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TH E W OR LDS OF AULUS GE LLIU S
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The Worlds of Aulus Gellius
Edited by
LEOFRANC HOLFORD-STREVENS and
AMIEL VARDI
1
3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford ox2 6dp Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York # Oxford University Press 2004 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2004 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data The worlds of Aulus Gellius / [edited by] Leofranc Holford-Strevens, Amiel Vardi. p. cm. Summary: ‘‘Aulus Gellius originated the modern use of ‘classical’ and ‘humanities’. This study examines his life and writings’’ – Provided by publisher. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-19-926482-1 (alk. paper) 1. Gellius, Aulus- 2. Gellius, Aulus-Noctes Atticae. 3. Authors, Latin-Biography. 4. Rome–In literature- I. Holford-Strevens, Leofranc. II. Vardi, Amiel D. PA6391.W67 2005 8780 .01–dc22 2004024141 ISBN 0–19–926482–1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2 Typeset by Kolam Information Services Pvt. Ltd., Pondicherry Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by Biddles Ltd., King’s Lynn, Norfolk
Preface The idea for this book originated during the preparations for the colloquium on ‘Aulus Gellius and his Worlds’ held at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, on 17 May 2003. That occasion was to our knowledge the Wrst conference ever devoted to Gellius; likewise this volume, incorporating all the papers delivered at the colloquium but conceived on a larger scale, is the Wrst collection, in any language, of Gellian essays by various hands. The plural ‘Worlds’ in the title of colloquium and collection was and is intentional, for Gellius moved in his own day, and has moved since, in several worlds. We see him amongst lawyers and philosophers, the student learning from his elders, the scholar correcting the ignorant, the loving friend of the polymath Favorinus, the zealous recorder of Fronto’s verbal precision. He hears lawsuits and visits libraries: he is at home in the study, but mixes without awkwardness in society. At one moment he deals in philosophical speculation about the nature of instantaneity; at another he is telling tales of dolphins who doted on boys, or retailing his favourite love-poems. We see him in Rome, in villeggiatura, and by the sea, but also in Greece, now inspecting a manuscript at Patrae, now travelling to the Pythian Games at Delphi, the rest of the time at Athens or in Attica. He improved his command of Greek, and studied philosophy with Taurus the Platonist; at one moment he was the tourist visiting Euripides’ cave, at another the scholar discussing Latin in the Lyceum; he attended Herodes Atticus at his mansion, and the Cynic Peregrinus at his hovel; a boat-trip on a starry night Wnds him testing by observation an etymology for septemtriones, a journey back from Eleusis makes us conjecture initiation in the Mysteries—a mark of respectability, not religiosity. Immersed as he had been, and soon would be, in the Roman world, it is this Greek world (and its Roman representative Favorinus) that gave him ingenii cultus and breadth of mind, and it is to the winter nights in Attica, nights that though objectively shorter than those further north in Rome seemed long to Gellius in the quiet deme where he resided, those nights he whiled away, when not participating in the amusements of Saturnalia, by writing up his notes, that we owe his work, with all its charm and erudition.
