the eleventh-century MS now at Florence (Laurentianus pl. 68.2) upon which our knowledge of the Metamorphoses ultimately depends. I also refer to the editio princeps by G.A. Bussi (Rome, 1469); to the editiones variorum by F. Oudendorp (Leiden, 1786) and G.F. Hildebrand (Leipzig, 1842); to the critical editions by D.S. Robertson (Paris, 1945) and M. Zimmerman (Oxford, 2012); and to the text, with Italian translation, by L. Nicolini (Milan, 2005).