(Gaertner, J. F. (Ed.) ) Writing Exile The Discour
(Gaertner, J. F. (Ed.) ) Writing Exile The Discour
(Gaertner, J. F. (Ed.) ) Writing Exile The Discour
Mnemosyne
Bibliotheca Classica Batava
Editorial Board
VOLUME 83
LEIDEN BOSTON
2007
ISSN:
0169-8958
ISBN-13: 978-90-04-15515-2
ISBN-10: 90-04-15515-5
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CONTENTS
Preface ...........................................................................................
Abbreviations ..................................................................................
Notes on the Contributors ..................................................................
vii
ix
xi
21
51
71
87
vi
contents
237
257
273
275
277
PREFACE
The germ of this book lies in a Corpus Christi Classical Seminar on
Exile and Exiles at the University of Oxford (Michaelmas term 2001),
at which earlier versions of six of the papers of this collection were
read. The positive response to the seminar as well as the status quaestionis
encouraged me to envisage this publication.
The central aim of the seminar was to show that the topic of exile in
antiquity is not at all limited to the three most prominent exiles Cicero,
Ovid, and Seneca, but that this trias exulum has to be placed in a far
larger and more complex discourse of exile and displacement, ranging
from Cynicism to Late Antiquity. The present volume adopts an even
broader perspective, tracing traditions of concepts and motifs from the
oral antecedents of the Iliad and the Odyssey down to the age of Petrarch
and demonstrating the immense impact of these traditions on the way
in which individuals perceived and described their (real or metaphorical)
exile.
I would like to thank the Corpus Christi College Centre for the Study
of Greek and Roman Antiquity and the Faculty of Literae Humaniores
of the University of Oxford for generously supporting the original
seminar. E. L. Bowie rst suggested to me the topic and has been
extremely helpful ever since. In the editorial work S. J. Harrison has
been a magnaque pars animi consiliique mei and has read and commented on
considerable parts of this book. J. A. Richmond and N. W. Slater kindly
checked the English of two of the contributions, acutely alerting me also
to several philological problems. S. Jdicke has been a tremendous help
by checking references and compiling parts of the indices. Moreover,
I am grateful to D. Colomo, M. Deufert, S. Gerke, C. Gronemann,
P. Grossardt, J. Hazenbos, and R. Hexter for comments on a draft of
the introduction. Finally, I would like to thank I. van Rossum, K. F. Plas,
and L. Aalders at Brill, and all of the contributors for their cooperation
and patience.
J. F. G.
Leipzig
10 May 2006
ABBREVIATIONS
The abbreviations of Latin authors and their works are generally the
same as those used in the Oxford Latin Dictionary (OLD). However, authors
and works not cited in OLD are abbreviated as in the Thesaurus Linguae
Latinae (TLL), Cat. points to Catullus, and, for reasons of clarity,
Senecas consolations ad Marciam, ad Polybium, and ad Helviam (Sen. Dial.
6, 11, and 12) are referred to as Marc., Polyb., and Helv. Greek authors
and works as well as collections of epigraphic, papyrological, and other
material are abbreviated as in the Oxford Classical Dictionary (OCD3).
Further abbreviations used in this volume are:
ALL
x
ML
abbreviations
xii
in the Greek world attested mostly in inscriptions. He is currently working on a monograph on non-Greeks writing national histories in the
Greek language in the Hellenistic period, as well as a translation of
Xenophons Hellenica and Agesilaus.
Elaine Fantham, Giger Professor emerita, Princeton University, has
written commentaries on Senecas Troades (1982), Lucan, De Bello Civili
2 (1992), and Ovid, Fasti 4 (1998). In 2004 she published Ovids Metamorphoses in the series Oxford Approaches to Classical Literature, and a monograph The Roman World of Ciceros De Oratore. A biography of Julia,
daughter of Augustus, has come out in 2006.
Jan Felix Gaertner is Post-Doctoral Assistant at the Institut fr
Klassische Philologie und Komparatistik at the University of Leipzig. He
has published a commentary (with text and English translation) of Ovid,
Epistulae ex Ponto 1 (2005). His research interests include Latin poetry
and historiography, Greek lexicography and travel literature. Currently
he is preparing a monograph on law in Greek and Latin comedy.
Stephen J. Harrison is Fellow and Tutor in Classics at Corpus Christi
College, Oxford, and Professor of Classical Languages and Literature
in the University of Oxford. He is the author of a commentary on
Vergil, Aeneid 10 (1991) and of Apuleius: A Latin Sophist (2000) and editor
of several volumes including Texts, Ideas and the Classics (2001) and A
Companion to Latin Literature (2005).
Ralph J. Hexter is Professor of Classics and Comparative Literature
and President of Hampshire College in Amherst Massachusetts. In
addition to various articles on classical and medieval literature, he has
published Equivocal Oaths and Ordeals in Medieval Literature (1975) and Ovid
and Medieval Schooling. Studies in Medieval School Commentaries on Ovids Ars
Amatoria, Epistulae ex Ponto, and Epistulae Heroidum (1986). Together with
Daniel Selden he edited Innovations of Antiquity (1992).
Heinz-Gnther Nesselrath is Professor of Classics at the University of
Gttingen. His publications include Lukians Parasitendialog. Untersuchungen
und Kommentar (1985), Die attische Mittlere Komdie (1990), Platon und die
Erndung von Atlantis (2002) and Platon, Kritias: bersetzung und Kommentar
(2006). He is editor of an Einleitung in die griechische Philologie (1997) and is
currently working on an edition of the hymns and satires of the Emperor
Julian and on a monograph on Herodotus.
CHAPTER ONE
and Cassius Dio illustrate this. In the fth book of his Roman history
Livy inserts a speech (5.514) in which the early Roman statesman M.
Furius Camillus argues against a proposal for settlement in Veii and
recalls how heduring his exilehad longed for his patria (5.54.34).
The passage so closely resembles passages in letters written by Cicero
during the time of his proconsulship in Cilicia15 that Ogilvie (ad loc.)
has rightly concluded that Livy has taken Cicero as the model for
Camillus speech. Some 200 years after Livy, Cassius Dio treats Ciceros
exile in his Roman history and invents a dialogue in which some
ctitious Philiscus tries to console the Roman statesman and persuade
him that there is no reason for lamenting his banishment in a
womanish fashion.16 The dialogue appears [my emphasis] to refute
Ad Atticum 3.15 (Claassen (1999a) 86), although Cassius Dio may not
have had Ad Atticum 3.15 before him and may have merely drawn from
an ancient tradition of philosophical consolations on exile.17 Both the
distinction between different grammatical persons and the category of
exile literature in the sense of literature written by exiles would not be
very helpful in describing the relation between Cicero and the historians
Livy and Cassius Dio, and, what is worse, they would blind us to the
fact that the philosophical consolations on exile, which go back to the
Cynic philosopher Teles ( . c. 235 BC), already provide all the counterarguments with which Dios ctitious Philiscus can reply to a letter
written by Cicero in Sept. 58 BCregardless of whether Dio actually
knew Ciceros correspondence from exile or not. The example shows
that, obviously, there was a tradition of typical complaints about and
consolations for exile which was available to Cicero, Livy, and Cassius
Dio and which they could put either into their characters mouth or into
their own.
This last point immediately questions also the psychological framework
applied by Doblhofer and, to a lesser extent, by Claassen: if there is
a tradition of typical complaints about and consolations for exile one
15
On this proconsulship being a sort of second exile for Cicero see n. 74 below;
Ogilvie compares Fam. 2.11.1, 2.12.2, 2.13.3; another parallel is Att. 5.15.1 (also written
during Ciceros proconsulship in Cilicia (51 BC)): lucem, forum, urbem, domum, vos desidero.
16
Cf. Dio Cass. 38.1829 (the quote is from 38.18.1); the passage has been treated in
greater detail by Claassen (1996a).
17
Claassen (1999a) 269 n. 74 leaves the question of Dios sources open; the medical
imagery in 38.18.5, 38.19.12 (cf. nn. 645 below), the use of historical exempla in
38.26.3, 38.27.3, and the suggestion that Cicero should become a historiographer,
which has a close parallel in Plutarchs consolation on exile (Plut. De Exil. 605CD, cf.
n. 48 below) all show that Dio is heavily inuenced by the consolatory tradition.
Kultur,27 he, too, is the exponent of a tradition that goes back to Cicero
and before,28 and the same applies, of course, also to Brecht when he
explains that for his Gedichte im Exil of 1943 he has chosen only those
poems that were written in einer Art Basic German and that other
poems which seemed too reich were excluded.29 Doblhofer and others
have taken the systematization of the topoi of the modern exile literature
as a starting point for understanding the literature written by the exiles
of antiquity, without reecting that the modern authors have inherited
these topoi from the ancient discourse on exile. No psychological
paradigms are needed to explain that authors like Cicero or Ovid, who
have had an immense direct and indirect inuence on medieval and
modern literature, share many topoi with those that stand at our end of
the western tradition. To understand ancient discourse on exile one does
not have to resort to psychological concepts and typologies of modern
exile literature; rather, one has to go back to the rst literary treatments
of exile and displacement and even beyond that.
In view of the difculties inherent in the denition of exile in
antiquity and in view of the close interaction between a whole variety of
narrative, historiographical, philosophical, political, rhetorical, or just
personal treatments of exile and displacement in classical literature, the
contributions in the present volume adopt a fairly broad denition of
exile and are organized chronologically rather than thematically. Instead
of focusing on the exulum trias Cicero, Ovid, and Senecathough
they, too, are treated (cf. Cohen, Gaertner, and Fantham below)
the present volume aims at emphasizing the importance of the so far
often neglected discourse on exile in early Greek epic and lyric poetry
(Bowie), Greek historiography (Dillery), Cynicism (Branham), philosophical consolations on exile (Nesselrath), Latin epic (Harrison), Greek
literature of the empire (Desideri), and in the Middle Ages (Hexter).
The difference in approach and scope between the studies by Doblhofer
and Claassen and the present volume leads to a rather different picture
of ancient discourse on exile (see especially pp. 1516 below). Although
the individual papers mutually interact and refer the reader to the
treatment of precedents or reception in other contributions to the volume, readers may nd the following sketch of the historical development
27
there isfrom fairly early timesalso a more literary use of the theme:
early, oral narratives of return such as the Usbek epic Alpamysh, the
oral antecedents that one may reconstruct for the Odyssey, and the epic
of Gilgamesh exploit the natural pathos inherent in the separation of a
hero from his home and the conict with new surroundings;38 the same
motif also surfaces in the Iliad, where the prowess of valorous men such
as Achilles is contrasted with their longing for home.39
In these accounts characters long for their native land or city, for
members of their family or for their possessions, but exile is not yet
presented as an extreme deprivation sui generis, nor is there a developed
rhetoric of exile.40 Such a rhetoric only develops with the rise of
lyric poetry and its shift of focus from myths of the past towards the
persona of the poet and his or her experience.41 Whereas Archilochus
and Semonides exile and their literary treatment of it are difcult to
reconstruct, Xenophanes (fr. 3 West) may offer a rst certain example
sollte in mythische Zeit hochdatiert, also eine echte Kolonie mit einer mythischen
Urgeschichte ausgestattet werden (Prinz (1979) 29 with Philostephanus FHG 3.29.1 =
Ath. 7.51 p. 297F298A; cf. Prinz (1979) passim for further examples and literature).
Of course, also the reverse may have occurred and such foundation myths may have
inuenced the political agenda: according to Pausanias (1.12.1) Pyrrhus decision to
wage war against Rome was partly prompted by the consideration that Rome was a
foundation of Trojan refugees and he himself a descendant of Troys enemy Achilles;
later, according to Just. 28.1.6, one of the justications put forth by Roman envoys for
Romes support of the Acarnanians against the Aetolians was that they soli quondam
adversus Troianos, auctores originis suae, auxilia Graecis non miserint.
38
On the motif of return in the Usbek epic Alpamysh and similar narratives from
the Balkans see Zhirmunsky (1966) 2813, Mirzaev (1983) 81, Reichl (2001) 419, Lord
(1991) 21144; on pre-literary precedents for this motif in the Odyssey see Radermacher
(1915) 51, Hlscher (1989) 324 and 512, Hansen (2002) 20111. Whitmarsh (2001a)
2801 rightly draws attention to the fact that in these stories (cf. imprimis Od. 1.13)
also the notion that travel generates wisdom is latent [my emphasis] and compares the
link of displacement and transition to adulthood in the myths of Jason (cf. Segal (1986)
5660, Moreau (1994a) 11742), Orestes (cf. Zeitlin (1978) 16074), Telemachus (cf.
Alden (1987) 134, Moreau (1992)), and Odysseus (cf. Moreau (1994b)). Cf. West (1997)
4034 on the explicit link of travel and wisdom in the epic of Gilgamesh, and Comito
(1975) and Whitmarsh (1999) on the spacialization of the souls adventures (Comito,
p. 74) in the ancient novels.
39
Cf. also the tales of displacement of Phoenix (Il. 9.44880) and Patroclus (Il. 23.83
ff.) and see Bowie, pp. 256 below; cf. also Schlunk (1976) on suppliant-exiles in the Iliad
and Montiglio (2000) 87. In a similar fashion exile and displacement are later exploited
also in Latin epic (cf. Lieberg (1971), Harrison, pp. 129 ff. below) and in the ancient
novel (Comito (1975))both are clearly inuenced by the tradition of Greek epic: cf.
imprimis Juhnke (1972), Knauer (1979), and Holzberg (2001) 434 (on the Odyssey as the
Urform of the ancient novel).
40
Cf. Bowie, p. 27 below. On the social history see Roisman (1982), (19846).
41
Cf. Frnkel (1993) 148, Snell (1993) 56 ff. on the history of ideas.
42
Cf. Alc. fr. 73.36 (Campbell, shipwreck imagery) with Cucchiarelli (1997) ( pace
Bowie p. 42 below), Thgn. 20910 with Citroni Marchetti (2000) 11139, 158, 334 (also
on Theognis inuence on Cicero and Ovid), Thgn. 81920 (wish for death), and the
detailed discussion by Bowie on pp. 29 ff. below. On Sapphos banishment (which seems
not to be reected in her poetry) see Bauer (1963).
43
Cf. imprimis Eur. Phoen. 35778 and Aesch. Ag. 126974, Soph. OT 81320, OC
5626, Eur. Med. 64351 and Schnayder (19578), Doblhofer (1987) 2837, Bordaux
(1992), Goldhill (2000) 1216. Goldhill (2000) 1216 accentuates that in tragedy (cf.
e.g. Eur. Phoen. 38893) the question of the exiles (lack of) freedom of speech comes to
the fore; the topic is later taken up in the consolatory tradition: see Doblhofer (1987)
48 and cf. pp. 1617, 89, 97, 184 n. 36 below. Tzanetou (1997)known to me only
through the abstract in LAnne philologiqueand Slatkin (1986) 217 analyse how the
Greek tragedians exploit the theme of exile to explore and emphasize Athenian civic
identity as a state granting refuge (cf. Isoc. Paneg. 51, 54 and see Grethlein (2003)). The
evident links between tragedy and the later tradition of consolatory treatises on exile (cf.
e.g. n. 55 on Eur. fr. 1047 Kannicht) seem not to have been studied systematically yet
(but see Nesselrath pp. 901, 97 and Fantham pp. 1745 in this volume).
44
Cf. imprimis Andoc. 1.5 (it is better to live in a patria that is in a bad state, than to
live in exile), 2.9 (exile as the most wretched form of life), 2.10 (death is better than exile)
and see Doblhofer (1987) 37 and imprimis Zimmermann (2003) 379 who emphasizes
thematic similarities between Andocides and Ciceros speeches after their return
from exile. Some of the typical complaints of exile also feature in Isocrates (14.4650,
19.237) and Demosthenes (57.70).
10
11
12
(1989) 23940 n. 40, Schoeld (1991) 5792, Moles (1996), Whitmarsh (2001a) 27980;
the concept is prepared in the Euripidean line
(Eur. fr. 1047 (Kannicht) ~ Ov. Fast. 1.493 (in a consolatory context)); cf. also Doblhofer
(1987) 47 (with further literature) on the Cynic transformation of Socrates into an
example of cosmopolitanism.
56
See Branham, pp. 76 ff. below and Moles (1996), Montiglio (2000) 99100, 103.
57
Cf. Montiglio (2000) 901 and Empedocles fr. 107.13 (Wright (1981) = VS 31 B
115.13, quoted at Plut. De Exil. 607C): v
with Plutarchs explanation (607D): ,
v v . See Nesselrath, p. 98 below.
58
Cf. Paul. 2 Cor. 5.6: v v vv (cf.
Murphy-OConnor (1986)), Hebr. 11.1316, 13.14, Petr. 1 Ep. 1.17, and n. 105 below.
59
Close parallels in earlier pagan literature such as Cic. Sen. 84.4: ex vita ita discedo
tamquam ex hospitio, non tamquam domo and the reversal of the idea at Hor. Carm. 2.3.278:
sors . . . nos in aeternum / exsilium impositura favour this hypothesis; however, exile and
diaspora play an important role also in the Jewish tradition, cf. Mosis (1978), van Unnik
(1983), Scott et al. (1997), Goldhill (2000) 78, Doering (2003) 77 as well as Hexter on
pp. 21718 below.
60
Cf. imprimis Chrysippus SVF vol. 3, pp. 16970, fr. 67781 and n. 83 on Ciceros
reception of these concepts.
13
Cf. Nesselraths discussion, pp. 87 ff. below and Swain (1989) 156 (on Favorinus).
For the Cynic Diogenes as an exemplary exile cf. e.g. Plut. De Exil. 602A, Philiscus
at Dio Cass. 38.25.2, Favorinus De Exil. 14.51 ff. and see p. 17 below on Musonius selffashioning as a Cynic philosopher. Cadmus and Themistocles are cited in the treatise by
Teles, probably the rst of its kind (third cent. BC), cf. Teles pp. 22.14 and 28.4 (Hense).
Particularly the later treatises by Plutarch and Favorinus offer a much larger inventory
of exemplary exiles, see Nesselrath, pp. 92 ff. below.
63
Cf. the detailed discussion by Nesselrath, pp. 87 ff. below.
64
Cf. e.g. Kudlien (1962) 113 n. 3 and Wehrli (1951) on the earlier tradition of this
imagery; Wilhelm (1926) amply illustrates the medical imagery of the consolatory
tradition in his discussion of Ov. Pont. 1.3. See also Fantham, p. 178 n. 17 below.
65
The motif is prominent in Cicero, Ovid, and many modern authors, cf. the rich
material in Doblhofer (1987) 59 ff. and e.g. Wilhelm (1926) on Ov. Pont. 1.3.
66
Cf. Naev. poet. fr. 529 (Blnsdorf ), Enn. Ann. 1425 (Skutsch). See Harrison,
p. 129 below.
67
See Harrisons discussion on pp. 129 ff. below.
68
Cf. Enn. scen. 20845 ( Jocelyn), imprimis 22931 (Medea), 26579 (Telamo), Pac.
trag. 31346 (Teucer) with Ribbeck (1875) 1335, 14959, 22331 (on Greek precedents);
cf. p. 17 below on Senecas tragedies.
62
14
and Latin comedy does the same with the motif of a lover threatening
to go into exile if his love is not requited.69 Less obvious cases of Latin
poets adopting and incorporating exilic paradigms are the stylization of
Attis nostalgic monologue in Cat. 63.5073,70 Horaces discussion of
travelling in Ep. 1.11 (cf. Skalitzky (1973)) and his treatment of Teucers
(Carm. 1.7) and Europas (Carm. 3.27) displacement, and Vergils rst
Eclogue.71
More controversial is the place of Cicero and Ovid in the history of
ancient discourse on exile. Claassen ((1999a) 27) has interpreted Cicero
as the unconscious creator of the autobiographical genre complaints
from exile and has credited Ovid with the creation of the literary
genre of exilic poetry ((1999a) 241). However, Cicero and Ovid are
not only preceded by the quasi-epistolary72 poems in which Alcaeus
laments his situation in exile (see above), but their treatment of exile
is simply unthinkable without the earlier Greek tradition on exile.73
Ciceros letters written during his exile and his proconsulate in Cilicia74
as well as Ovids Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto rehearse the rhetoric of
exile that had been gradually developing in the Greek lyric poets: the
exiles wish for death, the motif of desertion, the nostalgic recollection
of the patria, the imagery of shipwreckall this had already featured
in the poems of Alcaeus, Theognis, and Solon, in Euripides Phoenissae
and in the consolatory tradition (see p. 9 above). Furthermore, Ciceros
speeches after his return from exile had a model in Andocides speeches
De Mysteriis and De Reditu,75 and the mythologizing self-dramatization
of exile in Ciceros De Temporibus Suis76 and Ovids Tristia and Epistulae
69
Cf. Zagagi (1988) on Menanders Samia 616 ff. as well as Plautus Cistellaria 284 ff.
and Mercator 644 ff., 830 ff. Cf. also Ter. Hau. 857.
70
Cf. imprimis the motif of retrospective/mental travel, which has close parallels in
Ciceros correspondence, in Liv. 5.54.34, and in Ovid, cf. p. 4 above, p. 158 below, and
Doblhofer (1987) 146.
71
Cf. Ecl. 1.15,5966; Vergils lines may be inspired by the loss of his familys
possessions near Mantua (cf. Doblhofer (1987) 7780, 1801), but Segal (1965) and
Somville (1982) have rightly advocated a literary rather than biographical interpretation.
Cf. also Doblhofer (1987) 58 and 76 on Verg. G. 2.50312, [ Verg.] Cat. 3.710.
72
Thus Zimmermann (2003) 42, following Rsler (1980) 2734.
73
I am leaving aside here the methodological objections against exile as a literary
genre, see pp. 26 above. The most recent in depth study of Ciceros letters from exile
Garcea (2005)completely ignores the Greek tradition.
74
Herescu (1959) rightly speaks of three exiles, Ciceros real exile in 58/57 BC, his
proconsulate in Cilicia in 51/50 BC, and his inner exile under Caesars dictatorship.
On these exiles and their presentation in Ciceros works cf. Claassen (1992), Robinson
(1993), Cohen pp. 109 ff. below, and the literature given in the following notes.
75
Cf. Zimmermann (2003) 37 and n. 44 above.
76
For the glorious mythological colour (Claassen (1999a) 209) of Ciceros treatment
15
of his own exile in De Temporibus Suis cf. the ironic allusion in [Sal.] Cic. 7: sed quid ego
plura de tua insolentia commemorem? quem Minerva omnis artis edocuit, Iuppiter Optimus Maximus
in concilio deorum admisit, Italia exulem humeris suis reportavit. oro te, Romule Arpinas, qui egregia
tua virtute omnis Paulos, Fabios, Scipiones superasti, quem tandem locum in hac civitate obtines? and
see Bchner (1939) 1251, Harrison (1990), who plausibly conjecture that Ciceros work
even included a consilium deorum, at which Ciceros return to Rome was discussed.
77
Cf. e.g. Doblhofer (1987) 273 ff., Chwalek (1996), Claassen (1999a) 712 and
passim, and p. 159 below.
78
Cf. Marrou (1956) 1213, 235, Bonner (1977) 283, and e.g. Quint. Inst. 12.11.22:
tot exemplis nos instruxit antiquitas, ut possit videri nulla sorte nascendi aetas felicior quam nostra, cui
docendae priores elaborarunt.
79
Cf. Arist. Rh. 2.20, Rhet. Her. 3.9, Cic. De Orat. 1.18; the use of paradeigmata is
already prominent in the Iliad, cf. Austin (1966) 300 ff. (with further literature).
80
Tragedies such as Pacuvius Teucer, which seems to have been a standard element
in Roman schooling in Ciceros day (cf. De Orat. 1.246 and Ribbeck (1875) 223), too,
may have had a strong inuence and seem to have been imbued with the Greek rhetoric
of exile: cf. the anonymous line patria est, ubicumque est bene (Inc. trag. 92 = Cic. Tusc.
5.108), which Ribbeck (1875) 231 has drawn into his interpretation of Pacuvius Teucer
and which has a close Greek precedent at Ar. Plut. 1151:
.
81
Cf. Claassen (1999a) 84. Cicero stresses the availability of consolatory treatises
in Tusc. 3.81 and later reviews the arguments in Tusc. 5.1069. See also Cohen, p. 120
n. 28 below.
82
Cf. Wilhelm (1926), Davisson (1983), and p. 157 below.
83
Cf. Doblhofer (1987) 2478, Narducci (1997), Cohen pp. 111 ff. below, and n. 60
above (Stoic precedents). Given the currency of the notion one might speak of
Popularstoizismus, cf. e.g. Pub. Sent. u.33: ubi innocens damnatur, pars patriae exsulat, Cic. Mil.
101: exsilium ibi esse putat [sc. Milo] ubi virtuti non sit locus, Sen. Ben. 6.37.
16
and dissociation from Caesars dictatorship, but also his attachment to the
legitimate government of the res publica before Caesars dictatorship.84
Hence, measured against their Greek predecessors, Cicero and Ovid
seem far less innovative than Claassen suggests. Their main innovation
lies in the adaptation of the earlier tradition to the cultural, political,
and literary context of their times. Cicero, Ovid, and later Seneca add
typically Roman characters to the inherited inventory of exemplary
exiles (e.g. Aeneas, Marius, Rutilius Rufus, Caecilius Metellus Numidicus,
Claudius Marcellus),85 and Ovid blends the rhetoric of exile with the
conventions of Roman love elegy.86 A third modication of the Greek
tradition concerns freedom of speech. Whereas most earlier exiles could
vent their anger against their political opponents freely because they
were out of their reach, exiles under the principate faced the problem
thatwhether in Tomis or on Corsicathey were still under the rule of
the authorities that had banished them.87 Wishing to return, they had to
plead their case without accusing the emperor of having banished them
unjustly. This has lead to the highly ambivalent discourse of imperial ira
84
See Cohen, pp. 121 ff. below and Herescu (1959), Doblhofer (1987) 23141 (with
copious material on the notion of innere Emigration in modern literature). The term
innere Emigration seems to have been coined by Frank Thiess, see Cohen, p. 128
below.
85
Cicero markedly refers to Marius exile in the speeches he held after his own return
from exile (cf. Red. Pop. 7, Red. Sen. 38); a separate poem on Marius exile may belong
to the same period (see Bchner (1939) 1255). For Rutilius Rufus as an exemplary exile
cf. Ov. Pont. 1.3.636, Sen. Dial. 1.3.7, Ben. 6.37, Ep. 79.14, for Metellus Numidicus cf.
Cic. Red. Sen. 25, for Claudius Marcellus see Sen. Helv. 9.4. On Aeneas as an exemplary
exile cf. e.g. Huskey (2002) on Ov. Tr. 1.3, Klodt (1996) on Ov. Tr. 1.4, and Sen. Helv.
7.67, where Seneca gives a catalogue of exiles founding Italian cities (cf. also Favorinus
De Exil. 26.4). The Roman exempla added by Cicero, Ovid, and Seneca testify to the
strong inuence of Vergils Aeneid (itself obviously inuenced by the Homeric epics (cf.
n. 39 above) and the tradition of foundation myths that were popular among Hellenistic
and Augustan poets (cf. Cairns (1979) 69 ff., Harrison pp. 12934 below)) and Roman
history and historiography (including, of course, the works of the exiled Rutilius Rufus,
cf. n. 51 above).
86
See p. 160 below. Cf. also Fantham pp. 176 ff. on Senecas fusion of exilic topoi
with the tradition of consolations on bereavement.
87
Worth mentioning in this context is the case of Cassius Severus, who was rst
exiled to Crete in AD 8, but continued to be a nuisance (Syme (1939) 487) and was
therefore banished to the barren rock Seriphus in AD 24 (Tac. Ann. 4.21). Already the
Greek tragedians (cf. n. 43 above) had drawn attention to the exiles (lack of) freedom of
speech. Goldhill (2000) 16 ignores the historical circumstances when he says that Cicero
and Ovid possessed more parrhesia than the earlier Greek exiles. Cicero and the imperial
authors Seneca and Dio Chrysostom were fully aware that the condition of exiles was
much more difcult in an oikoumene that had become one political entity: see Cohen
p. 122 on Cic. Fam. 4.7.4, Fantham pp. 1756, 1834, and Desideri pp. 1989 on Dio
Chrys. Or. 1.14.
17
and clementia in Ovid,88 and plays a key role in the works Seneca wrote
during the time of his banishment on Corsica: to avoid accusing the
emperor Claudius of injustice or of having been misled in his judgement,
Seneca clads his own self-consolation with consolations on bereavement
to his mother Helvia and to Polybius (Claudius secretary a studiis) and
makes extensive use of the gure of apostrophe, which enables him to
put into the mouth of other persons what he himself cannot say.89
Both in the works written during his exile on Corsica and in the tragedies,
written after his return to Rome, Seneca not only rationalizes or omits
the sorrows of exile,90 but also presents exile as desirable and as a state
becoming the sapiens.91 The latter conceptexile, i.e. the removal from
the centre of power, making possible the life of a philosopheralso
plays a role in Senecas contemporary Musonius and in Musonius pupil
Dio Chrysostom.92 Both are deeply inuenced by the Cynic tradition93
and consequently link exile with the typically Cynic concepts of eleutheria
and parrhesia. However, this is not all, for exile also becomes part of their
strategy of fashioning themselves as Greek philosophers and establishing
themselves as part of a Greek literary tradition,94 and at least in Dio,
exile also raises a central political issue, namely that of the nature and
limits of imperial power and of the relation between Greek intellectuals
and the Roman emperors.95
As in Musonius and Dios works, exile also plays a role in Favorinus
self-fashioning. Taking up the tradition of consolatory treatises on exile in
his own work De Exilio and introducinglike Cicero, Ovid, and Seneca
before him (cf. n. 85 above)new Roman, but also new Greek, exempla
to the inherited inventory of Greek exempla,96 Favorinus fashions a less
88
18
Fortune has set me forth to be seen by all the people and she has given
me more celebrity than I had before. Capaneus was made more famous
by the stroke of lightning; Amphiaraus is known because his horses were
swallowed up by the earth. If Ulysses had wandered less, he would be less
famous; great is the fame of Philoctetes because of his wound. If there is
a place for small names among so great ones, me, too, my downfall has
rendered famous.
Whether or not Ovids exile has indeed made him as famous as Odysseus
or Philoctetes in Augustan and Tiberian Rome cannot be determined
with certainty. It is rendered probable, however, by the fact that Ovid
soon becomes the standard exemplum of an exile in later Latin literature.
The rst testimonies to this process are Senecas allusions to Ovids exile
poetry,100 Statius tristis in ipsis / Naso Tomis (Silv. 1.2.2545), the clustering
of Ovidian exilic themes and diction in Statius treatment of Etruscus
97
19
101
Cf. Silv. 3.3.15564: summe ducum . . . / tu . . . / . . . / . . . attonitum et venturi fulminis
ictus / horrentem tonitru tantum lenique procella / contentus monuisse senem; . . . / . . . / . . . hic
molles Campani litoris oras / et Diomedeas concedere iussus in arces, / atque hospes, non exsul, erat
and e.g. Tr. 1.5.3: attonitum (~ Pont. 1.6.12), Tr. 4.5.56: veritus non es portus aperire deles /
fulmine percussae confugiumque rati, Pont. 1.2.5960: cum subit, Augusti quae sit clementia, credo /
mollia naufragiis litora posse dari, and see Tandoi (1962) 120 on Ovids use of fulmen for the
ira Caesaris, and p. 158 below on the shipwreck imagery.
102
See Fo (1989), Tissol (2002), and cf. Doblhofer (1987) 81 on Goethe seeing his
departure from Rome through Ov. Tr. 1.3. Cf. also Claassen (1999a) 24451 on Ovids
inuence on Boethius.
103
Cf. Holzberg (2005). See also Dingel (1994) 350.
104
Cf. also Claassen (1999a) 54 on Plutarchs biography of Cicero and see p. 4 above
on Livys imitation of Ciceros complaints in 5.54.34.
105
Cf. Hexter pp. 217 ff. below and Ladner (1967) on the medieval use of the idea
of exile from the divine. The concept is of course prepared in the churchfathers, cf.
e.g. Ferguson (1992) on Augustine. Nesselrath (pp. 98, 108 below, with further material)
stresses that the presence of the idea in Plutarchs treatise on exile (607CE; cf. also
Plotinus Enn. 1.6.8, adduced by Whitmarsh (2001a) 270) is typical of Late Antiquity.
Cynic ideas, on the contrary, circulated mostly indirectly: cf. Matton (1996) 240.
106
Cf. Hexter pp. 21214 ff. below.
107
Cf. Smolak (1980) 163 on Hildebert of Lavardin, and Hexter pp. 214 ff. below on
Modoin, Ermoldus Nigellus, Walahfrid Strabo, and other medieval authors.
20
108
Cf. the collection of testimonies down to the year 1938 in Stroh (1969) as well as
Ziolkowski (2005). See Hexter pp. 2315 below on Petrarch, Smolak (1980) 1723, 184 ff.
on the humanists Scaliger, Dominique Baudier, and Burman as well as on East German
poets, Innocenti Pierini (1990a) on Poliziano, Coppel (2001) on Lotichius, Katz (1992)
on Coetzee. Monluon (2002) discusses the novels of Horia, Malouf, and Ransmayr;
she also refers to Mandelstams Tristia and mentions (p. 184) that the Austrian exile
Broch hesitated between choosing Ovid or Vergil as the central gure for what later
became Der Tod des Vergil. For further secondary literature on the modern reception of
Ovids exilic works see Hexter, p. 210 n. 4 below.
CHAPTER TWO
22
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2
Cf. Tyrtaeus fr. 2.1215 (West), Thuc. 1.12.3. For arguments against accepting
the Messenians claim to have been ethnically different from Laconians in the archaic
period see Luraghi (2002).
3
Cf. Thuc. 1.12.3.
4
Cf. most recently Schnapp-Gourbeillon (2002).
early expatriates
23
the pre-Dorian ruling class (e.g. the Neleids of Pylos in Chios) who
had crossed the Aegean after the Dorian invasion; one group, the
Ionians, claimed close links with Attica,5 a claim that dialect supports6 but that was further bolstered by mythology (e.g. the myth
of Ion) and establishment of similar festivals.7 The inhabitants of
Attica itself were unusual in claiming autochthony and denying any
form of displacement in what we term the Late Bronze Age.8
3. Many poleis claimed (very often correctly) to have been founded relatively recently by Greeks who for various reasons had left another
Greek polis. The phenomenon that modern historians misleadingly
call colonisation began so soon after the Ionian migration that it
may be wrong to see it as wholly different.9 For fth century Greeks
and for us it begins with settlements in the bay of Naples, Sicily and
the Aegean in the mid-eighth cent. BC (Cumae c. 740 BC, Naxos
traditionally 734 BC, Syracuse c. 734 BC), frequently preceded by
trading visits and settlements (emporia) whose distinction from a colony can be problematic.10 Within the Aegean itself many colonies
were sent, including those by Samos to Amorgos and by Paros to
Thasos (early to mid-seventh cent. BC).11 Although to some extent
many participants in such settlements may have gone keenly or willingly, colonisation narratives suggest that in not a few cases they
might have preferred to stay in the mother city. Problems resulting
from population-growth and land-shortage, from drought or other
natural disasters, and competition for pre-eminence within the lite,
could operate separately or together to drive individuals or a group
to seek a new life elsewhere.12
24
ewen l. bowie
Literary context
rivalry and reaction to external pressure (Ridgway (2003)). For further discussion see
Malkin (1987), (1994), (1998), Murray (1993) chapter 7, Tsetskhladze/de Angelis (1994),
Osborne (1996).
13
A convenient summary of biographical evidence for the archaic lyric, elegiac and
iambic poets (including evidence for dating) can be found in Knox/Easterling (1985)
21128; more detail (and extensive testimonia) in Campbell (1982), (1988), (1991) and
Gerber (1999a,b).
14
Cf. Diog. Laert. 9.18.
15
Since Parry (1928) the view has come to prevail (at different rates in different scholarly climates) that the Iliad and Odyssey stand in or at the end of a tradition of oral poetry
and that they (and the lost poems of the epic cycle) in varying degrees develop myths
sung in poems which only had an oral existence. Introductions to these issues can be
found in Parry (1971), Lord (1960), Foley (1985); note more recently especially Nagy
(1996) and the contributions in Mackie (2004).
16
The summaries of Proclus, preserved for us by Photius, and the quoted fragments
are to be found in Davies (1988), Bernab (1987) and West (2003).
early expatriates
25
26
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his fathers concubine; his father had called upon the Erinyes to curse
him with childlessness; and although he had mastered his urge to kill his
father when (it seems) he perceived himself impotent, he could not bear
to stay in the palace of his wrathful father and eluded the attempts of
his relatives to dissuade or prevent him from departing. He broke down
the doors of his bedroom, leapt over the courtyard wall, and ed far
away through Hellas of the broad choruses19 (Il. 9.478:
). Phoenix does not explicitly dwell on
the life he has left, though his catalogue of the eating and drinking to
which his cousins resorted to detain him gives us a hint of the prosperity
on which he was turning his back, and the epithet , of the
broad choruses, may be there to remind us of the meaningful rituals of
community from which he is exiling himself.20
The story of Patroclus, a doublet of that of Phoenix, is much more
briey told: Patroclus, still an infant, killed another boy in anger precipitated by playingand presumably losing atdice, and his father
brought him from their Opuntian home to the palace of Peleus (cf.
Il. 24.8690). The cause is termed homicide, , and it is
implied that Menoetius and his young son had little choice but to leave.
A similar situation is envisaged a little later in the same book in a simile:
Priams entry to Achilles tent is compared to that of somebody who
has slain a man in his own country and comes to other peoples land, to
the house of a wealthy man, and amazement grips those who see him
(Il. 24.4802: / v, /
, v ).
The same schema is used to explain the colonisation of Rhodes
by Tlepolemus in the Catalogue of Ships, Il. 2.66170. Here, of course,
although it is only Tlepolemus himself who has slain somebody (indeed
a kinsman) he is accompanied on his colonising venture by numerous
.
A very similar pattern informs the false tale of Odysseus as a Cretan
aristocrat who had fought alongside Idomeneus at Troy (Od. 13.25786).
Odysseus claims to have been in danger of losing the booty he had won
from Troy to Idomeneus son Orsilochus because in the Trojan War he
had refused to be Idomeneus subordinate and had insisted on leading his
own warrior band. So, he asserts, back in Crete he ambushed and killed
Orsilochus and persuaded Phoenicians to convey him (and some of his
19
early expatriates
27
booty, less their cut) overseas. The killing of Orsilochus seems superuous: if the Cretan was to have to leave Crete to secure his booty, why
not just leave? We may tell ourselves that the Cretan needed to express
his anger against Orsilochus for his treatment, and that Odysseus wants
to make it clear to his interlocutor (not yet known to him as Athena) that
he can be dangerous and ruthless; or we may imagine that the poet is
drawing on the story-type of exile brought about by . The
Cretan regrets abandoning his place of originor at least the half of
his booty that he left there with his sonsbut he presents himself as
positive about his new start in life.
For Homer, then, voluntary and involuntary exile are close if not
overlapping, and he does not give his characters a rhetoric which marks
either out as a deprivation that is extreme or sui generisthat is reserved
for women or old men who see their male relatives of ghting age slain
and are themselves captured or killed in the sack of a city.21
This phenomenon becomes less surprising if we consider some cases of
archaic migration known from later texts and a very few sidelights on
such migration in poetry that was both contemporary with these migrations and, if we place our Iliad and Odyssey around 68070 BC, almost
contemporary with Homer. Whereas the movement of Greeks to found
a new on a different site can often be ascribed to a combination of
diverse factorsa general shortage of agricultural land on the existing
site, trading opportunities imagined or already observed, the new sites
superior land and situationthere are several cases where the political
situation in the seems to have been crucial in precipitating the
departure of a group.
According to a later tradition, already found in the fth-century
historian Antiochus of Syracuse (FGrHist 555 F 13) and preserved for
us by Strabo (6.3.2), Tarentum was founded c. 706 BC by a group of
Laconians, Partheniae, whom he claims to have been threatened with
deprivation of their civic rights because they had been born when their
Spartiate fathers were away from home ghting the rst Messenian war;
that their leaders name was Phalanthus has encouraged some to see a
pre-Dorian stratum of the population that was being subjected to ethnic
cleansing. The whole story has been doubted,22 but even if fabricated it
shows what patterns seemed plausible no later than the fth century.
21
22
28
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An analogous pattern is offered by Herodotus (4.1469) for a darkage Laconian foundation on Thera: Theras, a descendant of Polynices,
was regent to his young nephews Eurysthenes and Procles, and when
in due course they took power he so resented being ruled by others (cf.
Hdt. 4.147.3: v ) that he went off
to join alleged kinsfolk on Thera, taking with him both colonists from
the Spartan tribes and a troublesome and recently arrived group claiming to be Minyans. The deal suited both those who left and those who
stayed, though the departing Theras was said to have seen his son who
stayed behind as a sheep abandoned among wolves (cf. Hdt. 4.149.1:
).
A third case may have a stronger claim to historical content. According to Herodotus (6.346), Miltiades, son of Cypselus and a descendant
through Philaeus of Aeacus, was invited by a Thracian people in the
Chersonese to assist their defence of that area, and (once given approval
by Delphi) accepted the invitation because he was unhappy at being
subjected to Peisistratus rgime in Attica and wanted to get out (cf. Hdt.
6.35.3: v v
). So Miltiades sailed off with any Athenians who wanted to join him
and was installed as tyrant in the Chersonese. The story makes sense.
Although Peisistratus allowed other aristocrats to hold the archonship
and presumably to exercise some degree of power, such subordination
was not congenial to a man whose descent and wealth (marked out by
Herodotus by the fact that he had already won an Olympic victory with
a four-horse chariot)23 seemed to entitle him to be top dog. Top dog he
became in the Chersonese, and there is no sign of bad relations between
his rgime there and that of the Peisistratids in Attica.
This is not in any usual sense exile, but its consequences are very
similar. We cannot tell how many regrets (if any) Miltiades and his fellow
Athenians voiced for the hills and plains of Attica, the protected bays
of its south-western coast, or the pomp of the developing Panathenaea.
Butas in the tales of the Cretan, of the Partheniae, and of Theras
the decision to depart must have been perceived to involve losses as well
as gains.
In this context we may contemplate the cases of Archilochus and
Semonides. First, the well-known primary texts:
23
Cf. Hdt. 6.36.1. A closely contemporary indication of the prestige attaching to a
chariot victory is given by the dedication by an Alcmeonid, Alcmeonides son of Alcmeon, at the Ptoion in Boeotia, CEG 302 (Hansen, c. 540 BC?).
early expatriates
29
, ,
These lines are compatible with, but can hardly be said to prove, the
narrative later told about Archilochus:24 that he was the son of a Parian,
Telesicles, who left Paros to found a colony on Thasos; that Archilochus himself went to Thasos, perhaps not with his father but later, and
there was active as a citizen both ghting Thracians and Naxians for
control of the Thracian Peraea to which Thasos gave ready access
and embroiled in political in-ghting in the new of Thasos. The
inscription of Mnesiepes from the Parian Archilocheion (SEG 15.517
E 1 col. II 4152) has the poets father Telesicles and the poets enemy
Lycambes co-operatingor at least serving togetheron an embassy
from Paros to Delphi, and the father returning to Paros to be greeted
rst by his son destined for immortality as a poet. Two centuries earlier
Critias (VS 88 B 44 = Ael. VH 10.13) had been able to read poems of
Archilochus as showing that he had left Paros as a result of poverty
( ) and that on arrival at Thasos he had acquired
enemies there ( ).
So far our surviving fragments of Archilochus do not allow us to
decide whether the poems that stated or implied enmity with Lycambes
were composed for rst performance in Paros or in Thasos. If the
24
Much of this is a Parian narrative, found in the inscriptions erected in the Parian
Archilocheion by Mnesiepes (third cent. BC, SEG 15.517) and Sosthenes (rst cent. BC,
SEG 15.518). We cannot be sure that it was fully supported by the surviving poetry, far
less that Thasians accepted the same tradition. For Archilochus putative biography cf.
Burnett (1983), Bowie (1996), Clay (2004).
30
ewen l. bowie
enmity with Lycambes began or was wholly associated with Paros, then
the movement of Archilochus father and (then?) Archilochus to Thasos
may have been partly due to something approaching between
two families who were i.e. a variant of the schema we have seen
in the stories of the Cretan (Od. 13.25786), of Theras (Hdt. 4.1469)
and of Miltiades (Hdt. 6.34.6). In that context it is not wholly surprising that nothing survives in which Archilochus laments the island he
had had to leave. The notion that recollections of an early love-affair
included clambering across its craggy glens25 is less likely than that these
curves are human and female.26 The Parian image that survives is of gs
and sh. Parian gs are good, and can command a high price, but their
dismissal in fr. 116 (West) suggests thatlike his shield, fr. 5 (West)
they seemed to Archilochus something for which he could easily nd
substitutes. That is not contradicted by his apparent reluctance to see
the virtues of his new home: ironically it is precisely in his essay De Exilio
that Plutarch cites fr. 21 (West) as a parallel for his readers supposed
inclination to ignore the advantages of exile and allow themselves to
be obsessed by its demerits.27 We cannot be sure whether this focus on
Thasos forested mountains and blindness to its arable land and vineyards was combined in the same poem with praise of a ne, desirable
and lovely location by the river Siris (fr. 22 (West)), or whether indeed
the speaker was not the poet himself but the carpenter Charon (cf. fr. 19
(West)) from whom the poet-narrator might in the end have expressed a
different view. But at least we can say that we have nothing that articulates longing for a lost life in Paros.
If the case of Archilochus is hard to reconstruct, that of Semonides
is well-nigh impossible. Indeed his movement from Samos to Amorgos
may be quite unlike any of the cases I have reviewed. But neither superior agricultural land, nor pursuit of trade or metals, can explain the
seventh century movement of Samians, led by Semonides, to one or
more of the three cities that had been founded by Naxians c. 900 BC
on Amorgos, a mere 60 miles west-south-west of Samos in the middle
of the Aegean.28 It is at least a possibility that political dissension (exac25
early expatriates
31
And having learned useless luxury from the Lydians, while they were free
of hateful tyranny, they used to go to the agora wearing robes all of purple,
no fewer than a thousand as a rule, proud and exulting (?) in the splendour
of their hair, drenched with the scent of the most rened unguents.30
A near-contemporary who was also highly mobile was Ibycus of Rhegium. Modern accounts highlight his presence at the court of Polycrates
of Samos, and Bowra even proposed two periods in his poetic career:
composition of Stesichorean narratives in the West, then of shorter
erotic songs in the Aegean.31 The former may never have been in Ibycus
29
32
ewen l. bowie
Note the Leontini topography of fr. S220 Page/Davies, from P Oxy. 2637.
Diogenian. 2.71: one MS (B) adds to Ionia ( ); 5.12 has the variant
proverb (More senseless than Ibycus).
34
Cf. Anth. Pal. 7.714 = Gow-Page, HE 38805. As Gow-Page note, Anth. Pal. 7.745
= HE Antipater (of Sidon?) 28695 takes Corinth to be the place of Ibycus death.
35
Cf. Diog. Laert. 1.74: [sc. ] v v
(Getting together with the brothers of
Alcaeus he brought down Melanchrus, the tyrant of Lesbos). The idea that he was too
young to participate (cf. Page (1955) 1512) receives only fragile support from fr. 75.7 ff.
(Campbell) but is endorsed by Campbell (1982) xiv.
36
So Hdt. 5.95. For scepticism on all this cf. Hutchinson (2001) 1878.
37
Myrsilus too had at some point been in exile, from which he had returned in a
small boat aided by Mnamon, the addressee of a poem discussed by the commentary in
P Oxy. 2306 = fr. 305 (Campbell).
33
early expatriates
33
34
ewen l. bowie
early expatriates
35
Alcaeus draws a verbal parallel between his own salvation from exile
(fr. 129.112 (Campbell): .[] v /
[) and the salvation of the people from its woes (fr. 129.20
(Campbell): v ). The latter involve Pittacus
devouring the city (fr. 129.234 (Campbell): / ): the
pains of the former are not elaborated, but perhaps share with the latter the painful thought that the produce of Alcaeus family properties is
ending up in Pittacus hands and belly.
More detail on the pains of exile emerges from fr. 130B (Campbell):
. . . . . .
v
v
[ ]v
[ ]
<>[]
[]
[ . ] v
v
[] v
.[
] [] v
12 . [. . . .] . v .
. ] . [. . .] .[. . .] . v v[]
[ . . . . .] v [ ]
. [.] . [.] . [.] v
16 v [] ,
[] v
, v
20 [ ]
] .[. ] . [.] .
] . [ ] . . . v
]......
24 . [ ] . . . v .
. . . I poor wretch, live with the lot of a rustic, longing to hear the assembly
being summoned, Agesilaidas, and the council: the property in possession
of which my father and my fathers father have grown old among these
mutually destructive citizens, from it I have been driven, an exile at the
back of beyond, and like Onomacles I settled here alone in the wolf-thickets (?) (leaving the?) war . . . for to get rid of strife against . . . is not . . . to the
precinct of the blessed gods . . . treading on the black earth; . . . meetings
themselves I dwell, keeping my feet out of trouble, where Lesbian women
36
ewen l. bowie
with trailing robes go to and fro being judged for beauty, and around rings
the marvellous sound of the sacred yearly shout of women; . . . from many
(troubles) when will the Olympian gods (free me)? . . .49
<>[]
[]
[ . ] v.
10 . . v
v
49
early expatriates
37
38
ewen l. bowie
Who is the wolf-fodder? Rather than seeing this (or a term describing some other relationship to wolves) as a self-pitying description of
Alcaeus himself, my reading applies this to anotheranother person
who at some recent time had also lived where Alcaeus now lives, keeping clear of the war. This has two advantages: rst, Alcaeus does not
repeat with apparent stylistic insouciance in two descriptions of
himselfinstead the repetition performs the function of drawing a parallel between himself and the wolf-fodder man. Second, the compound
epithet now conforms to Alcaeus attested practice, which is to use such
compounds as descriptions of another but not of himselfwhether
complimentary epithets used in addresses to gods53 or mortals54 or in
describing a helmet55 or exotic birds,56 or derogatory epithets used of his
city,57 his fellow-citizens58 and above all his enemies.59
Who then is the wolf-fodder from Aenos? The commentators
point that Aenos is a city in Thrace is not irrelevant. What follows must
here be only a brief statement of an argument that I hope to set out
at length elsewhere. The name Pittacus seems itself to be Thracian60
and the repeated accusation of his being (cf. n. 59) would
be more likely to be effective if there were some weakness in his claim
to aristocratic Mytilenean descent: on the other hand, as many have
pointed out, his ability to play the political game in Mytilene limits the
extent to which we might ascribe any non-Mytilenean ancestry.
The invective of fr. 72 (Campbell) is crucial here. The rst strophe to
survive complete depicts day and night consumption of unmixed wine,
and a place where the custom was to . . . Then there is a gap. The second
surviving strophe refers to a man in the third person, , as not forgetting such things when he rst created a disturbance, for he kept
drinking all night. The third strophe addressed somebody in the second person, expressing outrage that somebody descended from such a
53
early expatriates
39
woman should have the same repute as free men from noble parents.