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Indeed, if Antonine Athens had left no other trace, and in all other respects meant no more to us than the donkey-bearing Athens of the Turcocratia, still it would claim and receive our thanks for the Attic Nights. The question whether and in what respects we should view Gellius as reXecting contemporary Greek cultural phenomena (such as linguistic Atticism and the so-called Second Sophistic) on the one hand, or independent Roman traditions on the other, occupied much Gellian scholarship of the twentieth century, and continues to receive consideration in the present volume. But the numerous worlds of Antonine Rome and Greece do not exhaust those of Aulus Gellius. After his death, he became a resource for pagan and Christian alike, read by Nonius, Ammianus, and Macrobius, by Minucius Felix, Lactantius, and Augustine, sometimes for his words, sometimes for his matter. In the Middle Ages, though often read in Xorilegia rather than the original, and subjected to the false name of Agellius, he was not neglected by those who had access to him: his works were sought out, and as many pre-1400 copies now lost are attested as now survive. The Renaissance eagerly adopted him not only as a source of information, but as a model for its elegant presentation; indeed, it was he, rather than Cicero, who deWned the humanists’ humanitas. The Enlightenment even elevated Gellius to the next world, as described in the Vision of the amateur philosopher Abraham Tucker. At Wrst he does not appear entirely to his advantage: as John Locke is made to explain, ‘having a very moderate capacity he could produce little of his own’, but being no more than ‘a diligent honest creature’ (for which reason indeed ‘we acknowledge him for one of our line’) whose talents were ‘industry and exactness’, he is set to recording the narrator’s adventures. Yet at the end we Wnd he may have been both less and more: on the one hand, it is conceivable that his records were inaccurate: ‘if there be anything in them not consonant to the truth of facts it is his fault for misleading me’; on the other he was capable of original comment: ‘It vexed me that I could not recover his interlineations for by the imperfect notion I have of them I imagine they tend to harmonize Reason with Religion . . . ’. Tucker thus corrects the very prejudice that he anticipates; for a period was to follow in which, Gellius’ information appearing to have been mined, like other authors who had the misfortune to survive he was disparaged as an inferior substitute for his lost sources. But now that scholarship has come to terms with his blurred distinction between fact and Wction, and understood that he is no mere transcriber, but has notions of his own and a design
Preface
vii
that we should think as well as read, not only do we once more acknowledge him for one of our line, but we have escorted him back to the world that is rightly his, of authors deemed worthy of study for their own sake. It would be impossible to enclose all Gellius’ worlds within the compass of one volume; a selection was necessary. The essays are distributed into three Parts: ‘Contexts and Achievements’, ‘Ideologies’, and ‘Reception’. In Part I Simon Swain examines the implications for Romans, and in particular the Antonines—Apuleius and Fronto as well as Gellius—of using, or not using, Greek within a Latin context. Alessandro Garcea and Valeria Lomanto consider ancient approaches to loan-words, and the diVerences between Fronto’s and Gellius’ evaluations of the lively vulgarisms in Laberius’ mimes; Franco Cavazza elucidates Gellius’ linguistic skills as an etymologist by seeking to isolate those derivations he hit on for himself; Graham Anderson compares his skills as a narrator with those of other writers, in particular Fronto and Aelian; Andrew J. Stevenson considers his relation to the antiquarian tradition on which he drew so extensively. Part II was conceived as a tribute to the late Rene´ Marache, who initiated the modern rehabilitation of Gellius and credited him with an humanisme gellien in which the primary role was played by ethics (‘le primat de la morale’). Amiel Vardi reviews the expectations that Gellius raised by choosing to write in the genre of miscellany, and the manner in which his departures from generic conventions allow him to project his ideas about knowledge, learning, and