The second-person addressee must be different from the third-person
, and even without other indication might be taken most probably to be Pittacus. But what is the logic of descended from such a
woman when at least two strophes have lambasted a male ? It
makes no sense to suggest that such a woman is Pittacus mother, as
(e.g.) did Page, even if one supposes (plausibly enough) that this woman
has been the principal subject in the earlier part of the poem.61
Besides a notice in the Suda describes Pittacus mother as from Lesbos.62
All becomes simpler if we note the - in the compound (fr.
72.11). Although in epic poetry the verb does regularly
mean to be the offspring of , the noun has the wider meaning
of descendant, and sometimes the more specic meaning grandson.63
We have no other case of in Lesbian poetry to control our
translation here, but it would be rash to insist that Alcaeus cannot use
it to mean being the grandson of . The gain is substantial. The lady
to whom Alcaeus returns in line 11 ( )
and whom he had presumably excoriated in previous lines, now lost,
becomes Pittacus grandmotheror more precisely and relevantly, the
mother of his father. It is her being that fathers mother that can explain
his bad behaviourif we allow that she might be the Thracian and the
source of kakopatrid blood. An admittedly speculative reconstruction
explains several phenomena. Pittacus grandfather could have been one
of the Aeolian colonists who established Aenos at the mouth of the
Hebrus.64 That grandfather married a local girl (Thracian, and doubtless from a good family), and their son returned to Mytilene, there to
father Pittacus, to give him, perhaps incautiously, a Thracian name, and
to maintain the objectionable drinking habits associable with Thrace.65
That allows the abusive the Aenian to be added to the list of vilicatory terms heaped by Alcaeus upon Pittacus.66
61
40
ewen l. bowie
All this is fragile. But if it is anywhere near the truth, then both the
family of Alcaeus and that of Pittacus reaped displacements from Mytilene from their involvement in its aristocratic politics: Pittacus grandfather in colonising Aenos, Alcaeus in two or perhaps three exiles,
Alcaeus brother Antimenidas in at least one of these exiles and in
mercenary ghting in the Eastern Mediterranean. It is vexing that we
have no poems which convey the reactions to these closely similar situations from any mouth other than that of Alcaeus.
Before leaving Alcaeus mention should be made of another equally
perplexing sequence, fr. 73 (Campbell):
2
[] . . . [
v [
v [
v v . . . [
v[, v
v v[
v [
. [
vv [][ ]
10 . . . [
vv [
[. . .] . . . . [
[
One line of interpretation of this fragment has taken the ship which
appears to be the subject of lines 18 as an allegory either for the state
or for Alcaeus faction, thus assimilating the poem from which it comes
to those represented by the more fully preserved frr. 6 (Campbell) and
208 (Campbell), both held by most scholars to be allegories.68 The
(Campbell) to be added to those poems in which Alcaeus invokes gods to punish Pittacusbut that is another story.
67
Campbell (1982) 2779.
68
Page (1955) 17996 remains a fundamental discussion: he cites earlier views at
p. 182 n. 2.
early expatriates
41
hypothesis that frr. 6 and 208 are allegories seems to me much more
precarious than is usually thought, but this is not the place to scrutinise scholarships love-affair with allegorical interpretation of Alcaeus
from its beginnings in the Hellenistic period. That the ship of fr. 73
(Campbell) is indeed allegorical is much more persuasive, but it is far
from clear how the allegory works. As Page observed,69 the publication
of a papyrus commentary at least part of which certainly relates to fr.
73 called into question the view that the ship was a symbol for State
or Party. His own view, based on the second column of the papyrus
(P Oxy. 2307, fr. 306 (i) columns i and ii (Campbell)), was that either the
ship is symbolic of a woman or a woman symbolic of a ship.70 The idea
that the papyrus commentarys second column is on the same poem as
its rst has been challenged,71 but even without it the female subject of
the rst lines of fr. 73 (Campbell) remains to be explained. Certainty is
no nearer than when Page wrote in 1955, but to me the easier option
is to take the feminines as referring to a woman who is real, and who is
compared by Alcaeus to a ship. Since 1955 we have acquired a few more
lines of the poem of Archilochus that we already knew to have opened
v . . . (fr. 188.1 (West)), and these new
lines have given us an example of a woman whose alleged decrepitude
is linked with her being battered by many wintry winds (
/ [v] v v (fr. 188.45 (West)), winds
which seem to some degree allegorical. There is no trace of Archilochus woman being compared to a ship, but the allegorical winds and
their link with unpleasant ageing offer a parallel for the interpretation of
Alcaeus fr. 73 (Campbell) which attracted Page.
On this hypothesis the rst half of the poem from which Alcaeus fr.
73 (Campbell) comes will have described a woman in whom Alcaeus
had once shown an interest and whom he now represents as being selfconfessedly too old to want to continue the attachmentinstead he
claims he would like to have a good time (presumably in a symposion)
with his addressees (whose names are sadly lost) and with Bycchis.
Against this interpretation stand the traces in the commentary, fr. 306
(i) col. i fr. 16 which runs:
69
70
71
42
ewen l. bowie
[
]
]v vv [
] [.
Since the second and third lines of fr. 16 match lines 910 of fr. 73
(Campbell) it is natural to take the rst line as matching fr. 73.8, and
Lobel argued that was likely to have been the original reading,
and that for it had come in under the inuence of [ in the
previous line. That has given rise to the view that Alcaeus here makes
reference to a return to Mytilene]of which he despairs.72
There are difculties with this fragile edice. The dismissive line 7
v [does indeed offer closure to the preceding section;
but that the next, proposing sympotic merriment, should start with no
apparent connection with what precedes is bizarre. The merit of
(as offered by fr. 73 (Campbell) = P Oxy. 1234 fr. 3) is that it
provides a well-paralleled retrospective connection. If something like
] stood in the text the commentator is quoting, it is much more
likely to have been than .73
Another aristocrat whose response to exile might survive is Theognis,
if indeed lines 11971202 of the Theognidea are about exile, and if he is
the composer of these lines, as the vocative address in 1197
might suggest (Theognidea 1197202):74
72
Thus Cucchiarelli (1997) 220 and Gaertner (p. 158 below), who interpret the
description of a ship struggling with a storm in fr. 73.36 (Campbell) as an image not of
old age, but of the poets situation in exile and compare similar passages in Ovids exile
poetry, see p. 158 below.
73
It is not certain that all the words of fr. 16 are verbatim quotations. The commentator might be explaining the reference of , and the genitive may have been an
explicatory phrase such as [ v v] . . . .
74
For the problem of the Theognidea see West (1974), Figueira/Nagy (1984), Bowie
(1997b). West takes address to Cyrnus (which always appears in its vocative form )
as a prima facie indication of authorship by a poet Theognis of Megara (whom he places
towards the end of the seventh century) and most scholars have taken the vocative
to be an alternative form of address (e.g. a patronymic) to the same individual. If that were correct then 1197202 would have a fair chance of being by Theognis. It has some support from the appearance of at the beginning (183) and
towards the end (191) of what can be argued to be a complete poem, 18392:
but there is clearly something missing at 1889, and it cannot be certain that these lines
form one poem, not parts of two. There is, therefore, some chance that and
address not the same person but different individuals, and therefore that
1197202 are not by the author of the poems. Given, however, disagreement on
early expatriates
43
, ,
,
v v.
1200 v ,
v v
v .
I have heard the cry of the bird, Polypaides, calling shrilly, the bird which
has come as a herald to men of the time that is ripe for ploughing. And it
smote my black heart, because other men have my blooming elds, nor is
it for me that mules drag the curved plough . . . because of sea-faring.
The corruption of the last line throws the interpretation of the whole
piece into doubt: was it a sea-voyage, commercially unsuccessful or simply disastrously protracted, that had caused the poet to lose control of
his lands? Or had he lost them for some other reason, and has now to
contemplate making a living by ? Indeed has he really lost control of his land, or is it just that he has had to sell his mules, and so has
been forced to rent out his land for another to plough and plant? This
last interpretation would put the poems theme closer to the passage of
Hesiods Works and Days (44851) which these lines rework: there the
bird-cry (that of the crane, ) pains the heart of the man who has
no oxen (Hes. Op. 451: ), and the poet
may expect his audience to remember that in Works and Days Hesiod also
sang unenthusiastically of (61832). Furthermore the bird-cry
is more likely to take place at the expected season of the year, and to be
more poignant, if the poet is still located near to his lamented lands. We
may, then, be hearing a complaint not of exile but of destitution.
That exiles were to be found in the symposia for which such poems
as this were composed, and that consequently some reections on exile
became part, albeit a small part, of the wide range of possible subjects
for sympotic song, is, nevertheless, clear from some other elegiac lines
from the Theognidea. Of these one couplet is prima facie attributable to
Theognis himself by reason of its vocative (Theognidea 3334):
v , , ,
.75
the date of that author (late seventh cent., West (1974); c. 530 BC, Bowie (1997b) following the Suda; early sixth cent., Lane-Fox (2000)) or even on his being a single gure
(Nagy (1984)), the identity of the and poems would still not give us a
rm date for the latter.
75
I see no reason to resist Bergks hardly an emendationfor in the
MSS.
44
ewen l. bowie
Do not befriend a man who is in exile, Kyrnos, on the basis of hope, for
not even when he has gone home is he still the same man.
Here the paranoid aristocrat adds exiles to his ample category of unsafe
friends: the at the beginning of the pentameter rubs salt in the
woundthe lines main point is that the friendship formed in exile cannot be relied upon to persist if the exile regains his former status in his
own city; but , not even, insinuates that already in exile the man
can be perceived to be different from (and by implication less admirable
than) what he was before being exiled.
The compiler of this section of the Theognidea (whatever one takes
to be its boundaries) has placed 3334 next to another couplet on exile
that was also taken into the block with the highest proportion of genuinely Theognidean verses, 19254: 332ab (found only here in the Paris
manuscript) appears with a small variation at 20910:
209
210
,
.
A man in exile has no friend and no trusty comrade, and this is more
painful than actual exile.
332a ,
332b .
A man in exile has no friend and no trusty comrade, and this is the
most painful thing about exile.
We are dealing here with the sort of minor variation that must have been
even commoner in the transmission of sympotic poetry than our ample
surviving cases demonstrate. The words of 20910 are rhetorically
more effective, but that can be no guide to which version was composed
and sung rst. Either might have provoked the response that is juxtaposed to 332ab, viz. 3334. The absence of the vocative denies
us any basis for claiming that either couplet was composed by Theognis, though of course either could have been part of a longer sequence
that was indeed addressed to ; but even if it were, its focalisation
through the eyes of an exile would not clinch the case for Theognis
himself having endured exile. The sentiment, however, seems to have
rung bells in later generations. The Polynices of Euripides Phoenissae
brings up the loss of friends in his long exchange on the ills of exile with
Jocasta (Phoen. 403), and Ovid returns to it frequently.76 Then late in the
76
Cf. e.g. Tr. 1.5.64: me profugum comites deseruere mei, 1.9.65, 5.6.46, 5.7.41, Pont. 1.3.49,
early expatriates
45
1.9.1516, 3.2.1516: me quoque amicorum nimio terrore metuque / non odio quidam destituere
mei. I owe these and the Euripides reference to J. F. Gaertner, who also draws attention
to Citroni Marchetti (2000) 11139 on the relation between Theognidean passages and
Ciceronian and Ovidian responses to exile, cf. ibid. 158 and 334 on the desertion of
exiles by their former friends, and see pp. 97, 158 in this volume.
46
ewen l. bowie
Do not bad-mouth my dear parents with your off-hand teasing of me,
Argyris. Upon you has come the day of slavery, but upon me other ills have
come, woman, in great number, since from my land I am an exile: but dire
slavery has not come upon me, nor do people offer me for sale. Indeed I
too have a city that is fair, reclining on the plain of the Lethaeus.
These lines too are undatabletheir singers reason for leaving Magnesia on the river Lethaeus (a tributary of the Maeander)77 could have
been internal conict, or it could be the arrival of the Lydians (around
600 BC) or the Persians (in the 540s BC).78 The opening couplet of
what we have in the Theognidea has all the appearance of being the start
of a poem (addressee in the vocative, asyndeton) and the last line, with
its elegant meta-textual allusion to the sympotic practice of reclining,79
could well be its end: that rara avis, then, a complete poem. On its rst
performance it purported to be addressed to a girl called Argyrisperhaps a professional name, alluding to jewellery worn. The speaker uses
her claimed teasing as a way into stressing his superior status, now that
of an exile, but once that of a free of a beautiful (and famous)
city, to her condition as a slave, liable to be bought and sold.80 It may be
this pungently expressed contrast that secured this song oral reperformance and entry to whatever written collection lies behind this part of
the Theognidea. However that may be, the contrast corroborates something I noted much earlier: exile may be bad, but it is not half as bad as
slavery, at least if the exile has managed to bring with him or to acquire
the wherewithal to continue something like the lifestyle to which he had
become accustomed.
This is clearly not the case for the two remaining sets of archaic texts
I wish to consider, Tyrtaeus and Solon. Tyrtaeus takes us back to the
seventh century, perhaps to the 640s BC.81 The opening lines of the long
fragment quoted by the Athenian orator Lycurgus (fr. 10.18 (West))
contrast the nobility of dying in battle with the life of a beggar that is
77
early expatriates
47
the lot of a man (and his family) ejected from their city and agricultural
land:
v v
vv
,
5 v v
v .
v v,
v .
It is a ne thing for a brave man to die when he has fallen among the front
ranks while ghting for his homeland, and it is the most painful thing of
all to leave ones city and rich elds for a beggars life, wandering about
with his dear mother and aged father, with small children and wedded
wife. For giving way to need and hateful poverty, he will be treated with
hostility by whomever he meets.82
48
ewen l. bowie
25 v . . .
And many of the poor are going to a foreign land, sold and bound in
shameful fetters.86
And many did I bring back to Athens, their homeland founded by the gods,
men who had been sold, one legally another not, and others who had ed
as a result of a compelling need, no longer speaking the Attic tongue, as
one might expect from those who were wandering far and wide.
The modes of expatriation are clearly set out: some had been sold,
whether justly or unjustly, and had become slaves, perhaps as close to
home as Megara, Corinth, Euboea or Boeotia; others had left the country () through some compelling need ( / ).
The situation of both these groups is comparable, it seems, to that of
those in a servile condition in Attica itself whom Solon set free (cf. fr.
36.1315 (West)). It seems that for the speaker, whose persona is that
of the self-justicatory politician, the restoration of those who had left
Athens / through some compelling need, is
as laudable as restoring those sold into slavery: these unwilling expatriates, then, deserve as much concern and pity, and Solon plays up
to such responses by claiming that they were no longer speaking Attic
Greekan indication that already a sense of -identity was there
to be exploited.
The poetry I have examined quite often touches on exile, but it is only
one of the disasters that can afict a singing poet or a character in a
86
early expatriates
49
88
CHAPTER THREE
There are details here that I will dispute, but Syme has put his nger
on an important issue attaching to exile and the Greek historian. Many
observers, both ancient and modern, have noted the benecial effects of
exile, in particular the positive aspects for an historian of being forced
to live away from his native city.2 Syme sees this too, even alluding to
Thucydides own remarks at 5.26.5 (Thucydides acknowledges the
advantage). But Syme has also seen that exile involves not just the
1
Syme (1962) 401. I know of this passage thanks to Hornblower (1987) 27. Cf. also
Syme (1977) 49.
2
So, e.g., compare Symes observation with Westlake (1966) 2467: [ Xenophon]
also enjoyed the misfortune, so valuable to a historian, of having been exiled. Banishment, as Plutarch [sc. De Exil. 605CD] points out, was the lot of many Greek historians; it was almost a professional qualication. Xenophon was absent from his native
city for at least thirty-ve years and lived for most of this period in the Peloponnese.
Although he might have made better use of the opportunities for historical research
afforded by his long exile, it did confer some obvious advantages, one of them being that
the Hellenica is not written wholly from the viewpoint of a single city. See p. 62 below as
well as Gaertner and Nesselrath on pp. 1011 and 967 on Plut. De Exil. 605CD.
52
john dillery
physical displacement of the historian from his homeland and its attendant advantage, namely access to different sources and a different perspective. Exile also inuences the historians style, indeed it leads to the
development of a unique methodprofound changes that shape the
historians outlook or voiceprint.3
But that so many have noticed the utility of exile for the ancient historian should excite concern. If the belief is so widely held, it risks becoming an expectation. We then face the danger of slipping into serious
error, creating signicance for exile in the case of some historians, and
even inventing it outright in the case of others. One cannot help but
conclude that if exile is the making of the historian, it would appear
that a person could not be one without it in the ancient Greek world,
at least one worth talking about. I exaggerate, of course, but if exile
is indeed a, if not the decisive force in the shaping of the historian, it
behooves us to gure out what precisely it was, why it was imposed, and
which ancient Greek historians were in fact so treated. The rst part of
this essay will be focussed on attempting to answer these questions, if
only provisionally. The second will take up larger, more general issues
raised in the course of the rst part, ones that will return us to the introduction and Symes acute observation.4
First, a brief look at terminology. Exile is an inexact term when applied
to ancient Greek historians, for several gures who are routinely thought
of as exiled were not in fact. The Greek noun for the experience of
exile is , and the person who suffers it a ; to be in exile is represented by the verb , and to exile another is etc. While
we shall see that, e.g., both Thucydides and Xenophon were most certainly exiled, as we can tell from their own testimony (cf. Thuc. 5.26.5:
v ; Xen. An. 5.3.7: ), others
were what we would call detained or held hostage in a foreign land:
the obvious example is Polybius. But we should note that in none of the
ancient passages cited by Walbank in his discussion of Polybius mandatory residence in Rome is the concept banishment or exile used.5 As
Polybius himself characterizes the detention of the Achaean statesmen,
among whom he was one, they were those summoned (to Italy) by
3
53
54
john dillery
55
applied to the lives of at least two Greek historians, insofar as it does not
capture the exact nature of their life away from their native cities. To
equate all the different types of exile leads rst to the misinterpretation
of the scant knowledge we have for the individual historians, and more
generally to the formation of judgements about them and the evolution
of their historiographic views that are without foundation. I will return
to these issues below.
Implicit in my treatment of the terminology for exile has been a
larger question: why were Greek historians exiled or forced (or not) to
live abroad? Simply put, the reasons for exile determine which type it
will be: banishment, foreign captivity, or voluntary exile. I should state
at once that I have not found a single instance of a Greek historian who
was exiled or forced to live abroad because of his historical writing. We
do not even possess marginal cases where it is alleged that the historian
is punished in some way for his work, such as we see in connection with
philosophers and poets: Protagoras, whose books may have been burnt,
and Anaxagoras, brought to trial at Athens on a charge of impiety that
may have been motivated in part by his published work;11 or, alternatively, the legend that Stesichorus was temporarily blinded because of
his poetry about Helen.12 By way of contrast, Roman historians could
be punished for what they wrote and have their work suppressed: the
famous case here is, of course, A. Cremutius Cordus (Tac. Ann. 4.346),
who had his books burned and was forced to commit suicide, but he
was not alone (note, e.g., Tac. Ag. 2.1).13 Greek historians, too, could
face the wrath of dynasts and be put to death: Callisthenes comes to
mind here, as does the Atthidographer Philochorus. But Callisthenes
was executed for his opposition to Alexanders policies (FGrHist 124 T
721), especially the adoption of proskynesis,14 and Philochorus more
11
See especially Dover (1975), who supplies references and bibliography, and Parker
(1996) 20710.
12
Cf. Lefkowitz (1981) 32.
13
Note also the case of Hermogenes of Tarsus who was put to death under Domitian (Suet. Dom. 10.1): see Momigliano (1978) 70 and Jones (1996) 845 ad loc. For
the Annals passage in question, see esp. Martin/Woodman (1989) 17686 ad loc., who
cite in particular Cancik-Lindemaier/Cancik (1986) 1635; see also Moles (1998) and
McHugh (2004). For censorship in Greece and Rome, consult Speyer (1970), especially
12937, and for Rome alone, Cramer (1945) 15796. Titus Labienus (Sen. Con. praef.
10.57; cf. Dio Cass. 56.27.1), suffered a fate identical to Cremutius, but was an orator
and declaimer. For the treatment of Labienus and others, see Fantham (2005) 228 and
n. 53. As Momigliano ((1978) 69) observes: In Rome the relationship between historiography and government seems always to have been closer than in Greece.
14
See especially Brunt (1976) 53842 (appendix 14.811). Note that Arrian, Anab.
56
john dillery
generally because of his role in the Chremonidean War and his opposition to Antigonus Gonatas (FGrHist 328 T 1).15 In the case of Callisthenes, Philodemus even remarks that while the historian was deifying
Alexander in his histories, he resisted his obeisances (FGrHist 124 T 21:
v , [ ]
). In other words, in his writing Callisthenes actually
supported his ruler and hence was far from earning his displeasure for
that reason;16 it was in his words and actions that he opposed Alexander.
Greek historians did not get into trouble with the authorities because
of their writing.
In fact, if one examines the ancient testimonia, if an explanation is
given for a historian being exiled, the most common reason stated is
political association and/or the perception of the historian as a threat.
To borrow Momiglianos famous observation, it was Greeces rejected
politicians who formed the most conspicuous contingent of historiographers (Momigliano (1978) 70). This is obviously the case with
Herodotus and Polybius, the former because of the hostility of Lygdamis and later the Halicarnassian demos, and the latter because of his
standing as an important member of the Achaean leadership that Rome
wanted to remove. We could add others. For example, Photius reports
that Theopompus was exiled because of his fathers Laconism, presumably during a period when Chios was aligned with Athens (FGrHist
115 T 2).17 The slightly older Philistus was reputedly exiled because he
was perceived as an enemy by Dionysius I who had become unhinged
(Diod. Sic. 15.7.3 = FGrHist 556 T 5b), though there may have been
personal reasons as well (Plut. Dio 11.47 = T 5c); indeed, in Philistus case it is difcult to distinguish between his private and public life
because he was a courtier to dynasts and is repeatedly identied as a
4.11.9, has Callisthenes adduce historical examples to dissuade Alexander from adopting proskynesis.
15
Habicht (1997) 117 notes that the exact reasons for Philochorus death remain a
puzzle, but assumes that they were political and did not have to do with his historical
writing. See also Knoeper (2001) 29. Cf. Tarn (1913) 320: Philochoros, seer and historian, was executed for treason. Tarn elsewhere (p. 412) seems to suggest that Philochorus history of the Chremonidean War may have contributed to his punishment, but
this is speculative.
16
I note, as a contrary piece of testimony to Philodemus on Callisthenes, that Lucian
in the Quomodo historia conscribenda (12 = FGrHist 139 T 4) reports that Alexander chided
Aristobulus precisely on the grounds that he was in essence heroizing him in his historical
writing.
17
Cf. Flower (1994) 1516. Note that Flower has doubts about the historicity of
Theopompus exile, a position I will discuss below, cf. pp. 623.
57
18
Note especially Plut. Dio 11.5:
v v . Also Nepos, Di. 3.2: Philistum histori-
cum . . . hominem amicum non magis tyranno quam tyrannidi (= FGrHist 556 T 5d).
19
Cf. Walbank (195779) vol. 2, 388 on Polyb. 12.25 d 1; see also Pearson (1987)
378 with n. 3, Meister (1970) 539, and Momigliano (1977).
20
Cf. F. Jacoby, FGrHist IIIb, vol. 1, 903. Harding (1994) 234 has criticized this
view and has concluded that we do not know why or when [sc. Androtion] went into
exile, or even if he was ofcially exiled or just absented himself .
21
Cf. Smith (1962) 11418.
22
Cf. Hornblower (1981) 9 and 14.
23
Cf. Zimmermann (2002) 18795. Note Gaertners reservations regarding Zimmermanns argument above, p. 11 n. 51.
58
john dillery
59
26
By no means an unusual cause for the punishment. So, e.g., the parallel case of
King Pausanias of Sparta who went into exile in Tegea after being charged with arriving late at the battle of Haliartus (in 395 BC) and thus failing to relieve Lysander: cf.
Xen. Hell. 3.5.25. It is true that he was sentenced to death in absentia, something we do
not hear of in connection with Thucydides. Cf. the threatened punishment of King
Cleombrotus before the battle of Leuctra (371 BC), Xen. Hell. 6.4.5.
27
Cf. Gomme (194581) vol. 3, 5789 on 4.104.5 and 4.106.4.
28
Cf. Hornblower (1991 ff.) vol. 2, 334 ad loc., and cf. his remarks on p. 338 on
4.106.4.
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john dillery
passage does not help much regarding the facts of Xenophons exile: as
is,30 it tells us that he lived away from his native city for a considerable
period of time in the Peloponnese, for he could not have been settled on
the estate at Scillus until his return to Greece in the company of King
Agesilaus of Sparta in the summer of 394 BC, and the description suggests that some time had already () elapsed from when he took up
residence there until he built the shrine to Artemis Ephesia. It is widely
assumed that Xenophon was deprived of his lands at Scillus after the
breakdown of Spartan control of the region in the aftermath of the
29
See especially Badian (2004) 41 and Dreher (2004) 60. Cf. Tuplin (1987) 60, and
Green (1994) 21617, both also listing earlier bibliography.
30
The phrase is generally what is printed in modern texts (the reading of MS A); and are also found in the MSS. The
aorist would necessitate a change in meaning, from while he was living in exile
to when/since he was exiledthat is after a particular moment in the past. See Tuplin
(1987) 613, and Dillery (2001) 4 n. 2. I do not believe that Xenophon was talking at An.
5.3.7 about anything other than his exile, pace Green (1994) 217, arguing that
could refer to his having survived that is, after Coroneia.
61
31
Xenophon does speak of the independence of Scillus earlier in the same book of
the Hellenica: Xen. Hell. 6.5.2. For Xenophons loss of Scillus in this period, see especially Cartledge (1987) 601 and 440. Also Tuplin (1987) 603. Green (1994) 217 and
n. 5 argues that Megabyzus visit fell in the rst Olympiad after Xenophons return to
Greece, namely, the 97th, which occurred in 392 BC. This is a reasonable inference,
but not certain. Indeed, could be taken to mean more than two years: cf. Badian
(2004) 43.
32
Though Diogenes Laertius attributes the notice that Xenophon died at Corinth to
Demetrius of Magnesia (2.56), much of what he has to say about Xenophon is clearly
derived from Xenophons own work and is without independent value. Cf. Wilamowitz
(1881) 3306, Badian (2004) 38.
33
It is possible that the exiling decree is to be dated to the archonship of Eubulides
(394/3 BC): Tuplin (1987) 67, Badian (2004) 35. In general, Dreher (2004) 648.
34
See the bibliography collected by Tuplin (1987) 59 and n. 2: cf. Diog. Laert. 2.51:
v .
35
Again, see Tuplins summary ((1987) 59 and n. 1).
36
Cf. An. 3.1.5: v
, v v
vv, v . . .
62
john dillery
be set in the larger context of the political and social fall-out after the
end of the tyranny of the Thirty at Athens.37
I have postponed to the second section of this paper a well-known
passage from Plutarch on the subject of historians and exile. Having
earlier noted the possible change of Herodotus the Halicarnassian to
Herodotus the Thurian (De Exil. 604F ), Plutarch continues (De Exil.
605CD):
v
v .
v
, , ,
v v , ,
.
Indeed the Muses, as it appears, called exile to their aid in perfecting for
the ancients the nest and most esteemed of their writings. Thucydides
of Athens composed the history of the war of the Peloponnesians and
Athenians in Thrace at Scapte Hyle; Xenophon wrote at Scillus in Elis,
Philistus in Epeirus, Timaeus of Tauromenium at Athens, Androtion of
Athens at Megara, and the poet Bacchylides in the Peloponnese.38
With the exception of the last named, all the gures mentioned in
Plutarchs list are historians. This fact suggests that Symes dictum
exile makes the historianwas a view that was also held in antiquity.39
Indeed, note that Plutarch makes the positive effect of exile on historians uncontroversial, even normative, by identifying the beneciaries as
the ancients (cf., e.g., Plut. Mor. 138C): if Plutarchs forebears found
banishment useful to the historiographic enterprise, then it must have
been so. Modern scholars have largely accepted Plutarchs list without
objection, even faulting him for not including others.40 But if exile was
an expected chapter in the career of the historian, this could well have
led to its invention in the biographies of ancient historians, or if not
invention, then the massaging of fact. A good case in point is Theopompus. Flower has shown that the range of possible dates for the exile
of Theopompus father on a charge of Laconism, and therefore the
37
Cf. Tuplin (1987) 59 n. 1, at the end of the note; add now also, Greens provocative
essay (1994).
38
Translation by De Lacy/Einarson (1959).
39
Cf. Ziegler (1951) 81920. See also Nesselrath, p. 97 below.
40
Thus, e.g., Brown (1973) 35: but this list is far from complete. Among those omitted are Ephorus and Theopompus, the best known historians of the fourth century, and
Polybius, the last great Greek historian.
63
41
64
john dillery
Cf. ML p. 72.
Cf. Hall (1997) 171. It ought to be noted that Herodotus himself believed that
Samian Ionic was in a subgroup by itself.
47
Cf. Jacoby (1913) 2202, but also 2467.
48
Cf. Legrand (1932) 11 and n. 1, but also the entire section 911, entitled Sa jeunesse; son exil a Samos. See also the Life of Herodotus in Waters (1985) xixii.
49
For the Roman senatorial historian see especially Syme (1956/1970), but already
46
65
Fehling attaches a footnote to this observation, citing the work of Lefkowitz, just as I have done here. But, as with so much else in his work,
while Fehling has put his nger on a real problem, his own answer is
radical and extreme. It is very likely the case that we should consign to
the scrap-heap the Sudas entry on Herodotus, but we probably do not
want to do the same for its testimonium on Philochorus. Even a quick
glance at the Sudas entry for Philochorus shows that it is profoundly
different from that for Herodotus. In the rst place it is not a capsule
narrative, it is a series of small, detailed sentences, or even sentence
fragments, ending with an exhaustive list of the titles of Philochorus
many works. It is not trying to tell a story, it is relaying a series of facts.
Most importantly, on the punishment of Philochorus, there is no obvious link between what we are told regarding his death and the nature
of his writing: [Philochorus] was executed, having been caught by
Antigonus, because he had been accused of being on the side of the
kingship of Ptolemy (FGrHist 328 T 1:
, v ). To
be sure, there is much here that is obscure (for starters: what is meant by
caught or even ambushed by Antigonus?).50 But however we wish
to interpret these remarks, unlike what we saw in the information about
Herodotus, there is no suspicious connection between what the Suda
reports concerning Philochorus demise and the substance of his work:
the Suda appears not to have fabricated the details of his death on the
basis of inferences it has made from his writings.
in (1939) 5, 251, 420, 485, the last reference noting that Livy was regarded as defective precisely because he had come to history from the study of rhetoric and not
through a career in the Senate.
50
Cf. Jacoby, FGrHist IIIb, vol. 1, pp. 2202. Other problems: can mean
was executed; and does the formulation v
mean sided with Ptolemy the king, and if so, why does the Suda not say that?
66
john dillery
51
Almost certainly a nom de plume for himself. Cf. Plut. Mor. 345E; MacLaren (1934)
2407, and Misch (1949) 104.
67
cerned party, only to have him suppress or efface himself.52 This seems
an important point to register, even though it tells us little about the
actual reasons or date of Xenophons banishment. Furthermore, while
Xenophon does not mention the exact reasons for his exile, he does
have quite a lot to say about what his life was like during his residence at
Scillus. Indeed, I think it is signicant that the scholars who make best
use of An. 5.3.7 ff. are not those who tilt at the windmill of solving the
reasons for his banishment, but rather are historians of Greek religion
who read the passage for what it does say, rather than what it does not.
Burkert, in particular, has noted how the description of the festival in
honor of Artemis Ephesia emphasizes Xenophons role as priest and
host.53 Xenophon nds a new identity in exile, as the patron and sole
ofcial of a new community he has founded, just as he had imagined
doing on the march of the Ten Thousand, but without result (Cotyora,
An. 5.6.1516; Port Calpe, An. 6.4.38).54 Unlike at his native Athens,
Xenophon is in charge at Scillus. This analysis of the Scillus-passage
advances our knowledge of the cause(s) and date of the historians exile
not at all. But it does tell us a great deal about Xenophons historiographic orientation: his ideal world is not one of the fractious city-state,
be it his native Athens or his beloved Sparta, rather it is the estate of the
rural beltistos, the country gentleman, who supervises festival activities,
entertains guests, and worships his gods in a world he has ordered: it is
not the polis but the oikos of the kalos kagathos that is now the setting for
human excellence (cf. Xenophons Oeconomicus). This is an attitude that
one can trace to Xenophons own experiences, and chief among these,
his exile from his native city and the refashioning of himself as an migr
living in Northwestern Peloponnese.
With this last picture of Xenophon at the festival to Artemis Ephesia at Scillus, we are not that far from the sense of estrangement or
alienation from the historians home that Syme spoke of in connection
52
E.g. Xenophon the anonymous defender of the behavior of the Ten Thousand
(Hell. 3.2.7); Xenophons son not mentioned as falling before the battle of Mantinea
(Hell. 7.5.17), though good men died in the action. Who is the young man interested
in military science in Mem. 3.1? On Xenophon and self-effacement see Watereld
(2004) 82 n. 11 and the bibliography cited there.
53
Cf. Burkert (1985) 259 and 67; also Parker (1996) 78 n. 41, (2004) 1378.
54
Cf. Dillery (2001) 301, (1995) 90. Parker (2004) 138 notes that the Scillus scene
leaves several questions unanswered, specically relating to the nature of Xenophons
arrangements regarding the ownership of the sacred property: does Xenophon lease
the property from himself ?, will his sons inherit this lease?, etc.
68
john dillery
with Thucydides. Despite the doubtful nature of much of the information that we have regarding the exiles of ancient Greek historians, it
remains the case that many of the most important ones do seem to have
lived away from their home poleis for extensive periods of time. There
is no reason not to believe the ancient testimony, stated or implied, that
Hieronymus, Timaeus, and Alexander Polyhistor, for example, lived in
exile in one form or another for a substantial period of their lives, in
addition to the certain cases of Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon and
Polybius. Did this fact, common to all of them, produce an effect in their
work that we can detect? Is it estrangement? Is it a broader perspective
than they would otherwise have had, to say nothing of an increase in
available sources and data? Before getting carried away in answering
these questions, it is important not to forget that Thucydides, who is so
articulate about the advantages of exile, and who makes Syme think of
a mind freed but simultaneously alienated from his home community,
also points out in his proem that he kept an account of the Peloponnesian War from its outset (Thuc. 1.1.1). Exile was still several years
away in 431 BC; it did not make Thucydides an historian, for he was
one already at the outbreak of the war.55
Another difculty with generalizing about the effects of exile on the
ancient Greek historian is that, save for the four canonical great ones,56
what we have from the other gures discussed in this paper are fragments
from which it is difcult to extract grand historiographic principles. Perhaps one way to begin to answer the question whether exile had a common effect on Greek historians would be to look at counter-examples,
men who wrote history while at home, safely housed in their native poleis.
With the notable exception, it seems, of Androtion the Atthidographer,
local historians were not regularly exiled (it is hard to know for certain
since our information is so fragmentary). Importantly, such gures are
known to have read their works in other cities, and to have been thanked
in their own for writing up histories of the native polis.57 The contrast (if
there was one) between local historians and the luminaries mentioned
above is instructive. A man like Syriscus of Chersonesus on the Black
55
56
A point stressed by, e.g., Fornara (1983) 51, and Harding (1994) 25.
Many would want to exclude Xenophon from this illustrious group; I am not
one.
57
The phenomenon of public readings of historical texts and related materials has
been expertly discussed by L. Robert in a number of places, e.g. (1938) 1415, (1946)
356, (1963) 589, and (with J. Robert) (1958) no. 336 and (1983) 162. Consult also
Momigliano (1978) and Boffo (1988).
69
Sea (third cent. BC: FGrHist 807 = SGDI 3086, IOSPE I 184 and I2 344,
Chaniotis E 7) is fully incorporated into the social fabric of his city,
indeed he is one of its leading citizens and clearly in good standing: he
is publicly thanked for reading his work, which treats Chersonesus relations with the kings of the Bosporus as well as other cities in the region,
and is awarded a golden crown.58 His work was probably very much like
that of other writers of local history in the Hellenistic period: built on
the epiphanies of a local deity (the Maiden), it no doubt focused on the
city and its cult, perhaps, like the Lindian Chronicle, recording both the
dedications made to the shrine of the goddess, as well as reporting episodes when her intervention (epiphany) saved the city in times of need.59
But the larger point is that this kind of history was precisely bound by
the region of the particular polis; if the historical horizon of Herodotus
or Thucydides is essentially the known world, that of the local historian
is his city and its chora.60 Banishment, voluntary exile, detention abroad,
travelwhatever the reason, prolonged residence away from ones
native polis would in fact have made an historiographic difference.
It seems tting to close this paper with the following question: had
Syriscus been exiled (for political reasons no doubt), would his historical writing have been different? If he had continued to write history
beyond the Appearances of the Maiden of Chersonesus, would it have been
larger in scope and orientation? Would it have betrayed a feeling of
alienation or estrangement? Would these changes have made him, if
not an historian (for he was one already), an historian to remember?
The conventional portrait of Herodotus adding to his knowledge and
understanding of the past through his travels is compelling and I see no
reason to modify it fundamentally, even if we need to be more careful
about discussing the exact reason(s) for his life away from Halicarnassus.
But for every Herodotus there were probably many more like Timaeus.
A Sicilian, he was made to live in Athens for more than fty years where
he wrote his history. Yet, this notorious armchair historian is precisely
criticized by Polybius for writing history in a saucer (Polyb. 12.23.7:
), putting the bigwigs of Sicily on a par with the most
famous of heroes ( ), and making Magna
Graecia and Sicily in general a grand stage for signicant deeds.61
58
59
60
61
70
john dillery
Polybius could be seen to say that while Timaeus was made to leave his
home, he never got over being a local historian.
Exile must have profoundly affected the lives and output of the historians who experienced it. But I hope that this paper has shown that
we must be on guard not to be careless in our use of the word exile,
a term that can cover a variety of experiences, some of which would
not have shaped the historians views in quite the way Syme, for one,
seems to imagine. It is also hoped that this paper has generated at least
some cause for doubt regarding some of the pieces of testimony used
by ancients and moderns to claim that particular Greek historians were
exiled. It must be the case that some were, in fact, banished, made to
live in a foreign land, or chose so to do. But we should not invent exile
where we do not have solid evidence. Otherwise we risk the danger of
constructing the lives of Greek historians to a set-pattern, at the center
of which, it seems, must be exile, at least for those historians worth
remembering.
CHAPTER FOUR
72
time having to take part; it is about getting thrown out, or dropping out,
or checking out, opting out and preferring not tonot to be a citizen,
i.e., a soldier, taxpayer or voter; not to be a producer, i.e., a farmer,
merchant or craftsman and thus also about not being a philosopherat
least according to an Aristotelian or Platonic conception, since both
are centrally concerned with how to make better citizens.5 Hence,
when Diogenes is reproached for having suffered exile (in one of the
anecdotes Diogenes Laertius reports) his reply is typically forthright:
You miserable fool, thats how I became a philosopher!6
Here he makes the connection as emphatically as possible between
Cynicism (or his philosophy) and exile. But what is the story here? How
did a philosophy emerge from the experience of exile? Or how did
suffering exile get turned into a philosophyif that is what Cynicism
isfor of course there has always been some doubt about how to classify
itwhether as a way of life or a full blown philosophy.7
When I rst started reading about the Cynics I thought the story of
Diogenes exile probably had as much truth to it as the related story
that he was given his philosophic mission in lifeto deface the currency
( vv, cf. Diog. Laert. 6.201)by the Delphic
or Delian oracle, a story clearly modeled on the oracle Platos Socrates
reports in the Apology. Such stories probably originated in a literary
contextperhaps a philosophic parody by or about Diogenesand
were later treated biographically by the doxographers.8 As NiehuesPrbsting ((1979) 13) observes, Diogenes image is already a product of
his reception wherever we encounter it.
The ancient traditions reported by Diogenes Laertius agree that Diogenes was forced into exile but the circumstances and cause of his
exile vary; in one account he is exiled because his father Hicesias was
entrusted with the money of the state and defaced the coinage (cf.
Diog. Laert. 6.20: v
vv); according to another version of the story
Diogenes father entrusted him with the money and he defaced it, in
consequence of which his father was imprisoned and died while the son
ed (cf. Diog. Laert. 6.21:
vv v , ); in
5
A major concern in Platos Republic and Aristotles Politics. Hence their interest in
education.
6
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.49: v, .
7
For discussion, see Branham/Goulet-Caz (1996) 217.
8
For discussion, see Niehues-Prbsting (1979) 4356.
73
still another version, the son and the father ee together. Indeed,
Diogenes Laertius is unsure whether Diogenes was formally exiled or
simply ed in fear.
The fact that this story comes in several incompatible versions would
seem to lessen its credibility; it would suggest that Diogenes Laertius
is transmitting what was originally an oral tradition, which is typically
multiform; in the rst version Diogenes himself plays no role in defacing
the currency; in the second he is responsible both for the defacing and
for his fathers imprisonment and deathnot to mention his own exile.
I was surprised to learn, therefore, that the factual basis of these stories
is apparently conrmed by numismatic evidence discovered in the
last century. According to C. T. Seltman (in Dudley (1937) 54 n. 3; cf.
Bannert (1979)) there are defaced coins from Sinope dating from 350
340 BC. Other coins minted after 362 BC bear the name of the ofcial
in charge, Hicesias.
It still remains unclear whether it was Diogenes or his father who
made the decision to deface the coins by smashing them with a large
chisel stamp, and exactly what the motive was. Following Seltman,
Dudley ((1937) 54) argues that Diogenes and his father were attempting to defend the good credit (and political autonomy) of Sinope by
putting counterfeit coins out of circulation. The problem is that not
all the coins so defaced were counterfeit; a small percentage were good
Sinopean coins.
Be that as it may, this incident is a dening moment for Cynicism; not
only does it link Diogenes philosophical career with the act of defacing
and consequent exile; the tradition makes the act of defacing the literal
cause of his exile and its metaphorical meaning or justication, a meaning
which Diogenes discovered only belatedlythrough the experience of
exile. For according to the story that Diogenes consulted an oracle (cf.
Diog. Laert. 6.201), he initially took the idea of defacing to
vv literally and discovered its metaphorical or philosophical
meaningnamely, to drive the debased coin of conventional thinking
out of circulationonly after he is caught and exiled. His philosophical
career justies and, in a sense, atones for the crime that made him an
exile in the rst place by giving it an altered meaning.9
9
The story also resonates with Diogenes defense of Cynic theft and his critique of
the rules regulating exchange in other contexts: Very valuable things, he said, are
sold for things of no value and vice versa (Diog. Laert. 6.35:
v v).
74
10
For consolatory literature and exile, see Nesselrath pp. 87 ff. below, who traces a
cluster of Cynic themes from Teles through Plutarch and Favorinus.
11
Cf. Gaertner, p. 15 n. 80 above for attestations of this ancient proverb.
12
Cf. Gaertner, pp. 1112 n. 55 above for literature on the concept of cosmopolitanism
and see p. 82 n. 36 below.
75
teeth in the anecdote at Diog. Laert. 6.49 (see above); but Plutarch proceeds to argue, only fools use it that way (De Exil. 607A:
), the same people who think the words for beggar (),
bald (), short (v), foreigner () and immigrant
(v) are pejorative. But this attempt to dismiss common usage
is hardly persuasive. What Athenian prided himself on being a short
bald beggar or non-Athenian? No more convincing is his attempt to
contradict Euripides Polynices in the Phoenissae when he laments the
consequences of his exile (specically his loss of parrhesia). If Plutarchs
essay fails to convince, it is not just because of its loosely argued, eclectic
style but rather because Plutarch really accepts the conventional view
of exile as an assault on the very identity of the person banished that
casts him into a state of privation which he can only try to ameliorate
or ignore.13 If it were not a dreadful misfortune, why would it elicit a
consolation? The whole thrust of Plutarchs essay is to look for a silver
lininge.g., you will be free of civic dutiesto argue that life after exile
can be a successful continuation of life as it was before. He does not see
exile, therefore, as a turning point, as Diogenes does, as the discovery of
a new kind of life or as a source of philosophic insight.
If, on the other hand, we consider the ideology of Cynicism in the
context of exile it becomes increasingly clear that its most important
and enduring attributes take the form of a radical re-evaluation of the
experience of exile itself. Cynicism is nothing less than an attempt to
redescribe life as a permanent outcast as a form of enlightenmentnot
an easy thing to do.
Now there are two dominant themes in Cynicism, which in some
respects converge and in other collide, both of which can be understood
as deliberate philosophical responses to the shock of exile in that they
appear to appropriate for the banished individual goods which are
usually seen as inseparable from political lifeby which I mean life as
a citizen in a polisnamely, self-sufciency (or autarkeia ()) and
freedom ( or ). Both Plato and Aristotle see political
community as emerging naturally from the fact that an individual cannot
provide for all his or her own needs; only a community or polis can even
aspire to do that. As Aristotle puts it succinctly in the Politics (1261b11),
a household () is more self-sufcient than a single person and a city
13
For a blow by blow account of Plutarchs argument, see Nesselrath, pp. 92 ff.
below.
76
14
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.38 = Diogen. Sinop. TrGF 88 F 4: , ,
v, / , , v.
15
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.49:
, , v and see Gaertner, p. 10 n. 45 for a
similar statement by the Greek philosopher Anaxagoras.
16
Cf. Sen. Ep. 90.14: [sc. Diogenes], cum vidisset puerum cava manu bibentem aquam, fregit
protinus exemptum e perula calicem cum hac obiurgatione sui: quamdiu homo stultus supervacuas
sarcinas habui!
17
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.22: v v ,
, v v v
, .
18
Cf. Stob. 4.32A.11 (p. 782 Hense):
v .
77
that begins with Diogenes results directly from his perversely embracing
the state of privation foisted on him by exile and re-describing it as a
valued achievementautonomy.
Now if Diogenes disenchantment with the polis, with its nomoi and
nomismata, as engendered by his experience of exile, leads to the Cynic
reconception of autarkeia from a collective civic virtue to a personal one,
this is no less true of the Cynic idea of freedom. Just as autarkeia changes its
meaningis effectively defacedwhen applied to a stateless individual
living in exile, so too does freedom. Clearly, the Cynic understanding
of freedom cannot be that of Plato, Aristotle or the citizens of Athens,
since its premise rejects the polis as the locus or source of freedom.
Therefore, freedom cannot be a matter of legal status (or entitlement)
such as that of being a citizen. The Cynic conception of freedomto
use any place for any purpose (cf. Diog. Laert. 6.22:
)is a license to practice autarkeia free from that most intimate
of social fetters, shame (aidos), the cornerstone of conventional Greek
morality.19
Accordingly, when nature calls, Diogenes famously does the business
of Demeter and Aphrodite in public, eating and masturbating in the
agora. Notoriously, Diogenes said of public masturbation: I only
wish I could be free of hunger as easily by rubbing my belly (Diog.
Laert. 6.69: , , v
v ). Cynic freedom means to follow natures bidding
undeterred by shame. As far as the body or nature is concerned one need
is in principle no better or worse than any other. They are givens. It is
culture that creates a hierarchy of desires and the proprieties governing
their tendence. Diogenes response in this anecdote is characteristic: it
comically asserts the claims of nature as matters of fact while blithely
ignoring the constraints of culture. They have no more claim on Dioenes than on any other canine. Here freedom and autarkeia go hand in
hand with anaideiaCynic shamelessness.
To paraphrase Heinrich Niehues-Prbsting ((1996) 360), Cynicism
originates as the conscious and demonstrative rejection of required
moral attitudes, namely, that of the upstanding citizen who ts into the
social order as he is supposed to. The Cynic does not t in, is not at
home even at home.20 The proper civic or moral attitude is pushed aside
19
The literature on shame in Greek culture is voluminous. For a sophisticated
philosophical treatment, see Williams (1993).
20
Cf. Adornos famous statement, quoted in n. 46 below.
78
21
Cf. Niehues-Prbsting (1996) 350: The Cynic of antiquity [. . .] was a genius at
expressing contempt and, at the same time, the paragon of everything contemptible.
22
Cf. e.g. Lucian Vit. Auct. 13 and Juv. 10.4750.
23
For Demetrius on the (Cynic style), see Branham (1989) 234
n. 73.
24
Branham (1989) passim.
25
For an interesting critique of her theory, see Mulkay (1988).
79
Using the form of the syllogism allows Diogenes to invoke the authority
of reason even as he parodies its procedures in a single gesture. Of
course a parody does not belong to the same type (or genre) as its model.
A parody of a syllogism is no more a syllogism than the parody of a
tragedy is a tragedy. I do not think Diogenes offers such syllogisms as
serious arguments, but as parodic examples of the kind of reasoning
that other philosophers take seriously, and that he routinely mocks. In
any event, such arguments are not likely to change the mind of anyone
26
Cf. Niehues-Prbsting (1979) 86: Im Kynismus des Diogenes ist das Lachen ein
unentbehrlicher Bestandteil.
27
Cf. Ross (1949) 32: Aristotles denition of syllogism is quite general; it is an
argument in which, certain things having been assumed, something other than these
follows of necessity from their truth, without needing any term from outside (Arist. Pro.
1.23).
80
28
It is true that one saying attributed to Diogenes seems to endorse reason: He used
to say repeatedly that to be prepared for life one must have reason or a rope (Diog. Laert.
6.24: ). I would
point out that this too is a pun and argue that need mean no more than Diogenes
opinions or beliefs (see LSJ s.v. III.2,4,5; VI.3.b). There are no examples in the chreiai
that purport to quote him verbatim of Diogenes using in a philosophically loaded
sense as reason or right reason. Cf., however, Diog. Laert. 6.38.
29
Douglas (1968) 3689.
81
such that A and B support each other in a unied system. The rite imposes
order and harmony, while the joke disorganizes. From the physical to
the personal, to the social, to the cosmic, great rituals create unity in
experience. They assert hierarchy and order. In doing so, they afrm the
value of the symbolic patterning of the universe. Each level of patterning
is validated and enriched by association with the rest. But jokes have the
opposite effect. They connect widely differing elds, but the connection
destroys hierarchy and order. They do not afrm the dominant values, but
denigrate and devalue. Essentially a joke is an anti-rite. . . . The message of
a standard rite is that the ordained patterns of social life are inescapable.