the intellectual world; Teresa Morgan demonstrates that his claim to educate his readers in sound morality can be upheld on a more generous understanding of ethical instruction than recent critics have allowed; Stephen M. Beall engages directly with Marache’s concept, which he vindicates by reinterpreting it of mental and social improvement; Wytse Keulen compares Gellius’ attitude to intellectuals with that of Apuleius against a background of satirical tradition. In the opening chapter of Part III, Leofranc Holford-Strevens considers the medieval exploitation of a morally improving Gellian text, false ascriptions to Gellius of matter from other sources, and traces of his diVusion through manuscripts now lost or fragmentary. Michael Heath studies his presence in sixteenth-century France, covering his editorial history and his service to scholarship and literature, above all Montaigne’s Essais; Wnally, Anthony Grafton shows humanists learning from him how to accumulate information, display their learning, and conduct their quarrels, but also
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demonstrates how he stimulated scientiWc research—a surprising achievement, it may be, but not inappropriate for the man who wrote on missile trajectories and Wre-prevention. As Gellius challenged the demarcations of specialized learning, and changed masks between insider and outsider at will, so the established and younger contributors to this volume include Gellian experts looking out and specialists in other Welds looking in. They also exhibit both traditional and new approaches. Gellius’ linguistic interests are considered in the light of both ancient grammatical doctrine and modern comparative philology within a context of Quellenforschung (Cavazza) and stylistics (Garcea and Lomanto). Several authors treat him against a broader social, cultural, and literary background: ancient views on education and ethics (Morgan, Beall); antiquarianism (Stevenson); the ambivalent place of the intellectual (Keulen); a bilingual culture in which the choice of language is seldom innocent (Swain); the learned miscellany (Vardi); the practice of narrative (Anderson). Others consider Gellius’ place in the Middle Ages, Renaissance, and Baroque (HolfordStrevens, Heath, Grafton), ranging in purview from manuscript studies by way of homiletics to emblems, music, and mechanics. Almost every paper touches on central issues in the history of ideas such as concepts of language, tradition, and ethnicity and competing views of knowledge, science(s), and intellectual life. Insights have been gained from recent intellectual developments: the part played by Xorilegia in medieval learning (Holford-Strevens); feminist and post-modern views of ethics (Morgan); sociolinguistics and the play of powers controlling choice of language (Swain); genre theory and narratology (Anderson, Vardi); ironic self-presentation and subversion (Keulen). Such approaches may be indicative of fascinating developments in Gellian studies yet to come. Our thanks are due to Bonnie Blackburn for preparing the music example in Ch. 10 and for help with the indexes, to the Royal Library in Brussels for Pl. 10. 2, and to Princeton University Library for the illustrations in Ch. 12. We also owe a debt of gratitude to all those who attended and contributed to the Corpus colloquium, whether as speakers or as audience, but above all to Ewen Bowie for proposing it in the Wrst place, for organizing it with patience and enthusiasm, and for encouraging the publication of the present volume. Le o f r a n c Ho l f o r d -St r e v e n s Oxford Am i e l Va r d i Jerusalem 22 March 2004
Contents List of Illustrations Abbreviations
xi xiii
List of Contributors
xv
PART I: CONTEXTS AND ACHIEVEMENTS 1. Bilingualism and Biculturalism in Antonine Rome: Apuleius, Fronto, and Gellius
3
SIMON SWAIN
2. Gellius and Fronto on Loanwords and Literary Models: Their Evaluation of Laberius A L E SS A ND R O G A R CE A
41
and V AL E R I A LO M A NT O
3. Gellius the Etymologist: Gellius’ Etymologies and Modern Etymology
65
F R A N CO CA V A Z Z A
4. Aulus Gellius as a Storyteller
105
G R A HA M A ND E R SO N
5. Gellius and the Roman Antiquarian Tradition
118
A N D RE W J . S T E V E N S O N
PART II: IDEOLOGIES 6. Genre, Conventions, and Cultural Programme in Gellius’ Noctes Atticae
159
A M I E L V A RD I
7. Educational Values
187