The message of a joke is that they are escapable . . . for a joke implies that
anything is possible.30
30
82
and incest coheres with this antiritualistic stance.33 The contrast with
a philosopher like Socrates who outwardly conforms is striking and
signicant. The Cynics rejection of inherited patterns of conduct
makes room for his own improvisations; but where do they derive their
authority if, as Douglas also argues, joking merely affords opportunity
for realizing that an accepted pattern has no necessity . . . [but] is
frivolous in that it produces no real alternative, only an exhilarating
sense of freedom from form in general?34 The answer usually given to
this question would be nature. It is typically said, for example, that the
Cynic pursues freedom or happiness by following nature, which means
a life devoted to discipline and self-sufciency.35 While there is much
to this characterization, if we examine the chreiai in Diogenes Laertius
that purport to quote Diogenes verbatim, nowhere does he show any
interest in nature as a philosophical concept or a Lebenswelt.36
Indeed, it turns out that the search for freedom and simplicity, for a
life according to nature, is far from straightforwardor simple. For
if Diogenes is our model life according to nature means living on the
streets of a large city and begging for a living. Now begging for a living,
which is very well represented in the tradition but not often discussed,
may have many advantages but autonomy would not seem to be one
of them. Given that this is the case, the central Cynic value could be
neither self-sufciency (autarkeia)since no one is more dependent than
a beggar, he is in fact a kind of suppliantnor nature as a rational
order, equivalent to reason, as it is in Stoicism, but freedom. While
Cynic freedom would seem to be largely negative in Isaiah Berlins
sensefreedom from rather than freedom toit can also be active
and engaged as in the act of parrhesia (freedom of speech). Beggingthe
rejection of work, of a life considered productive by societyis entailed
by the Cynic commitment to freedom in order to avoid becoming
33
See Diog. Laert. 6.73, Dio Chrys. Or. 10.30. There is of course a difference between
questioning the validity of a taboo and advocating the tabooed activity. Diogenes has
sometimes been misinterpreted as engaging in the latter.
34
Douglas (1968) 365.
35
See, e.g., Edwards et al. (1972) s.v. Cynics, 1.2845, Moles (2003) 474. Contrast
Sayre (1948) 5: The Cynics accepted the principle of following nature and their
amoralism was incidental to it, but following nature was not the dominant idea of
Cynicism and does not adequately describe it.
36
Diogenes statements (Diog. Laert. 6.63,72) that he is a v and that
the only good government is the one of the cosmos are inconsistent with my argument
only if they are not primarily a rejection of existing governments: see the discussion on
p. 74 above.
83
37
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.29: v v v v,
v v , v
v , v ,
v v v .
38
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.56: , ,
, .
39
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.46: v v ,
.
40
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.59: v , ,
v , .
84
already given to someone else, then give to me also; if not, then start
with me.41 He once was seen begging alms of a statue. When asked why
he did this, he replied: Im practicing getting turned down.42 When
asked what he did to be called a dog, Diogenes replied: I wag my tail
at those who give, bark at those who dont and bite scoundrels.43 In this
last anecdote beggar, dog and Cynic satirist converge.
Accordingly, when Heracles comes up in Diogenes Laertius account,
Diogenes is said to have claimed that their lives had the same character
not because of Heracles capacity for endurance (askesis or autarkeia) but
because they both deemed nothing more important than freedom (cf.
Diog. Laert. 6.71:
, v ). If happiness is an activity,
then the exercise of freedom would be happiness for a Cynic and thus in
need of no further justication.44 The exercise of this freedom in words,
parrhesia, is, as Diogenes plainly afrms, the nest thing in the world.45
Therefore certain kinds of speech actsthose that effectively assert
freedom in some contextwill be quintessentially Cynic, constitutive
of what it means to be a Cynic, not merely instrumental to an ideology
that exists independently of them.
Now Cynicism is the only philosophic movement in antiquity to
make freedom a central value and freedom of speech in particular.
There is no denying that Diogenes claim to parrhesia and eleutheria from
the very bottom of the social hierarchyas an impoverished outcast
verges on the utopian since such liberties were among the privileges of
an aristocrat or the rights of a citizen in a democratic state. But what
did Diogenes learn from his exile if not that freedom is not a gift
from the state but a way of life and that, as another exile, Theodor
Adorno, observed, it is part of morality not to be at home in ones
home.46 It is this hard-earned lesson that made Diogenes and the
41
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.49: v , v v,
v .
42
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.49: v, ,
.
43
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.60: v
, v , .
44
As Sayre (1948) 7 writes: The object of Cynicism was happiness: it was a form of
eudaimonism and it is of interest as a human experiment with that end in view . . . The
Cynic virtues are the qualities through which freedom was attained.
45
Cf. Diog. Laert. 6.69: .
46
Cf. Adorno (1997), chapter 18: Es gehrt selbst zu meinem Glcke, kein
Hausbesitzer zu sein, schrieb Nietzsche bereits in der Frhlichen Wissenschaft. Dem
85
Cynics a paradigm of real and metaphorical exile and has shaped the
perception of subsequent generations of intellectuals from the Stoics to
the deracinated intellectuals of the twentieth century.47
mte man heute hinzufgen: es gehrt zur Moral, nicht bei sich selber zu Hause zu
sein. On exile as a sign of virtus see also Cohen, p. 124 below.
47
On the reception of the Cynic discourse on exile by the Stoics and by authors of
the Second Sophistic see Gaertner (pp. 1213, 17), Nesselrath (pp. 901, 93) and
Desideri (p. 199) in this volume. This article is partly based on my contribution to
Branham/Goulet-Caz (1996).
CHAPTER FIVE
1
Cf. Odyssey 5.824. For other Homeric references, see Bowies observations on pp.
247 above.
2
Cf. Eur. Phoen. 357406 and see Fanthams remarks on pp. 1745 below.
3
Cf. Kassel (1958) 712.
88
heinz-gnther nesselrath
that almost all of their authors did not suffer exile themselves; for the
rst time, then, we have to deal with various forms of a more theoretical approach to this phenomenon.
Probably the earliest specimen of a treatise seeking to show that
exile is not nearly as fearsome and terrible as it is often reputed to be
is a text written around the middle of the third century BC4 by a man
called Teles of whom we otherwise know next to nothing,5 except that
he produced several similar pieces dealing with other human afictions
(e.g. poverty, pain and sorrow etc.). All these texts are known to us only
because they were preserved in the massive late antique anthology of
Stobaeus, and there not in their original form, but already shortened by
another quite shadowy gure called Theodorus. Earlier scholarsnot
least the rst important editor of Teletis Reliquiae, Otto Hensethought
that Theodorus had undertaken a considerable reworking of Teles original texts; recently, however, Pedro Pablo Fuentes Gonzlez in his new
and quite extensive commentary on Teles remains (1998) has made
a convincing case that such opinions are not very well founded; Theodorus may have shortened but did not substantially rearrange Teles
original works. Thus, we may feel justied in regarding the text which
Stobaeus presents to us as more or less a genuine product of the third
century BC.
The structure of Teles brief treatise on exile is rather simple and
straightforward, namely a series of questions and answers. Their main
aim is to show that being in exile is in no way harmful to a rational
human being: just as a skilled worker does not lose his skills when being
abroad, exile does not impair a mans reasoning. Invoking the authority of the noted Megarian philosopher Stilpon, Teles afrms that exile
neither plunders nor damages any part of a mans soul ( <>
) nor his body ( ) nor his external possessions
( ). A man may even make more and better use of mental and
bodily faculties abroad than in his native place, and he may just as well
improve his material situation compared to that which he left at home.6
A mythical example (Achilles old teacher Phoenix, who in exile was
4
See Hense (1909) p. 23.512 and now Fuentes Gonzlez (1998) ad loc.
On the earlier and rather unfounded opinions concerning his origins and home see
now Fuentes Gonzlez (1998) 336.
6
On this positive aspect of exile (as a provider of new opportunities, allowing exiles
to cross borders, break barriers of thought and experience, Said (2000) 185), which is
also stressed by Plutarch (below pp. 967), see p. 10 ff. above.
5
89
made rich by Achilles father Peleus) and a historical one (the famous
Athenian statesman Themistocles who fared similarly well when he had
to take refuge with his former Persian enemies) are summoned to prove
this point. Thus exile as such is no cause of harm in any respect; people
in fact often fare a worse kind of exile by literally burying ()
themselves at home (p. 21.223.4 Hense).
After this prooimion, which sets up the thesis that exile is fundamentally no harmful condition, Teles then proceeds to fend off a number
of counter-propositions which are raised by an imaginary interlocutor
and which he patiently refutes one after the other: 1. Exiles have no
political power and no freedom of speech.No, very often quite the
contrary is true; Teles cites a number of examples drawn from recent
Hellenistic history, where people in exile found favour with foreign rulers and were entrusted by them with high ofces (p. 23.415).72. At
home, however, exiles have lost all political clout.But in this they
fare no worse than women, children8 and the elderly, all of whom do
not feel any harm from that (a proposition which we might not share
today). In any casethe argument goes onthere is no real advantage
in enjoying a ruling position; one may just as well use ones faculties in
a satisfactory way by living privately by oneself (p. 23.1524.10).3.
But exiles are not allowed to return home, and this is a severe restriction of their freedom.On the other hand no human being is really
free to go everywhere; there are always areas which are off limits. But
this is no real hindrance to lead a happy life (p. 24.1025.7).4. But
does exile not mean misfortune and dishonour?9Not really, because
people who have driven an honest person into exile are surely rather
bad people, and it is no disgrace not to live among them any longer
(p. 25.813).105. But isnt just thatto be driven out by people who
7
The cases cited (a certain Lycinus from Italy, a Spartan Hippomedon, and the
Athenians Chremonides and Glaucon) probably belong to the third century BC (see
Fuentes Gonzlez (1998) ad loc.).
8
Does point to a certain audience, where those were
present?
9
In Henses text, this thought is not introduced by a question like the three preceding ones; Fuentes Gonzlez (1998)taking up an idea of Barigazzisby slight rewriting restores the question, a rather convincing solution in my opinion.
10
There follows an anecdote about the comic playwright Philemon, which does
not follow too smoothly upon the preceding remark (a result of epitomization?) and
which is apparently introduced to show that human well-being is mainly a matter of
perception.
90
heinz-gnther nesselrath
11
91
13
The truncated end of this section seems to have referred to a people who embalm
their dead to keep them within their very homesjust to show how varied human attitudes to death and burial may be (p. 29.132.2).
14
Socrates, Diogenes, and Themistocles gure just as prominently as in Teles, and
the Euripidean Polynices has to be refuted here, too.
15
See Branham, pp. 71 ff. above.
16
Cf. Branham, pp. 756 above.
92
heinz-gnther nesselrath
93
Still, exile may of course be regarded as a real (and not only imagined)
evil, just as many other things in life; the best way to make such things
bearable is to consider whether they do not have positive aspects as well
and then to emphasize those. With this regard, Plutarch reminds his
friend that there are probably very many people in his native Sardes20
who would gladly choose his present condition because of the many
good things that apparently go with it (3.600A in ne). Therefore his
friend should react like a true philosopher to his situation and make
the best of it (4.600B in ne: )an
advice that sounds very much like the typically Cynic motto
,21 meaning that one should concentrate on the positive aspects
of ones situation,22 and this even more, if the afiction is wholly made
up by ones own imagination.
After these remarks, Plutarch again turns more directly to his addressee:
he describes his predicament as a
(5.600E in ne), and by pointedly calling the only a ,
he develops an interesting observation: humans in fact do not really
have a natural home on this earth, they only acquire something which
they regard as home by using it, while their real home is in heaven
(5.600EF). For this thought Plutarch cites the Stoic Ariston as well as
Plato, to prove that this notion is not a peculiarity of a particular philosophical sect but rather a universal insight; further proof is provided by
Heracles who in a lost tragedy23 called not a single Greek city but all of
Greece his home, and even more by Socrates whoat least in this traditionconsidered himself a part of the whole world ().24 This
20
The friends being at home in Sardes may be a major reason for Plutarch to choose
the above-mentioned quotation of Alcman, who similarly had to leave his home-town
and found a better life elsewhere.
21
Cf. Soph. fr. 350 Radt; Cratinus fr. 184 Kassel/Austin:
; M. Aur. Med. 6.2.1: ;
Ach. Tat. 5.11.4: . A similar attitude was attributed to Aristippus, founder of the Cyrenaic school: see Aristippus fr. IV A 45 Giannantoni (1990, II
p. 23 = Hor. S. 1.17.1321) and IV A 51 (II p. 29 = Diog. Laert. 2.66) and Classen
(1986) 268 and n. 21 on p. 275.
22
Cf. 4.600D:
, . . . ,
. . .
23
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heinz-gnther nesselrath
cosmos is the real home of all human beings, and no one is an exile or
fugitive in it. The notion of a universe encompassing all living things
and ruled by a supreme divine being25 sounds markedly Stoic, but is
again illustrated by a quotation from Plato; this again establishes it as a
universally accepted doctrine. Seen against this cosmic backgroundso
Plutarch continuesthe fact that his friend is at the moment not able to
inhabit his beloved Sardes becomes rather insignicant (6.601B); in fact
all earthregarded within cosmic dimensionsis so small that no place
on her surface is far from any other, and yet people behave like ants26
or bees clinging to their respective hives (6.601C). By conning themselves to a very small corner of the earth such people deprive themselves
of all the rest. Fortunately there are plenty of examples showing that
man may actually thrive if he dares to give up his small former home:
the case of Themistocles was already cited by Teles; Plutarch adds the
famous Egyptian deserters known from Herodotus (2.30), Demetrius of
Phalerum andof coursethe Cynic Diogenes who came to see his
banishment from Sinope as a liberation (6.601D7.602A).
In the next section, Plutarch at rst somewhat tempers the apparent
contempt he has shown for homebodies in the previous chapters: one
should certainly not lightly pack up and leave ones own country, even
when it is disgured by certain faults.27 When, however, some mishap (
) deprives one of ones native place, one may freely choose another
more to ones liking, and time will make it ones home. In fact it is better to live in a place where one is not constantly subjected to costly and
is already found in Cic. Tusc. 5.108: Socrates quidem cum rogaretur, cuiatem se esse diceret, mundanum inquit; totius enim mundi se incolam et civem arbitrabatur. For the concept of Socrates
as a cosmopolitan (something not found in the sources of the fourth century BC) see
also Muson. p. 42.1 f. Hense (1905) and Hexter, p. 216 n. 23 below. On the concept of
cosmopolitanism see Gaertner, pp. 1112 n. 55 above (with literature).
25
Cf. 5.601AB: [],
, ,
,
(Pl. Leg. 716A),
.
26
The ant comparison is another Cynic topos; see Lucian Icarom. 19, Hermot. 5 and
Helm (1906) 94.
27
Cf. 8.602B:
. , (Eur. fr. 723.1 Kannicht),
.
95
, . . .
96
heinz-gnther nesselrath
32
Cf. 12.604B: , ,
.
33
Cf. 12.604C: , 604D:
.
34
Cf. 12.604C: ,
, ,
, . For this motif of new horizons see n. 6 above.
35
On the association of exile with philosophy see Gaertner, pp. 1011 above; cf. the
similar list of philosophers in exile given by Cicero in Tusc. 5.107.
36
Cf. 14.605BC:
, .
97
98
heinz-gnther nesselrath
disadvantages (like being small or bald) and for similar things which the
reproached cannot possibly remedy themselves.39 Again, a catalogue of
the most respectable people in Greek myth (even gods), who either were
exiles themselves or closely related to them, shows the total absence of
disgrace in this condition (17.607BC).
Plutarch concludes his essay with an observation which he already
hinted at in its rst part (5.600F601B) when he implicitly claimed that
mans true home is not on earth but in heaven. This is now made explicit
by a quotation drawn from the Presocratic philosopher Empedocles who
had declared himself a down-fallen daemon, who had been assigned his
earthly exile as a punishment for certain transgressions. Plutarch generalizes this remark and very clearly statesin a typically Later Platonic
way of thinkingthat we all are fallen spirits and only exiles down here;
and if the earth as a whole is thus to be regarded as a place of exile, no
spot on the earth is actually better than any other; everywhere down
here we are called upon to exercise our good sense and our virtues (and
thus our efforts to attain happiness), and we all have to bear our earthly
predicament alike (and philosophers such as Anaxagoras and Socrates
show how this is to be done); it is only fools like Phaethon or Tantalus
who brazenly ascended to heaven and then fell because of their folly.
In Plutarchs essay, then, the notion of human exile as a condition
which may afict individual people is dissolvedor wrapped up
within a much larger notion of the universal human condition as a general exile of spirits who have been cast down from heaven,40 but who
mayperhaps with divine helphope somehow to get back to their
former celestial home; in this perspective, an individual human exile
down here loses all importance. It is interesting how the Cynic Teles
and the Platonist Plutarch arrive at the same destinationthe negation
of exile as a condition of sufferingby choosing quite different roads:
the Cynic tries to fortify the individual as much as possible by reducing him to his strictly rational, thinking (but in no way feeling) self and
39
99
stripping away all ties to the outward world;41 the Platonist tries to raise
mans awareness to another world by comparison to which this earthly
one shrinks to an insignicant temporary abode where such a thing as
individual exile loses all importance.
After metaphysics, rhetoricor thus we might (perhaps a bit unfairly)
characterize the transition from Plutarchs to Favorinus treatment of
the theme of exile. Favorinus speech on this subjectpreserved (not,
alas, without signicant gaps especially at its beginning and its end) on
a papyrus which rst came to scholarly attention in 1931is in fact
the longest text now extant of this very prolic writer, who (it seems)
consciously tried to rival Plutarchs productivity.42 Thanks to a number
of sources we know quite a bit of Favorinus colourful life which has
been lucidly set out elsewhere43 and need not be repeated here. To the
facts (or allegations) which can be found in Gellius, Philostratus, Cassius Dio, the Historia Augusta and even the Suda, our papyrus seemed to
add an important detail, namely that Favorinus himself was apparently
exiled after falling out of favour with the emperor Hadrian; and this
would indeed set him apart perhaps from Teles and surely from Plutarch who did not experience being driven out of his native place. In
recent years, however, the alleged fact of Favorinus exile has increasingly come under attack, especially from Anglo-Saxon scholars (while
those of more southern parts of Europe still tenaciously cling to it):44
English scholars well versed in imperial Greek literature such as E. L.
Bowie, S. Swain and L. Holford-Strevens have either strongly afrmed
or at least earnestly considered that Favorinus long disquisition on exile
may not be an autobiographical speech on self-experienced banishment and how to overcome its afiction, but a declamation put into
the mouth of another speaker invented by the author.45 In the age of
the Second Sophistic, when such declamations were part and parcel of
every public speakers repertoire, this is indeed a very distinct possibility.
In recent years, several scholars46 have pointed to a probably decisive
41
100
heinz-gnther nesselrath
101
the details the speaker drops about his person might be applicable to Favorinus great
enemy, the sophist Polemo of Laodicea; one might wonder, then, whether Favorinus
might purposely have made his speaker look like Polemo, in order to frighten him a bit
with the prospect of becoming an exile himself.
51
Pap. Gr. Vat. 11.
52
Cf. I a (= Stob. 4.44.76 p. 977 Hense): . . . | |
| | | .
53
At the end of the section, Favorinus evokes the examples of Empedocles, Heracles
and of someone new (i.e. not mentioned by Teles or Plutarch): the Roman general
Mucius.
54
| [].
55
Cf. 2.2 (col. 1.479): | ,
| | . Cf. Desideri
(p. 203 below) for a similar thought in Dio Chrysostoms thirteenth speech. Ruth Webb
has drawn my attention to the unusual fact that the speaker does not refer to his ,
but to his |; the implications of this are not altogether clear.
56
See Teles p. 5.26.1 Hense (citing Bion of Borysthenes), 16.47, 52.24, Epictetus
102
heinz-gnther nesselrath
of man as actor on a stage, who has to be content not only with whatever role the (divine) stage-director may assign to him, but also with
every change of role he is subjected to. In the same way human beings
should accept every change of role in the drama of life, as this does not
affect our inner self, but just the costume of our outer appearance.57
Those who have to play poor and down-trodden people may in fact
be better and more successful actorson stage as well as in lifethan
those playing princes and leaders (3).
Having developed this simile in much detail, the speaker ends his
introductory remarks by pointing once more to the inspiring example
of great men of old: Diogenes, Heracles, Odysseus (who gets most of
the space)all three proved themselves most worthy when conned to
dire straits (4).
The speaker now explicitly re-introduces himself as willing to master his own current predicament,58 and with this statement he embarks
on the main part of his speech, which is largely dominated by another
simile, namely that of the athlete in a great contest who has to face a
number of redoubtable opponents.59 Just like such an athlete who has
Ench. 17, Diss. 4.2.10, Synes. Aegypt. 1.13.106A. In all of these places the simile is evoked
to stress how important it is that everyone on earth should play his particular role well;
Favorinus, however, uses the simile to demonstrate that man should put up with every
change of role that fortune or fateor, in Favorinus case, God and divine providence
has in store for him (see for this also Epictetus fr. 11 p. 464.714 Schenkl, Lucian Nec.
16, Maximus of Tyre 1.1).
57
Cf. 3.3: |
| , | ,
||[ ][]; [ ]|[
] | [ ] |[ ] [][]
[] |[ ], [ ] |
[ ], | [ ] |
[, ] |, [][], |
[] [] [] |, [ ]
| [ ];
58
Cf. 5.1: [ ][ ] [] | [ ]
[] | [], [] , [, ] |
[] [ ] [].
59
Tale impostazione e sviluppo dellimmagine fuori del consueto opera dello
scrittore, insieme a qualche particolare nellelaborazione (Barigazzi (1966) ad loc.).
Stephanie West draws my attention to Pauls Epistle to the Ephesians 6.1213:
, , ,
,
. ,
. In 1417 Paul changes
the simile, exhorting his addressees to take up metaphorical weapons and armour like
103
104
heinz-gnther nesselrath
other authors, too;62 but the way Favorinus uses this image may well be
novel: this may in fact be the rst time that grappling with a critical situation is depicted on such a scale as a wrestling or battling of the human
soul with spiritual or metaphorical opponents, and thus Favorinus may
be the very inventor of the concept of psychomachia, which the Latin
poet Prudentius later applied with so much success to the Christian soul
resisting various kinds of temptation.
Favorinus speaker deals with each of these opponents in turn: much
space is allotted to the very rst of these adversaries of the exiles soul
(ch. 714): how can an exile overcome the longing for his home, city or
country? Just like Plutarch (and Teles), the speaker takes on the Euripidean Polynices: it is wrongso the argument goesto pine for ones
native place if one has been forcibly driven away from it, and it is even
worse to try to get back there by force; everything one really needs one
can nd everywhere else (7). The gods will help good people everywhere
and bad people nowhere; one does not need a particular place to address
the gods in prayer, provided one is a worthy human being (8). Even to
the dead one can sacrice from the most far-out places, as Odysseus has
shown (in the Homeric Necyia), and thus it is silly to prefer a particular
spot for burial (9). What, in any case, is a fatherland? If it is simply the
region to which ones forebears got used to, one should rather more love
the place oneself has become familiar with. Well-nigh every group of
people at one time or another changed places (and we get a substantial list of examples for this); the very few who boastfully claim to have
originated in the land they still live in (the so-called autochthones) pride
themselves on something which lowly insects and other animals could
claim just as well, being sprung up from the earth, too, according to
ancient belief (10). All animals, in fact, regard the domain they live in as
their universal home: birds the air, sh the sea, land-creatures the land;
only humans set about dividing the earth into ever smaller parts and
particles, which leads to strife and conict of every kind, even within the
same city (11). No bird ghts with another bird for a piece of air, nor a
sh with another for a stretch of sea; and even some people have shown
virtue in giving up their so-called native land, when they had to preserve more important things, as e.g. the Athenians and Phocaeans their
freedom from foreign oppression. Peoples like Amazons, Scythians, and
62
105
Sauromates even regard a nomadic way of life as the only suitable way
of living (12). Those, however, who regard any displacement from their
homenot only that by exileas something bad condemn themselves
to be exiles in the very place they live in. Our speaker, on the contrary,
even before his exile loved travelling and thus sees no reason now to
lament his being banished from home, especially after his family died;
after these family ties are gone, he feels fully able to rely on his ,
which no well-meaning god will deprive him of (13); he is fully willing to
regard his new residence as his god-given home and city, and its people
will certainly become familiar to him in the course of time (14).
The second adversary to be overcome in this metaphorical wrestling
bout is longing for ones friends and relatives (ch. 1518). Our speaker
regards this adversary as more easily to be overcome, because human
beings can do something which ones native country or city evidently
cannot, i.e. move about; thus a friend can visit an exile in his very place
of banishment (15). As proof, the speaker presents famous examples of
good men not staying behind when their friends had to leave their native
places: the Argonauts accompanied Jason, all Greek heroes accompanied Menelaus on the quest to win back his wife, and neither Pylades
nor Theseus abandoned their respective friends. Thus our speaker justiably expects his friends to come and visit him in his exile (16). In this
way exile will in fact show who are ones real friends and who are not,
namely the stay-behinds (17); thus exile can even be regarded as a reliable test for rm friendship.
The third adversary in the agon imagined by the speaker is the very
human love for prestigious external things (wealth, honour, high reputation) and their loss by having to undergo exile. This complex of issues
is again treated quite extensively (ch. 1927): The rst argument ison
a Stoic line of thoughtthat all these things are for a
human being, even more so than native places and relatives. No animal
has ever thought of acquiring wealth and honour; only humans strive
for such things (19). Outward signs of honour and power are ultimately
worthless, as tragic gures like Oedipus and Jocasta (and other persons
in the same family) show; ultimately, all of us have the same humble
origin, be it Prometheus clay or Deucalions stones (20). Once again,
Odysseus is presented as an exemplary gure always full of
and , who gracefully resigns himself to every change of situation
which the divine leader of the world may deem right for him. Similarly,
we allwho ourselves use lesser beings, i.e. animals, as we see t and
106
heinz-gnther nesselrath
who think it right to obey human laws and lawgiversshould unquestioningly accept the will of the gods who are so much more superior
to us than we are to animals (21). All that we have is only on loan from
the gods and will be asked back after our allotted time has run out. We
should accept this with good grace and not behave like bad debtors,
especially as in this case this behaviour would not only be criminal but
impious. To emphasize this point our speaker again presents a roster of
illustrious men (Greek and Roman, mythical and historical) who willingly gave back what they had when fate and fortune ordered them to
(22). Their losses of eyes, of hands or even their life were in fact more
fortunateand here Favorinus waxes rather paradoxical in a way distinctly reminiscent of the New Testament63than the ill-fated use others
made of these possessions (again a host of antithetical examples follows; 23). Human judgement is generally ckle and decientanother
welter of examples proves this64, and therefore no condemnation (to
death, to exile or whatever) can be regarded as incontrovertible proof
of a mans unworthiness (24). Moreover, man must always reckon with
sudden changes of fortune; he should learn from the bad luck of others that no one is safe; a sudden catastrophe is all the more horrifying;
caution and foresight are always needed (25). To be able to exercise
once more this key term comes up, one should look at others less well off, when oneself is having a lucky time, while one should
regard people with even bigger trouble, when oneself is experiencing
bad luck. To do this, one need only look around oneself: human misery
is ubiquitous and was already present, even before Hesiods Iron Age set
in. Hesiod himself, however, should stop lamenting about his own situation and consider how much he has been favoured by the gods who gave
him the gift of poetry (26). Towards the end of this section the papyrus
exhibits great gaps, but our speaker seems to have concluded on a note
of hope: if man stays obedient to the gods and preserves calm of mind
63
Compare the stern admonishments given by Jesus in the Gospels, Matth. 5.29
30: ,
. (30) ,
. Similarly Matth. 18.89, Mc. 9.43,45,47.
64
Among them, of course, the famous case of Socrates, in which not even the testimony of the god Apollo was heeded by the Athenians.
107
and good cheer, he may well attain more than earthly happiness at the
end of his life65 (27).
The last and perhaps most redoubtable opponent to be dealt with in
this spiritual struggle (ch. 289) is the ordinary mans pervasive fear that
exile may irrevocably abolish his freedom66 and cause his strength and
very nature to wither away: to this our speaker replies that real freedom
is not something external but a possession of the soul which no material connement can take away (28); spiritual freedom actually consists
in the ability to renounce things that are not really necessary for ones
well-being, while the longing for things which are contrary to divine
ordination and impossible to have means real enslavement. Why would
one lament not being able to leave the island one is conned to and
reach the continent nearby, when it would be much more desirable
but much less possible, tooto leave earth and go up into heaven? Soon
after the speaker returns to his own condition of island exile,67 the lacunose condition of the papyrus prevents us from discerning any further
thoughts of the speaker, so that we do not know whether he ended his
speech with a more general peroratio or simply brought the exiled souls
struggle with its last spiritual foe to an undoubtedly successful nish.
It will have become clear from this survey of the contents of Favorinus speech that the thoughts he has to offerand even the at times
overwhelming richness of examples with which he eshes them outare
by no means original. He might claim, however, that the form in which
he presents these thoughts is rather novel and attractive; and compared
with the mainly Cynic ancestors of thinking about exile (Bion, Teles,
Musonius), Favorinus tries much less to shield man from the woes of
exile by putting him into the Cynic armour of exclusive self-reliance
than gently nudge him to look beyond himself and this world towards
65
Cf. 27.2: | [] , |
[ ] | [ ]
|, [ ] [] | [] []
, | [] | . . . . .
[. .]. | |.
This is the most conspicuous spot in this text, where the author raises his eyes above the
earthly situation of man.
66
Cf. 28.1: [] | []
| [ ], , | [ ]
[] | [] , |
. . . . . . | , . . .
67
In 16.3 (col. 14.40) we get a hint that this island is Chios.
108
heinz-gnther nesselrath
the gods and their benevolent guidance of the universe. There may be
some Stoicism in this; there certainly is much Platonism in it, and here
we recognize the inuence of Plutarch whoin his own contribution
to Greek thinking about exilestresses even more mans strong bonds
with the transcendent realm of the gods which make him a universal
exile on this earth compared to which the earthly condition of exile is
no longer of any account. Though both Plutarch and Favorinus draw
heavily on former (mainly Cynic and Stoic) efforts to make exile bearable, in fact they reformulate the earlier answers and cast them into a
much more spiritual mould, which is quite in keeping with the general
tendencies of Later Antiquity to seek help for human life and its many
problems from the gods and what they may have in store for us.
CHAPTER SIX
110
sarah t. cohen
The city, my Rufus, dwell in the city and live in that brightness; every
absence, as I determined in my youth, is obscure and worthless for those
whose talent can be brought to light in Rome.
He writes this not from exile but as the proconsular governor of Cilicia,
an honorable and even desirable part of any political career. Although
proud of the job he did there, Cicero was determined to return to Rome
as soon as he could.2 Not only was Rome, as he claims here, the only
proper locale for human achievement, it was also the only place where
he might inuence the crisis in the Republic. Even on the verge of civil
war, when there may have been good reasons to leave the city, Ciceros
devotion to the site of Rome remained unshaken. When Pompey
announced that he intended to abandon the city to Caesars approaching
forces in January of 49 BCE, Cicero imagined the following exchange
(Att. 7.11.3, written mid-January 49 BCE):
urbem tu relinquas? ergo idem, si Galli venirent? non est, inquit, in parietibus res
publica. at in aris et focis.
Are you leaving the city? Would you have done the same if the Gauls
were coming? He answers, The state is not in the house-walls. But it
is in the altars and hearthstones.
The reference to altars and hearths is not accidental: the sacred sites
within the city were integral to Roman identity, and without them it was
not clear what kind of state Rome might be.3
In light of this attitude, Ciceros own exile is often seen as a deeply
traumatic event for him, so much so that authors attempt to apply
modern psychological terminology based on the letters he wrote
during this period.4 Many commentators nd the apparent glimpses
into Ciceros emotional state disturbing or disappointing, although
Hutchinsons re-evaluation of these letters as forceful and articulate
pieces of writing, provides a welcome contrast.5 Upon his return to
2
As Fuhrmann (1990) 123 writes, from the outset, Cicero regarded the governorship
which had been imposed on him as an onerous duty and he was anxiously concerned
that it should last no longer than the year which the Senate had ordained. An unusually
large number of letters have been preserved from the year and a half of his absence
from Rome . . . In all these letters no theme recurs as frequently as the wish, the request,
the admonition to the recipient that he should do everything in his power to ensure that
the governorship was not extended. See also p. 14 n. 74 above.
3
The locus classicus is Livy, book 5. See Edwards (1996) 4452, Kraus (1994).
4
Rawson (1983) 118 describes him as very near a nervous breakdown.
5
Cf. Hutchinson (1998) 28. Claassen (1999a) 108, too, points to Ciceros self-
111
Rome, Ciceros response to the problem of his own exile was to deny
any separation between himself and the citythe true city, at any rate.6
He rewrote his departure as a kind of devotio, a sacrice of his own
career to save the city from civil war.7 Even so, the res publica succumbed
to anarchy during Clodius tribunate (according to Cicero), and it too
needed restoration (Red. Pop. 14):
itaque, dum ego absum, eam rem publicam habuistis ut aeque me atque illam restituendam
putaretis. ego autem in qua civitate nihil valeret senatus, omnis esset impunitas, nulla
iudicia, vis et ferrum in foro versaretur, cum privati parietum se praesidio non legum
tuerentur, tribuni plebis vobis inspectantibus vulnerarentur, ad magistratuum domos
cum ferro et facibus iretur, consulis fasces frangerentur, deorum immortalium templa
incenderentur, rem publicam esse nullam putavi. itaque neque re publica exterminata
mihi locum in hac urbe esse duxi, nec, si illa restitueretur, dubitavi quin me secum ipsa
reduceret.
So, in my absence you had such a res publica that you thought both it and
myself equally in need of restoration. As for me, I did not consider that a
commonwealth existed in a community in which the Senate counted for
nothing, everything went unpunished, the law courts were non-existent,
armed violence was rampant in the forum, private persons defended
themselves with house-walls not laws, tribunes were wounded before your
eyes, magistrates houses attacked with re and the sword, a consuls fasces
broken, and the temples of the immortal gods put to the torch. And so I
did not think that I had any place in this city when the res publica had been
banished, nor did I doubt that if ever the res publica were restored, it would
bring me back with it.
The res publica accompanied Cicero into exile, leaving the city a
wilderness. What Cicero provides here is a description, in the negative,
of the attributes of the legitimate Roman state, and it seems that it was
precisely the experience of exile which encouraged Cicero to develop a
rhetoric of political legitimacy.
Between 54 and 51 BCE he produced the De Re Publica, which includes
the rst formal denition of the state (Rep. 1.39):
est igitur, inquit Africanus, res publica res populi, populus autem non omnis hominum
coetus quoquo modo congregatus, sed coetus multitudinis iuris consensu et utilitatis
communione sociatus.
conscious creation of an anti-consolatory genre in these letters. The discomfort with
Ciceros letters from exile may begin in antiquity (e.g. Dio Cass. 38.1829; see also
p. 4 above); a modern example might be David Stocktons conclusion ((1971) 190) that
Cicero in exile reminds one of a petulant and emotionally self-indulgent child.
6
Cf. May (1988) 93, Narducci (1997) 667.
7
Cf. Claassen (1992) 326, Narducci (1997) 5963.
112
sarah t. cohen
Therefore, Africanus said, a res publica is the property of a people, but a
people is not any group of human beings crowded together in any kind
of way, but the assembly of a large number associated by agreement in
regard to justice and by common utility.
If these criteria are not met, there can be no state; Cicero focuses on this
denition of the res publica precisely because it allows him to consider the
question of legitimacy. That is, it enables Cicero to argue that tyranny,
oligarchy and anarchy (usually represented as bad forms of government)
are in fact not governments at all because they lack legitimacy.8 This in
turn underlies his assertion that because Clodius tribunate was a period
of anarchy, there was no legitimate state in Rome during Ciceros exile.
The notion that the exile of a leading statesman damaged the state was
not unknown; Ciceros innovation here is to link his exile explicitly with
the question of the legitimacy of the government he left behind.9
At least part of the longing for Rome seen in the letter to Caelius
quoted above might be due to Ciceros knowledge that the situation
in Rome was critical. The tension between Caesar and his opponents
came to a head when Caesar was denied the privilege of standing for
election in absentia; rather than return to Rome as a private citizen
and face a politically-motivated prosecution, Caesar brought his legions
into Italy under arms, triggering civil war. On January 7th 49 BCE,
the Senate demanded that Caesar lay down his command and return
to Rome; a few days later ( January 10th or 11th), Caesar crossed the
Rubicon with his legions behind him, entering Roman territory illegally
under arms. Pompey collected an army of his own and departed from
Italy on March 17th; most of the leading senators accompanied him.
Cicero had returned to Rome in 50 BCE, too late to bring about a
compromise; in any case, it is not clear that any of the major players
were by that point interested in compromise.10
He was left with the choice between staying in Italy (which would be
read as support for Caesar) and following Pompey; he also toyed with
8
113
the idea of simply retiring into exile for the duration. None of these
options appealed to him, and his decision to join Pompey in the end had
more to do with Ciceros sense of obligation to him than with his belief
that Pompey was the lesser of two evils.11
Unenthusiastic about civil war from the beginning, Cicero deserted
Pompeys side as soon as was decentalmost immediately after
Pompeys defeat at the battle of Pharsalusand went back to Italy in the
middle of October, apparently at Caesars invitation.12 Unfortunately
Caesar himself was still in Egypt and Africa ghting Pompeys former
supporters, and Mark Antony, left in charge of Italy, nearly insisted that
Cicero leave again and only relented in the most embarrassing possible
way: having rst announced that all of Pompeys supporters were
barred from Italy, he then issued a proclamation exempting Cicero by
name.13 He remained in Brundisium for about a year, until Caesar came
back to Italy in September of 47 BCE; then, nally, Cicero returned
to Rome. His position during this period was anomalous: other former
Pompeians had gone to Africa to continue ghting or retired into exile.
But one should not forget that quite a few Romans switched sides after
Pharsalus and took active positions in Caesars administrationamong
them a number of perfectly respectable names.14 Marcus Brutus, for
instance, who would famously change sides again in 44 BCE and
conspire to assassinate Caesar, was during this time serving in Caesars
administration in Asia.
The Rome Cicero found on his return was not the republic he
remembered.15 Caesars victory over Pompey had left him in sole control
of the Roman state. During the civil war he had assumed the ofce
of dictator. Traditionally, a dictator was a magistrate appointed with
supreme power (including power over consuls and Senate) for a limited
period to face a specic emergency; Cornelius Sulla, victor in an earlier
11
Cf. Brunt (1986), especially pp. 278. This is not the only view of the two sides
which Cicero adopts: elsewhere he describes the victory of Caesar over Pompey as that
of might over right (e.g. Fam. 4.7.2). See also Stockton (1971) 2569 for Ciceros decisionmaking process and a discussion of his desirability to Caesar and his supporters.
12
As a proconsul with imperium, and the senior proconsul present, he was offered
command of Pompeys forces after the defeat; he refused and was nearly killed for it.
See further Rawson (1983) 202.
13
Along with another man, D. Laelius; cf. Att. 11.6.2, 11.7.24, 11.9.1.
14
Indeed, had Cicero switched wholeheartedly to Caesars side, his position would
have been much more secure; cf. Stockton (1971) 270.
15
In addition to the political changes, Rawson ((1983) 208) notes that many of his
friends and rivals were dead; so too were many of the younger generation.
114
sarah t. cohen
round of civil wars, had taken on the title during his settlement of the
Roman state, but before that it had not been used for over a century.
In 46 BCE Caesar was consul and appointed to the dictatorship for a
ten-year periodextraordinary, considering that the maximum term
for a dictatorship was six months. In 44 BCE, his dictatorship was made
permanent.
In a letter written near the end of 46 BCE (Fam. 9.15.4), Cicero
described the new political process: laws (senatus consulta) were written in
private, and Ciceros name attached to them without his knowledge. He
refers repeatedly to his powerlessness under the new system: his position
rests in the show of support he can grant, rather than in any ability
to act independently.16 With political action severely restricted, Cicero
turned to writing. This was one of the most productive periods of his
life: a host of philosophical and rhetorical works can be dated to these
years.
One of the earliest of these works was the Paradoxa Stoicorum, a treatment
of six Stoic paradoxes dedicated to Marcus Brutus, a Stoic himself and
a leader among Caesars more recent adherents. It was written in early
46 BCE, before the news of Catos death had reached Rome. The work
itself is a mixture of rhetoric and philosophy and has at times been
dismissed as a poor example of both. As Walter Englert (1990) has
demonstrated, however, the combination of rhetoric and philosophy
makes this a crucial work for our understanding of Ciceros philosophic
project. Its purpose, as Cicero himself put it, was to bring philosophy
into the forum in the most striking way: to take topoi which were so
counter-intuitive that even Cicero had mocked them in public and
demonstrate their use in a forensic setting. The paradoxes he chose
may have been a traditional set; they are only what is right is good,
virtue is sufcient for happiness, all wrong acts are equal, every
fool is insane, only the sapiens is free, and only the sapiens is rich.17
The relevance of this work to the political situation in Rome is open to
question; some recent work focuses on the philosophical background of
16
115
This may recall the statue of Minerva that Cicero put up on the Capitol
before leaving Rome in 58 BCE; that statue would even in his absence
represent his devotion to the res publica. This work might, perhaps, serve
the same purpose.19
Ciceros major argument about exile appears in the fourth paradox,
that every fool is insane. The argument is structured roughly as follows:
(a) it is impossible that Cicero was exiled, (b) Clodius believed that he
exiled Cicero, and therefore (c) Clodius is insane. It is not, on the face of
it, the most straightforward way of proving the point, and the argument
is made even more complex by the grounds Cicero uses to prove that he
was never an exile. There was a good Stoic argument available, that the
sapiens is not an exile because he understands that the whole universe is
his patria.20 Cicero mentions this argument in paradox 2 to demonstrate
that the virtuous need not fear death or exile (Parad. 18):
mortemne mihi minitaris, ut omnino ab hominibus, an exilium ut ab improbis
demigrandum sit? mors terribilis est iis quorum cum vita omnia exstinguuntur, non
iis quorum laus emori non potest; exilium autem iis quibus quasi circumscriptus est
habitandi locus, non iis qui omnem orbem terrarum unam urbem ducunt.
Do you threaten me with death, that I must leave all men, or with exile,
that I must leave the wicked? Death is terrible to those who lose everything
18
Ronnick (1991) would deny that the paradoxes are political code aimed specically
at Brutus, but that does not deny that the issues raised in these paradoxes would be
relevant to the Rome of 46 BCE.
19
Cf. Grimal (1990) 3.
20
Cf. Narducci (1997) and see Gaertner and Nesselrath on 6 n. 28, 12, 15 and 934
above.
116
sarah t. cohen
with life itself, not those whose fame cannot die; exile to those whose
dwelling-place is marked by a boundary, not those who consider the whole
world a single city.
In the speech Post reditum ad populum Cicero claimed that while he was
gone there was no legitimate state at Rome; here we see that because
there was no legitimate state in Rome, Cicero was not really an exile.
Exile depends, it seems, on having a place to be exiled from. And in
Ciceros case, as soon as the state was reconstituted, he was recalled: the
re-establishment of consuls and Senate, the consensus populi liberi, and the
iuris et aequitatis . . . memoria are the sign for his own re-establishment. They
are also a restatement of the elements of the legitimate state as dened
in the De Re Publica: the consensus of the people about the common
goodhere, about justice and equityis what sets citizens apart from a
mob and a collection of individuals from a state.
Clodius is presented as doubly a fool: not only did he mistakenly
believe that he had exiled Cicero, but he himself was the one who made
Ciceros exile impossible by destroying the legitimate state.21 Indeed,
21
At the opening of Parad. 29, Cicero seems to refer to the idea that virtue is the only
117
Cicero uses the technical term for exile here (solum mutare or vertere). What
he suggests is impossible in legal terms: soli mutatio is what differentiates
an exile from someone who is away from Rome for any other reason.23
As the rest of this argument makes clear, however, the legal niceties
are not on his mind. Clodius, Cicero goes on to assert, is subject to a
specic decree which had exile as its penalty, as a result of the Bona
Dea affair. This was a major political scandal in 62 BCE: Clodius had
disguised himself as a female ute-player in order to attend a religious
true possession, although even here virtue is recast in political terms like constantia and
consilium.
22
Similar language is seen already in Cic. Dom. 72.
23
Cf. Caec. 100, Liv. 43.2.1 and Gaertners remarks on pp. 23 above.
118
sarah t. cohen
ritual limited to women from the leading families of the Roman state
and held, that year, in Julius Caesars house; the rumor was that he
was trying to seduce Caesars wife. He was discovered and managed to
escape, but was put on trial for intruding on the ritual, cf. Parad. 32:24
familiarissimus tuus de te privilegium tulit ut, si in opertum Bonae Deae accessisses,
exsulares: at te id fecisse etiam gloriari soles. quo modo igitur, tot legibus eiectus in
exilium, nomen exsulis non perhorrescis? Romae sum, inquit. et quidem in operto
fuisti. non igitur, ubi quisque erit, eius loci ius tenebit, si ibi eum legibus esse non
oportebit.
Your own dear friend brought a special bill in your case, that if you had
been present at the Bona Dea festival, you should go into exile: but you
are accustomed to brag that you did this. How, then, since you have been
sentenced by so many laws to exile, do you not shudder at the name exile?
I am at Rome, he says. And you were at the festival, too. A person does
not, therefore, have the right to remain in a place, wherever he happens to
be, if by law it is untting for him to be there.
So did Clodius destroy it, or not? Does Cicero see himself as a populus of
one? Cicero does not need to decide: he is more interested in rhetoric
here than in philosophy. His goal is to assert the conditions for legitimacy
24
Although he had not broken any law, he was tried for incestum, which was redened
for this purpose as intrusion into the rites of the Bona Dea. See further Tatum (1999),
chapter 3.
25
Compare Cic. Dom. 72.
119
and his own close connection with the legitimate state. To do this he
creates a new paradox, political rather than Stoic, as Wallach ((1990)
181) notes, in which the real exiles are in Rome and the true citizen in a
foreign land. The argument reasserts Ciceros own prestige in a political
situation which might have undermined it: without a functioning res
publica to participate in, Cicero needs to develop a new role for himself,
and his experience of exile provides him with one ready-made.
The statesman who embodies the state was an appealing role for
Cicero during the civil war, and provided him with reason to look back
to the period of his exile and return for a model of that role. But the
attack on Clodius in this section of the Paradoxa Stoicorum raises questions
about the nature of the parallel Cicero is drawing in this text. Can we
see his criticisms of Clodius as a veiled critique of the Rome in which he
wrote? Is Clodius simply a stand-in for Ciceros real target, the dictator
Caesar?26 It is certainly true that, in light of Ciceros attachment to
Rome itself, his return to the idea that the res publica can be separated
from the physical site of the city must indicate a serious problem. But
it would be too crude to read Clodius as a simple stand-in for Caesar,
and to assume that Cicero already sees Caesars government as wholly
illegitimate. Caesar, after all, was still ghting in Africa when this was
written, and Cato, as far as Cicero knows, was still alive; Caesars
dominance might have been the most likely outcome, but it was not
perfectly assured. Even if Caesar were to emerge the victor, Clodius
tribunate represents a kind of worst-case scenario for Cicero, while
Caesar might yet be persuaded to bring this Sullanum regnum to a suitably
Sullan end, by restoring republican forms and laying down his own
powers. It is possible to read the Paradoxa Stoicorum as a political work
without recourse to such an analogy: the notion that the true republic
survived in the hearts of men like Cicero and Brutus would have been
comforting to many Romans at this time. The lesson of Ciceros exile
here is that the legitimate state, as dened by Cicero, can be brought
back from disaster, provided that good citizens (dened by intention and
action, not birth or current residence)27 come together to preserve it.
The implicit comparison between the period of Ciceros exile and the
period in which he wrote the Paradoxa Stoicorum is made explicit in a set
26
Leach (2000/1) 3567 notes the importance of Ciceros exile to his self-image, and
the importance of Clodius to that exile; it might have been more surprising had Cicero
managed to raise these issues without mentioning Clodius.
27
Something even Clodius is forced to admit: cf. Parad. 29.
120
sarah t. cohen
of letters written in the same year, especially those concerned with the
recall of Marcus Claudius Marcellus, the consul of 51 BCE and one
of Caesars ercest opponents. Much of Ciceros activity at this time
was concerned with attempts to secure the recall of prominent followers
of Pompey, so exile and return are frequent subjects in these letters.28
Among the list of exiles on whose behalf Cicero worked are names
like Aulus Caecina, Q. Ligarius and Nigidius Figulus.29 Marcellus was
the most prominent member of this group and also, it seems, the most
difcult personality. It is on his behalf that Cicero nally broke his selfimposed public silence and delivered a speech of thanks to Caesar for his
decision to recall Marcellus; this happened toward the end of September
of 46 BCE. He describes the episode in a letter to Servius Sulpicius, who
had been Marcellus colleague in the consulship (Fam. 4.4.3):
fecerat autem hoc senatus, ut, cum a L. Pisone mentio esset facta de Marcello et C.
Marcellus se ad Caesaris pedes abiecisset, cunctus consurgeret et ad Caesarem supplex
accederet. noli quaerere: ita mihi pulcher hic dies visus est ut speciem aliquam viderer
videre quasi reviviscentis rei publicae.
The Senate, however, had arranged that all the senators rose and
approached Caesar in supplication as soon as L. Piso had made mention
of Marcellus and C. Marcellus had thrown himself at Caesars feet. Do
not ask. This seemed to me such a ne day that I thought I saw some
vision of a reviving republic.
28
Some of what he writes falls into the consolatory tradition, for instance his claim
that exile is no disgrace, particularly when one has done no wrong (Fam. 7.7.3). On
Cicero and the consolatory tradition see also pp. 4 and 15 above.
29
These letters are brought together in Shackleton Baileys edition (1977) as nos.
22147. Other addressees are Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, T. Ampius Balbus, Cn.
Plancius, A. Manlius Torquatus and C. Toranius.
30
For the identication, see Hendrickson (1939) and Fanthams remarks, p. 181
below.
121
This is a striking passage. The Senate, at least for men like Brutus and
Cicero, represented the heart of the res publica, and yet in this passage
Rome yields to Marcellus as the point from which exile is to be measured.
As the true representative of the legitimate republic, Marcellus, like
Cicero before him, can never be exiled. Seneca, it seems, understood
the implication (Sen. Helv. 9.6):
illi quidem reditum inpetravit senatus publicis precibus, tam sollicitus ac maestus ut
omnes illo die Bruti habere animum viderentur et non pro Marcello sed pro se deprecari,
ne exules essent si sine illo fuissent . . .
The Senate did indeed by public petitions obtain his recall, being so
troubled and sad that on that day they all seemed to feel as Brutus did and
to plead not for Marcellus but for themselves, lest they should be exiles if
they should be without him . . .
31
Catos suicide is a sign of his refusal to accept Caesars pardon and his right to
122
sarah t. cohen
can return to Rome without leaving exile. The paradox will be reversed:
where Brutus had Marcellus living away from Rome but not in exile,
Cicero would place Marcellus (and by extension himself) in Rome and
in exile at the same time.
Ciceros introduction of the theme of exile in his letters to Marcellus
is careful. Despite his purpose, to persuade his correspondent to return,
he concedes that Marcellus exile has brought him great praise (Fam.
4.7.3):
fateor a plerisque, vel dicam ab omnibus, sapiens tuum consilium, a multis etiam magni
ac fortis animi iudicatum.