TERESA MORGAN
8. Gellian Humanism Revisited
206
S T E P HE N M . B E AL L
9. Gellius, Apuleius, and Satire on the Intellectual W YT S E K E U L E N
223
x
Contents PART III: RECEPTION
10. Recht as een Palmen-Bohm and Other Facets of Gellius’ Medieval and Humanistic Reception
249
L E O F R AN C H O L F O R D- ST RE V E N S
11. Gellius in the French Renaissance
282
M I C H A E L HE A T H
12. ConXict and Harmony in the Collegium Gellianum
318
A N T HO NY GR A F T O N
Bibliography
343
Index Locorum Potiorum Index Verborum de quibus A. Gellius disputat
375 379
Index Rerum et Nominum
380
List of Illustrations Plates 10.1. Emblem of the palm-tree, from Omnia Andreae Alciati .V.C. emblemata (Paris, 1608) 10.2. First page in text order of Fragmentum Egmondanum (Brussels, Royal Library, MS IV 625/60 (Gellius 14. 2. 19–25) 12.1. Design for a bookwheel, from Agostino Ramelli, Le diverse et artiWciose machine (Paris, 1588) 12.2. Design for a model of Archytas and his dove, from Athanasius Kircher, Magnes: siue de arte mechanica opus tripartitum, 3rd edn. (Rome, 1654)
257
267 325
340
Music example 10.1. Original text and melody of Anke van Tharaw, stt. 6–7, from Heinrich Albert, Fu¨nVter Theil der Arien (Ko¨nigsberg, 1642)
258
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Abbreviations Bla¨nsdorf Bonaria C. CCSL CGL
Courtney CSEL D. DK DS Funaioli GG GL
Huschke–Seckel– Ku¨bler J. LHSz
Ju¨rgen Bla¨nsdorf, Fragmenta poetarum Latinorum (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1995) Mario Bonaria, Mimi Romani2 (Rome, 1965). Codex Justinianus Corpus Christianorum, series Latina Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum a G. Loewe incohatum, ed. Georg Goetz, 7 vols. (Leipzig, 1888–1923; repr. Amsterdam, 1965) Edward Courtney, The Fragmentary Latin Poets (Oxford, 1993) Corpus scriptorum ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Digest Hermann Diels, rev. Walther Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker6 (Berlin, 1951) Deutero-Servius Grammaticae Romanae fragmenta, ed. Gino Funaioli (Leipzig, 1907) Grammatici Graeci Grammatici Latini, ed. Heinrich Keil (vols. i, iv–vii), Martin Hertz (vols. ii–iii), Hermann Hagen (suppl.), 8 vols. in all (Leipzig, 1855– 80) Iurisprudentia anteiustiniana, ed. Ph. E. Huschke, rev. Emil Seckel and Bernhard Ku¨bler, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1908). Justinian, Institutiones Lateinische Grammatik2, i: Manu Leumann, Lateinische Laut- und Formenlehre; ii: J. B. Hofmann, rev. Anton Szantyr, Lateinische Syntax und Stilistik; iii: Fritz Radt and Abel Westerbrink, Stellenregister und Verzeichnis
xiv
Abbreviations
der nichtlateinischen Wo¨rter (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft, II 2/1–3; Munich, 1977–9) Malcovati Enrica Malcovati, Oratorum Romanorum fragmenta liberae rei publicae4 (Turin, 1976). Mazzarino Grammaticae Romanae fragmenta aetatis Caesareae, ed. Antonio Mazzarino, i (all published) (Turin, 1955) MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica Peter Hermann Peter, Historicorum Romanorum reliquiae, 2 vols. (Leipzig, i 21914, ii. 1906; repr. Stuttgart, 1967) PF Pauli excerpta ex libris Pompei Festi de uerborum signiWcatu, ed. W. M. Lindsay (Leipzig, 1913) PG Patrologia Graeca PL Patrologia Latina Ribbeck2 Otto Ribbeck, Scaenicae Romanorum poesis fragmenta2, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1871–3; repr. Hildesheim, 1962) 3 Ribbeck Otto Ribbeck, Scaenicae Romanorum poesis fragmenta3, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1897–8). Schanz–Hosius Martin Schanz, Geschichte der ro¨mischen Literatur bis zum Gesetzgebungswerk des Kaisers Justinian4, rev. Carl Hosius, vols. i–ii (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft, 8; Munich, 1914–35, repr. with vols. iii–iv of the 3rd edn., 1959–67). Periodicals are abbreviated as in L’Anne´e philologique. Festus and PF are cited by page and line of Lindsay, Nonius in the form ‘2 L. ¼ 3. 9 M.’ Stricter would be ‘p. 2 L. ¼ p. 3 Merc. l. 9 Mue.’: the pagination of Josias Mercerus’ second edition (Paris and Sedan, 1614; reproduced line for line Leipzig, 1826) was indicated by Lucian Mueller (2 vols., Leipzig, 1888), whose lineation was cued to Mercerus’ pages and not his own; Mercerus’ pages and Mueller’s lines are indicated by W. M. Lindsay (3 vols. Leipzig, 1903), and cited in preference to his own pages, though these are sooner found.