I admit that most people, or really everyone, judges your course of action
a wise one, and many think it a sign of courage and high-mindedness.
123
orbem complexa sit, nonne mavis sine periculo tuae domi esse quam cum periculo
alienae?
If he was to allow you to live in peace and liberty, but without your home
and your fortunes, you would still have to consider whether you would
rather live in Rome and in your home, regardless of how things are, or in
Mytilene or Rhodes. But given that the power of him we fear reaches so
far that it embraces the entire world, would you not prefer to live safely in
your own home than to live in danger in someone elses home?
The choice of Rome rather than Mytilene is not one of patria or exilium;
it is simply a matter of comfort and familiarity in exile. Cicero here
refers to a point which he has already made to Marcellus in an earlier
letter, that Rome is as much a place of exile, and as good a place of
exile, as Mytilene. In this earlier passage, written in mid-July of 46 BCE,
Cicero makes the argument that Marcellus ought to return to Rome
and work for the return of the res publica, and presents him with a set of
alternatives (Fam. 4.8.2):
. . . ut, quod ego facio, tu quoque animum inducas, si sit aliqua res publica, in ea te esse
oportere iudicio hominum reque principem, necessitate cedentem tempori; sin autem nulla
sit, hunc tamen aptissimum esse etiam ad exsulandum locum.
. . . so that you may consider, as I do myself, that if there is some sort of
commonwealth the rst place in it belongs to you in the judgment of the
people and in fact, even though you would necessarily be yielding to the
conditions of the time, and that, if there is no commonwealth, this place
is still the best also for living in exile.
124
sarah t. cohen
exist, driving all good Romans into exile, wherever they happen to be.34
Rather than asserting that true Romans carry the res publica within them,
and thus are never exiles, Cicero claims that all true Romans are now
exiles. What makes this different is Ciceros insistence that in this case to
be in exile in Rome is not a sign of moral failure. Quite the opposite: it
is the mark of a good citizen to understand that he is in exile.
In light of this complex of ideas, Ciceros response to Marcellus recall
becomes explicable. What gives him hope is not the action of the Senate
but Caesars decision to recall Marcellus: it is this which Cicero links
with the return of republican government. Marcellus unwillingness to
return made him even more appealing as a gurehead; by refusing to
play the suppliant, Marcellus turned his exile from a misfortune to a
sign of his superior virtus. In exile, he is the true representative of the
Republic, and Caesars decision to recall him can be read, at least by
Cicero, as a promise to restore a republican government. But the idea
raised in the letters, that Marcellus could be in exile even in Rome,
makes his physical return a moment of particular signicance: is this
a true return, of Marcellus along with the res publica, or will he (and
Cicero, and others like them) be left in perpetual exile wherever they
are?
That Cicero placed himself in exile alongside Marcellus is clear from
another letter (Fam. 7.3), written to M. Marius, probably a connection
from Arpinum, to explain his actions after Pharsalus. If Shackleton
Baileys dating is correct, this letter predates the letters to Marcellus by
a couple of months; this is dated to April of 46 BCE, and the earlier of
the two letters to Marcellus to July of that year. It would seem, then, that
Cicero developed the idea of exile in Rome to use rst in his own case,
and only later applied it to Marcellus, cf. Fam. 7.3.45:
veni domum, non quo optima vivendi condicio esset, sed tamen, si esset aliqua forma
rei publicae, tamquam in patria ut essem, si nulla, tamquam in exsilio . . . notum tibi
omne meum consilium esse volui, ut . . . scires . . . nunc . . ., si haec civitas est, civem esse
34
In fact, Ciceros attitude to the state of the res publica under Caesar is complex. At
best it is sick or wounded, at worst dead. The possibility that Cicero does not believe
that Caesars government in Rome represents any kind of res publica is raised by Cicero
himself in the letter in which he describes Marcellus recall (Fam. 4.4.4); his concern
at this point is to prevent Caesar from suspecting that this is what he believes, rather
than to deny that he believes it. The expectations he expresses are generally tailored
to his audience, and it is difcult to determine what Cicero actually thought; nor is it
necessary that his beliefs about the possibility of Caesars restoration of the res publica
were constant. For one interpretation, see Mitchell (1991) 2818.
125
me, si non, exsulem esse non incommodiore loco quam si Rhodum <me> aut Mytilenas
contulissem.
I came home, not because it would be the best place to live, but nevertheless,
if there should be any kind of res publica, that I should seem to be in my
homeland, and if not, I would seem to be in exile . . . I wanted you to be
acquainted with all my views, so that you might know . . . that now . . ., if
this is a legitimate state, I am a citizen, and if not, I am an exile in no more
uncomfortable place than if I had taken myself to Rhodes or Mytilene.
126
sarah t. cohen
The role of the man at Rome and that of the man in the provinces are
now reversed. Just as Rome is no longer the center, the provinces are no
37
Cf. Nesselrath, pp. 87 ff. above, imprimis pp. 93, 98, 1045.
127
128
sarah t. cohen
Although Cicero generally held back from politics and from criticism
of Caesar, this metaphor does carry a political meaning. Ciceros choice
of exile, like that of the Pompeians and neutrals who stayed away
from Rome, was a challenge to Caesars power. Indeed, the idea of
a metaphorical exile opens this challenge to include men who joined
Caesar in Rome; the similarity which it allows Cicero to construct
between both Caesarians and Pompeians may even allow him to draw
new lines for a future struggle in Rome, between the supporters of the
res publica and those of autocracy. Cicero, of course, was uninvolved
with the assassination which restored a form of republican government
to Rome, but his readiness to return home to the Republic and to take
up a position of leadership in it (as well as the fact that that position
remained available to him) suggest that whatever the political situation in
Rome, Cicero never allowed the res publica and his own association with
it to disappear. The metaphor of exile permitted Cicero to maintain his
loyalty to that system even as he lived under a very different one.
Finally, there is the issue of Ciceros originality. Whatever else is said
of Ciceros writings, he is rarely singled out as an original thinker. Yet
in this case, the idea of the internal exile of a good citizen whose state
has changed around him may be his own invention. The statesman in
exile was a well-established gure in ancient historiography, as was the
statesman whose exile did serious damage to the state from which he was
exiled, but the statesman in exile in his own land was an oxymoron.39
But in the res publica perturbata of Caesars Rome, only a paradox could
suitably explain the situation of a man like Cicero. This metaphorical
exile does not involve the separation of Cicero from the res publica;
instead, as I have shown, it keeps that bond as strong as possible under
the circumstances. No other metaphor expressed Ciceros new life so
well as this one, or could serve so many purposes in his communication
with others. In the metaphor of internal exile, Cicero has found an
expression which is effective, appropriate, and original.
39
The difculty of a metaphorical exile, especially a voluntary one, is underlined by
the rarity of such an image. Doblhofer (1987) 23141 applies the term internal exile
to Cicero during this period and at the end of his life. A modern point of comparison
may be found in the somewhat controversial idea of the innere Emigration of certain
German authors who remained in Nazi Germany. Brief overviews of this phenomenon
may be found in Grunberger (1971) 3545 and Taylor (1980) 26490, especially pp.
2668 and 27783. The term innere Emigration was coined by Frank Thiess; for the
origin of the idea and of the controversy surrounding it, see Mann/Thiess/von Molo
(1946).
CHAPTER SEVEN
See Gaertner, pp. 23 above, on the ancient terminology and on the need for a
broad denition of exile when dealing with Greco-Roman antiquity.
2
It is interesting that exile is not one of the typical plot elements listed in the lively
discussion of Lowe (2000).
3
See Bowie on pp. 247 above and Gaertners remarks on pp. 78 above.
4
Cf. Harrison (1990) and pp. 1415 n. 76 above.
130
stephen j. harrison
ktistic exile moving from Troy to Italy. Aeneas departure from Troy
and wanderings around the Mediterranean are consistently presented
as a form of exile, and when Aeneas complains to his mother that he is
Europa atque Asia pulsus (1.385) he uses a word which is standard for exilic
expulsion.5 The theme of exile and its sufferings is naturally prominent
in Aeneas own narrative in books 2 and 3: at 2.6378 Anchises initially
refuses to join his son in leaving his homeland for exile in old age (abnegat
excisa vitam producere Troia / exsiliumque pati ), while the ghostly Creusa does
not spare Aeneas in her foretelling of future wanderings and lengthy
exile (2.780: longa tibi exsilia et vastum maris aequor arandum). Aeneas as
retrospective narrator is fully conscious that he is leading his men into
a long and arduous exilic journey around the Mediterranean, cf. 2.798:
collectam exsilio pubem, 3.45: diversa exsilia et desertas quaerere terras / auguriis
agimur divum, 3.1112: feror exsul in altum / cum sociis natoque penatibus et
magnis dis.
At Carthage, Aeneas encounters Dido, another ktistic exile already
busy founding a new city, evidently matching Aeneas own mission (cf.
1.437 (Aeneas speaking): o fortunati, quorum iam moenia surgunt ). As has
often been noted, the pairs shared exilic experience and ktistic role
provide a psychologically plausible motivation for their immediate
mutual attraction, and Dido herself declares to Aeneas that she knows
from experience what he has been through (1.62830):
me quoque per multos similis fortuna labores
iactatam hac demum voluit consistere terra:
non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco.
A similar fortune has tossed me, too, through many toils and has willed that
in the end I should settle down in this land. Having experienced distress
myself I know how to aid wretched people.6
5
6
131
7
8
132
stephen j. harrison
Venus (Il. 5.297317), his refusal to ght again points to the inevitability
of Aeneas victory this time. The war in Italy, in many ways a second
Trojan War,9 thus neatly excludes the most important Greek survivor of
the rst Trojan War who could have participated. The motif of exile for
a former opponent from the victorious Greek side at Troy is also found
in the case of Idomeneus. When the Trojans arrive in Crete, their old
Iliadic adversary has been exiled from the island (cf. 3.1212: fama volat
pulsum regnis cessisse paternis / Idomenea ducem). Thus both these fearsome
warriors are in exile, and though one is in exile close to Aeneas both are
conveniently removed or disarmed, so that Aeneas never meets in battle
the same adversaries who defeated his city.
In general, Italy itself seems to abound in ktistic exiles before Aeneas
reaches it.10 Quite apart from the recently-arrived Antenor (above),
Evander is in exile from Greece with his Arcadians at Pallanteum
(8.3335):
me pulsum patria pelagique extrema sequentem
Fortuna omnipotens et ineluctabile fatum
his posuere locis.
Almighty Fortune and an inevitable fate have placed me in these places,
me, who am expelled from my native land and follow the most distant
tracts of the sea.
This exilic status, and the location of Pallanteum at the site of the
future Rome, clearly parallels him with Aeneas as a successful founding
immigrant; the mythographic tradition that Evander went into exile
after killing his father under persuasion from his mother, recorded
by Servius on Verg. A. 8.51, is conveniently erased in the search for a
positive parallel with Aeneas, conversely famous for saving his father.
Italy seems to have been the home of exiles from its earliest times: even
Saturn, the presiding deity of the Italian Golden Age, came to Italy in
exile from Olympus when overthrown by Jupiter (8.31925). Again the
parallel with Aeneas is clear: the immigrant ruler establishes a peaceful
regime and turns the suffering of exile into the prosperity of a new
state.
133
The Latins who face Aeneas in the war in Italy also have exilic
connections. Turnus, though Italian-born, is a kind of Greek abroad,
an Argive in Italy, as Juno with her own close Argive connections (cf. Il.
4.504) is keen to present him (7.3712):
et Turno, si prima domus repetatur origo,
Inachus Acrisiusque patres mediaeque Mycenae.
And, if we go back to the rst origin of his house, Inachus and Acrisius
and Mycenae itself are the ancestors of Turnus.11
11
Cf. also 7.78992, where the Argive heroine Io (similarly addened by Juno) is
depicted on his shield and 7.794, where his forces are named as Argiva . . . pubes.
12
Cf. Harrison (1991) 273.
134
stephen j. harrison
infantem fugiens media inter proelia belli
sustulit exsilio comitem, matrisque vocavit
nomine Casmillae mutata parte Camillam.
When Metabus, expelled from his kingdom because of ill-feeling and his
arrogant strength, left Privernum, the ancient city, as he ed through the
centre of the battle, he took with him his child as a companion in exile
and called her after her mother Casmillas name, but slightly changed,
Camilla.
The evident thematic link with Mezentius the exiled tyrant is here
reinforced by verbal resemblance (11.539: pulsus ob invidiam regno ~
10.852: pulsus ob invidiam solio), and as with Mezentius this invidious
image is softened by a moving presentation of the tyrants fatherly care.
This occurs in the famous episode where Metabus ties his baby daughter
to a spear and throws it over the river to safety, and rears her alone amid
wild animals (11.54772).
Thus the Aeneid presents as its central structural feature the
triumphant overcoming of exilic danger and uncertainty: the destructive
reverberations and geographical dispersals necessarily consequent on
the end of the Trojan War are turned to a positive and civilising purpose
in establishing a proto-Roman foundation in Italy. It also presents a
plot where the exile of the hero and his companions is a key mode of
engendering sympathy. A number of other exilic gures appear, who
are made to reect in various ways on Aeneas and his mission in Italy
and whose stories are manipulated so as to relate appropriately to the
poems primary plot of successful emigration and foundation. Some
of these gures are motivated to interact with Aeneas on the basis of
their shared exilic experience, while others present morally inferior
kinds of exiles, expelled from their communities not (like Aeneas) by the
fortune of war but by political misbehaviour, reminding us by contrast
of Aeneas kingly qualities.13 But even these evil exiles (Mezentius and
Metabus) can be softened in presentation through sympathetic children
for whom they show fatherly care, thus underlining the pietas which is a
key theme of the Aeneid.
Modern scholarship on Ovids Metamorphoses has often stressed its diverse
explorations of its eponymous theme of transformation.14 One form of
13
14
135
15
For the most convincing post-exilic allusion at Met.15.8719 see Kovacs (1987)
4635, and for the specic case of Daedalus see below. For some advocates of post-exilic
revision of the Metamorphoses see Hardie (1995) 213 n. 47. Cf. also p. 155 n. 4 below.
16
See Hardie (1990).
17
For the link see Anderson (1996) 400.
136
stephen j. harrison
furit audacissimus omni
de numero Lycabas, qui Tusca pulsus ab urbe
exilium dira poenam pro caede luebat.
Lycabas raged, the boldest of all the group, who had been expelled from
the Tuscan city and was atoning through his exile for an awful slaughter.
dira . . . caede clearly recalls the infandas caedes inicted by Mezentius on his
citizens (Verg. A. 8.483), and Lycabas (like Mezentius) is punished for
his wrong-doing.
Just as some stories in the Metamorphoses contain repeated physical
metamorphoses (e.g. that of Peleus and Thetis, Met. 11.22165, or that
of Arachne, Met. 6.10328), so there is at least one exile story in which
the motif of exile is repeated several times. This is the narrative of
Medea. In Met. 7 we see her leaving her home of Colchis for Iolcus
with Jason (1558), her departure into exile from Iolcus after the death
of Pelias (351: fugit), her departure from Corinth after her licide
(397: effugit), her cordial reception as an exile (402: excipit) by Aegeus in
Athens, and her nal ight after attempted poisoning of Theseus (424:
effugit). These repeated exiles have an important structural function in
the poem, linking up the Argonaut story from the end of book 6 with
the Theseus cycle of books 7 and 8. Thus exile can be used as part
of the narrative grammar of the Metamorphoses, and perhaps, given its
role as a form of metamorphosis, help to hold the poem together by
repeatedly referring to its overt topic of transformation.
Finally, we come to two stories where a characters exile tempts the
reader to make connections with the post-exilic Ovid. In book 8 we nd
the great inventor Daedalus trapped in effective exile on Crete, longing
to return to his home in the metropolis of Athens (Met. 8.1835):
Daedalus interea Creten longumque perosus
exilium tactusque loci natalis amore
clausus erat pelago.
Meanwhile Daedalus, who had come to hate Crete and his long exile and
was touched by love for his native land, was shut in by the sea.
The picture given in this famous episode of the supreme articer in exile
across the sea, longing to return to a great city and trying unsuccessfully
to use his powers of creation, sets up a seductive parallel with the Ovid
of the exile poetry seeking to get back to Rome through his poetic art.18
18
See Hinds (1985) for Ovids attempt to book the return trip in exile, and Sharrock
(1994) 16873 for the specic link between the exiles of Daedalus and Ovid.
137
19
Collected by Sharrock (1994) 16873, but see now also Gaertner (2005) on Ov.
Pont. 1.2.97.
20
See e.g. Hardie (1995) 212.
21
Cf. Hardie (1995) 214.
138
stephen j. harrison
material, and suggesting that exile itself is a form of the poems central
unifying topic of metamorphosis. Finally, the poems inclusion of exiled
intellectuals with thoughts of home or interest in lengthy discourse
about metamorphosis points at least potentially to the poets own exile
in Tomis.
Lucans epic faithfully reects a key feature of the civil war between
Caesar and Pompeythe fact that most of its crucial events took place
outside Italy. Thus this civil war is largely fought out by two sides at least
temporarily in exile: the action moves soon (by the end of book 2) from
Italy to Gaul, Illyria, Greece and Egypt, even Troy, never returning to
Rome or Italy in the incomplete text we have.22 Some on the losing
Pompeian side suffered exile in the long term too: C. Claudius Marcellus,
allowed to return from Mytilene to Rome by Caesars clemency in
46 BC,23 was one of the lucky ones. This exilic aspect is part of the
general presentation of a world out of joint: Romans are presented
in a series of alien environments pursuing the negative project of the
effective destruction of the Roman state. Exile here is in effect antiktistic, inverting the Vergilian master narrative of successful emigration
and new foundation: Rome is unmade by geographical dispersal, not
created by integrative settlement.
Exile is a clear debating topic between the sides in the opening book
of Lucans poem, where both use it to argue for their own position. At
1.2779 Curio claims that the right is with him and the Caesarians since
they have been forced out of Rome and are enduring exile willingly
only Caesars victory will re-establish normality and the rule of law:
at postquam leges bello siluere coactae
pellimur e patriis laribus patimurque volentes
exilium: tua nos faciet victoria cives.
But after the laws have fallen silent because of the war, we are forced away
from the Lares of our fathers and suffer exile voluntarily: your victory will
make us citizens again.
139
unwilling exile of Pompey and his supporters who abandon Rome and
Italy as Caesar approaches. It has long been pointed out that Pompeys
departure from Rome is a systematically perverted re-run of Aeneas
departure from Troy;24 the Trojans ee to establish the rm future of
Rome, whereas here Romans, Senate, magistrates and people, ee the
city itself into the uncertainty of exilecf. e.g. 1.48892:
490
. . . invisaque belli
consulibus fugiens mandat decreta senatus.
tum, quae tuta petant et quae metuenda relinquant
incerti, quo quemque fugae tulit impetus urguent
praecipitem populum . . .
. . . and the Senate ed and left to the consuls the hated declaration of war.
Then uncertain which safe places they should seek or which dangerous
places they should leave, wherever the thrust of the ight carried them,
they tread the heels of the hastening people. . . .
This ight into exile and civil war is summed up in a typically brilliant
sententia (1.5034): sic urbe relicta / in bellum fugitur.
Here as elsewhere the emotional colouring of exile is used to elicit
sympathy for the Pompeian cause. Another example is the simile which
compares Pompey to a defeated bull as he retreats to Brundisium and
(ultimately) the sea (2.6019):25
605
Just as a bull, driven out from his herd in his rst battle, seeks the recesses
of the forests and, as an exile in the deserted elds, tests his horns on
the tree-trunks and does not return to the pastures until his neck has
recovered and his muscles have grown strong, and soon leads the herd
he has regained accompanied by the bulls to whichever glades he pleases,
victorious, against the herdsmans will: so Pompey, inferior in strength,
24
140
stephen j. harrison
surrendered Italy and as a fugitive retreated through rural Apulia to the
safe fortresses of Brundisium.
This simile seems to convey Pompeys hopes of reculer pour mieux sauter,
hopes which are ironically not fullled (he will not return or achieve free
movement ever again); Caesar is a more effective controlling pastor than
the one in the simile, and Pompeys exile will be permanent. Even in
death Pompey will not return to his homeland (cf. 8.837: exul adhuc iacet
umbra ducis); indeed he will end up out of the world altogether (9.114).
As he nally leaves Italy Pompey is again the new Aeneas, going into
exile with sons, household gods and a band of followers (2.72830):
cum coniuge pulsus
et natis totosque trahens in bella penates
vadis adhuc ingens populis comitantibus exul.
Driven out with your wife and your sons, taking with you the entire
household into war, you [i.e. Pompey] go away, mighty still as an exile,
accompanied by entire nations.
The notion that despite his best intentions he will never return is strongly
played for emotional colour at the beginning of book 3, recalling the
similar stress on exilic departure at the matching structural point of the
Aeneid (3.45 and 1112, see p. 130 above)cf. 3.47:26
solus ab Hesperia non exit lumina terra
Magnus, dum patrios portus, dum litora numquam
ad visus reditura suos tectumque cacumen
nubibus et dubios cernit vanescere montis.
Magnus [i.e. Pompey] alone did not turn away his eyes from the Italian
soil, while he saw grow dim and vanish before his eyes his native harbours,
the coast he was never to see again, the hilltops covered with clouds and
the mountains.
Once the Pompeians are out of Italy, ironies arise about political
authority in exile. In the Senate-in-exile called in Epirus at 5.164,27
the paradox of the position is exploited: the senators meet in a humble
camp, not in the mighty Curia, and in northern Greece, not in Rome,
a foreign and a lowly place (Braunds translation (1992): cf. 5.910:
peregrina ac sordida sedes / Romanos cepit proceres). Lentulus, the presiding
26
Cf. the comments of Hunink (1992) 28 on the Vergilian models here (though he
does not make the point about the matching third books).
27
For discussion of the scene see Masters (1992) 93106.
141
Never has this order [sc. the Senate] lost its rights because of a change
of place. Caesar controls the weeping houses and the empty homes [sc.
of Rome] and the silenced laws and a forum closed in grim holiday. That
Senate there only contains senators which the [true] Senate expelled when
the city had not yet been deserted. Whoever has not been exiled from this
great order [ i.e. the true Senate] is here.
28
The idea has a close precedent in Ciceros reections on exile and legitimisation,
cf. Cohens observations on pp. 120 ff. above, especially p. 127.
142
stephen j. harrison
This second exile will not only throw Pompey on the mercy of an eastern
potentate; it will also feature lesser eastern potentates such as Deiotarus
as companions (8.2089: terrarum dominos et sceptra Eoa tenentis / exul habet
comites). The transformation of circumstances from Pompeys departure
from Italy at the end of book 2, accompanied by the Roman people, not
by eastern kings (cf. 2.730: vadis adhuc ingens populis comitantibus exulsee
above) is a striking index of his desperation and decline.
Thus the theme of exile is deployed to several literary purposes in
Lucans epic. Firstly, it is used to allude to and present differences from
the positive ktistic plot of the Aeneid: Pompey leaves his homeland like
Aeneas, but there is no founding mission and no happy issue of his
journeyRome is doomed like Troy and there is no resulting new
city, only the destruction of the old one under future imperial tyranny.
Secondly, the quasi-legal issue of who is in exile and who is not during a
civil war graphically frames a situation in which the normal mechanisms
of the state have broken down to produce a political and legal vacuum in
which either of the two sides can make competing claims of legitimacy
and hard treatment. Finally, the emotional power of exile is enlisted to
present Pompey as a character: the two stages of his exile, leaving Rome
and Italy and then heading for the East after Pharsalus, form a narrative
of increasing humiliation and despair which elicits readerly sympathy.
Though much of the action of Silius Italicus Punica takes place when
one or other of the two protagonists (Hannibal and Scipio) is away from
his native land and perhaps in exile in some sense, most of the rmer
references to exile in fact encompass events outside the story-time of the
poem, looking back to the literary and mythological antecedents of the
poems action or forward to consequences in the future.
The rst pair of references to exile (like so much in Silius) looks back
to the world of the Aeneid, once again underlying the treatment of exile
in a post-Vergilian epic.29 When Juno/Tanit stirs up Hannibal to ght
the Romans at the beginning of the poem, she refers scornfully to the
exile of Aeneas from Troy which founded the Roman state (1.424):
intulerit Latio, spreta me Troius, inquit,
exul Dardaniam et, bis numina capta, penates
sceptraque fundarit victor Lavinia Teucris . . .
29
On the use of Vergil in Silius see von Albrecht (1964) 16684, Feeney (1991) 301
12 and Hardie (1993).
143
Against my will, she said, the Trojan exile has brought to Latium
Dardania and his household gods, deities that have been taken prisoners
twice, and victorious he has founded a Lavinian kingdom for the
Trojans . . .
In both cases the word exul has a derogatory quality and is deployed as
an insult.
The eventual future exile of Hannibal after the events of the poem,
wandering from Hellenistic court to court until his death in 183 BC, is
twice anticipated in the poem, each time with similar negative colouring.
The poets intervention at the end of book 2 foretells this future exile,
anticipated as a counterpoint to his high moment of victory in the
capture of Saguntum (2.7013):
vagus exul in orbe
errabit toto patriis proiectus ab oris,
tergaque vertentem trepidans Carthago videbit.
Homeless, as an exile he will wander over the whole world, expelled from
his native land, and fearful Carthage will see him retreating.
144
stephen j. harrison
ultimate exile of Hannibal after its own events stresses that he is indeed
punished in the long term for his villainy in attacking Rome, even if he
is not killed at Zama.
In book 10 we see exile again as disreputable, this time as part of a
cowardly plan by Metellus and a band of conspirators to beat a tactical
retreat over the sea after the disaster of Cannae (10.41821):
trans aequor Tyrios enses atque arma parabant
Punica et Hannibalem mutato evadere caelo.
dux erat exilio non laetus Marte Metellus,
sed stirpe haud parvi cognominis.
They were preparing to evade Tyrian swords and Punic arms and
Hannibal by changing the sky they gazed upon across the sea. The leader
in this exile was Metellus, not successful in war, but of a family of great
name.
145
The sympathy for his exile here is linked with their regret at not heeding
his views in book 11, which would have prevented the sack of their city
by Rome. Decius can perhaps be seen as the counterweight to Metellus
in book 10: the dishonourable Metellus urges exile from Italy as a
cowardly exit after Hannibals triumph at Cannae, while Decius unjust
exile after Hannibals occupation of Capua is a mark of his virtue. A
similar positive use of exile in the presentation of a Roman hero is to
be found in the apostrophe by Fabius Cunctator of the great Camillus
and his return from exile to defeat the Gauls in 390 BC and celebrate a
triumph in the city which had so recently expelled him (7.5579):
quantus qualisque fuisti,
cum pulsus lare et extorris Capitolia curru
32
However, Silius narrates, his ship was diverted to Cyrene and he avoided torture
in Carthage: 11.37780.
146
stephen j. harrison
intrares exul, tibi corpora caesa, Camille,
damnata quot sunt dextra!
How great and what a man you were, Camillus, when youexpelled from
your home and banished, an exileentered the Capitol in a chariot, how
many bodies were slain by your right hand that had been punished [sc.
with exile]!
The point here is that Camillus was too noble to hold a grudge against
Rome for his exile and willingly returned to save his country.
Thus the main deployment of the theme of exile in the poem seems to
be to use the ideas emotional weight to carry ideological disapproval or
approval and sympathy. On the one hand, it is emphatically deployed as
an insult in verbal attack and negative comment, and as the anticipated
and just punishment for the villainous Hannibal for his war against
Rome. On the other hand, we nd the emotionally sympathetic power
of exile deployed to good effect in scenes of momentary doubt about the
eventual outcome of the war, and in presentations of Roman and Italian
heroes as noble exiles. The theme of exile belongs mainly to events
in the past or future: only the inglorious proposed exile of Metellus
and the unjust exile of Decius present exile as a contemporary event
in the Second Punic War, which stresses its symbolic and ideological
function.
The voyage of the Argo is a mythological plot-line which involves the
temporary exile of the main hero and his companions and results in
the permanent exile of the heroine. By contrast with the Aeneid, we here
have an epic voyage which moves from West to East rather than East to
West, and which is avowedly a temporary absence from Greece rather
than a foundational journey into exile. In Valerius Flaccus version in
the Argonautica, the theme of exile is largely prominent in the treatment
of Medea, though it is not forgotten that Jason and the Argonauts are
exiles of a kind. This is stressed once in a disparaging and tendentious
reference by the tyrant Aeetes, presenting them as the scourings of
Greece rather than as the impressive list of heroes they actually are
(7.435):
quinquaginta Asiam (pudet heu) penetrarit Iason
exulibus meque ante alios sic spreverit una,
una ratis, spolium ut vivo de rege reportet?
Shall Jason make his way through Asia with fty exiles (what a shame!)
and shall one, one!, boat treat me before others with so little respect as to
carry away spoils from a living king?
147
The model of the exile Phrixus, Jasons relative who ed from Greece
to Colchis and stayed there to marry Aeetes other daughter, is also a
strong underlying presence in the poem from its very beginning.33 The
devious tyrant Pelias claims at 1.4150 (clearly falsely)34 that Phrixus
ghost appeared to him demanding vengeance for his murder by Aeetes,
thus suggesting a moral motive for the expedition, which he urges upon
his nephew Jason as a punitive one to avenge Phrixus death. However,
it is clear that Phrixus was in fact well received by Aeetes, married his
daughter Chalciope, and died a natural death (5.2245,2335). In a
vision which clearly matches that of Pelias in book 1 and links the two
tyrants as characters, Phrixus ghost even appears to Aeetes in Colchis
to give a helpful warning that he must be careful to guard both the
Golden Fleece and Medea (5.23340), an important moment in the plot
which looks forward to the battles with the Argonauts in book 6:
235
240
Oh you, who have allowed me to settle in these places when I had been
exiled from my native land and was looking for a home, who soon offered
his offspring to me as bride and sought me as his son-in-law: the ruins of
your kingdom and weeping will be left to you once the Golden Fleece has
been taken from the sleep-drugged grove. Moreover Medea, who is now
sacred to Diana of the underworld and leads chaste choruses, must be
betrothed to any one of her suitors in order that she may not remain a
virgin in the kingdom of her father.
33
34
35
148
stephen j. harrison
reception given his older relative. It is ironic of course that this point is
made by Phrixus himself.
The role of Medea as exile, as already suggested, forms a key focus
of interest in the poem, which tells how she was induced to leave her
homeland for love. Even before the Argonauts reach Colchis, we nd the
song of Orpheus on the theme of the story of Io, clearly suggestive of
the future career of Medea (4.348421).36 The brief summary prexed
to the song makes the point clear (4.34951):
refert casusque locorum
Inachidosque vias pelagusque emensa iuvencae
exilia . . .
He [i.e. Orpheus] tells the history of these places, the wanderings of
Inachus daughter, and the exiles of the heifer that wandered so far across
the sea
149
150
stephen j. harrison
the poem. Exile, indeed, goes back further in the Theban royal house:
we are twice reminded in the opening book that Thebes was founded
by Cadmus, exiled from his homeland of Tyre (1.1534: Tyrii . . . / exulis;
cf. also 1.17885), a story famously narrated at the opening of the third
book of Ovids Metamorphoses (see p. 135 above). The suggestion is that
the Theban royal house is tainted from the start, by the disgrace of exile
as well as by the ancestral fratricide of the Spartoi, both to be renewed
in the generation of the sons of Oedipus (cf. 1.1845).42 Exile thus leads
to catastrophe for Thebes: as in Lucan, this deployment of exile in the
context of disastrous internecine strife and the effective destruction of
a city constitutes a neat reversal of exile as the means of the foundation
of Rome in the Aeneid and the larger tradition of ktistic epic (see p. 129
above).
The role of exile as a key indicator of the dysfunctional relationship
between the two brothers is most forcefully put by the virtuous and
doomed seer Maeon in his attack on Eteocles at 3.714:
bellum infandum ominibusque negatam
movisti, funeste, aciem, dum pellere leges
et consanguineo gliscis regnare superbus
exule.
Deadly one! You have initiated an accursed war and stirred forth an army
forbidden by the omens, while you desire to drive away the laws and rule
yourself in pride, while he who shares your blood is in exile.
Here the word exule is both postponed to the end of its clause and
isolated by enjambment to achieve maximum emphasis and contrast
with consanguineo: allowing blood relatives (let alone brothers) to remain
in exile as a result of unjust retention of power is clearly presented
as especially morally repugnant. Here as elsewhere (cf. 1.312, 4.77)
Polynices, the central exile of the poem, is referred to simply as exul, a
word which occurs with unusual frequency in the poem, almost always
in reference to him.43 This is especially useful in the description of the
nal duel between the two brothers, where the shorthand exul allows a
swift narrative pace to be maintained while switching the focus from
Eteocles to Polynices (cf. 11.503,516,540).
42
Note that Polynices himself can be called Tyrius . . . exul (3.406), thus stressing the
continuity between himself and Cadmus.
43
32 times; contrast no occurrences in the Aeneid, nine in Ovids Metamorphoses, 14 in
Lucan, one in Valerius Flaccus, and ve in Silius Italicus.
151
The prospect that her son and her fathers grandson will have the
shameful status of the child of an exile clearly carries considerable
emotional weight.45 Likewise, Antigone in book 11 tries desperately to
avert the nal duel between her brothers while similarly stressing her
own personal appreciation of Polynices exiled sufferings (11.3779):
tu mihi fortis adhuc, mihi, quae tua nocte dieque
exilia erroresque eo iam iamque tumentem
placavi tibi saepe patrem?
Are you still stubborn to me, who wept over your exile and wanderings
day and night and again and again appeased your father when he grew
angry against you?
44
On the emotional power of the word exul in the Thebaid see Dewar (1991) 68.
Snijder (1968) 260 aptly compares Verg. A. 10.8512, where Mezentius claims that
the shame of his exile has injured the reputation of his son Lausus.
46
As Smolenaars (1994) 231 notes, exilio vagus picks up the earlier description of
Polynices as vagus exul at 1.312.
45
152
stephen j. harrison
405
The fast circle has already turned the star-bearing orbit and the lost
shadows have returned to the mountains since your poor brother has led
the sad life of an exile in foreign cities, and the time has come for you to
spend days under the open sky and to suffer the earths cold with your
body and to seek support submissively at foreign homes.
This exile and the (accidental) fratricide which caused it47 are clearly
elements which pair Tydeus with the already exiled and eventual
fratricide Polynices, an afnity which is augmented by their marriages
to the two sister Argive princesses in book 2. Polynices recognises this
emotional bond of exile early on, referring to the two of them as
exulibus . . . patriaque fugatis (2.190), and it is raised with especial emotional
power in the scene where Polynices laments over the dead Tydeus at
9.4953:
47
50
153
Oenides, last hope of my arms! Is this my gratitude, is this the due reward
that you lie here, dead, in the hated land of Cadmus, while I am still alive?
Now I am for ever an exile and a fugitive, since, wretched me, I have lost
another brother and a better one.
154
stephen j. harrison
exile to describe the political situation during and after the Civil War, too, may have
exerted an inuence, cf. Cohens remarks on Cicero, pp. 120 ff., above, especially
p. 127.
* I am grateful to Gesine Manuwald for many helpful comments on a previous
draft.
CHAPTER EIGHT
156
right back to the author himself, who claims again and again that his
relegation to Tomis on the Black Sea has destroyed his former poetic
genius.5 Though harsh statements like that of Hosius ((1935) 2489), in
whose eyes the pitiful thing about the exile poetry was the poetic form
rather than the plight of the poet, have become rare, Ovids situation in
exile is still seen as the main reason for differences in style and content
between his exilic and his non-exilic poetry: Doblhofer ((1978), (1980))
has interpreted Ovids exile poetry along the lines of Verzweiung and
Selbstbehauptung, explaining e.g. the motif of continuous weeping
and Ovids puns in the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto as outpourings
of his soul and attempts at self-consolation; similarly, Claassen (1999b,c)
has argued for a systematic and deliberate un-punning of elegiac
terms from Ovids earlier poetry; Gonzlez Vzquez ((1987), (1997),
(1998) 110, 116) has seen redundant expressions and typical features of
Nordens Neuer Stil in Ovids exile poetry as results of the poets fear
of being forgotten in Rome and of his tendency towards psychological
interiorisacin; Videau-Delibes (1991) has developed a potique
de la rupture which negates ars and has as its sole objective the
communication of personal suffering,6 and Malaspina ((1995) 141) has
proposed that such a rhetoric has made Ovid adopt a more prosaic and
colloquial, even negligent style.7 Such interpretations turn Ovids exile
into a condicio sine qua aliter for the form and content of Ovids Tristia,
Ibis, and Epistulae ex Ponto, i.e. they suggest that Ovids banishment not
only prompted the author to choose his own life in exile as subject for
his poetry, but also fundamentally changed his way of writing. But are
Ovids Tristia, Ibis, and Epistulae ex Ponto really so fundamentally different
from the poets earlier works?8
I shall begin by taking a closer look at the themes and motifs of Ovids
exile poetry.9 Many of the typical features of Tristia and Epistulae ex
5
Cf. e.g. Tr. 1.1.458, 3.14.33, 5.12.212, Pont. 1.5.38, 3.4.11, 4.2.15, 4.8.656.
Cf. Videau-Delibes (1991) 506: absence dinspiration et absence dart, inaptitude
la clbration ou impossibilit de la mettre en oeuvre, incapacit plaire un public
choisi vu limperfection du pome et refus de la gloire conviennent la situation de lexil
comme lui conviennent aussi la tristesse et limperfection de la materia et de lelocutio.
7
Cf. also Bernhardt (1986), who has interpreted the catalogues in Ovids exile poetry
as a means to ward off the threat of losing the mother tongue (see the criticism of
Chwalek (1996) 1312 and Gaertner (2001a) 298 on the literary tradition).
8
Cf. Holzberg (1997) 200: Die Grundfrage, die sich allen Erklrern der Exilelegien
Ovids stellt, ist die nach dem Grad des Einusses, den die besondere Schreibsituation
auf Form und Gehalt dieser Dichtung ausbt.
9
As the scholarly debate on the exilic qualities of Ovids exile poetry has been
6
157
158
have been deserted by most of his former friends14 may at least in part
be a reworking of similar sentiments that can be found in the Theognidea,
cf. Thgn. 20910 (~ 332ab):
15
A man in exile has no friend and no trusty comrade, and this is more
painful than actual exile.16
Likewise, the prominent imagery of shipwreck (cf. e.g. Tr. 1.5.17, Pont.
1.2.60, 1.5.3942) may go back to Alcaeus fr. 73.36 (Campbell), where
the poet from Lesbos, too, seems to compare his plight in exile17 with
a ship in stormy weather,18 and the motif of the exiles mental journey
to his faraway home (cf. e.g. Ov. Tr. 3.4.55 ff., 3.8.1 ff., Pont. 1.2.4750,
1.8.31 ff.) has a close parallel already in a simile in Apollonius Argonautica
(2.5417):
,
< >, [
, ,]
,
[ ]
. . .19
Just as when someone wanders around far from his native land (as we men
often wander, now this way, now that, and endure it) and sees in his mind
14
Cf. e.g. Tr. 1.5.64, 1.9.65, 5.6.46, 5.7.41, Pont. 1.3.49, 1.9.1516, 3.2.1516.
On the inuence of the Theognidea on Ovids exile poetry see Citroni Marchetti
(2000) 11139, 158, 334. The motif of desertion is also found in Euripides Phoenissae,
cf. Eur. Phoen. 403: , (cf. Fantham (p. 175 n. 8 in this
volume) on the inuence of Euripides Phoenissae on consolatory treatises on exile and
see Nesseltrath p. 97 on Plutarchs response to the Euripidean line).
The importance of the literary tradition on the theme of desertion in exile
is accentuated by the fact that Ovids claim to have been deserted by his friends is
incompatible with passages where he refers to letters that his friends sent to him: cf. e.g.
Pont. 1.3.38, 1.9.1, 2.8.12. (Claassen (1999a) 129: [sc. Ovid] remains surrounded by
a virtual zone of silence overstates.)
16
Translation by Bowie, cf. p. 44 above.
17
This is suggested by fr. 73.8 where Lobel has convincingly argued for reading
in place of , cf. Page (1955) 190, Voigt (1971) ad loc.,
Cucchiarelli (1997), and the different interpretation by Bowie p. 42 in this volume.
18
Cf. the detailed discussion in Cucchiarelli (1997). The passages from the Theognidea
and Alcaeus show that there was a tradition of autobiographic writing on exile long
before Cicero (contra Claassen (1999a) 29, Williams (2002) 338).
19
On the text cf. Gaertner (2001b) 22731; on the motif of mental travel see also
Nagle (1980) 919, Doblhofer (1987) 1467 (with Cat. 63.5073, Liv. 5.54.23, Sen.
Med. 207 ff.), Claassen (1999a) 299 n. 77 (with Cic. Fam. 15.16, Tusc. 5.114,115).
15
159
his home, and, at the same time, thinking swiftly, grasps with his eyes the
way [there]: so swiftly darting down, the daughter of Zeus . . .
20
Cf. Nagle (1980) 33 and Cic. Att. 3.3, 3.7.2, Ov. Tr. 1.5.5, Pont. 1.6.414, 1.9.212
on the theme of suicide, Galasso (1987) on tragic pathos in Ciceros and Ovids letters
from exile, and Claassen (1999a) 209 on Ciceros presentation of his career in his poem
De Temporibus Suis.
21
Cf. e.g. Tr. 1.9.378, 4.1.95, Pont. 1.2.27.
22
Cf. Nagle (1980) 34 with Cic. Fam. 14.2.1, Q.fr. 1.3.3, and Andr (1993).
23
Cf. Hollenburger-Rusch (2001) on Ovids use of the motif in the Metamorphoses.
Moreover, the hyperbole of continuous weeping is a literary commonplace, cf. Gaertner
(2005) on Ov. Pont. 1.2.27: ne carent lacrimae.
24
This is, as far as I can see, the rst attestation of a comparison between exile and
death (cf. also Pl. Capt. 519: neque exilium exitio est, Pub. Sent. e.9: exul, ubi ei nusquam domus
est, sine sepulcro est mortuus, and Claassen (1996b) on Ciceros, Ovids, and Senecas use
of the motif ). The effective pun exilium/exitium (unparalleled in Ennius Greek model,
Eur. Med. 3745; cf. Jocelyn on Enn. loc. cit.) suggests that the conceit may be of Latin
rather than Greek origin (cf. also La Penna (1990) on a general tendency in Latin to
juxtapose exilium with other words containing the same prex). Given that Cicero
quotes the Ennian line in N.D. 3.66, it is hardly surprising to nd the motif of exile as
death in his letters from exile, cf. Cic. Q.fr. 1.3.1: ne vestigium quidem eius [i.e. Ciceronis] nec
simulacrum sed quandam efgiem spirantis mortui and Doblhofer (1987) 166 ff. Nagle ((1980)
22) and Helzle ((1988b) 78) adduce Leonidas Tarent. Anth. Pal. 7.715.3 = Gow-Page,
HE 2537: , which, however, does not imply a comparison
of exile and death but qualies a life of wandering as being destitute (Gow-Page ad
loc.; cf. however Stroh (1981) 26456 on parallels between Leonidas Tarent. Anth. Pal.
7.715 = Gow-Page, HE 253540 and Ov. Tr. 4.10.11530). The idea of life on earth
as exile from heaven, rst expressed by Empedocles (Empedocles fr. 107.13 Wright
(1981) = VS 31 B 115.13, quoted at Plut. De Exil. 607C, see p. 12 above) and adduced
by Claassen (1999a) 20 as a precedent for the motif of exile as death, is clearly not the
same thought.
160
elements of his own earlier poetry. Thus Ovids use of the exile as
death motif in his epistolary elegies combines the pun on exilium/exitium
(see above) with the supposed origin of elegy as a funeral dirge25 and
with the prominent theme of death in Latin love elegy;26 the plea for
support, which Ovid already found in Ciceros exilic letters,27 suits the
rhetorical elements of the werbende Dichtung of Latin love elegy
(Stroh (1971)); the motif of suffering and ill-health in exile is not only
equally indebted to the vocabulary of love-sickness in elegy28 and to
Ovids predecessor Cicero,29 but also easily shades over into the medical
imagery of consolatory treatises on exile,30 and the interaction between
the exiled poet and his wife in Rome resembles that between poet
and mistress in the Amores.31 In addition to these borrowings from the
inventory of Ovidian love-elegy, there are also strong resonances of the
Metamorphoses and the Fasti, such as Ovids recollection of Fast. 2.235
ff. in Pont. 1.2.34, or his frequent comparisons between himself and
various characters of the Metamorphoses, e.g. Actaeon (Tr. 2.1056, cf.
Met. 3.138 ff.), Triptolemus (Tr. 3.8.12, cf. Met. 5.6467), Niobe (Pont.
1.2.2930, cf. Met. 6.148 ff.), the Heliades (Pont. 1.2.312, cf. Met.
2.340 ff.), or Erysicthon (Pont. 1.10.9, cf. Met. 8.8301).32
25
Cf. Nagle (1980) 2232, Claassen (1999a) 211 ff., Etym. Magn. p. 326.47 ff., LSJ s.v.
Imagining ones own death is a theme that gains particular prominence in the
elegiac poets, imprimis Propertius and Ovid, cf. Lyne (1980) 141, 274.
27
Cf. e.g. Cic. Att. 3.7.1, Q.fr. 1.3.5, and Claassen (1999a) 105 ff.
28
Cf. Nagle (1980) 613, Claassen (1999a) 211 ff.
29
Cf. Nagle (1980) 34 and Cic. Att. 3.15.2: dies autem non modo non levat luctum hunc sed
etiam auget. nam ceteri dolores mitigantur vetustate, hic non potest non et sensu praesentis miseriae et
recordatione praeteritae vitae cottidie augeri.
30
Cf. e.g. Pont. 1.3.58: utque Machaoniis Poeantius artibus heros / lenito medicam vulnere sensit
opem [cf. Prop. 2.1.59: tarda Philoctetae sanavit crura Machaon, 2.1.64: sensit opem], sic ego mente
iacens et acerbo saucius ictu / admonitu [i.e. the consolatory words of Ovids friend Runus]
coepi fortior esse tuo; on the notion that consolation is medical treatment of the soul see
p. 13 n. 64 above and cf. Kassel (1958) 201 and passim.
31
Cf. Nagle (1980) 4354, Davisson (1984), Holzberg (1997) 182, Claassen (1999a)
211 ff.; cf. also Kenney (1965) 46 on Ov. Pont. 3.3 and Rem. 555 ff., Colakis (1987) on
echoes of the Ars in Pont. 3.1, and Labate (1987) 934.
32
Cf. Williams (2002) 37881; for a Ciceronian precedent for Ovids use of mythology
see pp. 1415 n. 76 above and cf. Claassen (1999a) 209. In view of the parallels with
literary traditions on exile and in view of Ovids borrowings from the Metamorphoses and
Fasti, it would be wrong to interpret the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto primarily as a
reversal or palinode of Ovids love poetry (thus Lechi (1978), Claassen (1986) 166, cf.
also Holzberg (1997) 181 ff.). Mislead and misleading are the pseudolinguistic arguments
put forth for such an interpretation: Nagle ((1980) 618) adduces everyday Latin words
such as miser, tristis, infelix, maestus, sollicitus, cura, malum, labor, dolor, amarus, lacrima, etus,
metus, luctus, taedium, desiderium, cupido, carere, spes, improbus, crudelis, durus, saevus, mitis, lenis,
161
Far stronger is the case for a change of style in Ovids exile poetry.
Ovid repeatedly claims that he has lost his former poetic genius and
devotes less care to the composition of his poetry,33 and that his sole
intention is to communicate his suffering and alleviate his pain.34 Such
statements are still taken very seriously by scholars such as Doblhofer
((1978), (1980), (1987)), Malaspina (1995), Gonzlez Vzquez (1998),
but the many Callimachean35 and Horatian36 echoes lurking behind
these statements of self-depreciation have given rise to the suspicion
that we may simply be dealing with a pose of poetic decline (Williams
(1994) 50 ff.). Allusions to Callimachean and Horatian tenets show that
the exiled poet was still operating in the same poetological framework
as before (Helzle (1988a) 138), but they cannot settle the question of
how serious Ovids self-depreciatory statements really are. The latter
question can only be decided by an examination of the philological
facts, to which I shall turn next.37
The style of Ovids exilic poetry is still a matter of disagreement, both
with regard to the linguistic facts and with regard to their interpretation.
laedere, crimen, scelus, culpa, error, poena, deus, numen, supplex, preces, votum, auxilium, solacium,
levare, des, memor, inmemor, and utilitas as evidence for a systematic transfer of elegiac,
erotic diction to the poets situation in exile, and Claassen ((1998), (1999b, c)) has used
these and other everyday words attested in Ovids Amores, Ars, and Remedia as well as
in the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto to argue for a systematic un-punning of elegiac
vocabulary ([sc. Ovid] has sent these words in new directions . . . he has rewritten their
context, thereby giving earlier use of the words a new innocence ((1999b) 163)). I
very much doubt that these words possess elegiac resonances that are strong enough
to warrant such conclusions: on the basis of the material and the argumentation of
Nagle and Claassen, we could more or less establish any pre-Ovidian Latin text as the
stylistic model for the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto and would have to wonder about
elegiac undertones in basically every roughly contemporary passage containing words
such as scelus or culpa; moreover, it would seem that Ovid, should he have wished to write
about his banishment without evoking his love-poetry, would have been forced to turn
to Greek, Sarmatian, or Getic.
33
Cf. Tr. 1.1.458, 3.14.33, 5.12.212, Pont. 1.5.38, 3.4.11, 4.2.15, 4.8.656.
34
Cf. Tr. 4.10.11718, 5.7.678, Pont. 1.5.536, Doblhofer (1987) 2623.
35
Cf. e.g. Pont. 1.2.121 ~ Callim. fr. 114.1415 (Pfeiffer) with Lechis discussion
(1988), and Helzle (1988b) 756, Williams (1991), (1994) 734, 123.
36
Cf. Nagle (1980) 125 ff., Helzle (1988a).
37
In doing so I exclude the Ibis and concentrate on the Tristia and the Epistulae ex
Ponto. I have assumed that the Heroides are (apart from Ep. 15) Ovidian (contra Beck (1996),
Lingenberg (2003)), and I have not differentiated between Ep. 114 and the double
letters (Ep. 1621), which may belong into the time of Ovids exile (cf. the metrical and
stylistic observations in Tracy (1971) and Kenney (1996) 206). For convenience I use
the following labels: Republican poetry (Lucretius, Catullus); Augustan poetry (Vergil,
Horace, Propertius, Tibullus, Ovid); Silver Latin poetry (Sen. trag., Lucan, Valerius
Flaccus, Silius, Martial, Statius, Juvenal).