List of Contributors G r a h a m A n d e r s o n is Professor of Classics at the University of Kent. His interests are in narrative literature in Antiquity, and in the cultural history of the Roman Empire: he is the author of Ancient Fiction (1984); Philostratus (1986), The Second Sophistic (1993), Sage, Saint and Sophist (1994), and Fairytale in the GraecoRoman World (2000). S t e p h e n M . B e a l l is Associate Professor of Classics at Marquette University, Milwaukee. He is the author of a dissertation entitled ‘Civilis eruditio: Style and Content in the ‘‘Attic Nights’’ of Aulus Gellius’ (University of California, Berkeley, 1988) and of several articles relating to Gellius. F r a n c o Ca v a z z a is Professor of the History of Linguistics at the Universita` degli Studi di Bologna. His edition of Gellius (Bologna, 1985– ) has reached the end of book 13; he is also the author of Studio su Varrone etimologo e grammatico (1981), Questioni di ortoepia e ortograWa latina (1999), and Lezioni di indeoeuropeistica (2001–4), besides numerous articles on Gellius and other subjects. A l e s s a n d r o G a r c e a is Associate Professor at the Universite´ de Toulouse-Le Mirail and a researcher with the Laboratoire d’Histoire des The´ories Linguistiques (CNRS). His published articles include substantial studies of Gellius, most notably ‘Gellio e la dialettica’ (2000; based on his tesi di laurea at Turin). He is the editor of Colloquia absentium: studi sulla comunicazione epistolare in Cicerone (2003). A n t h o n y G r a f t o n is Dodge Professor in the Department of History, Princeton University. His many publications include Joseph Scaliger (1983–93), Forgers and Critics (1990), Defenders of the Text (1991), Commerce with the Classics (1997), and The Footnote (1998). M i c h a e l He a t h is Professor of French at King’s College London. He is the author of Crusading Commonplaces (1986) and Rabelais (1996), the editor of Rene´ de Lucinge, and the translator of numerous pieces for the Toronto Collected Works of Erasmus.
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L e o f r a n c H o l f o r d - S t r e v e n s is Consultant ScholarEditor at the Oxford University Press. He is the author of Aulus Gellius: An Antonine Scholar and his Achievement and (with Bonnie J. Blackburn) of The Oxford Companion to the Year; also of numerous articles on classical and other themes. W y t s e K e u l e n is a postdoctoral researcher at the Rijksuniversiteit Groningen. His dissertation, entitled Apuleius Madaurensis, Metamorphoses, Book I, 1–20: Introduction, Text, Commentary (2003), will be published in the Groningen Commentaries on Apuleius. V a l e r i a L o m a n t o is Associate Professor in the Dipartimento di Filologia, Linguistica, e Tradizione Classica ‘Augusto Rostagni’ at the Universita` degli Studi di Torino. Her publications include ‘Lessici latini e lessicograWa automatica’ (1980), Concordantiae in Q. Aurelii Symmachi opera (1983), Index Grammaticus (1990: with Nino Marinone), and ‘Cesare e la teoria dell’eloquenza’ (1994–5). T e r e s a M o r g a n is Fellow and Tutor in Ancient History at Oriel College, Oxford. She is the author of Literate Education in the Hellenistic and Roman Worlds (1998). A n d r e w J. S t e v e n s o n is Departmental Administrator in the Department of Continuing Education at Lancaster University. He is the author of a thesis entitled ‘Aulus Gellius and Roman Antiquarian Writing’ (King’s College London, 1993). Si m o n S w a i n is Professor of Classics and Ancient History at the University of Warwick. His publications include Hellenism and Empire (1996), Dio Chrysostom (2003), Bilingualism in Ancient Society (2003; with J. N. Adams and Mark Janse), and Approaching Late Antiquity (2004; with M. J. Edwards). A m i e l V a r d i is Senior Lecturer in Classical Studies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He is the author of a dissertation entitled ‘Aulus Gellius as Reader of Poetry’ (in Hebrew) and a number of articles on Gellius and on Roman intellectual life in the Wrst two centuries of our era.