162
Luck, Nagle, and Claassen have stressed the continuity of the Ovidian
oeuvre, reaching the conclusion that stylistically Tristia and Epistulae ex
Ponto do not differ signicantly from Ovids earlier works.38 Likewise,
Baeza Angulo ((1992) 163) asserts in the as yet most exhaustive study
of the language of Ovids exile poetry: Ovidio utiliza pocos trminos
estrictamente no poticos en los ms de 3100 versos de Ponto, en concreto,
salvo error u omisin, slo 25. Axelson, on the contrary, had already
stated in 1945 that the Epistulae ex Ponto were less polished and contained
more unpoetic expressions than his earlier works.39 Similarly, Gonzlez
Vzquez ((1998) 67)on the basis of extremely scarce evidence40
observed a relajacin con respecto a la rigurosa seleccin de la poca
clsica, relajacin que se manifesta en el empleo de algunos terminos
o expressiones vulgares o coloquiales, proprios de la lengua hablada.
Before Gonzlez Vzquez, Malaspina ((1995) 72 ff.) had already given
a list of about sixty linguistic phenomena, which according to her are
both colloquial or prosaic, and feature, within Ovids oeuvre, only or
particularly frequently in Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto. Unfortunately,
however, Malaspinas evidence, too, is of varying solidity. She does
not adduce any evidence at all for the prosaic or colloquial nature of
a dozen of her phenomena,41 and several other features are already
fairly common in Ovids pre-exilic works;42 in particular, Malaspinas
38
163
littera 1528.37 ff.), of the imperative vade (already at Ov. Am. 2.11.37, Rem. 152, Met.
4.649, 11.137, and e.g. Verg. A. 3.462,480, 4.223, 5.548), of facere cum aliquo (Tr. 4.1.54,
earlier at Ars 3.762; cf. TLL s.v. cum 1351.19, s.v. facio 123.3345), of da veniam (already
at Ov. Ep. 4.156, 7.105, Ars 2.38, Met. 11.132, Fast. 4.755), habere + inf. in place of posse +
inf. (Pont. 3.1.82: laedere rumor habet, earlier already Met. 9.658: quid . . . dare maius habebant?,
cf. TLL s.v. habeo 2454.12 ff. and HS 31415), in morem venire (according to Malaspina
only in Ov. Fast. 5.283, Pont. 2.7.39, Liv. 42.21.7), immo ita (seltene Elision (Luck on
Tr. 1.2.99; cf. Tr. 3.14.7), earlier at Met. 7.512), and quid mihi/tibi/sibi cum . . .? (already at
Am. 1.7.27, 3.6.87, 3.8.49, Fast. 4.3); it is particularly true of some metrically convenient
syntactical features, e.g. the use of the future perfect in place of the future (cf. HS 324
(with further material)), and some features that are generally attested in poetry, e.g. the
use of adjectives in -bilis with a dative of the agent (cf. HS 97; Malaspina (1995) 82
distorts Lucks (196777) note on Tr. 5.8.27), ne + present imperative (cf. HS 340 (with
further material)), the use of a nal innitive after verbs indicating movement (cf. HS
3445), the use of an innitive (instead of a gerund) to qualify nouns (cf. HS 351 (with
further material)).
43
Malaspina refers to Pont. 2.2.43: mandatique mei legatus suscipe causam, 2.2.54:
confessi . . . rei, 4.15.11: testere licet , and 4.15.42: libra . . . et aere.
44
Malaspina mentions the use of obligor for cogor (Tr. 1.2.83) and the expressions pro
parte virili (Tr. 5.11.23, Pont. 2.1.17), fallor an . . .? (Tr. 1.2.107, Pont. 2.8.21), adde quod (Tr.
1.5.79, al.), o bene quod . . . ! (Tr. 1.2.41), Lingua, sile! (Pont. 2.2.59).
45
Cf. e.g. Norden (1898) 892 (wie ein Deklamator). Given that Ovid has been a
follower of the Neuer Stil already before his exile, Gonzlez Vzquez view ((1998)
116) that Ovids exile prompts the poets conversion to the new style is unconvincing.
46
On the use of technical or scientic language in Latin poetry and its Hellenistic
models see Langslow (1999) and Zanker (1987) 1247.
47
This applies to the following, fairly rare usages gathered by Malaspina: causa
thing (Tr. 1.2.17, cf. TLL s.v. caussa 700.62 ff.), ad summam (altogether, in Ovid only at
Pont. 4.1.15), comparare + inf. (Tr. 2.2678, cf. TLL s.v. comparo 2015.437, 2016.548),
probator esse (probare, in Ovid only at Pont. 2.2.104, cf. TLL s.v. probator 1455.6372),
estur (in Ovid only at Pont. 1.1.69, cf. TLL s.v. edo 99.3943), cum venia (in Ovid only at
Tr. 1.1.46, 4.1.104, in pre-Ovidian poetry only at Hor. S. 1.4.105, later at Sen. Phaed.
440, common in prose), in facto meo (Tr. 4.1.24, according to Malaspina (1995) 79 n. 87
the only attestation in poetry, common in Cic., Sen. phil., Quint., Just. Dig.), acceptum
164
refero + inf. (in Ovid only at Tr. 2.10, cf. TLL s.v. accipio 314.13 ff.), commilitium (in Ovid
only at Pont. 2.5.72, cf. TLL s.v. commilitium 1882.1266), censere de (Pont. 2.5.73, 3.1.75,
cf. Galasso (1995) on Pont. 2.5.73), the cases of ellipsis in Pont. 1.1.4: excipe, dumque aliquo,
quolibet abde loco and Tr. 1.2.51: nec letum timeo, genus est miserabile leti, and the emphatic
construction Sarmatis est tellus, quam mea vela petunt (Tr. 1.2.82) in place of Sarmatidem
tellurem mea vela petunt.
48
crede mihi is common in Ciceros correspondence (12x), Prop. (7x), Ov. (30x), Petr.
(3x), Mart. (12x), but is otherwise fairly rare; of the 30 attestations in Ovids oeuvre, 14
belong to his exile poetry.
49
According to Malaspina (1995) 75, sustinere + inf. rst occurs in poetry at Ov. Tr.
3.14.32, 4.1.878, 4.4.14, 4.10.74, 5.12.16, Pont. 1.5.18; cf. HS 347.
50
Of the six Ovidian attestations of the colloquial fac modo (ut) + subj. (Ov. Ep.
20.180, Ars 2.198, Tr. 4.9.4,5, 5.4.49, Pont. 2.6.35) four belong to the exile poetry. Before
Ovid, this usage occurs only in Pl. Poen. 580 and Cic. Att. 3.4.
51
On the prosaic character of fortasse cf. Cledon. G.L. 5.66.2930, Lfstedt (1911) 47,
Axelson (1945) 312; the statistics for Ovid are: 3x Ep. (12.209, 17.259, 20.83), 1x Ars,
1x Fast., 2x Tr., 5x Pont.
52
Quasi-prepositional exceptus in the ablative is common in (scientic) prose (e.g. Plin.
Nat. (>40x), Serv. (>40x)), but occurs in Republican, Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry
only at Verg. A. 7.650, Prop. 1.15.2, Luc. 5.230, and 4x in Horace (2x S., 2x Ep.), and
11x in Ovid (1x Ep., 2x Met. (2.60, 8.868), 4x Tr., 5x Pont.).
53
constanter occurs in Republican, Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry only at Hor.
S. 2.7.6, Ov. Ep. 16.154, Tr. 3.2.27, 4.5.23, 5.4.49, Pont. 1.5.41, Sil. 15.820 (cf. also Lucr.
3.491: inconstanter); it is common in prose, e.g. Cic. >30x, Liv. 8x, V.Max. 8x, Sen. phil.
4x, Tac. 4x, Plin. min. 7x.
54
condicio is common in prose (e.g. Cic. >200x, Liv. >100x, Sen. phil. >70x), but
occurs in Republican, Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry only at Lucr. 2.301, Verg. A.
12.880 (a speech), 2x in Prop., 5x in Hor. (1x S., 2x Ep., 2x Carm.), 4x in Mart., and 10x
in Ovid: 1x Ep., Met., Fast.; 3x Tr.; 4x Pont. The use of condicio in the sense of state,
nature (OLD s.v. 6 and 8, TLL s.v. 133.54135.46) referring to a place is conned to
Ovids exile poetry (Tr. 3.5.54, Pont. 1.2.72, 2.5.16) and prose (e.g. Sen. Nat. 6.1.11,
Quint. Inst. 12.10.2; poets prefer natura).
55
credibilis is common in prose (e.g. 39x Cic., >100x Quint.), but occurs in Republican,
Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry only at Hor. S. 1.9.52, Sen. Thy. 754, Mart. 4.32.4,
and 19x in Ovid: 1x Ars; 2x Ep., Pont.; 3x Fast.; 4x Am.; 7x Tr. (3x Tr. 2); not in Met.
56
posteritas is common in prose (e.g. 42x Cic. (27x or.)), but avoided in Republican,
Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry (only 1x Prop., Luc., Mart.; 2x Sen. trag., Juv.) except
Ovids exile poetry (2x Tr., 4x Pont., compared to three occurrences in all his other works:
1x Ep., 2x Fast.).
57
tempus ad hoc (up to this point in time, e.g. Cic. Ver. 1.98, Caes. Gal. 2.17.4, Liv.
26.41.19) occurs in Republican, Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry only at Ov. Pont.
1.5.27, 4.14.60, Ib. 1.
165
impersonal liquet,58 and nemo (poets generally prefer nullus)59 and with
regard to the colloquial usage of ecquid.60 Whereas Ovids increased use
of words like clementia,61 patrocinium,62 ofciosus,63 and utilitas64 at least in
part reects the contents of the exile poetry, the higher frequency of
subject-independent words such as constanter, ecquid, fortasse, and nemo
cannot be explained in this way, but suggests that Ovids Tristia and
Epistulae ex Ponto are indeed composed in a markedly different style,
which is more prosaic and colloquial than that of his earlier works.
These stylistic observations are corroborated by a similar relajacin
(Gonzlez Vzquez (1998) 67) with regard to some metrical conventions:
in his study of monosyllables in the Latin hexameter, Hellegouarch
((1964) 1617) has established a correlation between the frequency of
monosyllables and the genre or stylistic register. Monosyllables are far
more frequent in Horaces Epistles (1650x/1000 hexameters) and Satires
(1692) than in Vergils Aeneid (A. 1&2: 1216, 6&7: 1213; cf. Ecl.: 1439,
G.: 1199), Ovids Metamorphoses (Met. 13&14: 1330) and Fasti (1276), or
Lucans Bellum Civile (Luc. 1&2: 1084, 6&7: 1031). If one compares the
frequency of monosyllables per 1000 hexameters in the Tristia (1744)
and the Epistulae ex Ponto (1796) with that in other works of Augustan
poetry, Ovids exile poetry and the double letters of the Heroides (Ep. 16
21: 1959) differ considerably from the metrical practice in Ovids other
58
Impersonal liquet (Cic. or. 5x, phil. 4x, Quint. 8x) is rare in Republican, Augustan,
and Silver Latin poetry: only 9x Ovid = 1x Am.; 2x Met.; 3x Tr., 3x Pont., and Sen. Her.
F. 446, Luc. 5.22, 6.433; cf. Bmer (196986) on Met. 11.718.
59
On the Latin poets disliking for nemo see Axelson (1945) 767; in Ovid (24x) it is
most frequent in his exile poetry: 1x Rem., 1x Fast., 2x Am., 5x Met., 7x Tr., 8x Pont.
60
ecquid (at all) is typical of colloquial Latin (KS 2.515, Ernout/Meillet s.v. ecce,
TLL s.v. ecquis 57.6758.18) and occurs in Augustan poetry only at Verg. A. 3.342
(Andromache speaking), Hor. Ep. 1.18.82, Prop. 1.11.1, as well as 20x in Ovid, mostly
in his exile poetry: 4x Met., 2x Fast., 8x Tr., 6x Pont.
61
While common in prose, clementia is extremely rare in Latin poetry: within Augustan
poetry it is conned to Prop. 2.28.47 (but cf. inclementia at Verg. G. 3.68, A. 2.602) and
Ovid: Met. 8.57 (a line deleted by Knoche (1940) 53, but retained by Tarrant (2004)), Tr.
2.125, 3.5.39, 4.4.53, 4.8.39, 5.4.19, Pont. 1.2.59, 2.2.119, 3.6.7, 4.1.25.
62
Ov. Tr. 1.1.26, Pont. 1.2.68 are the only attestations of patrocinium in Latin poetry
before CE 1383.4 (sixth cent. AD), cf. TLL s.v. patrocinium 774.301.
63
ofciosus commonly features in prose, but is within Republican, Augustan, and
Silver Latin poetry conned to Horace (2x = S. 2.5.48, Ep. 1.7.8), Martial (5x), and
Ovid: 10x = 2x Ep., 1x Ars, 1x Fast., 1x Tr., 5x Pont. On ofcium in Ovids exile poetry cf.
p. 169 n. 82 below and see Froesch (1968) 407.
64
utilitas (e.g. Cic. >400x) occurs 10x in Lucretius, once in Horaces Satires (1.3.98),
and 15x in Ovid (= 1x Rem.; 2x Ars, Met., Fast.; 3x Tr., 5x Pont.), but is otherwise absent
from Republican, Augustan, and Silver Latin poetry. On utilitas as a key concept of
Ovids exile poetry see Froesch (1968) 407, Williams (2002) 339.
166
works (Am.: 1500, Ep. 114: 1501, see above) and in Tibullus (1634),
Propertius (1557), and Vergil (see above), and have their closest metrical
parallel in Horaces Epistles (1650) and Satires (1692).65 Moreover, Braum
and Nilson have shown that higher poetry avoids placing monosyllables
before the main caesurae, and Braum has already pointed out that,
within the Ovidian oeuvre, the frequency of monosyllables placed before
the penthemimeres caesura and the other main caesurae is highest in
Ovids exile poetry.66
Supercially, all these data seem to support the view of Malaspina,
Videau-Delibes, Hansen, and others that the exiled poet attributed
greater importance to the communication of his suffering in exile
than to the polishing of his poetry or that the heavy blow of exile even
made it impossible for him to continue writing in the same fashion as
before.67 That this interpretation cannot be right, however, becomes
instantly apparent, once we leave the general characteristics behind and
turn to individual passages in the Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto. Whoever
compares lines such as Tr. 3.7.16:
vade salutatum, subito perarata, Perillam,
littera, sermonis da ministra mei.
aut illam invenies dulci cum matre sedentem,
aut inter libros Pieridasque suas.
65
The gures for Vergil, Horace, Ov. Met., and Lucan are taken from Hellegouarch
(1964) 15, those for Tib., Prop., Ov. Am., Fast., Ep. 114, 1621, Tr., Pont. from Hansen
(1993) 116 ff.
66
Cf. Braum (1906) 62, Nilsson (1952) 87, Gaertner (2004a) 119 and (2005)
368. According to my own count the frequency (as per 1000 hexameters) of long
monosyllables before trithemimeres (T), penthemimeres (P), and hephthemimeres (H) is
considerably higher in Pont. 1 (T: 348; P: 55; H: 152) than in Ars 1.1500 (204; 32; 112),
Am. 1.18 (219; 31; 131), and Fast. 3.1500 (172; 24; 72).
A third metrical peculiarity of Ovids exile poetry concerns the pentameter ending.
In Ovids pre-exilic poetry two-syllable words are the rule at the end of the pentameter
(cf. Sturtevant (1914), G. A. Wilkinson (1948), Platnauer (1951) 1517, L. P. Wilkinson
(1970) 1234). Within the Ovidian corpus, the attestations of three-syllable (Pont.
1.1.[66], 1.8.[20],[40], 3.5.40, 3.6.46, 4.9.[26]), four-syllable (Ep. 19.202, Fast. 5.582,
6.660, Tr. 1.3.6, 1.4.20, 1.10.34, 2.232, 3.5.40, 3.9.2, 3.10.4, 4.10.2, 5.6.30, Pont. 2.2.6,
70,76, 2.3.18, 2.5.26, 2.9.42, 4.3.54, 4.5.24, 4.6.6,14, 4.8.62, 4.9.48,80, 4.13.28,46,
4.14.4,18, 56, 4.15.26), ve-syllable (Ep. 16.290, 17.16, Tr. 2.212,294,514, 4.5.24, Pont.
1.2.68, 2.9.20, 4.3.12, 4.13.44), and six-syllable words (Ib. 508: Berecyntiades) almost
exclusively belong to the works written in exile. However, some passages have been
suspected to be spurious, cf. imprimis Zwierlein (1999) 429, and the qualications in
Zwierlein (2000) 80 n. 161.
67
Cf. Videau-Delibes (1991) 506 and passim, Hansen (1993) 11617, and Malaspina
(1995) 1401: Ovidio antepone alla forma letteraria la pressante realt del proprio
vissuto.
167
68
Cf. also Gaertner (2004a) 1214 on Pont. 1.4.4758, 1.5.1518, 1.8.1116, and
Gaertner (2005) passim.
69
Up to Pliny the Younger, Pierides features in Latin prose only at Cic. N.D. 3.54,
where Cicero qualies the word as a poetic usage: tertiae [sc. Musae] Piero natae et Antiopa,
quas Pieridas et Pierias solent poetae appellare.
70
Cf. Norden (1957) on Verg. A. 6.177 and Wlfin (1900) 366.
71
On the colloquial nature of subito and the Latin poets preference for this word
(instead of repente) see Axelson (1945) 323; on littera (in place of epistula) see Lfstedt
(193342) 1.43, Galasso (1995) on Pont. 2.7.1, and Serv. A. 8.168.
168
but also strikes a far loftier note: cf. the apostrophe of Corinth, Perseus,
and Daedalus, the strictly Ovidian iunctura iactare pennas (paralleled only
at Met. 2.835, 4.789; cf. also Ars 2.61: iactabimus alas), the predominantly
poetic uses of humus for land, region (cf. TLL s.v. humus 3123.35 ff.), of
pennae for ala (cf. TLL s.v. penna 1087.47), and of frenare bestiam vel sim.
in the sense of freno cohibere, regere (cf. TLL s.v. freno 1288.4753), as
well as the poetic transfer of the epithet rude from humum to semen.72
Such differences in style are evidently incompatible with a poetics or
a condition of intellectual decline, for it is difcult to see how Ovids
alleged failure to devote more care to the composition of the Tristia and
the Epistulae ex Ponto should have lead to stylistic variations or passages
such as Tr. 3.8.16, which altogether lack features of colloquial and
prosaic style. Obviously, the interpretations of Ovids style and poetics
advanced by, among others, Videau-Delibes, Hansen, and Malaspina
are far too rigid to do justice to Ovids exile poetry. If we turn once again
to the general stylistic tendencies and the metrical features discerned
above, it is striking that the metrical innovations of Ovids exile poetry
have one of their closest parallels in Horaces Epistles, and that the
generally more liberal handling of colloquial and prosaic features in the
Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto can be compared to the stylistic differences
between Horaces Odes and Epistles.73 The similarities between Ovids
exile poetry and Horaces Epistles suggest that the stylistic and metrical
differences between Ovids pre-exilic and exilic works may be related to
conventions of ancient epistolography.74 Indeed, Ovids more liberal use
of prosaic and colloquial elements closely corresponds to his own advice
concerning the style of billets doux (Ars 1.4678):
sit tibi credibilis sermo consuetaque verba,
blanda tamen, praesens ut videare loqui.
Your speech should be convincing, and your words should be familiar, but
seductive, so that you yourself may seem to speak to her in person.
72
The iunctura semen rude is unparalleled; cf. Ov. Met. 5.6467: Triptolemo . . . rudi data
semina iussit / spargere humo and Am. 3.6.16: semina venerunt in rude missa solum.
73
On the more colloquial and prosaic diction of Horaces Epistles see Ruckdeschel
(1910), Axelson (1945) 18 and passim, and Bonfante (1994).
74
In passing, this has already been suspected by Gonzlez Vzquez ((1998) 67).
169
spoken language (cf. praesens ut videare loqui )75 and suits the senders and
the addressees respective circumstances.76 Following these precepts,
Ovid not only adopts a generally more colloquial and prosaic style in the
Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto, but also adjusts the tone to the respective
addressees and subjects of his letters, thus choosing a more informal
register when addressing close friends such as the poetess Perilla, and
writing in a more poetic style when fantasizing about a journey back to
Rome.77
The explanation that Ovid may have adjusted his stylistic practice in the
Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto to ancient epistolographic theory is further
corroborated by his use of standard motifs of ancient epistolography.
Already Cazzaniga ((1937) 16) has drawn attention to the fact that
Ovid repeatedly likens his epistles to a colloquium,78 thus picking up a
commonplace of ancient epistolographic theory, which goes back at
least as far as Artemon, the editor of Aristotles correspondence,79 and
is prominent in Cicero and Seneca.80 Likewise, the idea that a letter is
a gift () and a service of friendship (), rst expressed
in Demetrius De Elocutione,81 has close parallels in Ovids Tristia and
Epistulae ex Ponto.82 The same applies to what Thraede ((1970) 44, 52) has
75
Cf. Demetr. Eloc. 223, Cic. Fam. 9.21.1, Sen. Ep. 75.1, Quint. Inst. 9.4.19, and
Thraede (1970) 223. In Ov. Ars 1.4678 this advice is combined with what Thraede
(1970) 44, 52 has termed the -motif (cf. praesens, and see p. 170 below).
76
Cf. Cic. Fam. 2.4.1, 4.13.1, Att. 9.4.1, and Thraede (1970) 27 ff.
77
Consequently, the rhetorical function attributed by Nagle ((1980) 171), Helzle
((1988a) 138), and Williams ((1994) 52, (2002) 359) to Ovids claim of poetic decline
is questionable. Ancient readers would have been sensible to Ovids careful variation
of stylistic register and would have immediately noticed that Ovids self-depreciatory
statements are a pose; hence, they would not have believed that a (at least partial)
rehabilitation was necessary in order that Ovid could write decent poetry again.
78
Cf. e.g. Tr. 4.4.23: tecum loquor, Pont. 1.2.6: loquar tecum, 2.4.1: accipe conloquium gelido
Nasonis ab Histro. Of course, the same comparison can be found also in the Heroides,
cf. Ep. 21.1718: ne quis nisi conscia nutrix / colloquii nobis sentiat esse vices, and Thraede
(1970) 49.
79
Cf. Demetr. Eloc. 223:
, |
.
80
Cf. Cic. Fam. 12.30.1: aut quid mi iucundius quam, cum coram tecum loqui non possim, aut
scribere ad te aut tuas legere litteras?, Sen. Ep. 75.1: qualis sermo meus esset, si una sederemus aut
ambularemus, inlaboratus et facilis, tales esse epistulas meas volo.
81
Cf. Demetr. Eloc. 224: [sc. ]
; cf. also [Isoc.] 1.2: .
82
Cf. e.g. Ov. Tr. 4.4.11: ofcium nostro tibi carmine factum, Pont. 1.1.1920: nec vos hoc
vultis, sed nec prohibere potestis, / Musaque ad invitos ofciosa venit (~ 3.6.538), 4.12.16, and
Froesch (1968) 407.
170
171
Hence, Ovids handling of style and metre in the Tristia and the Epistulae
ex Ponto is not only inuenced by, but rmly embedded in his use of
epistolographic conventions. Metre and style in the Tristia and the
Epistulae ex Ponto cannot be explained by a pose or even a condition
of poetic decline, and they are not related to a poetics of exile or to
general characteristics of exile or exilic literature. In the end the only
feature of the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto that was prompted by
the poets experience of exile is his decision to write about his exile.88
All other features can easily be explained by the choice of the genre of
epistolography or by the fusion of earlier traditions of writing about
exile on the one hand and elements adopted by the poet from his earlier
works on the other.
precedents for the concept of trstende Musen. Yet another feature common to ancient
epistolographic theory and practice on the one hand and Ovids literary epistles from
exile on the other hand is the prominence of proverbs and popular philosophy: cf. the
theoretical statements by Demetr. Eloc. 232, Gregory of Nazianzus Ep. 51.5, 51.7, and
Julius Victor Ars Rhet. 27, Ciceros entertaining use of philosophy in Fam. 15.16 (cf. the
discussion in Thraede (1970) 434), and Ovids reworking of consolatory treatises
in Pont. 1.3 (cf. p. 157 above), his treatment of typical Roman pastimes in Pont.
1.5.4550 (~ Cic. Sen. 578, Col. 1.8.12, Quint. Inst. 12.11.18, Plin. Pan. 82, Suet. Cl.
5) or the concept of sleep as a medicina publica in Pont. 1.2.41 ff., 3.3.7 (~ Hippoc. Aph.
2.13, Men. Mon. 783, Cic. Fin. 5.54, Cels. pr. 69, al., Plin. Nat. 26.118, Petr. 17.7), and
his extensive use of proverbs and proverbial expressions such as Tr. 1.5.278: dum iuvat
et vultu ridet Fortuna sereno, / indelibatas cuncta sequuntur opes (cf. 1.9.56, Pont. 2.3.234),
1.9.434: sive aliquod morum seu vitae labe carentis / est pretium, nemo pluris emendus erat, 1.9.66:
qua bene coepisti, sic pede semper eas (cf. Rem. 390), 5.4.10: nec pleno umine cernit aquam (cf.
Prop. 1.9.1516: nunc tu / insanus medio umine quaeris aquam), or Pont. 4.2.13: frondes erat
addere silvis (for a fuller collection of proverbial expressions in Ovids exile poetry cf.
Malaspina (1995) 801). Moreover, there are structural parallels (e.g. between Pont.
1.2.12936,14550 and the exemplary letter of friendship in Demetr. Typ. Epist. 1),
and, in contrast to other corpora of literary epistles (e.g. the letters attributed to Plato
and Epicurus as well as Senecas Epistulae Morales), Ovid follows ancient epistolographic
conventions (cf. Demetr. Eloc. 227 and 231) by inserting quite a few glimpses of his own
character and life and of those of his recipients: he not only furnishes an autobiography
(Tr. 4.10; cf. Fredericks (1976)), describes his house and garden outside Rome (Pont.
1.8.418), and mentions that his wife belonged to Fabius Maximus familia (Pont. 1.2.136)
and that he composed a carmen nuptiale for Fabius Maximus (Pont. 1.2.1312) and a dirge
for Messalla (Pont. 1.7.2930), but the Epistulae ex Ponto also carry precious pieces of
information about events and persons (Syme (1978) 37) of the Roman aristocracy (but
also e.g. about the literary interests of the Thracian king Cotys, cf. Pont. 2.9.478 and
Antip. Thess. Anth. Pal. 16.75.56). Cf. also Holzberg (1997) 1823 who proposes Greek
epistolary novels as a possible model for the Tristia and the Epistulae ex Ponto.
88
Rahn (1968) 4789 rightly accentuates the novelty of the poets fate becoming a
topic of poetry, which is a further development of the form of the elegiac epistle, which
Ovid shaped in the Heroides.
172
89
CHAPTER NINE
DIALOGUES OF DISPLACEMENT:
SENECAS CONSOLATIONS TO HELVIA AND POLYBIUS
Elaine Fantham
One element in common between Senecas treatment of exile and that
of Cicero, Senecas most prominent predecessor in Latin prose, is the
marked discrepancy between what these men wrote about exile during
their own banishment and their treatment of exile in their earlier and
later works. Just as Ciceros letters from exile show none of the political
or philosophical rationalizations of his speeches on his return and of
his moral treatises,1 there is a marked difference between Senecas treatment of exile in his consolations to Helvia and Polybius, written during
his exile in Corsica, and the treatment of exile in his other works.
In the Consolatio ad Marciam written under Caligula, before Senecas banishment, and again in works dated after his years in Corsica, exile is treated
with little empathy.2 Exile gures in the Consolatio ad Marciam (Dial. 6)3
in conventional enumerations of lifes misfortunes; thus in Marc. 20.2,
Nature frees men from slavery and prison, and shows exiles in patriam
semper animum oculosque tendentibus . . . nihil interesse infra quos quis iaceat, and
at Marc. 22.3 exile follows natural disasters (incendia, ruinae, naufragia)
and precedes imprisonment and suicide in the rising scale of external
1
Miserable during his exile, Cicero recovered his philosophical and political equanimity on his restoration: Contrast the letters to Quintus (1.3) and Tullia (Fam. 14.14)
with the self-justifying rationalizations of Sest. 4250, and see Claassen (1999a) 1339,
15862 and Cohen, pp. 109 ff. above.
2
On the dating of Senecas prose works see Grifn (1976) App. A 3956, with notes:
Grifn largely retains the dating of Giancotti ((1957), cf. Giancotti (1976)), but takes into
account Abel (1967). Ferrill (1966) 254 and n. 4 suggested the middle of AD 42 for ad
Helviam, about a year after the banishment, and eighteen months before ad Polybium. See
Manning (1981) introduction for ad Marciam. I am not convinced by the arguments of
Bellemore (1992) for a late Tiberian dating (AD 347).
3
I have used Reynolds Oxford text (1977), with the introduction and notes of Traina
(1987) for all three dialogues, and have also found useful for Helv. and Polyb. the edition
and commentary of Duff (1915).
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385
390
I was better off when hidden far from envys mischief, out of the way
amidst Corsicas sea crags, where my mind was free and sovereign and
always at liberty for me to pursue my studies. Oh, what a delight it was to
gaze at the greatest creation of Mother Nature, architect of this measureless fabricthe heavens, the holy paths of the sun, the movements of the
cosmos, the recurrence of night and the circuit traced by Phoebe, with
the wandering stars around her, and the far-shining glory of the great
rmament.7
Surprisingly, in his adaptation of Euripides Phoenissae Seneca has chosen to omit the generalizations about the condition of exile in Polynices
4
In Ep. 24.4 (only) Seneca adds the example of Metellus Numidicus. Apart from the
passages cited above, Seneca returns to exile without adding any new considerations in
similar passages at Ep. 67.7, 79.14, 82.11, and 98.12.
5
Cf. the paper by Harrison, pp. 129 ff. above, and see Gaertner, p. 13 above.
6
Compare the preceding chorus, 380404, with the notes of Tarrant (1985), and
Innocenti Pierini (1992): Lo Piccolo (1998) discusses Thyestes speech in relation to Oedipus and the Octavia (see next note) but does not relate the tragic material to the treatment
of exile in the prose works.
7
Translation by Fitch (2004). Ferri (2003) ad loc. cites both the parallels from ad
Helviam and from Senecas other prose works.
175
dialogue with his mother (Eur. Phoen. 388405) and keeps to the issue
between Polynices and his usurping brother.8
Of the works written by Seneca during the time of his exilethe epigrams attributed to his banishment are probably a later forgery9only
the consolations to Helvia (Dial. 12) and Polybius (Dial. 11) consider the
topic of exile, and in each of these Dialogi Seneca treats the issue both as
it affects him personally, and in more general terms: but both texts are
remarkable for their indirections.10 Thus in these formal consolations
Seneca avoids any clear reference to the circumstances that had led to
his banishment. Nominally, Seneca had been banished on the grounds
of adultery, but the real reason for his banishment is more likely to have
been his partisanship with the enemies of the emperors wife Messalina.
The condemnation of Livilla, sister of Caligula and cousin/niece of the
new emperor Claudius, on the grounds of adultery in AD 41 demanded
the implication and condemnation of someone as her partner.11 While
Seneca was probably quite innocent, and so theoretically had good
reason to raise the issue of the grounds for his banishment, the reason
for his silence about this matter is the fact that the two dialogues
despite their respective addressees and their personal tone12are
8
This is all the more remarkable as the dialogue of Polynices with his mother in
Euripides Phoenissae had been a model for all Greek moralizing about exile, used briey
by Musonius (De Exilio, p. 48.6 Hense/p. 72 Lutz) and more extensively by Plutarch (De
Exil. 605F607A, see Nesselrath, pp. 91, 97, 104 above); of course Seneca was not free
to say with Polynices The folly of the mighty must be borne.
9
On the epigrams see Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 129, 141, 149 and (1995a,b). On
the continuing question of their authenticity see now Holzberg (2005).
10
Ferrill (1966) describes the Helv. as insincere, but only because he recognizes that
the dialogue is intended for an audience of the emperor and his advisers, and is unlikely
to have been Senecas rst direct communication with his mother from exile.
11
On the historical background cf. Giancotti (1976) 3749, Grimal (1978) 908 and
Grifn (1976) 5962, based on Tac. Ann. 14.63.2, Suet. Cl. 29.1, Dio Cass. 60.8.5. It is
generally thought that the same kind of politically convenient accusations explain the
relatively mild treatment of some of the alleged adulterers of the elder Julia in 2 BC
and of Silanus, the supposed adulterer of her daughter Julia in AD 8, whom Tiberius
permitted to return to Rome. The real target was the princess involved, and adultery
probably masked actual or feared political conspiracy. This is made explicit by Tac. Ann.
14.62, where Anicetus is promised an easy exile if he will admit to adultery with the
innocent Octavia.
12
In this respect they resemble Ovids Epistulae ex Ponto (cf. p. 171 n. 87 above), and
Senecas two dialogues from exile have the same kind of addressees as the two extremes
of Ovids spectrum: his mother, an apolitical woman, whom he could surely trust to
believe his innocence and work for pardon, as Ovid trusted his wife, and Polybius, the
emperors trusted freedman, with whom we might compare Ovids correspondents close
to the imperial family (particularly Fabius Maximus, Salanus, Suillius Rufus). Seneca
never names Ovid or any other exile of the principate in connection with exile itself,
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public documents, in which Seneca cannot protest his innocence without accusing the emperor Claudius either of injustice or of being misled.13 Instead, Seneca had to imply his own guilt and appeal to the
emperors clemency in order to be recalled.14
I have called the consolations for his mother Helvia and the imperial freedman Polybius dialogues of displacement for more than one
reason. Firstly and most obviously, they are dialogues of displacement
because of Senecas own displaced status in exile in Corsica. Secondly,
the consolations to Helvia and Polybius are marked by a generic displacement, for Seneca, as we shall see, displaces elements typical of one
type of consolation (consolation for exile) to another type (consolation
for bereavement).15 Thirdly, the generic displacement is also personal,
as Seneca shifts the focus away from himself to the losses suffered by
Helvia and Polybius.
I shall begin with Senecas consolation to Helvia. First it is remarkable
how much of ad Helviam is focussed away from Seneca, from exile, and
but Ovid was the obvious precedent, and Seneca has been shown to know and use his
poetry from exile: cf. Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 10566 and p. 172 n. 91 in this volume.
13
Thus Senecas situation is very similar to that of Ovid as characterized by Tarrant
(1995) 73: Ovids rhetorical position in the exile-poetry is compromised by the limits
placed on what he could say about his situation. Unable to disclose the nature of the
error that had angered Augustus, he cannot credibly argue that his punishment was out
of proportion to the offence; bound to endorse the image of the princeps as clement, he
cannot adequately express his conviction that Augustus has treated him cruelly.
14
Along with the imposed silence about his alleged offence comes what we might call
an imposed explicitness, since the writer cannot guarantee his loyalty without explicit
praise of the imperial houseor at least those of its members currently in good odour.
This can be seen even before Senecas exile in his Consolatio ad Marciam, with its enumeration of the sorrows of the dynasty, from Livia and Octavia (Marc. 24) to Augustus and
Tiberius (Marc. 15), foreshadowing the prominence given to Claudius and the imperial
bereavements in ad Polybium.
15
On the development of the genre of consolation see Kassel (1958), and on the
classical tradition of exile prior to Seneca, Motto/Clark (1993). Although consolation
for bereavement is the most fundamental form of consolatio, there is no need to see consolation for exile as modelled upon it. Each situation had its basis of topoi, and each
required comfort of the recipient for lossof a beloved person, or of them all, family,
friends and native land; but the latter was reversible and would seem to justify pity
rather than grief. Greek and Roman examples of consolation over exile survive, starting
from Teles in the third century BC. Apart from Teles, Plutarch and Favorinus (see Nesselrath pp. 87 ff. above), mention must be made of Cic. Tusc. 5.1069, and Musonius
(who is preserved in extracts and notes made by pupils, see Lutz (1947) 320, Morford
(2002) 2038). Musonius writes from his own exile on the island of Gyaros to console an anonymous addressee; towards the end of the pagan tradition there is the long
harangue delivered to the exiled Cicero by a certain Philiscus in Dio Cass. 38.1829,
cf. Gaertner, p. 4 above.
177
16
Cf. Helv. 1.23: cum omnia clarissimorum ingeniorum monumenta ad compescendos moderandosque luctus composita evolverem, non inveniebam exemplum eius qui consolatus suos esset . . .
quid quod novis verbis nec ex vulgari et cotidiana sumptis adlocutione opus erat homini ad consolandos
suos ex ipso rogo caput adlevanti?
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The main focus of 13 has been on Helvia, recalling for her, but
more for his readers, each of her recent losses, and pointedly assimilating her grief over the blow of his exile (itself compared to death)
with her mourning over the blows of those recently taken from her by
death.17 It also sets up, as he does for Marcia (Marc. 1.22.5, 16, 246),
a portrait of the family which is her world. It is a world of three generations, which opens with a list of losses that reaches from the deaths of
Helvias mother, who died in giving her birth (Helv. 2.4), to the death
of a loving uncle and of her husband within one month (2.4), to the
deaths of three grandchildren, including the loss of Senecas own little
son whom she had buried only weeks before he was taken from her (2.5:
lium meum in manibus et in osculis tuis mortuum funeraveras). Even his own
bereavement is expressed only as her loss, his exile as being taken from
her, dramatized in the eloquent gure of her mourning for the living (2.5:
hoc adhuc defuerat tibi, lugere vivos).
Seneca does little in the rst part of his consolation (14) to balance
this with Helvias surviving family. This is because he will enumerate her
living family, as he did Marcias (Marc. 16), later (Helv. 1819) where it
will bring her most comfort. So starting in Helv. 18 he reminds his mother
of his brothers whom Fortune has left unharmed, and of their children
Marcus and Novatilla. Marcus is praised for his charm, Novatilla not
for herself, but for her potential as mother of great-grandchildren, and
her need, as a motherless girl, for Helvias protective upbringing. From
Helvias side of the family, Seneca mentions her living but absent father
and last of all devotes Helv. 19 to her devoted sister who had looked after
him for many years and as a widow provided a heroic model of wifely
modesty and loyalty for Helvias comfort. Thus, Senecas consolation
to his mother takes full account of his addressees personality and
needs, of the sources of pride and affection proper to an elite Roman
materfamilias.
However, our concern is exile itself, and we need to consider what
Seneca has to say about exile in general, before considering an important passage which provides displaced comment on his own attitude,
and the few direct evocations of Senecas own situation. Seneca begins
17
Cf. with ex ipso rogo caput adlevanti quoted above, references to vulnera tua (1.1, 3.1),
luctus (1.2, 2.2, 2.4 and 2.5), and the medical imagery applied to both loss by death and
loss by exile. See also p. 13 n. 64 (medical imagery in consolations) and p. 159 n. 24
(exile as death theme) above.
179
his argument in Helv. 5.1 with the idea that man needs little to live well:
id egit rerum natura ut ad bene vivendum non magno apparatu opus essetthe wise
man has always worked to achieve self-sufciency. He writes that he has
used the thoughts of philosophers as his support in preparing himself
for misfortune (5.2), treating Fortune as ready to take away from him
anything she has given: this is how the wise man can keep an unconquered spirit (5.5). Although exile seems terrible in popular opinion
(5.6), all it means in fact is a change of place (6.1: loci commutatio, cf. 8.1:
commutatio locorum, 10.1: loci mutatio),18 which may additionally entail the
evils of poverty (1012), shame (13.1: paupertas tolerabilis est, si ignominia
absit) and contempt (13.6: nemo ab alio contemnitur nisi a se ante contemptus
est, 13.8: hoc fuit contumeliam ipsi contumeliae facere). First then he will show
that men have constantly moved away from their country: Rome itself is
full of immigrants attracted by the rewards it offered to both virtues and
vices (6.23: nullum non hominum genus concurrit in urbem et virtutibus et vitiis
magna pretia ponentem). Using an argument that is expanded more fully
in Plutarchs (602A603B; see Nesselrath, p. 95 above) he
names islands used as places of exile, like Seriphus, Gyara and Cossura
(Pantelleria), which none the less attract some travellers for pleasure
(Helv. 6.4).19 Senecas main argument moves from voluntary travel to a
theory that human restlessness is a product of mans heavenly nature,
since the constellations also travel. Next he moves from individual to
national migrations (7.1: gentes populosque universos mutasse sedem), to Greek
colonies and foreign conquests, all as proof of human instability (7.2:
levitas) which he goes so far as to call communal exile (7.5: publica exilia)
including the foundation of Rome itself and Patavium. As in Ovids
sequence of heroic founders of Italian cities in Fasti 4 (6380), Aeneas
follows Evander, Diomedes and Antenor, and national history is the climax of his argument: Rome itself was founded by an exile, and in turn
18
Cf. Gaertner, p. 3 n. 10 above, for parallels and links with ancient etymological
thinking.
19
In describing Corsica in Helv. 9 (cf. Polyb. 18.9) Seneca freely departs from the
traditional arguments. Without naming Ovid, as Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 12235
has shown, Seneca incorporates clear echoes of Ovids highly coloured description of
Tomis and the neighbouring peoples. Gahan (1985) 1457 shows that the barrenness
and barbarity of Corsica alleged by Seneca (6.5, cf. 8 and 9.1) is disproved by accounts
in Diodorus Siculus (5.13), Strabo (5.2.7) and Pliny the Elder (Nat. 16.197) of its abundant fruit trees, and ne harbours, and is adapted from Ovids portrayal of the more
barbarous world of Tomis.
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sent out colonies (7.7); here he personalizes his argument with a miniature history of Corsica and its successive waves of Greek, barbarian and
Roman colonists (7.810).20
It is at this point that Seneca approaches the moral high ground
(8.110.1) and cites two republican authorities for the two assets men
cannot lose in exile: Varro for the glory of nature which can be found
everywhere, and Brutus for the virtue which a man can take with him
wherever he goes. These universal blessings easily outbalance the three
reproaches against exile that it brings poverty, shame and contempt.
First Seneca deals with poverty (10.1), chiey by disparaging its opposite, luxury: We do not know for certain that Seneca enjoyed his own
revenues on Corsica, just as we do not know in what kind of house
he lived, what domestic staff he had or even whether he had a wife
Pompeia Paulina or an earlier wifestaying with him. Senecas silence
about his daily life, like that of Ovid, may simply be dictated by a sense
of generic propriety, and the belief that a mans private lifestyle should
not be part of his public persona.21 We know that adulterers forfeited
half their property under the lex Iulia,22 but it is unlikely that Claudius
cut off the rest of Senecas private resources. Instead of a discussion
of his personal circumstances the mention of poverty leads into a too
familiar and unrealistic diatribe against luxury and the claim that poverty can rescue men from the excesses of wealth (10.211.4); its essence
returns towards the end of 11: the man who keeps to his natural needs
will not feel poverty, since he is rich in the wealth of the spirit. Free of
material luxury, the spirit is light and unfettered, akin to the gods and
equal to every world and age. But poverty matters, and it is noticeable
that the repudiation of wealth and noble poverty of moral exempla like
Socrates and Regulus occupy a far greater part of Senecas dialogue
than shame and contempt. Only in 13, the last section before he restores
the focus on Helvia, does Seneca move on to shame, though he distinguishes it as able to break mens spirit even without exile or poverty. His
answer is that spiritual wisdom can overcome every kind of misfortune
and human weakness: the wise man has withdrawn from the opinions
20
Cf. Gaertner and Bowie on pp. 78, 24 ff. above on the tradition of foundation
myths and tales of colonization.
21
Cf. Desideri, p. 195 below, for a similar silence about the daily life in exile in the
speeches of Dio Chrysostom.
22
Cf. Treggiari (1991) 2956, citing Paulus, Sent. 2.26.4: the adulteress forfeited half
her dowry and one third of her property; the adulterer half of his property.
181
of the common crowd, and can make a criminal execution like that
of Socrates into a badge of pride (13.4: neque enim poterat carcer videri in
quo Socrates erat). So too with political rejection (13.67), illustrated by
the case of Cato (defeated as candidate for the consulship), and Aristides (who was ostracized but returned to help save Athens in 480 BC).
Senecas last claim is that exile rises above contempt: when a great man
falls, he remains great in his downfall (13.8: si magnus vir cecidit, magnus
iacuit).23 There is no idea here that does not nd a parallel in the Stoic
Musonius or in Plutarch.24
But let us return now to the republicans Varro and Brutus. When
did Varro say that universal nature was a compensation for exile? Is
it not likely that he wrote this after Pharsalus, before he was formally
authorized by Caesar to return to Italy? Or when he was considering
the undeclared exile of so many Pompeians from Nigidius Figulus to
Caecina or Ligarius?25 For although Caesar had declared the lives forfeit of anyone who continued to oppose him in battle after Pompeys
death,26 the status of those who fought only until Pharsalus was far more
indenite: they were not, as far as we know, named and condemned, but
even Varro had to wait before he could return. Brutus is introduced in
9.47 of Senecas ad Helviam, in order to quote from his moral treatise
De Virtute, identied by Hendrickson27 with the letter of comfort that
he sent Cicero before 46 BC. Cicero mentions the work in his dialogue
Brutus 28 and describes how he was heartened by Brutus epistula ex Asia
missa, a letter that must have been written in the period after Pharsalus,
23
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before Caesar made him governor of Cisalpine Gaul. But what Seneca
tells us is that Brutus found Marcellus, another republican,29 living in
exile at Mytilene, and living most happily, more eager for liberal studies than at any other time. Indeed the mans nobility of spirit made
Brutus feel that it was he, not Marcellus, who was going into exile.30
Brutus apparently went further, writing that Caesar passed by Mytilene
so as not to meet Marcellus, because he could not bear to see the man
disgured (Helv. 9.6). But while Brutus had given Caesar a humane and
generous reason for avoiding the encounter,31 Seneca, not Brutus, adds,
that Caesar could not bear to see Marcellus out of shame (9.6: Caesar
erubuit), and Seneca rubs it in, constructing for Marcellus one of his
ever-ready speeches in personaprosopopoeiae.32 Proud that everywhere is
the wise mans country, Senecas Marcellus contrasts Caesar, already
kept away from Rome and Italy for ten years and dragged by the civil
war to Africa, then to Spain, distracted by treacherous Egypt (this is not
chronological order) and the whole world (9.8):
nunc ecce trahit illum ad se Africa, resurgentis belli minis plena, trahit Hispania, quae
fractas et afictas partes refovet, trahit Aegyptus inda, totus denique orbis . . . aget illum
per totum orbem victoria sua.
Now he is drawn to Africa, which is full of threats of war aring up again;
he is drawn to Spain, which is restoring his opponents broken and battered forces; he is drawn to treacherous Egypt, in short he is drawn to the
whole earth . . . his victory is driving him across the entire world.
29
Cf. Grimal (1978) 98 on Senecas interpretatio Stoica of Marcellus (an adherent of the
Peripatetics) and Brutus (an Academic). Marcus Marcellus had opposed Caesar violently
as consul of 51 BC but is not known to have been involved even as a non-combatant like
Varro and Cicero in the Thessalian campaign. In 46 BC Marcellus was the focus of a
major political effort by Cicero and other senatorial conservatives to have Caesar agree
to his return to Italy (see Cohen, pp. 120 ff. above), and Cicero diverges from his rule
of not discussing the living (Brut. 248: quam vellem . . . de his etiam oratoribus qui hodie sunt tibi
dicere luberet) for only two orators in the Brutus, for Caesar and Marcellus (Brut. 24853),
but without a hint of their political differences: it is literary praise, and a stylistic description () which steers his juxtaposition of the two political antagonists.
30
Cf. Cohen pp. 1201 above.
31
Caesar probably had sound political motives, because we know the people of Lesbos were deeply loyal to Pompey, cf. Rowe (2002) 11315, and Lucan 5.7234, and
Pompeys speech, 8.10946.
32
Cf. Helv. 9.78. Prosopopoeiae, or speeches in character, were a rhetorical exercise
included by grammatici in both the Hellenistic and Roman curriculum, and developed
by rhetoricians, teaching older pupils to compose suasoriae or advice to a historical gure. Grifn (1976) App. B 41315 has pointed out the prominence of both anonymous
interlocutors and identied persons as speakers in Senecas dialogues, suggesting that it
is this impersonation which has given the treatises the name of Dialogi.
183
Caesars victory will drive him over all the earth: let foreign races
revere and worship him, but you [sc. Marcellus] can live content with
the admiration of Brutus (9.8: illum suspiciant et colant gentes: tu vive Bruto
miratore contentus).
In this passage Seneca does not criticize Caesar except by implication: if he says Caesar blushed to see Marcellus, this is only very slightly
different from Brutus tactful claim that Caesar did not want to see
Marcellus ruined, and if Brutus felt that he was himself going into exile
in leaving Marcellus behind, this need not imply that he felt life under
Caesars domination was exile. But let us consider instead how Seneca
is implying a parallel with his own case. Like Marcellus (Helv. 9.4: beatissime viventem, neque umquam cupidiorem bonarum artium quam illo tempore),
Seneca is a lover of wisdom, and so lives most happily in the pursuit
of philosophical studies. Seneca adds another detail: when the Senate
supplicated Caesar to let Marcellus return, it was so melancholy that
it seemed everyone shared Brutus attitude, and were pleading not for
Marcellus but for themselves, as if they would feel themselves exiled
by suffering his absence (9.6).33 Could Seneca have coined any parallel
more attering to himself and more negative in its implications about
life at Rome in his absence?
Innocenti Pierini ((1990b) 10566) has shown that Seneca uses Ovidian themes in exile, but does so without naming his predecessor in imperial displeasure:34 he avoids even the favoured exemplum of Rutilius
Rufus as long as he is himself in exile, since Rutilius refused to return
when invited. Marcellus is a different case: because the principate had
always distanced itself from Caesars period of sole and autocratic power
as dictator,35 it was possible for Seneca to use the Pompeians exiled or
excluded by Caesar after Pharsalus and the implied loss of freedom of
speech under Caesar without also implying the analogy with the political oppression under the principate, from which Seneca himself might
seem freer in Corsica than at Rome.36 It must have been in the context
33
He does not add what we know from Ciceros letters (Fam. 4.812) that Marcellus
had to be cajoled into agreeing to return, and was killed in Greece without ever coming
back to Rome. Cf. Cohen pp. 1214 above.
34
Cf. Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 105: Lopera poetica Ovidiana dellesilio, che non
viene mai citata ex professo.
35
On Augustan reticence over Caesar see Syme (1939) 31720. As for freedom of
speech, it began to be curtailed in the last decade of Augustus (after AD 4) with the
exploitation of the charge of maiestas whether by the emperors themselves or by those
who wished to eliminate their political and personal enemies.
36
As Musonius points out (9.735, trans. Lutz (1947) = p. 48.15 ff. Hense), it is not
184
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185
non recuso quicquid lacrimarum fortunae meae superfuit tuae fundere; inveniam etiam
nunc per hos exhaustos iam etibus domesticis oculos quod efuat . . .
I do not refuse to shed for your fortune whatever tears my own fortune has
left me; even now I shall nd some that will ow from my eyes, which are
already drained by my personal woes . . .41
41
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conformist panegyric, and panegyric was necessary for Senecas purpose. I heartily agree with Miriam Grifns comment that Pliny the
Younger understood the realities of despotism, and the level of attery
required for powerful freedmen; as with the Senates honoric decree
for Pallas under the same emperor. Tacitus (Ann. 12.53) and Pliny (Ep.
8.6.3 and 8.6.13) accepted the obsequious language at face value: these
writers knew the level of attery required in addressing or referring to
the living emperor.48 Emperors were not more stupid than other readers, to let irony sail over their imperial heads; on the contrary they were
deeply suspicious.49 I will go further: we should not let Tacitus automatic resentment of the power of imperial freedmen, and the racism
and snobbery that made them the butt of satirists like Juvenal, blind us
to the fact that these Greeks and ex-slaves were highly educated. Seneca
knows about Polybius literary enterprises.50 Why exclude the possibility
that his literary interests brought him to know and actually like, maybe
even respect, Polybius, who seems to have been less of an intriguer51 than
his peers? Again the generic tradition of panegyric which had evolved
from Vergils Georgics onward made it useless, even counterproductive,
for a writer to raise issues that concerned the emperor without adopting
the forms and levels of eulogy expected in any genre.
48
See Grifn (1976) Appendix B.3, pp. 41516, adducing the similar case of senatorial panegyric of Pallas. Surely the reiterated formulaic praise for the restraint of every
member of the imperial family in the recently published senatus consultum de Gnaeo Pisone
patre from the time of Tiberius conrms the degree to which this type of conformism
was now required.
49
See the general thesis of Bartsch (1994), who nonetheless favours ironic subtexts in
many works under Nero and the Flavian dynasty.
50
Polybius studia (cf. 8.2, 11.5, 18.1) included prose versions of Homer and Vergil,
each translated into the other language, cf. 11.5: carmina quae tu ita resolvisti ut quamvis
structura illorum recesserit permaneat tamen gratia (sic enim illa ex alia lingua in aliam transtulisti
ut . . . omnes virtutes in alienam te orationem secutae sint).
51
On Polybius culture, amiability, and (relative) innocence of intrigue, see Grimal
(1978) 99100.
We have no evidence for Tacitus prejudice against Polybius himself, despite his
resentment of the power of freedmen (cf. Ann. 12.60.6 on Claudius). The extant text of
the Annals does not report Polybius participation in any intrigue. Suetonius mentions
only that Polybius walked in the position of honour between two consuls (Cl. 28), and
the same envy of his power is reected in the anecdote (cited by Bartsch (1994) 767
from Dio Cass. 60.29.3) of the theatre audience applying to the ex-slave Polybius a line
of Menander unbearable is a whipping slaves successto which he quickly retorted
with another quotation: yes, former goatherds oft rose to be kings. He tried to counter
Messalinas intrigue with Silius and was executed for it (Dio Cass. 60.31.2); we need not
believe the rumour that Polybius too had been her lover (compare the similar gossip
about other imperial women cited in n. 11 above).
187
So I shall read this consolatio straight, taking for granted the traditional themes of the genre of consolation.52 In ad Marciam Seneca had
noted that the regular practice was to begin with recommendations and
end with examples (Marc. 2.1: a praeceptis incipere . . . in exemplis desinere); in
accordance with this rule Seneca opens ad Polybium with recommendations for his addressees behaviour (the praecepta of 212) and then moves
on to models (exempla: 1417), with a reprise of praecepta in 18.19.53 At
its heart (12.314) is the emperor Claudius, already praised in Polyb.
6.58.2, where the central claim is: fas tibi non est salvo Caesare de fortuna
queri (7.4). At 7.4, and again in 12.3 (in hoc uno tibi satis praesidii, solacii est)
Claudius success and his merits are the best reason for Polybius to be
consoled. But Claudius is not only a reason for consolation (14.1: publicum omnium hominum solacium), he will be an active consoler: he is not only
an exemplum, but one who will himself provide Polybius with a chain
of exempla for his edication in 14.216.3 (cf. 14.2: has adloquendi partes
occupaverit: . . . omnem vim doloris tui divina eius contundet auctoritas).
Seneca is of course using Polybius as a discreet form of mediation
with the princeps: although his ofcial function was secretary a studiis,
the dialogue shows he was also functioning a libellis, and so the proper
recipient of petitions to the emperor: but there is also good literary precedent for the petitioner not to address himself directly to the ruler.54
Rhetorically, however, the format of this particular dialogue should
give us pause. Grifn (1976) has argued convincingly that Seneca called
his treatises Dialogi because of their rhetorical technique of utilizing
ctional objections from his addressee, or involving real or historical
interlocutors in his argument.55 Such snatches of imaginary speech are
a form of sermocinatio, and correspond, according to Quintilian,56 to
one use of the Greek term . But Seneca goes well beyond this
routine rhetorical gure, using apostrophe to turn his comment away
from his addressee towards absent and even abstract beings, and as we
saw, he favours a still bolder gure, ventriloquizing or impersonating
other mens admonitions ( prosopopoeiae) in the dialogues. In this respect
52
On these see the detailed treatment by Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 21829, and
Motto/Clark (1993) 18996.
53
Cf. Abel (1967) 74, 912.
54
We may compare Ovids use of Fabius Maximus in the early poems of the Epistulae
ex Ponto, and of Salanus as his intermediary to Germanicus in Pont. 2.5 and Suillius in
Pont. 4.8.
55
See Grifn (1976) App. B.2, especially p. 414.
56
Cf. Quint. Inst. 9.2.31 and other passages cited by Grifn (1976) 41516.
188
elaine fantham
the consolation to Polybius goes way beyond its predecessors. Thus the
early consolation for Marcia raises a number of imagined objections, in
the conventional form of single topic sentences (cf. 7.1, 9.1, 12.3, 16.1).
In addition Seneca impersonates the philosopher Areus admonitions to
Livia (4.35.6), creates a one liner for Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi
(16.3), and four lines of speech for Marcia herself (16.8). His most complex impersonation conjures up a speech warning a man intending to go
to Syracuse of both the pleasures and hardships of the journey (17.25)
and balances it with a justication of lifes vicissitudes by Nature, before
converting his own argument into a corresponding displaced speech:
puta nascenti me tibi venire in consilium (18.1 leading into the speech of 18.2
8). Finally he imagines, or perhaps recalls, the dying words of Marcias
beloved father Cordus to his daughter (23.6 (three lines)). These gures
are dropped in the last phase of this and other dialogues, but we should
view all but the simplest objections as rhetorical pitches for variety. The
consolation to Helvia is plainer, with routine interlocutors at 6.2 and 9.1,
to whom he quotes a reply (9.3), and again at 11.1, and 13.1. Seneca
once gives the words of his own potential admonitions to a third party,
this time, to imaginary luxuriosi at 10.68. And, if only once, he puts
himself in the position of Helvia herself, lamenting his absence (15.1,
covering 7 lines of text). But these departures from direct address are
few, short, and functional. This is far outstripped by the level of speaker
displacement in ad Polybium. Using the same criteria and categories,
we nd two separate apostrophes reproaching Fortune in 2.22.7 and
3.45, both full scale v; a speech put into Polybius own mouth
at 9.13, another apostrophe full of reproaches against Fortune at 13.1
and an exclamatory apostrophe at 13.4: o felicem clementiam tuam, Caesar.
All this culminates in the more than full length catalogue of exempla
which Seneca put into Claudius mouth in 14.216.3. A brief note
by Dahlmann seventy years ago57 demonstrated that Seneca not only
put a speech into Claudius mouth, but wrote it in character, reecting
Claudius notorious tendency to total recallat least of historical precedent and antiquarian details. But after this tour de force Seneca speaks
directly and without interruption to Polybius, his addressee.
Senecas use of speaker displacement in ad Polybium is, however, not
only remarkable because of its scale, but also because of the prominent
role of the theme of personied Fortune in these passages. Fortune was
57
189
regularly held responsible for natural deaths, but the goddess is in fact
exceptionally intrusive in Senecas consolation to Polybius. Where the
consolation to Helvia balanced the arbitrary and random acts of Fortune
(1.1, and four times in section 5) towards Seneca and others, against the
unchallengeable decree of the fata in accordance with nature (8.3), the
consolation for Polybius deliberately opens with a repudiating mockery of
conventional lamentation (1.2: eat nunc aliquis et singulas comploret animas . . .
eat aliquis et fata tantum aliquando nefas ausura sibi non pepercisse conqueratur).
This dictates the tone for the set-pieces of lamentation and reproach
(conquestio: cf. conqueramur in 2.2 and 3.4) against Fortune and the Fates
alike ( fata at 1.2,4, 3.3, 4.1) for their cruelty in bringing premature
death to Polybius young brother.58 Seneca only brings this to an end
when he is ready to change his tune and represent Polybius eminence
as good fortune which carries its own loss of liberty (6.4: magna servitus est magna fortuna). Seneca makes it clear that these reproaches are
futile and ethically misguided (4.1: diutius accusare fata possumus, mutare non
possumus . . . proinde parcamus lacrimis nil procientibus) but he will exploit this
topos to the full before he changes to a positive mode, halfway through
the dialogue, at 9.4: there Seneca argues that the dead man is happier,
because he has no longer any need of fortune, than the living one who
enjoys ready good fortune, and thus concludes that Polybius brother
is only now free, safe and immortal (9.7). At this level of philosophical exaltation we do not need to look for political irony. In section 11
Seneca goes even further by stating that the unexpected early death of
loved ones is not the injustice of the Fates, but the insatiability of human
greed which will not accept that life is only on loan, despite the fact
that there is a proper doom (11.4: fatum suum) for each man and nation.
Even so Fortune returns briey as villain in the prayer for Claudius (cf.
13.1) and even shares in Caesars own reproaches at 16.2,3: Fortuna impotens! quales ex humanis malis tibi ipsa ludos facis! . . . bis me fraterno luctu adgressa
fortuna est.59 After his prolonged and daring impersonation of the father
of his people ( parens publicus) in 14.216.3 Seneca returns to treating
the scolding of Fortune as a kind of routine or refrain, with the idiom
58
These passages are among those singled out by Atkinson (1985) 8729 as evidence
for irony; but he does not realize that Seneca himself has set up the grievances against
Fortune only in order to knock them down and move on to a wiser, more philosophical
reaction.
59
Cf. the opening words of Seneca in [Sen.] Oct. 37780: quid, impotens Fortuna,
fallaci mihi / blandita vultu, sorte contentum mea / alte extulisti, gravius ut ruerem edita / receptus
arce totque prospicerem metus?
190
elaine fantham
convicium facere evoking the public abuse associated with the custom of
agitatio (16.5):60 faciamus licet illi convicium non nostro tantum ore sed etiam
publico, and again turns away from this ritual by pointing out that we
cannot change Fortune, her violence and her injustice (ibit violentior . . .
iniuriae causa).
The many references to Fortune in this dialogue, are present, I
believe, because of the many things Seneca felt he could not say about
the dynastic intrigues of which he had been made a victim, but perhaps they are also to reinforce the unspoken link between Polybius and
himself as victims of different kinds of misfortune. Seneca only turns
full attention to his own exile (hinted at early in our surviving text, cf.
2.1: quicquid lacrimarum fortunae meae superfuerit) after his central vows for
the emperors long life (12.5: di illum deaeque terris diu commodent. acta hic
divi Augusti aequet, annos vincat) and prayer to Fortune (13.1: abstine ab hoc
manus tuas, Fortuna), to spare Claudius, who is depicted as a healer of the
wounds inicted by Gaius (mederi . . . quicquid prioris principis furor concussit)
and a pacier, whose clemency, his most important virtue, shows Seneca promise of restoration (13.2: quorum me quoque spectatorem futurum . . .
promittit clementia). It is Fortune that has stricken Seneca (cf. impulsum a
fortuna) but Claudius who held him up and set him gently down, using
his moderation to beg the Senate for Senecas life (13.2: vitam mihi non
tantum dedit sed etiam petit). Either Claudius natural justice will see the
strength of Senecas case or his clemency will give it strength (13.3: vel
iustitia eius [sc. causam] bonam perspiciat, vel clementia faciat bonam). Thus,
it will be a benecium from Claudius whether he knows that Seneca is
innocent, or wishes him to have been so. If Seneca can be said to admit
his guilt by this remark it is only because he needs the admission to give
the emperor credit for clemency. For Senecas best hope was to make
his pardon an opportunity for Claudius to gain the moral high ground
of clemency. The theme of the tug of war between Fortune and Mercy
reaches its furthest development after the great impersonation of the
princeps, with the wish that merciless Fortune will learn mercy from
Claudius, and be mild to the mildest of emperors (16.6: atque mitissimo
omnium principum mitis).
After a recapitulation of precepts to help Polybius forgive Fortune
(17.1, 18.3) and celebrate the memory of his departed brother, Seneca
60
Convicium is a word for abuse common in popular comedy. agitatio was the old
Italian practice of publicly shaming a debtor or false friend or adulterer by gathering a
group at his door to demand ( agitare) compensation, and denounce his actions.
191
61
This is clearly an Ovidian echo, cf. Tr. 3.14.336 cited by Innocenti Pierini (1990b)
11617.
62
Cf. Innocenti Pierini (1990b) 11222 and n. 19 above.
192
elaine fantham
assessment of his rhetorical skills to see the two consolations as arguing both sides of his case, offering rst the proud claims of philosophical self-sufciency, then later the humble appeal to his audience and to
the changing (if premature) expectation of political relaxation with the
passage of time. The issue is not one of sincerity, but one of effective
persuasion and a double audience. While paying every courtesy and
respect to his addressees, Seneca has successfully created his own image
for the wider and unmentioned audience which he hopes will read over
the shoulders of his mother and of the emperors adviser.
CHAPTER TEN
1
Cf. Desideri (1978), Jones (1978). A still fundamental work is von Arnim (1898).
For a brief review (with a bibliographical update) see Desideri (1994) 84156; for an
exhaustive outline of Dios reception in modern times see Swain (2000b) 1348.
2
Cf. Desideri (1978) 187200, Jones (1978) 4555. Recently the problems of Dios
exile were re-examined by Sidebottom (1996), and more thoroughly by Verrengia (2000)
6691. An entire chapter of Whitmarshs book ((2001b) 15667) is devoted to Dios
exile; however, I cannot accept his general thesis that the trope of exile was used to
construct identity in the Greek literature of the early principate (p. 178), at least if it is
intended to mean that this is the main thing to be said about Dios exile.
3
When expounding some aspects of Dios biography in his Vitae Sophistarum (1.7
p. 488), the Severan age author Philostratus said that he [sc. Dio] had not been ordered
to go into exile, but simply vanished from mens sight, hiding himself from their eyes
and ears, and occupying himself in various ways in various lands, through fear of the
tyrants in the capital [i.e. Rome] at whose hands all philosophy was suffering persecution (trans. Wright (1921), [sc. ] . . .
v
, ). This position was revived in
recent years by Brancacci (1985) 97104, and most recently by Civiletti (2002) 3778,
but is generally rejected by scholars (see Verrengia (2000) 66 n. 1).
4
In one of Plinys epistles toTrajan (and in the emperors reply; cf. Plin. Ep. 10.812)
Dio is mentioned as someone who is apparently on good terms with Trajan himself, and
who is, at the same time, a politician of the Bithynian Prusa, a member of one of the
citys prominent families, who is involved in an important civic project, who is attacked
by one of his countrymen, well-known as a former protg of Domitian: see Desideri
(1978) 12 and 4016; none of these details is at odds with Dios texts.
194
paolo desideri
195
lenged the emperor openly and had not put off speaking or writing
about the evils aficting the people.11 It is hard to believe that Dio would
have risked being immediately proved false in a public assembly.
Dio dedicated only few wordsat least in the extant worksto the
material consequences of his exile, i.e. the loss of his goods, the ight
of his slaves, vel sim. However, he refers to this aspect of his exile in two
of his Bithynian speeches. In Defence of his Relationship with his Native City
Dio stresses the correctness of his behaviour towards Prusa and claims
he had forgiven all those countrymen who had proted from his exile
to wrong him in many ways (Or. 45.10). He had not tried to recover
his possessions (Or. 45.10) although so many slaves had run away and
obtained freedom, so many persons had defrauded me of money, so
many were occupying lands of mine, since there was no one to prevent such doings ( v ,
v , ,
v ).12 In another speech, On Concord with
the Apameians, Dio says that he has a very good reason for not wanting to
be involved in problems of civic administration (Or. 40.2):
, v, v ,
, , v
v, . . . v
v ,
;
11
Cf. Or. 45.1: v . . .
v, <> v
v , . I would not say
that in this passage Dio is speaking of his railings against Domitian as the cause of his
exile: cf. Whitmarsh (2001b) 157 and 160.
12
Translation by Crosby (194651). The comparison later in this passage (Or. 45.11)
with the situation Odysseus faced when coming back to Ithaca after twenty years is
intended to underline Dios own moral superiority over the ancient Greek hero. On
Odysseus as a paradigmatic exile cf. also pp. 5, 910, 1819, 25 n. 17, 102, 104, 105,
157 above and p. 201 n. 33 below.
13
Translation by Crosby (194651).
196
paolo desideri
As strong as these statements may appear (especially the rst), they are
the only comments on the material consequences of his exile in all of
Dios preserved speeches. This does not mean that Dio considered this
kind of consequence of exile of little importance, but that in his opinion
the psychological and particularly the intellectual consequences were
what really mattered.14
The former of the last two passages is part of a larger section of a
speech (Or. 45.1 ff.) in which Dio presented his merits to both the general population of the world and to his countrymen in particular during
the terror of the emperor Domitian. Dios main point is to deny that
he has had any personal interest in obtaining from the emperor Trajan
the political and administrative improvements his hometown Prusa had
been endowed with in the previous few years.15 To this end he tries to
persuade his audience that his attitude towards the emperors had always
been characterized by a spirit of freedom and courage. In mentioning
his exile, in particular, Dio intends to show that he had made use of it
as an instrument of political struggle against a dreadful enemy, who was
(Or. 45.1)
v v,
vv
, v
not this or that one among my equals, or peers, as they are sometimes
called, but rather the most powerful, most stern man, who was called by
all Greeks and barbarians both master and god, but who was in reality an
evil demon16
in other words, the Roman emperor. On the one hand it is clear that
Dio tends to present his exile as a gigantic struggle against a
v; as Dio himself acknowledges towards the end, this is an ever
recurring theme in his political speeches, which had become boring for
his countrymen (Or. 45.2; cf. 3.13). On the other hand it is clear that in
Dios opinion one could only cope with this v by (Or. 45.1) trusting in a greater power and source of aid, that which proceeds from the
gods ( v ).17
14
Fantham, p. 180 above, accentuates a similar silence about the material consequences of exile in the works of Ovid and Seneca the Younger and speaks of generic
propriety. Xenophon, however, is a different case: see Dillery p. 67 above.
15
On this point see p. 206 below.
16
Translation by Crosby (194651).
17
Translation by Crosby (194651).
197
18
Cf. Desideri (1978) 304; for a narratological analysis of this passage see Whitmarsh
(2001b) 197200. In contrast to Nerva and Nero (cf. Or. 45.2 and 32.60) Trajan is not
mentioned in Dios extant works. In Desideri (1991a) 3897901 I have collected all of
Dios explicit and implicit references to the Roman emperors.
19
Translation by Cohoon (193240).
20
As for the meaning of this localization of the episode see Desideri (2000) 99101.
21
Translation by Cohoon (193240).
22
Cf. Desideri (1978) 314.
198
paolo desideri
, ,
v. v
v , , ,
. . . . v , , ,
v v,
v .
And you too, she continued, have come into this place by no mere
human chance, for I shall not let you depart unblest. Thereupon she
at once began to prophesy, saying that the period of my wandering and
tribulation would not be long, nay, nor that of mankind at large . . . Some
day, she said, you will meet a mighty man, the ruler of very many lands
and peoples. Do not hesitate to tell him this tale of mine even if there be
those who will ridicule you for a prating vagabond.23
No wicked or licentious or avaricious person can ever become a competent ruler or master either of himself or of anybody else, nor will such
a man ever be a king even though all the world, both Greeks and barbarians, men and women, afrm the contrary, yea, though not only men
admire and obey him, but the birds of the air and the wild beasts on the
mountains no less than men submit to him and do his biddings.24
23
199
risked becoming banishment from all the world, except for the barbarian regions which were outside the borders of the Roman Empire or
for the remotest places inside these borders. In this situation, which rendered the conditions of an exiled person harder than in the entire previous history of Hellenism,26 the sole possibility of resistance left was,
according to Dio, the aid of the gods: apart from personal resources
they were the only support available. Through the combination of these
two elementspersonal resources and religionan exiled person could
become active as an anti-governmental preacher all over the world and
could thereby provoke, or at least facilitate, the collapse of an unlawful
government. However, before Dio was able to rationalize his banishment in this way, he had to experience hopelessness, isolation from the
rest of the world, and uprootedness from all that constituted his former
life. This kind of experience may, in my opinion, explain the sense of
estrangement from any social context which permeates Dios so-called
Diogenians (in which the gure of the Cynic Diogenes stands out) and
some other minor speeches of Dio.27
The text which offers the most detailed account of Dios way of living
and reacting to the experience of exile is the thirteenth of his preserved
speeches, In Athens, On his Exile ( , ).28 In this speech
Dio, who is apparently speaking in a public meeting in Athens, narrates
how it happened that he was banned, and how he was able, thanks to
divine counsel, to accept and even take advantage of the new situation. At the end Dio reproduces for his audience two specimens of the
26
200
paolo desideri
Socratic lesson29 he used to present to the peoples both of some unspecied place and of Rome. In my opinion the speech belongs to a late
phase of Dios exile, or was, as seems even more likely, composed after
the end of his exile. It provides a vivid picture of the degraded political context in which Dios banishment had been decreed. According
to Dio, his exile was the consequence of his friendship with an important person who had fallen out of the emperors (i.e. Domitians) grace
(Or. 13.1):
,
v ,
v .
For just as among the Scythians it is the practice to bury cupbearers and
cooks and concubines with their kings, so it is the custom of despots to
throw in several others for no reason whatever with those who are being
executed by them.30
This context is, of course, absolutely coherent with the political dimension of resistance to imperial despotism which Dio attributes to his exile,
as we have already seen. But let us examine more closely what, according to Dios own account, happened afterwards (Or. 13.2):
[add.
Cohoon] , ,
v v .
I began to consider, whether this matter of banishment was really a grievous thing and a misfortune, as it is in the view of the majority, or whether
such experiences merely furnish another instance of what we are told
happens in connection with the divinations of the women in the sacred
places.31
29
On Dios Socrates see (from different points of view) Desideri (1991b) 3917, 3929,
39334, 394950, and Brancacci (2000).
30
Translation by Cohoon (193240). For a recent discussion about the possible identity of this person see Verrengia (2000) 6677.
31
Translation by Cohoon (193240).
201
32
202
paolo desideri
38
A passage like this could well have suggested to Philostratus that Dios disappearance was based on his own personal decision, cf. n. 3 above.
39
See the passage quoted in n. 3 above.
40
This is no surprise, of course, for Synesius explicitly says that his theory is based
on Dios text, cf. n. 28 above.
203
a number of my intimate [sc. Prusaean] friends had long been asking for
an opportunity to meet me; and besides, many of my fellow-citizens were
said to be eager to see me, considering that I have a certain advantage
over most men because of my wanderings and the reversal of my fortunes,
and the bodily hardships which I was supposed to have experienced.44
41
See especially the Olympic speech (Or. 12.46,60,61) and cf. Desideri (1980).
If we must accept that Dio could not give a speech in Rome during his exile: cf.
Or. 13.31 and n. 9 above.
43
See Desideri (1991b) 3939 and cf. Nesselrath, p. 101 above, for a similar thought
in Favorinus De Exilio.
44
Translation by Cohoon (193240).
45
Translation by Cohoon (193240).
42
204
paolo desideri
give his friends and countrymen the possibility of visiting him easily,
and to avoid any admission of psychological or physical troubles connected with his exile.46
The passages discussed so far show clearly that Dio lived his banishment
as a far more complete exile from the entire civilized world and that
he presented it not only as a decisive personal experience, but also as a
fundamental event for mankind at large. Dio not only solicited respect
and even admiration from his listeners but also exploited his exile to
communicate a more general, political and psychological message concerning the situation of the Greeks in the Roman Empire at this time.47
This becomes particularly prominent in Dios four speeches On Kingship
( ), which arguably are the foremost result of his struggle
against the v Domitian. These speechesone of which
(Or. 3) seems never to have been brought to a nal formdiffer sharply
among themselves and were composed in different times; as a whole
they give the impression of a sort of open laboratory, in which Dio made
various attempts to nd an appropriate denition of the nature and limits of imperial power (which was Roman power, of course). Before Dio no
comparable effort had been made by any Greek or Roman author, and
it seems to have been the experience of exile that inspired Dio to such
an undertaking; from Dios point of view this undertaking could appear
as a rm Greek reply to the Roman exhibition of stupid brutality.48
It is not possible to deal with every single aspect of Dios thought on
the subject of political legitimization,49 but I shall at least point out the
three keystones of his construction. First, Dio underlines the necessity for
46
What remains of the speech is unfortunately too meagre to allow us to understand
the context in which this preamble was inserted.
47
I must say that I do not see any real advantage in submerging Dios individual
experience in the general category of persecuted Greek philosophers (thus Whitmarsh (2001b) 134 ff.). After all, it was only Dio, who was able to extract from this
experience a thorough reection on Roman imperial power and its possible legitimation
by the (Greek) intellectual. Moreover, I still believe that one has to pass through Dios
individuality and personality if one wants to fully understand even the wider cultural framing of the Kingships (Whitmarsh (2001b) 184).
48
Whitmarsh (2001b) 1812 n. 3, offers a synthetic review of pre-Dionean kingship
literaturefrom Xenophons Hiero on. Of course, Dio was indebted to this tradition,
but his approach was completely new, because the king he had to face was the Roman
emperor, the ruler of the entire v.
49
See the more detailed discussions in Desideri (1978) 283318, Jones (1978) 115
22, Moles (1990), Hidalgo de la Vega (1995).
205
50
The date of this speech is disputed. Contra Moles (1983) I still believe it had a long
gestation, beginning probably in Domitians age, see Desideri (1978) 28896.
51
On the second speech see now Fornaro (2003).
52
Cf. Desideri (1978) 301 ff.
53
Cf. Desideri (1978) 299301 and notes.
54
Cf. Mazzarino (1962) 20517; cf. Desideri (1996), especially pp. 1658.
55
In many a passage Dio is very harsh against , cf. e.g. Or. 1.15,82 and
3.3,12,13,16.
206
paolo desideri
these new leaders, with whom Dio was willing to cooperate for the welfare of the world. Through the Bithynian speeches we are informed at
length that Dio obtained from Trajan several administrative measures
which favoured the city of Prusa, and we learn that Dio (together with
the Roman governor of Bithynia) was personally involved in putting
these measures into practice.56 Moreover, Dio cooperated with Trajan
in various ways also in other parts of the eastern half of the Roman
empire, notably in Cilicia, where Dio delivered two of his most politically involved speeches.57
More or less in the same period personal cooperation with a good
emperor is seen as acceptable also by Plutarch,58 and the gradual
assumption of political, administrative and military responsibilities in
the Roman bureaucracy by members of the Greek elite, which begins
at the end of the rst century AD, must not be underestimated.59 It is
true, of course, that in one of his speeches (Or. 31) Dio furiously attacks
the Rhodians for their servile attitude towards the Romans and claims
that they fail to understand that through the erasure of old inscriptions
and their replacement by new ones they are repudiating their own glorious past.60 But in this context Dio does not say that the Greeks are
not allowed to cooperate with the Romans, nor that the Romans do
not deserve their empire. He simply says that the Greek cooperation
should not mean disavowal of their own political and cultural identities. Moreover, in several famous passages of the Second Tarsic Speech (Or.
34.49 ff.) and the Nicomedian Speech (Or. 38.38) as well as in other less
famous speeches Dio warns the Greeks not to continue their ancient
habit of internal feuds and hostilities, because this would inevitably
56
Cf. Desideri (1978) 376422, Jones (1978) 83114, Sheppard (1984). For a more
general survey of Dios (and other) testimonies on the political life of Asian cities see
Salmeri (2000).
57
I.e. Or. 33 and 34, which were delivered in Tarsus (cf. also the title of Or. 80: Among
those of Cilicia, on Freedom). I agree with Whitmarsh (2001b) that the general principle
that the Kingships seek to establish [sc. is that] paideia is the sine qua non of good rule, and
Greek wisdom must guide Roman rule (p. 211; cf. pp. 21316); I would add, however,
that this principle is not to be interpreted only in terms of rhetorical self-representation, but also has a strong ideological, or even political, signicance.
58
Plutarch, however, pretends to deter his countrymen from directly being involved
in imperial administration, cf. Plut. Prae. ger. reip. 814D; on Plutarchs cooperation with
Trajan see Stadter (2002) 1113 and many other of the contributions in Stadter/van
der Stockt (2002); for a reassessment of Plutarchs political activity see Stadter (2004).
59
See the synthetic treatment by Salmeri (1991) 56975.
60
Cf. Or. 31 passim and see Desideri (1978) 11016, Jones (1978) 2635.
207
61
On the situation in Cilicia (Tarsus) see Desideri (2001a), on the situation in Bithynia
(Nicomedia) cf. Desideri (1978) 41022 and Jones (1978) 8491.
62
On the civic use of the great Greek past from Dios times on see Gasc (1998).
63
On Philostratus coining of the term see Desideri (1992) 578.
64
Cf. imprimis Bowersock (1969), Bowie (1970), Swain (1996), Schmitz (1997). Other
important studies are Reardon (1984), Anderson (1989), the essays collected in Russell
(1990), Anderson (1993), Brunt (1994), Whitmarsh (2001b), and the contributions in
Goldhill (2001). See Desideri (2001b) for an attempt to review the Italian scholarship
on the subject.
65
Cf. Plin. Ep. 10.81.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
1
Cf. nn. 9 and 10 below. On the relative mildness of relegatio in contrast to exilium
stricto sensu, and Ovids clever tactic of blurring the distinction so that he might appear
the greater victim, see Ehlers (1988) 150, 1556.
2
Cf. Ehlers (1988) 151: Verbannung oder Flucht stigmatisieren das verstoene
Land. One thinks, for example, of Alexander Solzhenitsyn. Claassen (1999a) 2568
describes the case of the Afrikaans writer Breyten Breytenbach who rst entered into
voluntary exile after marrying a non-white but ended up returning to South Africa only
to be imprisoned.
210
ralph j. hexter
rst describe his journey to Tomis on the Black Sea and then transcribe
aspects of his life there, with abundant and plangent appeals for recall or
at least a resettlement to a somewhat more pleasant location.3 One may
also celebrate the collective outpouring of sympathetic lamentation that
has owed ever since from the pens of those for whom Ovid became a
mythic gure of exile, displacement, and despair. Most are sympathetic
in the sense that they see him as the victim of the Roman rulers exercise
of absolute authority; of these, some allege that the emperor was, hypocritically, seeking to cover up his own personal scandal. All, however,
are sympathetic in the sense that one string is sympathetic with another,
sounding in response. It is this genealogy of the exilic imaginary that I
trace here, at least in part, for while I will concentrate on the medieval
centuries, the name of Ovid as the exemplary banished poet lived on to
be evoked by authors from du Bellay, Goethe, Grillparzer and Pushkin
to Marx, Verlaine, Brecht and Brodsky.4
3
The Ibis is also a product of this period, as are at least certain sections of the Fasti
and possibly even portions of the Metamorphoses as we have it (see Harrison and Gaertner on pp. 135 and 155 above). On the Ibis, see now Williams (1996). I focus here on
the two major collections as they constituted the prime canon of exile elegies for the
tradition I will be tracing in this essay.When I write describe and transcribe, as
here, or any other such verb, I do not mean to imply that these are realistic representations. They are to be understood, rather, as reality effects within a ctive and poetic
realm. See Chwalek (1996), who argues cogently for the existence of an elegiac ego
(elegisches Ich) that the poet Ovid created in the Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto ( just as
surely as he created an amatory-elegiac ego in the Amores) and whose exaggerations and
contradictions readers are supposed to appreciate as a product of that persona. The
history of the reception of the poems is largely, of course, a history of misreading from
Chwaleks perspective, since the majority of readers before the late twentieth century
seem to have fallen afoul of the autobiographical fallacy (for some exceptions, see Ehlers
(1988)). Given the primary orientation of my study on that reception history, my own
summaries usually reect the less complex understanding of the readers I am studying,
though were I writing a study of Ovids Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto directly, I would
certainly use language much more in line with Chwaleks formulations. Chwaleks study
also offers virtually exhaustive reference to relevant secondary literature up to the mid
1990s.
4
Bibliography is vast and largely scattered; I offer the briefest of beginnings in Hexter (1986) 83 n. 2. For a sampling of more, on Grillparzer and Pushkin, see von Albrecht
(1971) and Smolak (1980) 1745, on Goethe and Brecht, see Ehlen (2000) 1523, on
Brodsky, see Kennedy (2002). Late-twentieth-century novels by Malouf (1978) and
Christoph Ransmayr ((1988) and (1990)) are the best well-known, in the English-speaking
world, of ctions that are inspired by Ovid on the Black Sea; among discussions, see
Hardie (2002b) 32637, Kennedy (2002) and Ziolkowski (2005). Other novels include
Horia (1960 [discussed by Smolak (1980) 17684 and, yet more briey, by Claassen
(1999a) 254]) and the last tenth of von Naso [sic!] (1958).Some portions of this essay
cover ground explored more extensively in Hexter (1986) 83107 (reprinted in abbreviated form as Hexter (1995)) and revisited, from different angles and in more summary
211
Ovid is never more seductive than when enticing readers into the successive books of Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto, precisely when a potential
reader might be debating whether he or she should unroll yet another
scroll of poetry.5 Virtually without exception,6 at book openings Ovid
highlights the remoteness, even exoticism of his place of exile; the distance that separates him from Rome; his status as an exile; the book
that must traverse the intervening space; or some combination of these
elements. At the opening of the entire Tristia, for example, he addresses
the book of poetry he has just completed (Tr. 1.1.12):
parve (nec invideo) sine me, liber, ibis in urbem:
ei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo!
Little book (not that Im jealous), without me you will travel to the city: Alas
for me, that it is not permitted your master also to make the journey.7
The book can enter the city, while its creator-master cannot. By no
means insignicant is the fact that at this initiatory moment Ovid
evokes not only distance but dominion and domination, and, especially,
dominions limitations, suggesting that mastery may not always be the
masters. Ovid acclaims his own lack of mastery at the opening of subsequent books as well,8 but it is when one thinks of the power dynamic
between banishing princeps and banished poet that this topic becomes
fashion, in Hexter (1999) and (2002); other segments of this essay reect signicant
expansions and/or updates of what were only brief treatments in Hexter (1986). I refer
readers, when still appropriate, to details and bibliography especially in the rst of those
studies; in the notes here I list only the most important of older studies and, of course,
more recent scholarship, though that selectively, since many of the relevant titles appear
also in the notes and bibliographies of the other contributions to this volume.
5
One might well compare the opening couplets of many of the Heroidesthe single
epistles at least are much earlier works of Ovidfor his position is now quite similar to
that of the abandoned heroines in his earlier work. There also the seductive opening
has a duplex intentio (to use a phrase from a medieval commentary on the collection), representing the intent both of the ctive heroine to win back the attention of her absent
beloved and of Ovid to draw in his reader.
6
The opening of the nal book, Ex Ponto 4if its organization is indeed to be attributed to Ovid himselfconstitutes a denite exception. Already by the opening of Ex
Ponto 3 Ovid is able to address the land in which he nds himself: he now expresses himself resigned to banishment from Rome, seeking only a less hostile habitation.
7
Unless otherwise noted, all translations are mine and, quite patently, have no literary pretensions whatsoever.
8
Particularly insightful on this dimension of the opening of Tr. 1.1 is Hinds (1985)
1314. Ovids exhibitionism of his own weakness or wretchedness, especially prominent at the openings of Tr. 24, could also be related to this thematic, but a full treatment lies outside the scope of this essay.
212
ralph j. hexter
most interesting. And as it happens, the enigmatic nature of the fault for
which Ovid was banished not only attracted readers but subtly introduced them to a comparable power dynamic.
Subtly, indeed, for most readers, up to and including modern scholars, have focused less (if at all) on Ovids production of this enigma
than on the enigma itself. The mystery of Ovids exile, to cite the
name of both a book9 and a familiar scholarly crux, has brought out
the Sherlock Holmes in many of our scholarly confrres. Ovid himself,
famously, tells us that the causes were two: a poem and a mistake (carmen et error (Tr. 2.207)). The poem, whether or not a pretext, was the
Ars amatoria; no mystery there. The mystery inheres in the error, which
Ovid intentionally veils, ostensibly to prevent further offense. His discretion appears to have served the emperor well,10 unless, of course, it was
Ovids clever calculation that his ostentatiously discreet, even obsequious silence would itself constitute the gap that generations of readers
would ll with the most outrageous fantasies, devising scandals that, for
all we know, far exceed the original (if scandal there was). It is precisely
this that I mean to describe as the production of enigma.11
Certainly, the sum total of retrojected scandal outweighs and surpasses, in variety and inventiveness, whatever act it was that lies concealed beneath the word error. A few examples will sufce. Late classical
and medieval speculation often followed Ovids own hints in devising
more or less plausible scenarios, but given the identication of Ovid
with the world of sexual adventurehe proclaims himself, after all, the
erotodidact par excellence in the carmen that was the rst-named cause of
his banishmentalmost all the speculation involved sexual high jinks of
one sort or another. One of the earliest testimonia suggests that beneath
the nickname Corinna, whom the singer of the Amores pursued, hides a
young lady somehow connected to the emperor, but it is not absolutely
clear if there is any connection here with the cause of Ovids exile.12
Later authors seem to have constructed scenarios around whatever
Thibault (1964).
To my mind, one of the most helpful of overviews of this issue, with reasoning as
sound and sober as one could hope for, remains Green (1982). Virtually contemporary
with this piece is Goold (1983), slightly earlier Syme (1978), a work of the noted historian of Augustan Rome.
11
This would make Ovid in certain regards the author of his own reception.
12
Cf. Sidonius, Carm. 23.1601: quondam Caesareae nimis puellae / cto nomine subditum
Corinnae; see Hexter (1986) 89.
10
213
214
ralph j. hexter
Another Munich manuscript includes, before it cites the three standard explanations, a fabulous, even fabliaux-like story. In this tale it is
none other than Vergil who is Ovids rival for the affections of Augustuss wife, whom, it is further alleged, he celebrated in his book without
a title under the name of Corinnain other words, in the Amores.16
The boyfriend tale knows a somewhat less amboyant but even more
anachronistic variant in a Berkeley manuscript: there the boyfriend
abusing emperor is none other than Nero.17
As I intimated above, engagement with Ovid as poet not merely banned
but banished was based on deeper chords of response than mere titillation or a tantalizingly unsolved mystery. One infers this from the depth
and breadth of response in medieval Latin literature, unbroken from the
Carolingian poets through the thirteenth century. Particularly arresting
is the fact that evidence for the engagement is even earlier. It is never
wise to trust the vagaries of transmission, so much have the ravages of
the centuries removed from our view, but it is at least worth mentioning the Wolfenbttel fragment (G) of a likely once complete text of the
Epistulae ex Ponto, which dates from the later fth century.18
The imaginations of Carolingian poets seem to have been haunted
by the image of Ovid as exile, certainly if one judges from their poetic
remnants. I have traced some of the shadows of the exiled Ovid
before,19 and recently Thomas Ehlen has offered a detailed account of
the exchange between Theodulf of Orlans and Modoin of Autun as
sue expulsionis, clm 14753, fol. 40v; cf. Hexter (1986) 220; for Paris, Bibliothque nationale, ms. lat. 8207, see Ghisalberti (1946) 33, note (col. 2) and 50 (hanc autem causam esse
principalem innuit ipse . . .). The most important work of gathering, editing and printing
Ovidian biographies since Ghisalberti is Coulson (1987).
16
Clm 631, fol. 148r; cf. Hexter (1986) 221, (1999) 3356. The Amores circulated
widely in the Middle Ages as the De sine titulo or De sine nomine; on this, cf. Hexter (1986)
65 and Dimmick (2002) 2734.
17
Berkeley, UCB 95, here fol. 60ra; cf. Hexter (1999) 342. The manuscript was
described, and the headnote rst published, in Jeauneau (1988).
18
On the transmission of Ovids works, see Richmond (2002), who describes G on
p. 446. G and the second-oldest witness for the Epistulae ex Ponto, Hamburg codex 52 in
scrinio, from the ninth-century, are discussed briey at Hexter (1986) 867, with reference to further bibliography. Gaertner (2004b) reveals further evidence of early direct
engagement with the Epistulae ex Ponto by identifying interpolations that can only have
dated from the fourth or fth centuries. One would very much like to know what the
motivations of such interpolators were. See also Gaertner (pp. 1819 above and (2005)
39) on the reception of Ovids exile poetry by Seneca, Statius, Rutilius Namatianus and
other ancient authors.
19
Cf. Hexter (1986) 83107 and (2002) 41624.
215
the rst of four case studies of the modes exilium was, in very different
ways, either experienced or guratively deployed.20 For example, in
response to Theodulf s own highly Ovidianized epistle from Le Mans
written in 820, Modoin explicitly evokes the spectre of the exiled Ovid
in ostentatiously Ovidian language:
livor edax petit alta fremens, consternere temptans
id quod ovans simplex pectore turba colit.
pertulit an nescis quod longos Naso labores?
insons est factus exul ob invidiam.
Voracious greed seeks the heights and, growling, attempts to bring low
that which the simple-hearted crowd, applauding, approves. Or do you
not know that Ovid endured long years of suffering? Innocent, he was
exiled on account of envy.21
20
Cf. Ehlen (2000) 166, prefacing the section (pp. 16782, plus excursus on pp.
1834) of which the title is Vertrieben wie einst Ovid (banished as once Ovid was,
p. 167). Ehlen provides abundant evidence of Ovids poetic presence behind these
texts.
21
Modoinus indignus episcopo Theodulfo suo, vv. 4750 (PLAC 1.571). livor edax obviously
echoes Ov. Am. 1.15.1 and Rem. 389. Further on the Carolingian Nasos Ovidianism
amidst the general renovatio, see Whitta (2002). Roma iterum renovata is Modoins own
language: cf. prospicit alta novae Romae meus arce Palemon, / cuncta suo imperio consistere regna
triumpho, / rursus in antiquos mutataque secula mores / aurea Roma iterum renovata renascitur orbi
(Modoin, Egloga 1.247, in Korzeniewski (1976) 7687, here p. 78; in part anthologized
and translated in Godman (1985a) 1907, who highlights just these verses as a motto for
the Carolingian renaissance (p. 1)). The degree to which Carolingian letters participated
in and contributed to Charlemagnes own calculated attempts to evoke imperial Rome
hardly needs rehearsal. In the realm of imperial bibliography, one can cite Einhard,
who modeled his Vita Caroli Magni (c. 833) on Suetoniuss Vitae Caesarum, but much earlier most of the leading poets took classical nicknames: Alcuin (d. 804) styled himself as
Horace (Flaccus), Angilbert (d. 814) as Homer, and Modoin (d. c. 840) as Naso, i.e.,
Ovid. On this literary parlor game, see Garrison (1997).
22
Modoin has the senex refer to Ovids exile in the eclogue quoted above, at vv.
606. Modoin consoles Theodulf with the names of notable predecessors, placing him
in a procession beginning with Ovid and continuing (without concern for strict chronology) with Boethius, Vergil, Seneca, St. John on Patmos, Hilarius, Peter and Paul
(Hexter (2002) 419). Ehlen (2000) 168 calls this probably the rst catalogue of exiles
in occidental literature since Ovid and Boethius. In his commentary on Revelations,
Ambrose Autpertus (d. 784) referred to Johns period on Patmos as exilium: cf. Ehlen
(2000) 162. For reference to a legend of direct contact between John on Patmos and
Ovid in Tomis, see Smolak (1980) 167, Ehlen (2000) 180 and Dimmick (2002) 275. The
thirteenth-century witness to this legend is published in Bischoff (1951).
216
ralph j. hexter
65
It is as it were the appropriate and civil right of all poets to suffer distant
lands and to comfort the torments of a bitter mind with varied song: Ovid
lamented while suffering the frosts of Scythia, where by the muses gift he
perfected [sc. his poetry] as much as he had not [sc. done] within the walls
of the Roman city, captivated as he was [there] by the sublimely sweet
name of his homeland.24
23
Walahfrid adds Porphyry, Anaxagoras (cf. p. 10 above in this volume), Socrates,
and the man not a prophet in his own country (Matthew 13.57) to Modoins list; see
Hexter (1986) 91 and (2002) 420 and Ehlen (2000) 1801. On Modoin, again Ehlen
(2000) and Whitta (2002); on Ermoldus and Walahfrid Strabo, i.a., see Smolak (1980)
1612 and Godman (1985b).
24
In the Latin text, I follow the punctuation of Stroh (1969) 15, rather than that of
Duemmler at PLAC 2.415. The idea that exile is a proprium of poets can be compared
to the association of exile with historiography and philosophy: see pp. 1011 above
(with further material). A full survey of medieval poets who reect on exile and Ovid
would exceed the permissible scale of this essay, even more so one that took appropriate account of prose authors, who, undeniably, are also witnesses to a medieval exilic
imaginary. All works of reception history oriented around a single author run the risk
of over-selectivity (cf. Hexter (2006)), and the present study is no exception. For additional contextualization, and a strong sampling of prose authors, I highly recommend
three contributions to a recent volume, Ehlen (2000), which I have already had reason to cite, Haye (2000), and Kortm (2000), each with extensive, relevant, and recent
bibliography.
25
At least guratively; cf. Froesch (1987).
217
existential about the condition of exile and poetry. Not, of course, that
it is strictly necessary in denitional terms, as his veluti concedes (see
above). We recognize just such a link between pote and maudit,
and our knowledge that some poets lead pleasant lives, thank you very
much, does not break that link. (Are we not even a bit suspicious of any
happy poets, tacitly assuming that they would have been much greater
had they known more sorrow?)
Exile as a topic is, of course, richer than a mere catalogue of exiles.
As many readers will know, there is a long history to philosophical, even
theological meditation on exile ranging from a starting point for consolation to an idealized spiritual state.26 Some of the exemplary exiles in the
traditional list, such as Seneca and Boethiusthe latters imprisonment
by Theoderic constituted his exilethemselves point to the philosophical and spiritual dimensions of the condition of exile.27 Boethius was of
course heir, like Augustine before him, to a double tradition that looked
to both Hellenistic philosophy and scriptural texts, the latter from both
Old and New Testaments.28
The very terminology of the two testaments, polemical in origin,
bespeaks the Christian point of view dominating the Latin Middle
Ages.29 It is worth noting, if only as a point of departure, that in the Jewish scriptural tradition, exile is suffered in the rst instance by an entire
people rather than by an individual,30 although a number of individual
26
See, for example, the contributions by Branham (pp. 71 ff.), Nesselrath (pp. 87 ff.)
and Fantham (pp. 173 ff.) in this volume, with particular reference to Plutarch (see pp.
989 above) and the theme of exile, and the remarks by Gaertner (pp. 1213, 1718) on
Chrysippus, Musonius, Dio Chrysostom and Favorinus.
27
This is a large topic, itself with a large bibliography. It surfaces at odd intervals
in the arbitrarily organized book by Claassen (1999a): 16, 206, 4950, 648, 7882,
16173. Gaertner (pp. 1012, 19 n. 105 above) provides helpful bibliography.
28
Not that the latter, and even some of the later stages of the former, were utterly
sundered from contact with contemporary Hellenistic philosophical schools (see also
Gaertner and Nesselrath on pp. 12 and 98 above). I never use the terms Old and New
Testament without pointing out its ultimately polemical origins and its obnoxious connotations to non-Christians.
29
Other frames of reference coexisted even in the Middle Ages, but in this account, I
have had to limit my focus to the Christian Latin Middle Ages, which thought of course
in terms of the traditional and biased terminology. For one recent study of the medieval
Hebrew tradition, see Alfonso (2004).
30
For example, on more than one occasion Assyrian rulers removed the inhabitants
of a good many Israelite cities to Assyria (in 734 BCE Tiglath-peleser transtulit eos in
Assyrios, 4 Reg. 15.29; in 721 Sargon transtulit Israhel in Assyrios, 4 Reg. 17.6; a bit more
than a century later it was the Babylonian Nebuchadnezar (4 Reg. 24.1417)). I cite
the Latin of the Vulgate since for medieval readers of Ovid scripture was also a Latin
218
ralph j. hexter
text. The language is not one of exilium (much less relegatio) but of transport (transtulit)
from the perspective of the ruler and migration or resettlement (transmigratio) from the
perspective of the people moved. For the absence of the word exilium in Jeromes translation, see Ehlen (2000) 160. For the repeated use of transmigratio (and other forms of
the word), cf. Jeremiah 29.1 ff.; here one could well translate the recurrent phrase omnis
transmigratio as the entire people in exile. Kortm (2000) 122 also points to the original
exile of Adam and Eve from Eden (Gen. 3.234). Ehlen (2000) 1601 cites selected
patristic and medieval comments on this tradition. For the fall of man as exile, cf. also
Dante, Paradiso 26.11517, and the following note.
31
Cf. Kortm (2000) 119. The twelfth-century English Benedictine Osbert of Clare,
vocal in his disappointment at not being named Abbot of Westminster, as he had
expected, was sent to a series of places, and in the complaints that followed he deployed
a host of Old Testament models to describe his situation (Moses, Joseph, Samson, the
Jewish people in Babylon) in addition to Christ and Boethius: cf. Haye (2000) 14954.
On Babylon, see Ehlen (2000) 1612; on Jacob and Joseph, Ehlen (2000) 1634. That
Christs time incarnate on earth is an exilium is central to Ehlens rich revisionary reading
of the oft-interpreted lyric Ut quid iubes, an exilium its extraordinary author, the monk
Godescalc or Gottschalk (803before 870), feels himself sharing ((2000) 193208).
32
Cf. Murphy-OConnor (1986). Not all Biblical translations render the v of
2 Cor. 5.6 as exilethe Jerusalem Bible, for example, does, the King James Version
[henceforth KJV] does notthough that is certainly one of the possible senses of the
term and arguably the best rendering (cf. Pl. Leg. 864E). Jerome writes: audentes igitur
semper, scientes quoniam dum sumus in corpore, peregrinamur a Domino. The sense of wayfaring
or sojourning in foreign parts away from the Lord is a nice one (cf. the sense in which
Philo uses v, Spec. Leg. 4.142), hearkening back to the transmigratio of Jeremiah
but not echoing it, for it is different: this is a willful, not a forced exile. Obviously, Biblical
intertextuality and the systematic construction of a network of cross-references, traditional to exegesis, functions differently in Hebrew, in Greek, in Latin, and in every one
of the modern languages.