I CONTEXTS AND ACHIEVEMENTS
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1 Bilingualism and Biculturalism in Antonine Rome Apuleius, Fronto, and Gellius Si m on Sw a in Understanding the cultural context of Aulus Gellius might seem straightforward. He was a highly educated Roman who had travelled to Athens as a student, knew prominent Greek sophists and philosophers, was an active member of the second-century Kulturszene at Rome, and was appointed to the respectable position of iudex extra ordinem. There is enough to interpret here without going further. But if we are interested in Gellius’ attitude to Greece and the Greek language, we cannot ignore the background of over two centuries of intense thinking and rethinking by Romans of their relationship with the older and more prestigious culture of their conquered neighbours. The legacy of this thought is apparent in Gellius and his contemporaries both in their responses to Greece and—more importantly—in how they viewed themselves as the leading lights of Latin literature in their time. For this reason I shall start this chapter by sketching relevant aspects of that relationship from the time of Cicero down to Apuleius. This sketch will necessarily be rapid and much of interest and importance will be omitted. I shall then focus in more detail on Fronto and on Gellius himself.
1. context and background: cicero to apuleius When Julius Caesar remarked that Cicero was more deserving of a medal than any military commander because ‘it was more I should like to thank the editors for their invitation to write this piece and for their comments and assistance. I am very grateful to Jim Adams for suggestions and encouragement.
Simon Swain
4
important to advance the boundaries of Rome’s ingenium than her imperium’ (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 7. 117), he knew what he was talking about. Control of culture was the central part of ancient education because it promised members of the governing classes power. Yet in the time of Cicero’s boyhood professional instruction in Latin rhetoric was still the object of suspicion at Rome. Towards the end of his life Cicero records in his patriotic history of Roman rhetoric, the Brutus, that the censors of 92 bc, M. Antonius and L. Licinius Crassus, had in fact banned the teaching of rhetoric in Latin. It is no coincidence that these two men are identiWed by Cicero as having ‘equalled the glory of the Greeks’ in their rhetorical powers (138). This privileged position entitled them to condemn lesser talents and to reinforce the traditional system of teaching the tricks of rhetoric through immersion in Greek—as if we should learn to express ourselves in English by practising Wrst in French. When Cicero presents Crassus discussing the edict in another late dialogue, On the Orator (3. 93–5), he has him predict that a time will come when ‘that old and superior wisdom of the Greeks’ will be transferred to Rome. Men of great learning will be needed for this to happen; but, if they should appear, ‘they will be ranked above the Greeks.’ In these remarks of Crassus, Cicero was praising his own success. It is his generation that witnessed the maturity of Latin culture. Already in Cicero’s 20s or 30s the author of the Ad Herennium was pointing the way forward to formal, Greek-style rhetorical instruction in and for Latin. Cicero records that he still declaimed in Greek to shape his Latin usage at this time (Brutus 310) and he continued to do so till the end of his life (Ad Att. 9. 4). But things were changing. Translation complemented this process by developing awareness of the strengths and weaknesses of Latin in relation to Greek. Cicero’s little work, De optimo genere oratorum, from 46 is ostensibly an introduction to translations of On the Crown and Against Ctesiphon.1 But the absence of the translations simply reinforces the purpose of what is in eVect a defence of using Greek models to produce excellent Latin. It is well known that Cicero and others of his epoch had a mixed view of Greeks. They admired classical Greek civilization but often despised the contemporary Greeks they ruled over.2 This attitude reXects the particular circumstances of the time as much as 1
I accept the authenticity of this work, as J. G. F. Powell, ‘Cicero’s Translations’, 278 is inclined to do. 2 N. Petrochilos, Roman Attitudes, is a useful survey of Roman views.