219
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen
them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and
confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that
say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they
had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might
have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their
God: for he hath prepared for them a city. (KJV)
This is, quite recognizably, the gural economy that subtends the
entirety of Augustines City of God, in which Augustine contrasts not
only the worldly city of man with the city of God, Rome with Jerusalem, but also the earthly with the heavenly Jerusalem. No brief summary can do justice to the complex ramications of this schema, but
since the city of God is our true home, any time away from it constitutes
exile.33 As Margaret Ferguson, however, argues, in the City of God, exile
is not merely a gure or trope: guration itself is exile. Just as human
understanding cannot comprehend the divine perspective; just as time,
which in Gods view is but an instant, must for humans be splayed out
across a dimension that can only be grasped in spatial terms; so human
language is exiled from a state in which it could express divine realities.
Paradoxically, she writes, in his very insistence that the distance he
speaks of is not to be understood literally, Augustine is at the same time
dening all language as gurative because it is incapable of grasping the
literal truth of Gods nature as pure presence.34
The Augustinian solution, indeed, one may say, the Nicene and orthodox Catholic solution, was to honor and redeem the visible as well, the
corporeal through the spiritual.35 But this orthodoxy notwithstanding,
33
The bibliography on Augustine and the Civitas Dei is vast beyond citation. For the
specic centrality of exile to its economy, see the rich essay of Ferguson (1992), an item
that (unfortunately) seems to me not to have made it into the ever more canonical bibliographies on exile, for it constitutes a unique contribution.Even before Augustine,
Ambrose (whom Augustine admired) wrote in his commentary on Psalm 118: qui enim
domesticus Dei est, exul est mundo; qui conversatur in celestibus, peregrinus est terris; cf. Kortm
(2000) 122, citing In Psalm. 118 Serm. 7.28. On Ambroses interpretation see also Ehlen
(2000) 1612. Kortm (2000) 123 further instances Jerome in his commentary on
Ezekiel.
34
Ferguson (1992) 79. Cf. as well the remarks of the editors of the volume in which
her essay appears, esp. those on pp. xix and 678.
35
It will be worth citing Ferguson ((1992) 85) once more: It is precisely because
Christ is consubstantial with God that His Word provides a redemptive escape from the
regio dissimilitudinis. It is important to realize, however, that for Augustine, the Incarnation does not redeem language itself; rather, the Incarnation guarantees the end of language because it promises the possibility of an ultimate transcendence of time.
220
ralph j. hexter
it is always the world and the esh that constitute our temptations, for
we are esh and it is the world that we can see. It is in service of reminding Christians of the invisible and incorporeal that the trope of exile
was deployed in the wake of Pauls simple, affective and effective terms
rather than Augustines more complexly and intellectually elaborated
ones, and it gained special currency in spiritual communities. The ideal
monastic life was an exile from the world and from the joys and pleasures in which laypersons are perforce entangled. The monks exile was
regarded as exemplifying a deeper Christian truth, namely, that the
entire earthly life of humans is but a peregrinatio or wandering, exile from
our true homeland (patria) in heaven.36 As Hugh of St. Victor (d. 1141)
wrote, in contrast to the weak-willed man, who loves the country of his
birth, and even the brave man, for whom any country could serve as a
homeland: perfectus vero, cui mundus totus exsilium estthe perfect man is
the one for whom the entire world is an exile.37
Independent of theology, the trope of exile harnesses one of the most
powerful and seemingly constant of human notionsor should I write
emotions?nostalgia, home sickness, although the German Heimweh
sounds somewhat loftier than Englishs more homey phrase. Simon
Goldhill has, in a recent essay (2000), organized reections on the trope
of exile in the writings of select modern philosophers around Nietzsches
evocation of the term:
For Nietzsche, along with Sartre and other luminaries of twentieth-century
exile writing, it is the general condition of alienation, loss of home, which
denes mans lot as exilic. As Adorno puts it, it is part of morality not to
be at home in ones home.38
36
221
Goldhill further cites Julia Kristeva writing very much in the same
vein: How can we avoid sinking into the mire of commonsense if not
by becoming a stranger to ones own country, language, sex and identity?, citing in summation Exners dictum that Intellectualism in the
twentieth century is a form of exile.39 Estrangement, alienation, exile
at least in ones mind, is almost a moral imperative in the contemporary
world, and one can feel that such sentiments are as appropriate today
as in some of the darkest years of the twentieth century.40 One can see
the points of contact between an Adorno or Kristeva and a Hugh of
St. Victor. Boethius certainly seems to deserve to stand in these ranks.
Whether Ovid does is quite another question, but I submit that some
such power is at work behind the gure of Ovid in exile, whether he
deserved it or not.
That such reections and topics (as well as topoi) circulated in literate
medieval circles does not begin to explain why the philosophical and
spiritual traditions of exile resonated with them, and to such a degree.
What specically sustained and inspired the kind of intense identication with Ovid the exile to which the citations several paragraphs
above attest? What inspired so many authors to cast their experiences
in the tradition at the head of which stood Ovid? There is, no doubt,
a degree of aggrandizement (but perhaps also play) in the self-fashioning that claimed afnities with classical poets via learned sobriquets.
Perhaps playing the exile was in part classical pose,41 but on the other
39
Goldhill (2000) 5 quotes the rst from Kristeva (1988) 298, the latter from Exner
(1976) 292, further referencing Eagleton (1970).
40
I do not pursue here the contemporary turn in reections on exile from focus on
the individual to one on the displacement of entire peoples, no surprise when we are
confronted with the plight of refugees in several parts of the world on a daily basis.
This development must be understood within larger historical currents and comprises
a pressing issue for students, not to mention proponents of human rights. I have found
Balfour/Cadava (2004) helpful in beginning to work in this larger area. Our most recent
history adds a new layer of potential referentiality. Ovids open-ended term on Tomis,
and his bootless appeals during rst one and then a second imperial administration,
cannot help but bring to mind those who now nd themselves in indenite detention,
the title of one of the chapters of Butler (2004) 50100. If his error exposed him to
that kind of penalty, his carmen, for which he was also allegedly exiled, brings to mind
another class of modern criminals who, at least in the United States, are increasingly
nding out that the end of their prison sentence may not mean a return to freedom: sex
offenders. This is an alarmingly capacious category. Writing about sex has not yet been
declared a sexual offense, but it is not inconceivable that it one day will.
41
Cf. p. 230 on Baudri trying to bridge the temporal distance to antiquity, and pp.
5, 1011, 17 on exile as a role and a proprium of philosophers and historians as well as a
motif by which writers of the Second Sophistic sought to place themselves in a literary
tradition.
222
ralph j. hexter
hand, princes of all ages can be provoked and rusticate hitherto favored
courtiers.
For Carolingian men of letters, the nding of a classical model, an
Augustan correlative, might be thought almost inevitable in the rst
century of a political entity that modeled its unity and much of its cultural imaginary on ancient Rome. But what was the attraction of exile?
One might begin with a sociological explanation of sorts and speculate
that the standard career paths of these products of the new Carolingian
educational system may have predisposed them to identify with an Ovid
who looked back longingly at Rome. The skein of personal relationships
among these individuals woven rst in schools over the texts of Roman
authors and then stretched across Europe as they themselves were sent
on diplomatic missions or posted to distant monastic foundations, might
very well have inspired a particular sympathy for the plight of an Ovid
separated so far from his friends and family in Rome.
The educational system did not just launch these men on career paths.
It perfected their Latin, focusing themas training in Latin always
doeson ancient Rome. This both contributed to and reinforced the
programmatic identication between their contemporary world and
the great Rome of antiquity, at least as they saw it, in almost pointillist
fashion, in the texts they studied in which Rome, both city and polity,
was reected and refracted. For this reason, when the great Carolingian
scholar Theodulf (d. 821)among his accomplishments was an edition of Jeromes Vulgatewrote De Libris quos legere solebam, it represents
something more than a pedantic exercise, something more than a Kataloggedicht long aprs the Alexandrian and Ovidian lettre.42 Rather it should
be read as an inventory of the building blocks with which, in the late
eighth and early ninth centuries, those who played the game of culture
could build both the invisible city of Rome and the invisible city of their
own world. For, very much in Calvinos spirit, the cities that really matter for us are le citt invisibili.
My evocation of Calvino is perhaps not so out of place as at rst it
might appear, certainly not for a culture one of whose organizing texts
was Augustines City of God, and not of just any god, but of dominus
deus, creator omnium, visibilium et invisibilium. That a sense of the loss and
42
Though of course chatty Ovid nds his place there, cf. Theodulf, De Libris quos
legere solebam, vv. 1718 (PLAC 1.543): et modo Pompeium, modo te, Donate, legebam, / et modo
Virgilium, te modo, Naso loquax.
223
43
Credit for terming Latin die Muttersprache des Abendlandes goes to Bieler
(1949) 104, though of course, given the status of medieval Latin, it was not, like other
mother tongues, learned at ones mothers breast. Bielers claim that medieval Latin is
the mother tongue of the West is arresting because the invention of medieval Latin
depended on the very fact that Latin was no longer the mother tongue of any individual. . . .
[M]edieval Latin could become the mother tongue of the West only after this disjoining, after the infant had been snatched from its mother and sent to the school . . .
(Hexter (1987) 86). Ziolkowski (1996) 506 takes the next step and terms Latin in the
Middle Ages . . . a father tongue (original emphasis).The speculation throughout this
section owes a debt to the very different but perennially thought-provoking work of
Ong (1959).
44
Hexter (2002) 421.
224
ralph j. hexter
nostalgia of all: for this Latin represents in fact a home they never actually inhabited. They were, as a group, born in exile and they continued
to sojourn amidst foreigners, far from the longed-for home of Latinity.
Like Ovid, they yearned always to return to Rome, but, of course, this
yearning was for a Rome they had themselves never inhabited. They are
like the children of Israel transported to Babylon: they were born too
late to have seen Jerusalem with their own eyes, and they must take their
parents lamentation and make it their own, their keening the sharper
to the extent that what they lost was already, for them, a dream. It is the
lamentation of every child of a people born in captivity, in a refugee
camp, in exile.45
Late-comers, epigones. I described above, apropos Augustine, how
time, that is, our human sense of time, is a mapping of eternity onto
an axis, the spatial metaphorization. Ferguson brilliantly showed how
metaphor itself was an exile in language, and the Latin of the Vulgate,
especially its use of transferre to describe the forced displacement of peoples, would easily suggest guration, or translation, for that matter. Here
I want to argue that this troping of time as space becomes an important
element in medieval Latin responsiveness to Ovids exile.46
Such a pattern of thought need not focus on Ovid, but the Latin tradition often gestured in his direction. For example, already in the poetic
itinerary (De Reditu Suo) of the early fth-century author Rutilius Namatianus, geographical separation seems to gure temporal and cultural
distance as well, not without well-chosen Ovidian echoes.47 Rutilius had
actually traveled to Rome in 416 and was now returning to his home
in Gaul, but the physical Rome that attracted him was, clearly, already
not the Rome his own classical poetic and linguistic models had inhab-
45
225
ited. The sense of distance and thus of longing only increased after the
time of Rutilius, and as centers of learning were established in northern
Europe as well, real geographical distance was added to a growing temporal one. One could still, of course, travel to a real Rome, but if one
did, one would have discovered that it had changed considerably even
from Rutiliuss time. My argument, then, is that one can understand
how Ovids longing to return, physically, across the seas to the Rome he
had left but recently could be invested with a longing to return to it from
the distance of a growing number of centuries.48
Real visits to Rome were not the issue, for Rome is already a hypostatized entity created in the minds of literati by their reading. But,
of course, the value of this Rome was unstable and thus all the more
anxiety-provoking. For in the very same City of God in which one learned
of the spatial metaphorization of time, one also learned all the sins of
the Romans. And, in yet another sense, these literati were already residents of some version of this Rome, for it was a veritable invisible city
that their own subculture created and inhabited. I have suggested elsewhere that through the resources and resonances of the very Latin
they used, they brought a simulacrum of the urbs itself into being, an
urbs that resembled the phantom Rome of Ovids exile poetry: a city
already invisible to him that he treasured in memory and longingly
evoked. At a distance, I wrote, the network of contacts and communications that are the hallmarks of city life can only be recreated in
letters. The epistle, prose or verse, becomes then the means par excellence of connecting.49
It is from this perspective that I want to take upbriey, for they have
in recent years often been discussedthe most ostentatiously Ovidian
poems of Baudri of Bourgueil (10461130), in particular the paired letters Florus to Ovid and Ovid to Florus.50 Baudris poetry, known
48
Cf. the formulation, apropos of a much later poet, Goethes Exil meint
den Abschied aus einem idealisierten Kulturraum, wenn man so will: einer geistigen
Heimat . . . (Ehlen (2000) 153).
49
Hexter (1999) 418.
50
Poems 97 and 98 in the now universally employed numeration of both Hilbert
(1979) and Tilliette (1998/2002), though earlier scholarship will employ the numeration
of Abrahams (1926). For a specic study of Baudri 978, see Schuelper (1979), and the
poems are discussed as well in the inuential work of Bond (1995). On the thematic of
ones course of study in foreign parts as exile (cf. p. 223, above) see Ehlen (2000) 165,
with reference above all to Baudri 150 (Hilbert), vv. 14. I cite other recent literature
immediately below.
226
ralph j. hexter
from one manuscript in the Vatican, is replete with Ovidian echoes and
references.51 Many are epistles to friends and other correspondents. The
impress of the Heroides, in these years rapidly gaining the popularity it
will hold into the eighteenth century, is quite strong. In poems 7 and
8, for example, Baudri actually rewrites Heroides 16 and 17, inventing
new letters from Paris to Helen and Helen to Paris and altering the
meter from Ovids elegiacs to hexameters. Signicant for my argument
are the intentional anachronisms he works into this pair of letters. For
example, Baudris Paris informs Helen of the ne vintages of a city
called Orlans under a certain King Henry (7.1938). Baudri is playing
a more complex historical game still when he has this new Helen vaunt
Greeces conquest of the language Greek calls Latin (8.42).52
In poems 97 and 98, relevant in the context of our discussion of the
exilic imaginary, Baudri grafted the Epistulae ex Ponto onto the Heroides,
creating a pair of letterslike Heroides 1617, 1819, or 2021that
arise from Ovids own peculiar situation.53 In poem 97, Florusa
creation of Baudriwrites from Rome to the exiled Ovid (Ovidius).
51
Cf. Hilbert (1979). One, Ad eum qui Ovidium ab eo extorsit (poem 111 (Hilbert)), is an
amusing poem of abuse against someone who has borrowed his copy of Ovid but has
not returned it. The long (if imperfectly transmitted) mythological poem 154 (Hilbert)
cannot be read without constant reference to Ovid. Still valuable on Ovids impact on
the style of Baudri as well as other medieval Latin erotic poets is Offermanns (1970).
Godman (1990) offers a broader perspective.
52
Less jarring, though still anachronistic, are the remarks of both Paris and Helen
on the sexual proclivities of Greeks (7.11138,1856, 8.10710), which clearly
bespeak medieval anxieties about sodomy and may be part of Baudris own defensive
armature.
53
This is a conceit that the the genre-bending and -blending Ovid (as I called him
in Hexter (2002) 423; the present discussion expands on pp. 4224 of that study) would
have appreciated. Baudris application of the idea of paired letters la Heroides 1621
to Ovids own situation recalls the response to Heroides 115 of Ovids friend Sabinus,
who, Ovid tells us (Am. 2.18.2734), penned responses to at least six of these single letters (the Augustan Sabinuss letters are lost; the three that circulate under his name are
fteenth-century confections (cf. Drrie (1968) 1046) by a fteenthcentury Sabino
or, in Latin, Angelus de Curibus Sabinis). Ovid seemed to take delight in this twist
on his own letter game, penning pairs of letters himself.The authenticity of a good
number of the Heroides has been impugned (see p. 161 n. 37 for literature); this is fairly
irrelevant for students of Ovids medieval reception, for whom the Heroides comprised,
by our numeration, Heroides 114, 16 (less vv. 39144), and 1721.14 (until its fteenthcentury rediscovery, Heroides 15 could have been read in only one Frankfurt manuscript;
we know little about the pre-1470s history of the missing portions of Heroides 16 and
21). For the possibility that the paired letters were the work of Ovids period of exile,
see Gaertner p. 155 n. 4 above.Throughout this section, I use Ovidius to refer to
Baudris ctional Ovid; Florus is, of course, entirely an invention of Baudris.
227
54
Cf. Smolak (1980) 166, though I would certainly not use the word Flschung to
describe these letters as Smolak does (pp. 165, 167).
55
Cf. Ratkowitsch (1987) 154: Wenn die These, mit dem Exil sei Dol gemeint,
richtig ist, kann der Caesar der beiden Versbriefe nur mit dem franzsischen Knig
identiziert werden, denn ihm hatte Baudri sein Bischofsamt in dem kleinen Ort der
Bretagne zu verdanken . I acknowledge with appreciation the critique of both Ratkowitschs and Tilliettes positions in a short paper by Paul Springer, a graduate student
in Berkeleys Department of Comparative Literature, written for a course taught by my
former colleague Dr. James Whitta and which Mr. Springer was kind enough to share
with me.
56
Cf. Ratkowitsch (1987) 165 (i.a.): Enterotisierung. For a similar debate concerning de-eroticization in Ovids exile poetry see n. 32 on pp. 1601 above.
57
Cf. Tilliette (1994) 82: Est donc ici vigoureusement proclame lautonomie de la
ction. Toute lecture fonde sur lillusion rfrentielle est davance disqualie.
58
The language is quite dismissive, cf. Tilliette (1994) 75: Mentionnons pour
mmoire la thse curieuse qui fait de nos auteurs des hrauts de lamour au masculin,
les chantres de Ganymde; les vocables modernes dhomosexuel, plus encore gay ne
correspondent strictement aucune ralit sociale, morale ou culturelle au moyen ge.
It is ironic to see a strict social-constructionist argument employed in such a program.
228
ralph j. hexter
But is the only alternative to a biographical allegory a world of complete make-believe? These and others of Baudris poemsthe same
could be said of the poems of many of his contemporaries, indeed,
of all poetsbecome richer the more we understand that an author
can simultaneously have investments in multiple positionings. It seems
to me that Baudri is investing himself in both the positions of Florus
and Ovidius. Florus is orid in his affectionate expressions (97.836,89
90,97100):
83
89
97
100
This friendship is at the very least extremely passionate, and the lastcited sentiment is one, as Tilliette himself points out in his notes, that
echoes Canace to her brother-lover Macareus, in Heroides 11.12659not
to mention Achilles and Patroclus.60
59
229
By the logic of this trope, where Ovid is, there is Rome,61 a place where
Florus and Ovidius may come together. This is one of the moments
where it seems to me that Baudri must have signicantly greater investment in the perspective and persona of Florus, and not simply as a
mere sympathizer with Ovid in exile or representative of the empathetic reader of the exile elegies. I contend that in Floruss longing for
Ovidius we see clearly gured Baudris longing for Ovid and for the
classical Rome Ovid represents.
61
Cf. the similar thoughts in Cicero (See Cohen, p. 111 above) and Ovidian lines
such as Pont. 1.5.68: quem Fortuna dedit, Roma sit ille locus.
230
ralph j. hexter
62
Hexter (2002) 424. One may compare the way in which the Second Sophistic
authors Musonius, Dio Chrysostom and Favorinus use the topos of the exiled philosopher for the purpose of their self-fashioning and connecting with the Greek past: cf.
Gaertner pp. 5, 17 above and Whitmarsh (2001a). See also pp. 2212 on exile as an
element of self-fashioning and a means of connecting with antiquity for Carolingian
men of letters.
63
It is interesting to speculate on the possible impact of an apparent increase in the
frequency of exile as a punishment precisely in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries:
cf. Ehlen (2000) 15960 (with further bibliography).
231
From his narrow and explicitly Christian perspective, the exile poetry
shows Ovid failing to gain the enlightenment and salvation he should
have soughtat least an inkling of which the Ovid of the popular
mid-thirteenth-century De Vetula is able to attain by the conclusion of
the very alternative autobiography he narrates for us.66
A more complex and subtle fourteenth-century reader of Ovid was
Petrarch.67 Most critical attention to Petrarchs Ovidianism has focused
64
232
ralph j. hexter
One suspects that the impulses behind this critical view are quite different from those that underlay the Anti-Ovidianus, for if ever there was
a spirit who should have been prepared to appreciate the extraordinary
act of poetic self-representation Ovids Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto constitute, it was Petrarch.
Ovids exile, and his complaints, may have cut too close to the bone
for Petrarch, for whom exile was a central, even existential issue.70 The
topic surfaces, for example, in the consolatory letters he writes to Severo
Appennincola in exile,71 and he draws on many of the traditional consolatory topoi as in two chapters of the De Remediis utriusque fortunae (2.67
and 2.125), with which I choose to conclude this essay. In the chap-
68
Canzona 23 (Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade) may simply be the most concentrated distillation within the Rime sparse, but metamorphosis is a dominant theme and
thus Ovid a dominant literary presence throughout, with echoes, i.a., in poems 5, 45,
51, 78, 129, 206, and 332. References to secondary literature could ramify almost without end, but I limit myself to a relative few in English, each with further bibliography:
Greene (1982) 12746, Vickers (1981), Lyne (2002) 291, and now, especially, Hardie
(2002b) 7081.
69
Cf. Hexter (1986) 96, following Stroh (1969) 2930. Petrarchs views in De Vita
Solitaria are also reviewed in Ehlen (2000) 1656. Both Ehlen and Ehlers (1988) 152
remind us that the view of Ovids exile poetry as a whiners whining was the standard
one, especially in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (both with reference to
the canonical history of Latin literature edited by M. Schanz and C. Hosius; on their
verdict cf. also p. 156 above in this volume).
70
See Giamatti (1984) 1232 on the degree to which exile was an essential part of
Petrarchs sense of his self.
71
Fam. 2.34, discussed by Giamatti (1984) 1416.
233
234
ralph j. hexter
respected).74 Petrarch then exhorts Ovid to think about his exile, and
his place of exile, in philosophical, even Christian ways:
longum [sc. exilium] vero aliam tibi patriam dabit, unde exulent qui te exulem voluere,
dedissetque nunc, si ad naturam rerum, non ad opiniones hominum aspiceres: valde
enim angustus est animus, qui sic ad unum terre angulum se applicat, ut, quicquid
extra sit, exilium putet. multum abest exilii deplorator ab illa animi magnitudine, cui
totus orbis carcer exiguus videtur. interrogatus Socrates cuias esset, mundanus, inquit,
sum. . . . Socrati autem patria omnium mundus erat, non hoc solum, quem vulgo
mundus dicitis, cum pars ultima mundi sit, sed celum ipsum, quod hac rectius appellatione comprehenditur.
illi patrie destinati estis, ad quam si suspirat animus, qualibet in parte terrarum peregrinum atque exulem se noverit. nam quis patriam vocet, ubi non habitet nisi ad breve tempus? illa vere cuiusque patria dicenda est, ubi quisque perpetuo securus ac tranquillus
deget. querere hanc in terris, puto, irrita erit inquisitio . . . non habemus hic manentem
civitatem, dixit Paulus. omne solum forti patria est, inquit Naso. omne homini
natale solum, ait Statius. his te vocibus armatum velim, quibus ubique unus, et vel
numquam vel semper in patria tua sis.
Exile of long duration provides you with a new homeland from which
those are now exiled who wanted you to be exiled. This will be a fact
as soon as you accept the nature of things rather than the opinions of
people. Only an exceedingly narrow mind is so attached to one corner
of the earth that it thinks it is exiled when it is somewhere else! Whoever
deplores his exile is far removed from the loftiness of mind to which the
whole world seemed a small prison. When Socrates was asked in what
country he was born, he answered: Mundanus sumI am a citizen of the
universe. . . . [F]or Socrates the whole mundus was his native land, not only
the part that you are used to call mundus, that is, your world, which is but
the lowest part of the whole mundusbut the dome of the heavens too,
which bears this name with greater justication.
This is the country which is intended for you. If your mind longs for this
home, it will feel like a stranger and exile no matter where on earth it may
befor who calls home a place where he dwells just for a short while?
Home is the country where one can stay forever safe and peacefully. To
seek for this on earth, I think, will be a vain undertaking. . . . Paul said that
we do not have a permanent home on this earth; Ovid said: Every land
is to the brave his country; Statius said: All soil is human birthright. I
want you to be armed with these words, which let you be a man always or
never at home anywhere!75
74
Translation by Rawski (1991) 3.152. The idea has a parallel at Ov. Pont. 3.1.4956
(see p. 18 above). Cf. also Cohen, p. 124, on exile as a sign of virtus.
75
Translation by Rawski (1991) 3.1523. The references to Paul, Ovid and Statius
are to Hebr. 13.14, Fast. 1.493: omne solum forti patria est, and Thebaid 8.320, respectively.
Most, if not all of the concepts in the passage have close parallels in the ancient consolations on exile, see Nesselrath, pp. 87 ff. above, and especially Cic. Tusc. 5.1069
235
Petrarch reminds my imaginary Ovid of his own version of this principle, but in this dialoguewhich Petrarch has so carefully engineered
Petrarchs Ovid remains deaf to his own words.
Ovids Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto have recently been accorded new
appreciation and respect, not least because critics are freeing themselves
from earlier tendencies to read the exile poetry primarily as history and
autobiography.76 As one looks back across the centuries traversed in this
surveywith speed more betting Medea or Phaethon on their various
ightsone senses that it was the very readiness of readers to be persuaded by Ovids poetry of the reality of his exile and to take the pain
and sufferings he describes as guarantees of the truth of his experience that led them to respond to it as deeply as they did. Paradoxically,
then, it seems as if it was the ction of Ovids poetry (and not its
ctiveness)77a reality effect that is only too convincingthat led earlier generations to misconceive the poetics of the exile poetry and, possibly as a result, underestimate the poetry itself.
The fact that it was poetry may explain in part why Ovids impact
in this arena was stronger than writings on exile by Cicero or Seneca,
coupled, no doubt, with the fact that in the Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto,
readers got a concentrated dose of the exile thematic. But the concurrent circulation of worksone might even say presenceof Cicero,
Seneca, Boethius, and other fellow exiles provided a sounding box that
amplied and made more resonant Ovids plaintive notes. The idea and
image of exile so richly developed in ancient philosophy was elaborated
and amplied in Christian theology and spiritual practice. Medieval
readers of Ovid, then, heard all these overtones when they came upon
the poetry of the exiled Ovid in their libraries and studied it in their
classrooms.
In these classrooms, students learned that virtually all the poetry of the
auctores belonged in the category of the ethical,78 and even a Petrarch, at
(with Nesselrath n. 24 on pp. 934), from where Petrarch may have taken the famous
anecdote about Socrates.
76
See n. 3, above, again with reference, inter multos alios, to Chwalek (1996). This does
not mean that recent criticism reads them anachronistically; far from it.
77
Or ctivizing. Chwalek (1996) uses the term Fiktivierung. For example: Der
Begriff der Fiktivierung, wie er in dieser Arbeit Verwendung ndet, zielt aber vorrangig
darauf, die Transformation der scheinbar realen Welt des Textes in die elegische Welt
zu beschreiben (p. 33).
78
Ethicae supponitur: cf. Hexter (1986) 16 (where n. 3 offers standard bibliography),
47, 111, 124.
236
ralph j. hexter
least in his prose, will let Ovid and his exile serve him as historical exemplum. To be sure, Petrarch responds to Ovids exile quite passionately.
Petrarch places himself squarely in that very exemplary world, vaunting
the equanimity with which he bore the displacements he gured as
exile over Ovids incessant lamentations. On the one hand, in contrast to
metamorphosis and the Metamorphoses, which inspired Petrarch to some
of his greatest poetry, Ovids exile poetry inspired him to prose that,
however eloquent, can hardly rank with the Rime sparse. On the other
hand, it may not be accidental that, at least in the De Remediis utriusque
fortunae, he cast his argument with Ovid into an encounter of personas.
Perhaps, poet and rhetorician himself, he instinctively understood that
exile can be a mask that one can put on or off.79
Alone among the medieval authors known to me, only Baudri of
Bourgueil seems fully to have appreciated, via his own poetic transformations of personas, his and Ovids into Floruss and Ovidiuss, the
sophisticated game Ovid was playing in his exile poetry. Perhaps unsurprisingly, not a few recent critics of Baudri have wanted to read this
pair of poetic epistles the same way so many generations of readers and
critics read the Roman poets exile elegies, but as I hope to have shown,
there are subtler and suppler ways to read Baudris creationswhether
Florus or Ovidiusthan as straight-on encodings of Baudri himself.*
79
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GENERAL INDEX
Abraham 218
Achilles 8 with n. 37, 25, 228
Actaeon, as comparandum 160, 213
Adam, banished from Eden 218 n. 30
address, forms of address and status 46
Adorno, T. W. 84, 2201
adultery, punishment 175, 180 n. 22
adulthood, and travel 8 n. 38
Aeetes 1469
Aeneas 7, 13, 1304; attraction to
Dido 130; as exemplum 16 n. 85,
19, 157, 179
Aenos, settlement 39
Aeolus, as exemplum 95
Aeschylus, voluntary exile 54; as
exemplum 96
Ajax, as mythical exemplum 95
Akkade, dynasty 7
Alcaeus of Mytilene 3242; date 24;
life 324; exemplary exile 10;
discourse on exile 9, 14, 3442;
invective 38; pains of exile 35;
shipwreck imagery 158; use of
allegory 401; compound
epithets 38
Alcinous, as exemplum 95
Alcmaeon, as exemplum 95
Alcman, date 24; fared better in his
new home 92, 93 n. 20
Alcuin of York 215 n. 21
Alexander Polyhistor, historian detained
abroad 53 n. 8, 68
alienation see estrangement
allegory, in Alcaeus 401
Alpamysh, Usbek epic 8
Amazons, as exemplum 104
Ambrose Autpertus, commentary on
Revelations 215 n. 22
Ambrose, St., life on earth as exile 219
n. 33
Amorgos, colonization 23;
topography 30
Ampius Balbus, T., recalled through
Ciceros inuence 120 n. 29
Anacharsis, paradigm in Cynicism 10
n. 47
Anacreon, date 24
258
general index
general index
Chrysippus, philosophical dimension of
exile 12 n. 60, 217
Cicero, miserable in exile 173 n. 1;
attachment to Rome 110;
importance of Clodius and exile for
his self-image 110, 119 n. 26;
proconsulship in Cilicia as second
exile 14 n. 74; denition of the
state 111; attitude to Caesar and
Pompey 11314; to the res publica
under Caesars dictatorship
1245; identies Caesar with the
res publica 127; loss of forensic
kingdom 114, 125; involved in
arranging recall of prominent
Pompeians 115, 120 ff., 182 n. 29;
discourse on exile 1416, 10928,
173; inuenced by Theognidea 9
n. 42; by Andocides 14; by the
consolatory tradition 15, 120 n. 28;
by Stoic discourse on exile 15; by
epistolographic conventions 169;
mythologizing self-dramatization 14,
159, 160 n. 32; pleas for support
160; exile as death 159 n. 24; motif
of endless weeping 159; theme of
suicide 159; medical imagery 13
n. 65; letter as colloquium 169 n. 80;
autotherapeutic effect of letter
writing 170; -motif 170;
refutation/inversion of consolatory
motifs 15, 111 n. 5, 126, 157 n. 12;
rationalizations of exile 173 n. 1;
later presents his departure as
a kind of devotio 111; claims that
the res publica was banished with
him 111; exile as a metaphor for
disempowerment 1516; links exile
and legitimacy 16, 112; notion of
internal exile 15, 125, 128;
individual works, De Temporibus
Suis 1415 n. 76, 129; Paradoxa
Stoicorum 11419, combination of
Stoic and Academic arguments 115;
legal inaccuracies 117; slippery
logic 118; veiled critique of Caesars
dictatorship 119; reception 19,
11011 with n. 5, 235; inuence
on Ovid 157 n. 12; Cicero as
exemplum 97 n. 37; addressee of
Petrarch 233
Circe 149
Claudius Etruscus, exile 1819
Claudius Marcellus, M. 120 ff.; 138;
259
260
general index
general index
13 with n. 62, 74, 91 n. 14, 97
nn. 378, 1012, 157 n. 12, 205
Diomedes, self-chosen exile in
Italy 131; as exemplum 179
Dionysius I of Syracuse 56
Dionysius II of Syracuse, exile and
intellectual pursuits 11 n. 53, 125
displacement see exile
Domitian, emperor, persecution of
philosophers 55 n. 13, 193 n. 3,
202; presentation by Dio
Chrysostom 1945, 204
Domitius Ahenobarbus, Cn. 120 n. 29
Dorian invasion 223
Douglas, Mary 78
Dracontius, inuenced by Ovid 155
n. 1
duplex intentio 211 n. 5
Eden 218 n. 30
education, paradigms in ancient
education 15; prosopopoeiae 182
n. 32
Elea, colonization 31
Electra, as exemplum 201 n. 33
elegy, ancient etymologies 160; love
elegy blended with rhetoric of
exile 16, 160
embassies, under the Empire 95
Empedocles, life 10 n. 46; life on
earth as exile 12, 98, 159 n. 24;
as exemplum 101 n. 53
Ennius, exile in his tragedies 13; in the
Annales 129; exile as death 159; his
Medea, adaptation 159 n. 24
Epeigeus, hero 25 n. 18
Ephesus, foundation 7
Ephorus of Cyme 62 n. 40
epic, theme of travel and exile 8, 13,
247, 12954
Epictetus, Cynic inuence 71; discourse
on exile 93 n. 24
epistolography, conventions 16871;
typical motifs, autotherapeutic effect
of letter writing 170; circumstances
as excuse for inadequacy 191;
letter as a gift/service of friendship
169; letter as colloquium 169;
-motif 169 n. 75, 170;
use of proverbs and popular
philosophy 171 n. 87; consolatory
letters 170
Ermoldus Nigellus, inuenced by
Ovid 19 n. 107, 215
Erysicthon, as comparandum 160
261
262
general index
general index
in conventional enumerations of lifes
misfortunes 173; exiled statesman
is not an exile 112 n. 9; foolish
man is an exile 12; the good citizen
understands that he is an exile 124;
exiles are unreliable friends 44; exile
indicator of national catastrophe
153; new home will become familiar
in the course of time 105; exile no
harm to mans soul or body 88;
self-chosen exile and cowardice 145
Fabius Maximus, Paullus, addressee
of Ovid 171 n. 87, 175 n. 12, 187
n. 54
Favorinus, life, alleged exile 99;
Reifensteins syndrome 100; relation
to Polemo of Laodicea 1001 n. 50;
exile and self-fashioning 5 n. 19, 17,
230; his De Exilio 13, 17, 99108;
transmission 1001; not an
autobiographical statement,
genre 100; emphasis on
cheerfulness 101, 1067; Stoic and
Platonic elements 105, 108; motifs
shared with New Testament 1023
n. 59, 106; originality 1078;
speaker presents himself as
exemplum 101; refers to his ,
not his 101 n. 55; criticizes
Hesiod 106; exempla 101 n. 53,
107, 157 n. 12; psychomachia 104
ctionalization 172 n. 89, 194, 210
n. 3, 235
attery 205
Fortune 18; blamed by Seneca 1779,
18891
freedom, in Cynicism 7784; Isaiah
Berlins concept 82; freedom of
speech 9 n. 43, 16, 55, 71, 745, 82,
84, 89, 97, 176, 1834 n. 36; under
Augustus 183 n. 35
friendship, with exiles 44; exempla
of friendship 105; friendship and
epistolography 169
Furius Camillus, M., exile and return 4,
1456; as exemplum 97 n. 37
Gastarbeiter 3 n. 13
Gellius, on Favorinus 99
Germanicus, addressee of Ovid 187
n. 54
Gilgamesh, epic 8
Giovanni del Virgilio 213 n. 13
263
264
general index
general index
Lesbos, inhabitants loyal to
Pompey 182 n. 31
Ligarius, Q., follower of Pompey 120,
181
Lindian Chronicle 69
liturgies 95
Livilla, sister of Caligula 175
Livy, no senatorial historian 64 n. 49;
inuenced by Ciceros complaints of
exile 4, 19 n. 104
Lothar of Segni 220 n. 37
Lotichius, P. 20 n. 108
love elegy, blended with rhetoric of
exile 16, 160; theme of death,
vocabulary of love-sickness 160
Lucan, De Bello Civili 13842; use of
monosyllables 1656; Vergilian
models 140; exile anti-ktistic
1389; used to elicit sympathy 139,
141; discourse of legitimacy 141;
Pompey likened to Aeneas 139
Lucian, inuenced by Cynicism 71, 78;
on Dios exile 194
luxury 31, 180, 181 n. 24
Lycabas, exile 1356
Lycambes, enemy of Archilochus
2930
Lycinus, as historical exemplum 89 n. 7
Lycophron, Homeric hero 25 n. 18
Lygdamis, tyrant of Halicarnassus
534, 56, 63
Lysander, Spartan general 59 n. 26
Macareus, brother of Canace 228
Maeon, seer 150
Malouf, D. 20, 210 n. 4
Mandelstam, Osip 20 n. 108
Manlius Torquatus, A., follower of
Pompey 120 n. 29
Mann, T. 1, 56
Manto 7 n. 37
Marcus Aurelius see Aurelius
Marius, C., as exemplum 16 n. 85
Marx, K. 210
Medea, serial exile 136, 1469, 159,
167; compared to Io 148
Medon, Homeric hero 25 n. 18
Melanchrus, tyrant of Mytilene 32
Melville, H. 83
memory, manipulated by cultural
paradigms 5 n. 18
Menelaus, as exemplum 105
Menemachus of Sardes, exiled, addressee
of Plutarchs De Exilio 92
265
266
general index
general index
n. 66; use of monosyllables 1656;
reception 18, 19, 155, 20936; Ovid
author of his own reception 212;
his inuence on Boethius 155; on
Dracontius 155 n. 1; on Goethe 19
n. 102, 155 n. 2, 210 n. 4; Grillparzer
155 n. 2, 210 n. 4; Milton 155 n. 2;
Pushkin 155 n. 2, 210 n. 4; Rutilius
Namatianus 19, 155 n. 1, 214 n. 18,
224 n. 47; Seneca the Younger 18,
155, 172 n. 91, 179 n. 24, 191; Statius
1819; medieval reception 155 n. 2,
20936; impact on style of medieval
Latin erotic poetry 226 n. 51;
medieval biographies, speculation
about the reasons for his banishment
21214, 214 n. 15; Ovid as exemplum
1819, 172 n. 91, 210, 21517; 2356;
criticized as weak-willed 232 with
n. 69
Pacuvius 13, 15 n. 80
paideia, in the Second Sophistic 18; sine
qua non of good rule 206 n. 57
Pallas see Antonius
panegyric 186
paradigms, in ancient education
and rhetoric 15; inuence on
perception 5
Paris, Homeric hero 226
parody 7980
parrhesia see freedom of speech
Partheniae, founders of Tarentum 27
pastimes, Roman 171 n. 87
Patavium, foundation 179
patria, as an abstract concept 1112, 15,
115, 123; metaphysical patria 12, 19
n. 105, 159 n. 24, 21720; humans do
not have a natural home 74, 93
see also exile
Patroclus, displacement 8 n. 39, 9,
256; friendship with Achilles 228
n. 60; as exemplary exile 157 n. 12
Paul, apostle, exile as metaphor for
estrangement 12, 218, 234 with
n. 75; use of similes 1023 n. 59;
Paul as exemplum 215 n. 22;
Pausanias, Spartan king, exile 59 n. 26
perception, manipulated by cultural
paradigms 5 n. 18
performance, of sympotic literature
212, 49; meta-textual allusions 46
personication 103, 188
Peter, apostle, exile as metaphor for
267
268
general index
general index
Samson, as exemplum 218 n. 31
Sappho, date 24; banished 9 n. 42
Sargon, Sargon-legend 7
Sartre, J.-P. 220
Saturn, deity, displacement 132
Sauromates, nomadic tribe, as
exemplum 105
Scaliger, J. C. 20 n. 108
Scipio see Cornelius
Scythia, clichs 157 n. 11; Scythians as
exemplum 1045, 200
Second Sophistic, genre of
declamation 99; exile and the
construction of identity 1718,
193 n. 2, 221, 230; revival of glorious
Greek past 207; Greek
intellectuals cooperate with Roman
authorities 95, 206; appropriate
the Roman past 207; pave the way
towards the Byzantine Empire 207
Seghers, A. 5
self-sufciency, in Cynicism 757, 82;
attribute of the sapiens 179, 191; of
Marcellus 121
Semonides, date 24; movement from
Samos to Amorgos 8, 301
Senate, in the 40s BC 11024, 13941;
honoric decree for Pallas 186;
membership requirement for being a
Roman historian 64
Seneca the Younger, reasons for his
banishment 175; silence about his
daily life in exile 180; exile and
intellectual pursuits 11 n. 53, 184;
treatment of exile during and after
his banishment 173; rationalization
of the sorrows of exile in his tragedies,
adaptation of Euripides Phoenissae
1745; inuenced by Ovids exile
poetry 18, 155, 172 n. 91, 179 n. 19,
191; Cynic inuence 71; inuence of
conventions of ancient epistolography,
letter as colloquium 169 with n. 80;
Dialogi, title 182 n. 32; dating 173
n. 2; freedom of speech 1756;
double audience of his consolations
to Helvia and Polybius 175 with nn.
10 and 12, 192; blending of different
types of consolations 176; Consolatio
ad Marciam, enumeration of the
sorrows of the dynasty 176 n. 14;
use of prosopopoeiae 188; Consolatio
ad Helviam 17684; implicit
self-representation 184; structure
177; originality 177; conventional
269
270
general index
Tarentum, foundation 27
technical language, used by Hellenistic
and Roman poets 163
Telemachus, travel and transition to
adulthood 8 n. 38
Teles, his De Exilio 4, 13, 8892, 97,
1034; epitomization 889 with
n. 10; audience 89 n. 8; Cynic
convictions 90; use of exempla 94,
157 n. 12
Telesicles, father of Archilochus 29
Teucer 9, 1315; as exemplum 19,
157 n. 12
Thasos, colonization 23
Thebaid 24
Thebes, founded by Cadmus 7, 135,
150; Seven against Thebes 14953
Themistocles, as exemplum 13, 89, 91
n. 14, 94, 97 n. 37, 157 with n. 12
Themistogenes of Syracuse, Xenophons
nom de plume 66
Theoclymenus, Homeric hero 25 n. 18
Theodorus, his epitome of Teles De
Exilio 88
Theodulf of Orlans 21415, 222
Theognis, Theognidea 9, 14, 426;
date 24; criteria for authenticity 42
n. 74; v 45; myth of the end
of the Bronze Age 157; motif of
desertion 158; inuence on Cicero
and Ovid 9 n. 42, 158 n. 15
Theopompus of Chios, his alleged
exile 56, 623
Theras, founder of Thera 28
Theseus 25, 136; as exemplum 105
Thoreau, H. D. 76
Thucydides, historiography and
exile 10, 11 n. 51, 5169; Second
Preface, description of his
banishment, command at
Amphipolis 58; use of patronym
and ethnic 58 n. 25; already a
historian before his exile 68; as
exemplum 11 n. 48, 62, 97
Thurii, foundation 53
Thyestes, return from exile 174
Tiberius, emperor 175 n. 11, 186
n. 48; self-fashioning as philosopher
in exile 11; as exemplary exile 95
Tibullus, use of monosyllables 166
Timaeus of Tauromenium, exiled by
Agathocles 57; armchair historian,
criticized by Polybius 6970; as
exemplum 68
time, makes new home familiar 105;
general index
temporal and cultural distance as
exile 2245, 22930
Tlepolemus, Homeric hero 26
Toranius, C., follower of Pompey 120
n. 29
tragedians, in voluntary exile 54
tragedy, exile and civic identity, freedom
of speech 9 n. 43; inuence on
consolatory tradition 9 n. 43, 93, 157
n. 11; in Roman schooling 15 n. 80;
Roman tragedy inuenced by Greek
rhetoric of exile 13, 15 n. 80
Trajan, emperor 193 n. 4, 1967,
2056
transmission, of sympotic poetry 212,
44; of Ovid 214
travel, generates wisdom 8 n. 38, 10
n. 47; motif of mental travel 14
n. 70, 158 n. 19
Triptolemus, as comparandum 160,
167
Turnus, Argive connections 133
Tydeus 9, 1523; as exemplum 157
n. 12
Tyrtaeus, date 24; on destitution and
exile 467
underworld, distance
90
271
197,
INDEX OF GREEK
53
45
80
105
187
39
39
218 n. 32
52
101
105
105
38
89
205 n. 55
v
v
v
v
v
v
74, 93
74
80 n. 28
37
202
75, 90
75
75
69
75
75
2, 21, 52
52, 74
2, 52
INDEX OF LATIN
acceptum referre
agere (age + imperat.)
amarus
ambitiosus
animos facere
attonitus
auxilium
bene (+ adj.)
carere
causa (~ res)
censere (+ de)
clementia
commilitium
comparare (+ inf.)
condicio
constanter
convicium
credere (crede mihi)
credibilis
crimen
crudelis
culpa
cupido
cura
de (in place of ex)
desiderium
deus
dolor
durus
ecquid
edere
error
exceptus
exilium
exul
facere (+ acc. and inf.)
facere ( fac modo)
facere (cum aliquo)
factum (in facto meo)
fastiditus esse
des
dus
etus
fortasse
frenare
1634 n. 47
162 n. 41
160 n. 32
162 n. 40
162 n. 41
19 n. 101
161 n. 32
162 n. 42
161 n. 32
163 n. 47
164 n. 47
17, 165
164 n. 47
163 n. 47
164
164
190 n. 60
164
164
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
160 n. 32
162 n. 42
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
165
163 n. 47
161 n. 32, 155,
212
164
23, 15, 21, 159
n. 24, 218 n. 30
21, 143, 150,
151 n. 44
162 n. 42
164
163 n. 42
163 n. 47
162 n. 41
161 n. 32
167
160 n. 32
164
168
fuga
fulmen
gratia (+ quod-clause)
habere (~ posse)
humus
iactare (i. pennas)
immo ita
improbus
infelix
inmemor
invidiosus
ira
labor
lacrima
laedere
lenis
levare
libra et aere
liquet
littera
luctus
maestus
malum
memor
mens (aequa mente vel sim.)
metus
ministra
miser
mitis
mos (in morem venire)
natura
nemo
notitiam ferre
nullus
numen
obligare
ofciosus
omnibus annis
operosus
pars ((in) parte esse/tenere)
particeps esse
participare
patrocinium
pellere
penna
perarare
Pierides
23
19 n. 101
162 n. 41
163 n. 42
168
168
163 n. 42
161 n. 32
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
162 n. 40
1617
160 n. 32
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
161 n. 32
163 n. 43
165
162 n. 42,
167
160 n. 32
160 n. 32
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
162 n. 40
160 n. 32
167
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
163 n. 42
164 n. 54
165
162 n. 41
165
161 n. 32
162 n. 41
165
162 n. 41
162 n. 40
162 n. 41
162 n. 41
162 n. 41
165
130
168
167
167
276
poena
posteritas
preces
probator esse
profugus
quid mihi cum . . . ?
repente
saevus
sarcina
scelus
sermocinatio
solacium
sollicitus
spes
subire
subito
succurrere
index of latin
161 n. 32
164
161 n. 32
163 n. 47
3, 135
163 n. 42
167 n. 71
161 n. 32
162 n. 40
161 n. 32
187
161 n. 32
160 n. 32
161 n. 32
162 n. 42
167
162 n. 42
163 n. 47
161 n. 32
164
161 n. 32
164
163 n. 43
218 n. 30, 224
218 n. 30
160 n. 32
161 n. 32, 165
163 n. 42
163 n. 47
163 n. 42
162 n. 41
162 n. 42
161 n. 32
INDEX LOCORUM
Achilles Tatius
5.11.4
93 n. 21
Aelianus
VH 10.13
29
Aeschylus
Ag. 126974
9 n. 43
Alcaeus
fr. 6 (Campbell)
fr. 34.6 (Campbell)
fr. 45 (Campbell)
fr. 67.4 (Campbell)
fr. 68.3 (Campbell)
fr. 70.7 (Campbell)
fr. 72 (Campbell)
fr. 72.1113 (Campbell)
fr. 73 (Campbell)
fr. 73.36 (Campbell)
fr. 73.8 (Campbell)
fr. 75.7 ff. (Campbell)
fr. 75.11 (Campbell)
fr. 106.3 (Campbell)
fr. 114 (Campbell)
fr. 129 (Campbell)
fr. 129.1112 (Campbell)
fr. 129.20 (Campbell)
fr. 129.234 (Campbell)
fr. 130B (Campbell)
fr. 130B.1 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.2 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.35 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.4 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.58 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.7 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.911 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.1720 (Campbell)
fr. 130B.18 (Campbell)
fr. 208 (Campbell)
fr. 261.5 (Campbell)
fr. 298.18 (Campbell)
fr. 305 (Campbell)
fr. 306 (Campbell)
fr. 329 (Campbell)
fr. 332 (Campbell)
401
38 n. 53
39 n. 66
38 n. 59
38 n. 59
33
34
37, 39
402
9 n. 42, 158
158 n. 17
32 n. 35
38 n. 59
38 n. 59
33 n. 39
33, 34
9, 34, 35
35
35
34
36
36
36
34
36
38 n. 58
33 n. 42,
36, 36 n. 51
36 n. 51
38 n. 54
401
38 n. 53
38 n. 59
32 n. 37
412
38 n. 55
33
38 n. 56
33 n. 41
38 n. 59
38 n. 57
34 n. 44
38 n. 54
38 n. 59
34 nn. 43
and 46
92
Alexander Polyhistor
FGrHist 273 T 2
53 n. 8
Ambrose
In Psalm. 118 Serm. 7.28
219 n. 33
Anacreon
fr. 348.4 (Page)
46 n. 77
Andocides
1.5
2.10
2.9
9 n. 44
9 n. 44
9 n. 44
Anon.
Anth. Pal. 7.714
(= Gow-Page, HE 38805)
Antiovidianus 1216
De Vetula 3.805
Inc. trag. 92 (Ribbeck)
TrGF Adesp. 281.1
(Kannicht/Snell)
TrGF Adesp. 392
(Kannicht/Snell)
TrGF Adesp. 393
(Kannicht/Snell)
Antiochus of Syracuse
FGrHist 555 F 13
Antipater of Sidon
Anth. Pal. 7.745
(= Gow-Page, HE 28695)
32 n. 34
231
231 n. 66
15 n. 80
90 n. 12
93 n. 23
157 n. 11
27
32 n. 34
278
index locorum
Antipater of Thessalonica
Anth. Pal. 16.75.56
171 n. 87
Apollonius Rhodius
Argon. 2.5417
158
Apollodorus
Bibl. 2.8.2
Bibl. 3.1.1
7 n. 34
7 n. 33
Apuleius
Apol. 57
25 n. 17
Archilochus
fr. 5 (West)
fr. 19 (West)
fr. 21 (West)
fr. 22 (West)
fr. 102 (West)
fr. 116 (West)
fr. 188 (West)
30
30
10, 29, 30
29, 30
29
29, 30
41
Aristippus of Cyrene
fr. IV A 4 (Giannantoni
(1990), II p. 23)
fr. IV A 51 (Giannantoni
(1990), II p. 29)
93 n. 21
93 n. 21
Aristobulus of Cassandreia
FGrHist 139 T 4
56 n. 16
Aristophanes
Plut. 1151
15 n. 80
Aristotle
Pol. 1253a14
Pol. 1261b11
Pol. 1285a35
Pro. 1.23
Rh. 2.20
11 n. 54
75
33 n. 41
79 n. 27
15 n. 79
Arrian
Anab. 4.11.9
556
n. 14
Athenaeus
7.51 p. 297F-298A
8 n. 37
Baudri of Bourgueil
7 (Hilbert)
7.11138 (Hilbert)
7.1856 (Hilbert)
7.1938 (Hilbert)
8 (Hilbert)
8.42 (Hilbert)
226
226 n. 52
226 n. 52
226
226
226
8.10710 (Hilbert)
9798 (Hilbert)
97.312 (Hilbert)
97.778 (Hilbert)
97.836 (Hilbert)
97.8990 (Hilbert)
97.97100 (Hilbert)
97.101 (Hilbert)
98.154 (Hilbert)
98.157 (Hilbert)
98.158 (Hilbert)
98.174 (Hilbert)
111 (Hilbert)
150.14 (Hilbert)
154 (Hilbert)
226 n. 52
225230
227
229
228
228
228
228 n. 60
229
229
229
229
226 n. 51
225 n. 50
226 n. 51
Benot of Sainte-Maure
Roman de Troie 131834
228 n. 60
Caesar
Gal. 2.17.4
164 n. 57
Callimachus
fr. 1.18 (Pfeiffer)
fr. 114.1415 (Pfeiffer)
fr. 178.11 (Pfeiffer)
95 n. 28
161 n. 35
39 n. 65
Callinus
fr. 1.1 (West)
46 n. 79
Callisthenes of Olynthus
FGrHist 124 T 21
FGrHist 124 T 721
56
556
Cassius Dio
38.1829
38.18.5
38.19.12
38.24.2
38.25.2
38.26.3
38.27.3
38.28.12
56.27.1
60.8.5
60.29.3
60.31.2
61.10.2
Catullus
Cat. 63.5073
Cat. 68a
4 n. 16,
111 n. 5,
176 n. 15
4 n. 17
4 n. 17
3 n. 12
13 n. 62
4 n. 17
4 n. 17
11 n. 48
55 n. 13
175 n. 11
186 n. 51
186 n. 51
185
14, 158
n. 19
191
index locorum
Celsus
pr. 69
171 n. 87
Chrysippus
fr. 67781 (von Arnim)
12 n. 60
Cicero
Att. 3.3
Att. 3.4
Att. 3.7.1
Att. 3.7.2
Att. 3.15
Att. 3.15.2
Att. 4.13.1
Att. 5.15.1
Att. 7.11.3
Att. 8.14.1
Att. 9.4.1
Att. 11.6.2
Att. 11.7.24
Att. 11.9.1
Brut. 1112
Brut. 24853
Brut. 250
Caec. 100
De Orat. 1.18
De Orat. 1.196
De Orat. 1.246
Dom. 72
Dom. 137
Dom. 141
Fam. 2.4.1
Fam. 2.9.2
Fam. 2.11.1
Fam. 2.12.2
Fam. 2.13.3
Fam. 4.4.3
Fam. 4.4.4
Fam. 4.7.2
Fam. 4.7.3
Fam. 4.7.4
Fam. 4.812
Fam. 4.8.2
Fam. 4.13
Fam. 4.13.1
Fam. 4.13.4
Fam. 4.14.1
Fam. 6.68
Fam. 6.1314
159 n. 20
164 n. 50
160 n. 27
159 n. 20
4, 15, 157
n. 12
160 n. 29
170
4 n. 15
110
170
169 n. 76
113 n. 13
113 n. 13
113 n. 13
181 n. 28
182 n. 29
181 n. 28
3 n. 10,
117 n. 23
15 n. 79
157 n. 12
15 n. 80
117 n. 22,
118 n. 25
6 n. 28
6 n. 28
169 n. 76
170 n. 83
4 n. 15
4 n. 15,
109
4 n. 15
120
124 n. 34
113 n. 11
122
16 n. 87,
1223
183 n. 33
123
181 n. 25
169 n. 76,
170
170 n. 87
114 n. 16
181 n. 25
181 n. 25
Fam. 6.13.1
Fam. 6.22.1
Fam. 7.3.45
Fam. 7.7.3
Fam. 7.28.2
Fam. 9.15.4
Fam. 9.18.1
Fam. 9.21.1
Fam. 12.30.1
Fam. 14.14
Fam. 14.2.1
Fam. 15.16
Fam. 15.16.1
Fam. 15.20.2
Fin. 5.54
Leg. 2.3
Marc. 22
Mil. 101
N.D. 3.54
N.D. 3.66
Parad. 5
Parad. 18
Parad. 278
Parad. 29
Parad. 2930
Parad. 30
Parad. 31
Parad. 32
Q. fr. 1.3
Q. fr. 1.3.1
Q. fr. 1.3.3
Q. fr. 1.3.5
Red. Pop. 14
Red. Pop. 7
Red. Sen. 25
Red. Sen. 34
Red. Sen. 38
Rep. 1.6
Rep. 1.39
Rep. 3.435
Sen. 578
Sen. 84.4
Sest. 141
Sest. 4250
Tusc. 3.81
Tusc. 4.44
Tusc. 5.1069
Tusc. 5.107
279
170 n. 87
170 n. 87
124
120 n. 28
125 n. 36
114
11 n. 53,
125
169 n. 75
169 n. 80
173 n. 1
159 n. 22
158 n. 19,
171 n. 87
170 n. 83
126
171 n. 87
157 n. 12
127
15 n. 83
167 n. 69
159 n. 24
115
115
116
116 n. 21,
117, 119
n. 27
117
118
117
118
173 n. 1
159 n. 24
159 n. 22
160 n. 27
6 n. 28,
111
16 n. 85
16 n. 85
6 n. 28
16 n. 85
3
11112
112 n. 8
171 n. 87
12 n. 59
3
173 n. 1
15 n. 81
10 n. 47
15 n. 81,
176 n. 15,
234 n. 75
96 n. 35
280
Tusc. 5.108
index locorum
Tusc. 5.114
Tusc. 5.115
Ver. 1.98
11 n. 49, 15
n. 80, 94
n. 24
158 n. 19
158 n. 19
164 n. 57
[Cicero]
Rhet. Her. 3.9
15 n. 79
Cledonius
G.L. 5.66.2930
164 n. 51
Clement of Alexandria
Strom. 6.8.1
45
Columella
1.8.12
171 n. 87
Cratinus
fr. 184 (Kassel/Austin)
93 n. 21
Critias
VS 88 B 44
29
Dante
Paradiso 26.11517
218 n. 30
Demetrius
Eloc. 223
Eloc. 224
Eloc. 227
Eloc. 231
Eloc. 232
Eloc. 259
Typ. Epist. 1
Typ. Epist. 5
169 nn. 75
and 79
169 n. 81
171 n. 87
171 n. 87
171 n. 87
78
171 n. 87
170
Democritus
VS 68 B 299
10 n. 47
Demosthenes
Or. 57.70
9 n. 44
Dio Chrysostom
Or. 1.14
Or. 1.15
Or. 1.49
Or. 1.50
Or. 1.512
Or. 1.556
Or. 1.82
16 n. 87, 198
205 n. 55
197
197
197
1978
205 n. 55
Or. 2
Or. 3
Or. 3.3
Or. 3.12
Or. 3.13
Or. 3.16
Or. 3.86 ff.
Or. 4.1 ff.
Or. 4.25
Or. 7
Or. 7.82
Or. 7.98
Or. 12
Or. 12.46
Or. 12.60
Or. 12.61
Or. 13
Or. 10.30
Or. 13.1
Or. 13.2
Or. 13.3
Or. 13.4
Or. 13.46
Or. 13.8
Or. 13.9
Or. 13.10
Or. 13.1012
Or. 13.13 ff.
Or. 13.14
Or. 13.29
Or. 13.31 ff.
Or. 18
Or. 19.1
Or. 30
Or. 31
Or. 31
Or. 32.60
Or. 33
Or. 34
Or. 34.49 ff.
Or. 36.1
Or. 38.38
Or. 40.2
Or. 44.1
Or. 45.1
Or. 45.2
Or. 45.10
Or. 45.11
Or. 45.11
Or. 52
205
204
205 n. 55
205 n. 55
196, 205 n. 55
205 n. 55
205
205
198 n. 24
194 n. 7
201 n. 33
202
194 n. 7
203 n. 41
203 n. 41
203 n. 41
101 n. 55
82 n. 33
200
200
201
25 n. 17
201
201
201
202
2012
203
194 n. 9
194 n. 9
203, 203 n. 42
194 n. 8
203
194 n. 7
206
206 n. 60
197 n. 18
206 n. 57
206 n. 57
206
194 n. 7
206
195
25 n. 17
195 n. 1, 196
196, 197 n. 18
195
195 n. 12
201 n. 33
194 n. 8
[Dio Chrysostom]
Or. 64.27
100 n. 49
index locorum
Diodorus Siculus
1.96.13
5.13
15.7.3
15.62.3
21.17.1
Diogenes Laertius
1.74
1.81
2.10
2.51
2.53
2.56
2.66
6.20
6.21
6.22
6.24
6.29
6.35
6.37
6.38
6.42
6.46
6.47
6.49
6.56
6.59
6.5962
6.60
6.63
6.69
6.71
6.72
6.73
8.12
9.18
9.356
Diogenes of Sinope
TrGF 88 F 4
10 n. 47
179 n. 19
56
61
57
32 n. 35
38 n. 59
10 n. 45
61 n. 34
61
61
93 n. 21
71 n. 1, 72
723
76 n. 17, 77
80 n. 28
83 n. 37
73 n. 9
71 n. 1, 79,
81
76 n. 14, 80
n. 28
81
83 n. 39
81
10 nn. 45 and
47, 72 n. 6,
76 n. 15, 84
nn. 412
83 n. 38
81 n. 31, 83
n. 40
81
84 n. 43
74, 76, 82
n. 36
77, 7980, 84
n. 45
84
74, 82 n. 36
81, 82 n. 33
10 n. 47
24 n. 14, 31
10 n. 47
76 n. 14
Diogenianus of Heraclea
Paroem. 2.71
32 n. 33
Paroem. 5.12
32 n. 33
281
Dionysius of Halicarnassus
Ant. Rom. 1.47
Ant. Rom. 1.48
Ant. Rom. 1.49
Ant. Rom. 1.52
Ant. Rom. 1.56
Ant. Rom. 1.57
Ant. Rom. 1.73
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
7 n. 36
Empedocles
fr. 107.13 (Wright)
= VS 31 B 115.13
12 n. 57,
159 n. 24
Ennius
Ann. 1425 (Skutsch)
scen. 20845 ( Jocelyn)
scen. 22931 ( Jocelyn)
scen. 231 ( Jocelyn)
scen. 26579 ( Jocelyn)
13 n. 66
13 n. 68
13 n. 68
159
13 n. 68
Ephorus of Cyme
FGrHist 70 F 126
7 n. 35
Epictetus
Diss. 1.9.1
Diss. 4.2.10
Ench. 17
fr. 11 (p. 464.714 Schenkl)
93 n. 24
102 n. 56
1012
n. 56
102 n. 56
ETYMOLOGICUM MAGNUM
p. 326.47
160 n. 25
Euripides
Med. 3745
Med. 64351
Phoen. 357406
Phoen. 35778
Phoen. 388405
Phoen. 3889
Phoen. 38893
Phoen. 3967
Phoen. 4025
Phoen. 403
Phoen. 63842
Phoen. 144752
fr. 360.8 (Kannicht)
fr. 723.1 (Kannicht)
fr. 1047 (Kannicht)
159 n. 24
9 n. 43
87 n. 2
9 n. 43
17 n. 90,
1745
92
9 n. 43,
97
97
97
44, 158
n. 15
7 n. 33
90 n. 12
7 n. 32
94 n. 27
9 n. 43,
12 n. 55
282
Favorinus
De Exil. 1
De Exil. 2
De Exil. 2.2
De Exil. 3
De Exil. 3.3
De Exil. 4
De Exil. 5.1
De Exil. 5.2
De Exil. 714
De Exil. 7
De Exil. 10.2
De Exil. 1518
De Exil. 14.51 ff.
De Exil. 16.3
De Exil. 1927
De Exil. 26.4
De Exil. 27.2
De Exil. 289
De Exil. 28.1
Fronto
ad M. Caes. et invic. 1.4.3
(p. 7.56 v.d.Hout)
ad M. Caes. et invic. 5.20.2
(p. 72.4 v.d.Hout)
Gellius
Noctes Atticae 17.2.7
index locorum
100 n. 50
101
100 n. 50,
101 n. 55
102
102 n. 57
102
102 n. 58
103 n. 60,
233 n. 72
1045
103 n. 61
10, 100
n. 47
105
13 n. 62
107 n. 67
1057
16 n. 85
107 n. 65
107
107 n. 66
25 n. 17
10 n. 47
201 n. 34
64
64
23 n. 7
94
7 n. 33
64
10 n. 47
28, 30
28
7 n. 33
28
23 n. 10
32 n. 36
30
28
28 n. 23
39 n. 64
63
Hesiod
Op. 44851
Op. 61832
43
43
Hesychius
1369
37
Hippocrates
Aph. 2.13
171 n. 87
Hipponax
fr. 26 (West)
47 n. 83
Homer
Il. 2.66170
Il. 4.504
Il. 4.520
Il. 5.297317
Il. 9.393400
Il. 9.44880
Il. 9.478
Il. 9.47984
Il. 13.6947
Il. 15.4302
Il. 16.5714
Il. 16.776
Il. 23.83 ff.
Il. 23.83
Il. 23.2434
Il. 24.8690
Il. 24.4802
Il. 24.48792
26
133
39 n. 64
132
25 n. 17
8 n. 39
26
25 n. 18
25 n. 18
25 n. 18
25 n. 18
181 n. 23
8 n. 39
228 n. 60
228 n. 60
26
26
25 n. 17
25 n. 17
112 n. 9
Gregory of Nazianzus
Ep. 51.5
Ep. 51.7
171 n. 87
171 n. 87
Hecataeus of Miletus
FGrHist 1 T 12a
FGrHist 1 T 4
10 n. 47
10 n. 47
Hellanicus of Lesbos
FGrHist 4 F 84
FGrHist 4 F 1a
7 n. 36
7 n. 33
Hephaestion
Ench. 10.3
34 n. 44
Hergesianax of Alexandria
FGrHist 45 F 710
7 n. 36
Herodotus
1.29.1
1.30.2
1.55
1.142.34
1.144
1.147.2
2.30
2.49.3
3.60.1
4.76.1
4.1469
4.147.3
4.147.4
4.149.1
4.151
5.95
6.34.6
6.35.3
6.36.1
7.28.3
7.99.1
54
283
index locorum
Il. 24.50711
Il. 24.72538
Od. 1.13
Od. 1.579
Od. 5.824
Od. 9.278
Od. 9.34
Od. 13.25786
Od. 14.37981
Od. 15.2728
Od. 15.40384
Od. 23.11820
25 n. 17
27 n. 21
8 n. 38
25 n. 17
87 n. 1
25 n. 17
25 n. 17
26, 30
25 n. 18
25 n. 18
25
25 n. 18
Horace
Carm. 1.7
Carm. 2.3.278
Carm. 3.27
Ep. 1.7.8
Ep. 1.11
Ep. 1.18.82
S. 1.3.98
S. 1.4.105
S. 1.9.52
S. 1.17.1321
S. 2.5.48
S. 2.7.6
14
12 n. 59
14
165 n. 63
14
165 n. 60
165 n. 64
163 n. 47
164 n. 55
93 n. 21
165 n. 63
164 n. 53
220
Ibycus
fr. 289 (Page/Davies)
fr. S220 (Page/Davies)
32
32 n. 32
Inscriptions
CE 1383.4
CEG 302 (Hansen)
Chaniotis E 7
IOSPE I 184
IOSPE I2 344
SEG 15.517
SEG 15.518
SGDI 3086
SIG 3 45
165 n. 62
28 n. 23
689
689
689
29
29
689
63
Isocrates
Paneg. 51
Paneg. 54
Or. 14.4650
Or. 19.237
9 n. 43
9 n. 43
9 n. 44
9 n. 44
[Isocrates]
Or. 1.2
169 n. 81
Ister
FGrHist 334 F 32
61
Julius Victor
Ars Rhet. 27
171 n. 87
Justin
Epit. 28.1.6
8 n. 37
Juvenal
10.4750
78 n. 22
Leonidas of Tarentum
Anth. Pal. 7.715
159 n. 24
(= Gow-Page, HE 253540)
[Libanius]
Charact. Epist. 25
Livy
5.514
5.54.23
5.54.34
170
26.41.19
42.21.7
43.2.1
45.31.9
4
158 n. 19
4, 14 n.
70, 19 n.
104
164 n. 57
163 n. 42
117 n. 23
52 n. 5
[Longinus]
35.2
103 n. 59
138
139
139
139
140
142
140
140
140
165 n. 58
141
164 n. 52
182 n. 31
165 n. 58
167
284
index locorum
7.379
7.7036
8.10946
8.2089
8.837
9.114
141
141
182 n. 31
142
140
140
Lucian
Hermot. 5
Hist. conscr.12
Icarom. 19
Patr. Encom. 1
Patr. Encom. 11
Peregr. 18
Vit. Auct. 13
Nec. 16
94 n. 26
56 n. 16
94 n. 26
25 n. 17
25 n. 17
194
78 n. 22
102 n. 56
Lucretius
2.301
3.491
Manuscripts
Berkeley, UCB 95, fol. 60ra
Florence, Cod. Laur. 36.2
Hamburg, Codex 52
in scrinio
Munich, Clm 631, fol. 148r
Munich, Clm 14753, fol. 40v
Munich, Clm 19475
Paris, Bibliothque
Nationale, ms. lat. 8207
Wolfenbttel, Aug.4 13.11
Marcus Aurelius
Med. 1.14
Med. 6.2.1
164 n. 54
164 n. 53
214 n. 17
213 n. 13
214 n. 18
214 n. 16
214 n. 15
213 n. 14
214 n. 15
214 n. 18
Modoin of Autun
Egloga 1.247
Egloga 1.606
Modoinus indignus episcopo
Theodulfo suo (PLAC 1.571)
vv. 4750
Musonius
p. 41.6 (Hense)
p. 42.12 (Hense)
p. 48.6 (Hense)
p. 48.15 ff. (Hense)
157 n. 11
94 n. 24
175 n. 8
183 n. 36
Naevius
frr. 529 (Blnsdorf )
13 n. 66
Nepos
Di. 3.2
57 n. 18
New Testament
Matth. 5.2930
Matth. 13.57
Matth. 18.89
Mc. 9.43
Mc. 9.45
Mc. 9.47
Petr. 1 Ep. 1.17
Paul. 2 Cor. 5.6
Paul. Eph. 6.1213
Paul. Eph. 6.1417
Paul. Hebr. 11.1316
Paul. Hebr. 13.14
194
93 n. 21
Martial
4.32.4
164 n. 55
Maximus of Tyre
1.1
1.4.AE
1.6.BE
8.7.B
12.9.DF
34.9.EG
102 n. 56
104 n. 62
104 n. 62
104 n. 62
104 n. 62
104 n. 62
Menander
Epitrepontes fr. 9 (Arnott)
Samia 616 ff.
Mon. 783
74
14 n. 69
171 n. 87
Menander Rhetor
p. 433 (Spengel)
25 n. 17
215 n. 21
215 n. 22
215
106 n. 63
216 n. 23
106 n. 63
106 n. 63
106 n. 63
106 n. 63
12 n. 58
12 n. 58,
218
102 n. 59
102 n. 59
12 n. 58,
218
12 n. 58,
234 n. 75
Old Testament
Gen. 3.234
4 Reg. 15.29
4 Reg. 17.6
4 Reg. 24.1417
Jer. 29.1 ff.
218 n. 30
217 n. 30
217 n. 30
217 n. 30
218 n. 30
Ovid
Am. 1.4.30
Am. 1.7.27
Am. 1.7.63
Am. 1.11.27
Am. 1.12.2
Am. 1.15.1
Am. 2.3.9
Am. 2.11.37
Am. 2.18.2734
Am. 2.18.33
Am. 2.19.50
162 n. 42
163 n. 42
162 n. 42
167
162 n. 42
215 n. 21
162 n. 42
163 n. 42
226 n. 53
162 n. 42
162 n. 42
index locorum
Am. 3.6.16
Am. 3.6.87
Am. 3.8.49
Ars 1.4678
Ars 1.483
Ars 1.743
Ars 2.38
Ars 2.61
Ars 2.198
Ars 2.263
Ars 3.762
Ep. 114
Ep. 4.156
Ep. 7.105
Ep. 11.126
Ep. 12.209
Ep. 15
Ep. 1621
Ep. 16
Ep. 16.154
Ep. 16.290
Ep. 17
Ep. 17.16
Ep. 17.259
Ep. 18.30
Ep. 19.202
Ep. 20.83
Ep. 20.180
Ep. 21.178
Fast. 1.493
Fast. 2.235 ff.
Fast. 4.3
Fast. 4.6380
Fast. 4.755
Fast. 5.283
Fast. 5.333
Fast. 5.582
Fast. 6.660
Ib. 1
Ib. 508
Met. 1.583746
Met. 1.727
Met. 2.60
Met. 2.340 ff.
Met. 2.755
Met. 2.835
Met. 2.837
Met.3.1137
Met. 3.45
Met. 3.7
Met. 3.1312
Met. 3.138 ff.
Met. 3.6235
168 n. 72
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
1689
162 n. 42
228 n. 60
163 n. 42
168
164 n. 50
162 n. 42
163 n. 42
161 n. 37
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
228
164 n. 51
161 n. 37
161 n. 37
226
164 n. 53
166 n. 66
226
166 n. 66
164 n. 51
170 n. 84
166 n. 66
164 n. 51
164 n. 50
169 n. 78
12 n. 55, 234
n. 75
160
163 n. 42
179
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
162 n. 42
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
164 n. 57
166 n. 66
135
135
164 n. 52
160
162 n. 42
168
167
7 n. 33, 135
135
135
135
160
135
Met. 4.469
Met. 4.789
Met. 5.137
Met. 5.6467
Met. 6.10328
Met. 6.148 ff.
Met. 6.430
Met. 7.1558
Met. 7.351
Met. 7.397
Met. 7.402
Met. 7.424
Met. 7.512
Met. 7.6901
Met. 8.57
Met. 8.1835
Met. 8.260
Met. 8.8301
Met. 8.868
Met. 9.658
Met. 10.3567
Met. 11.132
Met. 11.137
Met. 11.22165
Met. 11.718
Met. 15.602
Met. 15.75478
Met. 15.479
Met. 15.840
Met. 15.8719
Pont. 1.1.4
Pont. 1.1.1920
Pont. 1.1.[66]
Pont. 1.1.69
Pont. 1.2.34
Pont. 1.2.6
Pont. 1.2.27
Pont. 1.2.2930
Pont. 1.2.312
Pont. 1.2.41 ff.
Pont. 1.2.4750
Pont. 1.2.5960
Pont. 1.2.59
Pont. 1.2.60
Pont. 1.2.68
Pont. 1.2.72
Pont. 1.2.97
Pont. 1.2.121
Pont. 1.2.12936
Pont. 1.2.1312
Pont. 1.2.136
285
163 n. 42
168
162 n. 42
160, 168
n. 72
136
160
162 n. 42
136
136
136
136
136
163 n. 42
162 n. 42
165 n. 61
136
137
160
164 n. 52
163 n. 42
162 n. 42
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
136
165 n. 58
137
137
137
162 n. 42
135 n. 15
164 n. 47
169 n. 82
166 n. 66
163 n. 47
160
169 n. 78
159 nn. 21
and 23
160
160
171 n. 87
158
19 n. 101
165 n. 61
158
165 n. 62,
166 n. 66
164 n. 54
137 n. 19
161 n. 35
171 n. 87
171 n. 87
171 n. 87
286
Pont. 1.2.14550
Pont. 1.3
Pont. 1.3.38
Pont. 1.3.58
Pont. 1.3.15
Pont. 1.3.356
Pont. 1.3.456
Pont. 1.3.48
Pont. 1.3.49
Pont. 1.3.6380
Pont. 1.3.636
Pont. 1.4.4758
Pont. 1.5.38
Pont. 1.5.1518
Pont. 1.5.18
Pont. 1.5.27
Pont. 1.5.3942
Pont. 1.5.41
Pont. 1.5.4550
Pont. 1.5.536
Pont. 1.5.556
Pont. 1.5.68
Pont. 1.6.12
Pont. 1.6.1520
Pont. 1.6.2930
Pont. 1.6.414
Pont. 1.7.2930
Pont. 1.8.1116
Pont. 1.8.[20]
Pont. 1.8.31 ff.
Pont. 1.8.[40]
Pont. 1.8.418
Pont. 1.8.50
Pont. 1.9.1
Pont. 1.9.1516
Pont. 1.9.212
Pont. 1.10.9
Pont. 2.1.17
Pont. 2.2.6
Pont. 2.2.43
Pont. 2.2.54
Pont. 2.2.59
Pont. 2.2.70
Pont. 2.2.76
Pont. 2.2.102
Pont. 2.2.104
Pont. 2.2.119
Pont. 2.3.18
index locorum
171 n. 87
13 nn. 645,
15, 157, 157
n. 12, 171
n. 87
158 n. 15
160 n. 30
163
220 n. 37
36 n. 51
157 n. 11
44 n. 76, 158
n. 14
157 n. 12
16 n. 85
167 n. 68
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
167 n. 68
164 n. 49
164 n. 57
158
164 n. 53
171 n. 87
161 n. 34
170 n. 85
229 n. 61
19 n. 101
170 n. 86
157 n. 13
159 n. 20
171 n. 87
167 n. 68
166 n. 66
158
166 n. 66
171 n. 87
3 n. 11
158 n. 15
45 n. 76, 158
n. 14
159 n. 20
160
163 n. 44
166 n. 66
163 n. 43
163 n. 43
163 n. 44
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
162 n. 41
163 n. 47
165 n. 61
166 n. 66
Pont. 2.3.234
Pont. 2.3.67
Pont. 2.4.1
Pont. 2.4.78
Pont. 2.5
Pont. 2.5.16
Pont. 2.5.26
Pont. 2.5.72
Pont. 2.5.73
Pont. 2.6.7
Pont. 2.6.35
Pont. 2.7.1
Pont. 2.7.39
Pont. 2.7.76
Pont. 2.8.12
Pont. 2.8.21
Pont. 2.9.20
Pont. 2.9.42
Pont. 2.9.478
Pont. 2.10.43
Pont. 2.11.1112
Pont. 3.1
Pont. 3.1.5 ff.
Pont. 3.1.4956
Pont. 3.1.75
Pont. 3.1.82
Pont. 3.2.1516
Pont. 3.3
Pont. 3.3.7
Pont. 3.4.11
Pont. 3.4.6970
Pont. 3.5.2930
Pont. 3.5.40
Pont. 3.5.48
Pont. 3.6.7
Pont. 3.6.1114
Pont. 3.6.46
Pont. 3.6.47
Pont. 3.6.538
Pont. 4.1.15
Pont. 4.1.25
Pont. 4.2.13
Pont. 4.2.15
Pont. 4.3.12
Pont. 4.3.21
Pont. 4.3.54
Pont. 4.4.45
Pont. 4.5.24
Pont. 4.6.6
Pont. 4.6.14
Pont. 4.8
171 n. 87
170 n. 86
169 n. 78
170 n. 84
187 n. 54
164 n. 54
166 n. 66
164 n. 47
164 n. 47
162 n. 41
164 n. 50
167 n. 71
163 n. 42
162 n. 42
158 n. 15
163 n. 44
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
171 n. 87
162 n. 41
170 n. 86
160 n. 31
36 n. 51
18, 234 n. 74
164 n. 47
163 n. 42
45 n. 76, 158
n. 14
160 n. 31
171 n. 87
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
170 n. 84
170
166 n. 66
162 n. 41
165 n. 61
170 n. 86
166 n. 66
162 n. 41
169 n. 82
163 n. 47
165 n. 61
171 n. 87
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
166 n. 66
162 n. 41
166 n. 66
170 n. 84
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
187 n. 54
index locorum
Pont. 4.8.62
Pont. 4.8.656
Pont. 4.9.[26]
Pont. 4.9.48
Pont. 4.9.80
Pont. 4.12.16
Pont. 4.13.28
Pont. 4.13.44
Pont. 4.13.46
Pont. 4.14.4
Pont. 4.14.18
Pont. 4.14.56
Pont. 4.14.60
Pont. 4.15.11
Pont. 4.15.26
Pont. 4.15.42
Rem. 95
Rem. 152
Rem. 389
Rem. 390
Rem. 555 ff.
Tr. 1.1
Tr. 1.1.12
Tr. 1.1.26
Tr. 1.1.458
Tr. 1.1.46
Tr. 1.1.90
Tr. 1.2.17
Tr. 1.2.41
Tr. 1.2.51
Tr. 1.2.82
Tr. 1.2.83
Tr. 1.2.99
Tr. 1.2.107
Tr. 1.3
Tr. 1.3.6
Tr. 1.3.1012
Tr. 1.4
Tr. 1.4.20
Tr. 1.5.3
Tr. 1.5.5
Tr. 1.5.17
Tr. 1.5.278
Tr. 1.5.64
Tr. 1.5.79
Tr. 1.7.15
Tr. 1.7.16
Tr. 1.7.20
Tr. 1.7.32
Tr. 1.7.3340
166 n. 66
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
169 n. 82
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
164 n. 57
163 n. 43
166 n. 66
163 n. 43
162 n. 42
163 n. 42
215 n. 21
171 n. 87
160 n. 31
211 n. 8
211
165 n. 62
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
163 n. 47
137
163 n. 47
163 n. 44
164 n. 47
164 n. 47
162 n. 41, 163
n. 44
163 n. 42
163 n. 44
16 n. 85
166 n. 66
170 n. 86
16 n. 85
166 n. 66
19 n. 101
159 n. 20
158
171 n. 87
44 n. 76, 158
n. 14
163 n. 44
162 n. 42
162 n. 41
162 n. 41
162 n. 41
155 n. 4
Tr. 1.7.38
Tr. 1.9.56
Tr. 1.9.378
Tr. 1.9.434
Tr. 1.9.52
Tr. 1.9.65
Tr. 1.9.66
Tr. 1.10.34
Tr. 2.10
Tr. 2.1036
Tr. 2.1056
Tr. 2.125
Tr. 2.207
Tr. 2.212
Tr. 2.232
Tr. 2.2678
Tr. 2.294
Tr. 2.514
Tr. 3.2.27
Tr. 3.3.16
Tr. 3.4.21
Tr. 3.4.55 ff.
Tr. 3.4.556
Tr. 3.5.39
Tr. 3.5.40
Tr. 3.5.4950
Tr. 3.5.54
Tr. 3.7.16
Tr. 3.8.1 ff.
Tr. 3.8.12
Tr. 3.8.16
Tr. 3.8.78
Tr. 3.9.2
Tr. 3.10.4
Tr. 3.11.66
Tr. 3.14.7
Tr. 3.14.9
Tr. 3.14.32
Tr. 3.14.336
Tr. 3.14.33
Tr. 4.1.24
Tr. 4.1.54
Tr. 4.1.878
Tr. 4.1.95
Tr. 4.1.104
Tr. 4.2.57
Tr. 4.4.11
Tr. 4.4.14
Tr. 4.4.23
Tr. 4.4.53
287
162 n. 42
171 n. 87
159 n. 21
171 n. 87
162 n. 41
44 n. 76, 158
n. 14
171 n. 87
166 n. 66
164 n. 47
213
160
165 n. 61
155 n. 3, 212
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
163 n. 47
166 n. 66
166 n. 66
164 n. 53
162 n. 41
137
158
170 n. 84
165 n. 61
166 n. 66
213
164 n. 54
1667
158
160
167, 168
137
157 n. 11, 166
n. 66
166 n. 66
163
163 n. 42
3 n. 11
164 n. 49
18 n. 100, 191
n. 61
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
163 n. 47
163 n. 42
164 n. 49
159 n. 21
163 n. 47
170 n. 84
169 n. 82
164 n. 49
169 n. 78
165 n. 61
288
Tr. 4.5.56
Tr. 4.5.23
Tr. 4.5.24
Tr. 4.8.39
Tr. 4.9.4
Tr. 4.9.5
Tr. 4.10
Tr. 4.10.2
Tr. 4.10.74
Tr. 4.10.11530
Tr. 4.10.11522
Tr. 4.10.11718
Tr. 5.1.7980
Tr. 5.4.10
Tr. 5.4.19
Tr. 5.4.49
Tr. 5.6.30
Tr. 5.6.46
Tr. 5.7.41
Tr. 5.7.45
Tr. 5.7.678
Tr. 5.7.67
Tr. 5.8.3
Tr. 5.8.27
Tr. 5.11.23
Tr. 5.12.16
Tr. 5.12.212
Tr. 5.13.11
Tr. 5.14.9
Pacuvius
trag. 31346 (Ribbeck)
Papyri
P Berol. 9569
P Oxy. 1234
P Oxy. 2165
P Oxy. 2306
P Oxy. 2307
P Oxy. 2506
P Oxy. 2637
P Oxy. 3711
Pap. Gr. Vat. 11
Paulus
Sent. 2.26.4
Paulus Diaconus
Epit. p. 479.35
(Lindsay)
index locorum
19 n. 101
164 n. 53
166 n. 66
165 n. 61
164 n. 50
164 n. 50
171 n. 87
166 n. 66
164 n. 49
159 n. 24
157 n. 12
161 n. 34
170
171 n. 87
165 n. 61
164 nn. 50
and 53
166 n. 66
44 n. 76, 158
n. 14
44 n. 76, 158
n. 14
157 n. 11
161 n. 34
170 n. 85
162 n. 41
163 n. 42
163 n. 44
164 n. 49
156 n. 5, 161
n. 33
170 n. 86
162 n. 41
13 n. 68
33 n. 39
42
37
32 n. 37
41
34 nn. 43 and
46
32 n. 32
36 n. 52, 37
1017
180 n. 22
3 n. 10
Pausanias
1.12.1
3.22.11
7.2.6
7.10.11
8.5.6
9.12.1
8 n. 37
7 n. 36
7 n. 35
52 n. 5
7 n. 34
7 n. 33
Petrarch
De Rem. 2.53
De Rem. 2.67
De Rem. 2.125
De Vita Solitaria 2.7.2
Ep. Met. 3.8
Fam. 2.34
Fam. 10
Rime sparse 5
Rime sparse 23
Rime sparse 45
Rime sparse 51
Rime sparse 78
Rime sparse 129
Rime sparse 206
Rime sparse 332
233 n. 72
2324
232
232
233 n. 73
232 n. 71
233
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
232 n. 68
Petronius
9.5
17.7
172 n. 90
171 n. 87
Pherecydes of Athens
FGrHist 3 F 155
7 n. 35
Philistus of Syracuse
FGrHist 556 T 5b
FGrHist 556 T 5c
FGrHist 556 T 5d
56
56
57 n. 18
Philo Judaeus
Spec. Leg. 4.142
218 n. 32
Philochorus
FGrHist 328 T 1
56, 65
Philostephanus
FHG 3.29.1 (= Ath. 7.51 8 n. 37
pp. 297F298A)
Philostratus
VA 1.35 (1.34) p. 44
VS 1.7 p. 488
VS 1.8 p. 489
18 n. 99
193 n. 3
100 n. 48
Pindar
Pyth. 4.288
Pae. 4.503
47 n. 85
95 n. 28
289
index locorum
Plato
Leg. 716A
Leg. 864E
Ti. 19E
94 n. 25
218 n. 32
11 n. 54
Plautus
Capt. 519
Cist. 284 ff.
Mer. 644 ff.
Mer. 652
Mer. 830 ff.
Poen. 580
159 n. 24
14 n. 69
14 n. 69
3
14 n. 69
164 n. 50
179 n. 19
171 n. 87
186
186
207 n. 65
193 n. 4
171 n. 87
Plotinus
Enn. 1.6.8
19 n. 105
Plutarch
De Exil. 599AC
De Exil. 599D
De Exil. 599DF
De Exil. 600A
De Exil. 600B
De Exil. 600D
De Exil. 600E
De Exil. 600EF
De Exil. 600F601B
De Exil. 601AB
De Exil. 601B
De Exil. 601C
De Exil. 601D602A
De Exil. 602A603B
De Exil. 602A
De Exil. 602B
De Exil. 602C604C
De Exil. 602C
De Exil. 602DE
De Exil. 602F603A
De Exil. 603B
De Exil. 603CD
De Exil. 603D
De Exil. 603E
De Exil. 603F
92
92 n. 19
92
92 n. 17, 93
93
93 n. 22
74, 92, 93, 181
n. 24
93
98
94 n. 25
94
94
94
179
13 n. 62
94 n. 27
181 n. 24
36 n. 51, 95,
157 n. 11
95
95 n. 28
95 n. 29
95 n. 30
95
95 n. 31
96
De Exil. 604B
De Exil. 604C
De Fac. 943C
Dio 11.47
Dio 11.5
Mor. 138C
Mor. 345E
Prae. ger. reip. 814D
Vit. Cat. Min. 66.2
92 n. 17, 96 n. 32
10, 30, 96
nn. 334
11 n. 49, 96, 181
n. 24
62
96 n. 36, 97 n. 38
4 n. 17, 10 n. 48,
51 n. 2, 62, 97
97 n. 37
97, 175 n. 8
74
745
98
159 n. 24
12 n. 57, 19
n. 105
98 n. 40
56
57 n. 18
62
66 n. 51
206 n. 58
122 n. 31
Pollux
Onom. 9.1578
2 n. 9
Polybius
12.23.7
12.25 d 1
30.13
30.32.10
31.23.5
32.112
32.6.4
33.1.7
33.1.14
69
57 n. 19
52 n. 5
53
53
52 n. 5
53
53
53
Propertius
1.9.1516
1.11.1
1.15.2
2.1.59
2.1.64
2.28.47
171 n. 87
165 n. 60
164 n. 52
160 n. 30
160 n. 30
165 n. 61
Publilius
Sent. e.9
Sent. u.33
159 n. 24
6 n. 28, 15 n. 83
Quintilian
Decl. 366.2
Inst. 9.2.31
Inst. 9.4.19
3 n. 10
187 n. 56
169 n. 75
De Exil. 604D605B
De Exil. 604F
De Exil. 605BC
De Exil. 605CD
De Exil. 605DF
De Exil. 605F607A
De Exil. 606C
De Exil. 607A
De Exil. 607BC
De Exil. 607C
De Exil. 607CD
290
Inst. 12.10.2
Inst. 12.11.18
Inst. 12.11.22
index locorum
164 n. 54
171 n. 87
15 n. 78
Rutilius Namatianus
De Red. Suo 1.1956 25 n. 17
Sallust
Cat. 6
7 n. 36
[Sallust]
Cic. 7
15 n. 76
55 n. 13
181 n. 27
15 n. 83, 16 n. 85
16 n. 85
174
174 n. 4
174 n. 4
169 nn. 75 and 80
16 n. 85, 174 n. 4
174 n. 4
76 n. 16
181 n. 27
174 n. 4
178, 177, 178
177, 178 n. 17,
189
177 n. 16
177, 178, 178 n.
17
177, 178, 178 n.
17
178 n. 17
178 n. 17
177
177
177
189
179
179
179
179
179
188
3, 179
179
Helv. 6.5
Helv. 6.8
Helv. 7
Helv. 7.1
Helv. 7.2
Helv. 7.5
Helv. 7.67
Helv. 7.7
Helv. 7.810
Helv. 8.110.1
Helv. 8
Helv. 8.1
Helv. 8.3
Helv. 8.5
Helv. 9
Helv. 9.1
Helv. 9.3
Helv. 9.47
Helv. 9.4
Helv. 9.6
Helv. 9.78
Helv. 9.8
Helv. 1012
Helv. 10.1
Helv. 10.211.4
Helv. 10.68
Helv. 11
Helv. 11.1
Helv. 13
Helv. 13.1
Helv. 13.3
Helv. 13.4
Helv. 13.6
Helv. 13.67
Helv. 13.8
Helv. 1419
Helv. 14
Helv. 15.1
Helv. 15.3
Helv. 16.3
Helv. 16.5
Helv. 16.6
Helv. 16.7
Helv. 17.1
Helv. 17.3
Helv. 1819
Helv. 18
Helv. 19.45
Helv. 19.7
Helv. 20
Helv. 20.1
Helv. 20.2
Her.F. 446
179 n. 19
177
5 n. 18
179
179
179
16 n. 85
180
180
180
179 n. 19
179, 184
189
184 n. 38
179 n. 19
36 n. 51, 157 n.
11, 179 n. 19, 188
188
181
11 n. 53, 121, 183
121, 182, 183
182 n. 32
1823
179
179
180
188
180
188
180
179, 188
184 n. 40
181
179
181
179, 181
177
177
188
184 n. 37
184
184
184
184
184 n. 37
184
178
184
184
184
17 n. 91, 177
184
184
165 n. 58
291
index locorum
Marc. 1.22.5
Marc. 24
Marc. 2.1
Marc. 4.35.6
Marc. 7.1
Marc. 9.1
Marc. 12.3
Marc. 15
Marc. 16
Marc. 16.1
Marc. 16.3
Marc. 16.8
Marc. 17.25
Marc. 18.1
Marc. 18.28
Marc. 20.2
Marc. 22.3
Marc. 23.6
Marc. 246
Med. 207 ff.
Med. 10234
Nat. 6.1.11
Phaed. 440
Phoen. 50213
Polyb. 1.2
Polyb. 1.4
Polyb. 212
Polyb. 2.1
Polyb. 2.2
Polyb. 2.27
Polyb. 3.3
Polyb. 3.4
Polyb. 3.45
Polyb. 4.1
Polyb. 6.4
Polyb. 6.58.2
Polyb. 7.4
Polyb. 8.2
Polyb. 9.13
Polyb. 9.4
Polyb. 9.7
Polyb. 11.4
Polyb. 11.5
Polyb. 12.3
Polyb. 12.5
Polyb. 13.1
Polyb. 13.2
Polyb. 13.3
Polyb. 13.4
Polyb. 1417
Polyb. 14.1
Polyb. 14.216.3
178
176 n. 14
187
188
188
188
188
176 n. 14
178
188
188
188
188
188
188
173
173
188
178
158 n. 19
149
164 n. 54
163 n. 47
17 n. 90,
1745
189
189
187
17 n. 90,
1845, 190
189
188
189
189
188
189
189
187
187
186 n. 50
188
189
189
189
186 n. 50
187
190
188, 189, 190
190
190
188
187
187
187, 18990
Polyb. 16.2
Polyb. 16.3
Polyb. 16.5
Polyb. 16.6
Polyb. 17.1
Polyb. 18.19
Polyb. 18.1
Polyb. 18.3
Polyb. 18.9
Thy. 380404
Thy. 44670
Thy. 754
189
189
190
190
190
187
186 n. 50
190
17 n. 90, 18
n. 100, 179
n. 19, 191
174 n. 6
174
164 n. 55
189 n. 59
174
Servius
A. 3.441
A. 6.107
A. 8.51
A. 8.168
132 n. 10
132 n. 10
132
167 n. 71
Sidonius Apollinaris
Carm. 23.1601
212 n. 12
Silius Italicus
1.424
1.4446
2.7013
3.5679
3.570629
7.4334
7.48793
7.5579
10.41821
10.42648
11.155258
13.27981
13.8835
15.820
1423
143
143
144
144
1445
145
1456
144
144
145
145
143
164 n. 53
Solon
fr. 4.235 (West)
fr. 4a.3 (West)
fr. 28 (West)
fr. 36 (West)
fr. 36.812 (West)
fr. 36.1315 (West)
478
46 n. 79
54 n. 10
9
48
48
Sophocles
OC 5626
9 n. 43
292
OT 81320
fr. 350 (Radt)
Statius
Silv. 1.2.2545
Silv. 3.3.15464
Theb. 1.56
Theb. 1.1534
Theb. 1.17885
Theb. 1.1845
Theb. 1.312
index locorum
9 n. 43
93 n. 21
Theb. 1.4014
Theb. 2.190
Theb. 2.392
Theb. 2.4005
Theb. 3.714
Theb. 3.406
Theb. 3.6968
Theb. 4.77
Theb. 5.28498
Theb. 5.499500
Theb. 7.5001
Theb. 8.320
Theb. 9.4953
Theb. 11.3779
Theb. 11.503
Theb. 11.516
Theb. 11.540
Theb. 11.665756
Theb. 11.730
Theb. 12.81617
18
19, 155 n. 1
7 n. 33
150
150
150
150, 151
n. 46
152
152
152
152
150
150 n. 42
151
150
153
153
151
234 n. 75
1523
151
150
150
150
149
149
224 n. 46
Stobaeus
4.32A.11 p. 782 (Hense)
4.44.76 p. 977 (Hense)
76 n. 18
101 n. 52
Strabo
5.2.7
6.3.2
13.1.38
13.2.3
14.1.40
179 n. 19
27
39 n. 64
32, 34 n. 44
46 n. 78
SUDA
1659
536
4
32, 39 n. 62
53
99 n. 42
Suetonius
Tib. 13
Cl. 5
Cl. 28
11 n. 52
171 n. 87
186 n. 51
Cl. 29.1
Dom. 10.1
175 n. 11
55 n. 13
Synesius of Cyrene
Aegypt. 1.13.106A
Dio 1.18
102 n. 56
202
Syriscus of Chersonesus
FGrHist 807
689
TACITUS
Ag. 2.1
Ann. 4.21
Ann. 4.346
Ann. 12.53
Ann. 12.60.6
Ann. 14.62
Ann. 14.63.2
55
16 n. 87
55
186
186 n. 51
175 n. 11
175 n. 11
Teles
p. 5.26.1 (Hense)
p. 16.47 (Hense)
p. 21.223.4 (Hense)
p. 22.14 (Hense)
p. 23.1524.10 (Hense)
p. 23.415 (Hense)
p. 24.1025.7 (Hense)
p. 25.813 (Hense)
p. 25.1326.8 (Hense)
p. 26.815 (Hense)
p. 26.1527.10 (Hense)
p. 27.1029.1 (Hense)
p. 28.4 (Hense)
p. 29.132.2 (Hense)
p. 29.230.1 (Hense)
p. 30.1 (Hense)
p. 52.24 (Hense)
101 n. 56
101 n. 56
889
13 n. 62
89
89
89
89
90
90
90
90
13 n. 62
91 n. 13
90
90 n. 11
101 n. 56
Terence
Hau. 857
14 n. 69
Tertullian
Nat. 2.14.4
11 n. 49
Theodulf of Orlans
De Libris quos legere solebam
(PLAC 1.543), vv. 1718
Theognis
19254
183
1889
191
222 n. 42
44
42 n. 74
42 n. 74
42 n. 74
293
index locorum
20910
2636
332ab
3334
81920
922
926
11356
1197202
12078
120910
121116
121720
9 n. 42, 44,
158
46 n. 80
44, 158
434
9 n. 42
47 n. 83
47 n. 84
157 n. 13
423
45
45
45
45
Theopompus
FGrHist 115 T 2
56
Thucydides
1.1.1
1.12.3
2.48.3
4.104.45
4.106.4
4.107.3
5.26.5
58 n. 25, 68
22 nn. 23
58, 59
589
59
38 n. 60
10, 51, 52,
58
Timaeus of Tauromenium
FGrHist 566 T 4a
57
Tyrtaeus
fr. 2.1215 (West)
fr. 5.7 (West)
fr. 6 (West)
fr. 7 (West)
fr. 10 (West)
fr. 10.15 (West)
fr. 10.18 (West)
22 n. 2
47
47
47
47
47
467
Valerius Flaccus
1.4150
1.2256
2.82427
4.348421
4.34951
4.40721
5.2245
5.2335
5.23340
5.44251
7.26152
7.435
147
149
153
148
148
148
147
147
147
149
148
146
7.11115
7.11920
Vergil
A. 1.2
A. 1.3
A. 1.2429
A. 1.385
A. 1.437
A. 1.62830
A. 2.602
A. 2.6378
A. 2.780
A. 2.798
A. 3.45
A. 3.1112
A. 3.12
A. 3.1212
A. 3.1678
A. 3.294471
A. 3.342
A. 3.462
A. 3.480
A. 4.223
A. 4.3256
A. 4.5456
A. 4.66971
A. 5.548
A. 6.1419
A. 6.967
A. 6.177
A. 7.3712
A. 7.650
A. 7.78992
A. 7.794
A. 8.9
A. 8.1347
A. 8.31925
A. 8.3335
A. 8.483
A. 8.48993
A. 10.5162
A. 10.84950
A. 10.8512
A. 11.2467
A. 11.25293
A. 11.2827
A. 11.53943
A. 11.54772
A. 12.82637
A. 12.880
Ecl. 1.15
148
149
129
135
131
130
130
130
165 n. 61
130
130
130
130, 140
130, 140
7 n. 36
132
129
131
165 n. 60
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
163 n. 42
130
130
131
163 n. 42
137
133
167 n. 70
133
164 n. 52
133 n. 11
133 n. 11
131
129
132
132
136
133
144
133
134, 151
n. 45
131
131
131
1334
134
131
164 n. 54
14 n. 71
294
index locorum
Ecl. 1.5966
G. 2.50312
G. 3.68
14 n. 71
14 n. 71
165 n. 61
[Vergil]
Cat. 3.710
14 n. 71
Walahfrid Strabo
Carm. 76.605 (PLAC 2.415)
216
Xenophon
An. 3.1.5
An. 5.3.7 ff.
An. 5.3.7
61 n. 36
67
52, 60
An. 5.6.1516
An. 6.4.38
An. 7.7.57
Hell. 3.1.2
Hell. 3.2.7
Hell. 3.5.25
Hell. 6.4.5
Hell. 6.5.19
Hell. 7.5.17
Mem. 3.1
67
67
601
66
67 n. 52
59 n. 26
59 n. 26
61
67 n. 52
67 n. 52
Xenophanes of Colophon
fr. 3 (West)
fr. 8 (West)
8, 31
31
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255. STODDARD, K. The Narrative Voice in the Theogony of Hesiod. 2004.
ISBN 90 04 14002 6
256. FITCH, J.G. Annaeana Tragica. Notes on the Text of Senecas Tragedies. 2004.
ISBN 90 04 14003 4
257. DE JONG, I.J.F., R. NNLIST & A. BOWIE (eds.). Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives
in Ancient Greek Literature. Studies in Ancient Greek Narrative, Volume One. 2004.
ISBN 90 04 13927 3
258. VAN TRESS, H. Poetic Memory. Allusion in the Poetry of Callimachus and the
Metamorphoses of Ovid. 2004. ISBN 90 04 14157 X
259. RADEMAKER, A. Sophrosyne and the Rhetoric of Self-Restraint. Polysemy & Persuasive
Use of an Ancient Greek Value Term. 2005. ISBN 90 04 14251 7
260. BUIJS, M. Clause Combining in Ancient Greek Narrative Discourse. The Distribution of
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