Bilingualism and Biculturalism
5
anything. A combination of exploitative provincial government, Roman civil wars, and Greek political chaos had made Greeks despicable and cringing in Roman eyes. We should remember that despite the Hellenizing tastes of many individuals in their homes and private endeavours, Rome itself was hardly Hellenized as a city in terms of its amenities. The Theatre of Pompey (inaugurated in 55) was the Wrst in a very long line of buildings that were built under the inXuence of Greek (or rather Hellenistic–Greek) styles and aspirations. This new Rome was Wrst realized in the long reign of Augustus. Greek styles and inXuences permeate his buildings, and this reXects the very important but gradual change in the status and character of the City during the Empire as it became ever more cosmopolitan in appearance and population and the old capital of the Roman Republic faded from sight. The acquisition of Greek by the Romans of the Late Republic may be seen as a process of Sprachanschluß (‘language annexation’), as Wrst described by the sociolinguist Henrik Becker in connection with the rise of Czech and Hungarian to national standard languages in the context of the dominance of German.3 The process is a familiar one: codiWcation and enrichment, purism, the development of the national literary language on the model of an existing better-established code with a view to usurping and replacing it. This is what Cicero, Caesar, Sallust, Varro, and the late Republican and Augustan poets did at Rome. A fascinating part of the Roman annexation of Greek is the phenomenon of code-switching or the practice of using two or more languages in the same utterance.4 Code-switching is not necessarily indicative of bilingualism (which is the ability to deploy two languages equally or fairly equally). Rather, it is an expression of a desire or a need to deploy and negotiate two (or more) language-speciWc identities. In the case of the Romans of the Late Republic—at least in the sole extensive source of evidence, Cicero—using Greek tags, quotations, or starting or Wnishing an utterance in Greek is, as I have argued elsewhere, a sign of a wish to display knowledge of Greek to those members of the Roman elite who shared their tastes.5 It stakes a claim to be recognized as a cultural equal. The evidence points strongly to the fact that Romans’ Greek identity in language usage was accessed mainly in private and—though proof on this 3
H. Becker, Sprachanschlu¨sse. As deWned by Adams and Swain in J. N. Adams, M. Janse, S. Swain, Bilingualism, 2. 5 Swain, ‘Bilingualism in Cicero?’ 4
Simon Swain
6
point is lacking—between men.6 There is no evidence for the often casual assumption that Romans regularly spoke in Greek to each other. Greek was part of the construction of Romanness. Moreover, it was something to play down or hide in Roman public life. We might expect Romans to have become more relaxed about Greek from the Augustan period onwards. After all, Roman power was indisputable and Roman intellectual and artistic worth was assured by the establishment of their own canons and by the beautiWcation of Rome and other Roman cities. But our sources, though uneven in their value, show that tension continued. In the Wfth decade of the Wrst century ad Seneca the Elder recalled the performances he had seen at Rome by teachers of rhetoric who were active for the most part under Augustus, the generation on a par with, or ahead of, ‘insolent Greece’ owing to the eVorts of Cicero (Controuersiae 1 pr. 6). Seneca’s recollections are especially useful because he was writing for the beneWt of men who were training to become lawyers. He recalls a world of Greek and Roman declaimers who operated in both Greek and Latin. One of his hate Wgures is the Greek L. Cestius Pius, who always spoke in Latin. Cestius got above himself by attacking Cicero and, much to Seneca’s satisfaction, was given a sound hiding by Cicero’s son (Suasoriae 7. 12–13). Among the Romans Arellius Fuscus declaimed ‘more often in Greek than in Latin’ (Suas. 4. 5) and is charged with plagiarizing a Greek rhetor called Adaeus. ‘I did it for training’s sake,’ he says. ‘Roman orators, historians, and poets have not stolen sayings from the Greeks but have laid down a challenge to them’ (Contr. 9. 1. 13–14). Seneca’s favourite Roman rhetor, Porcius Latro, ‘could not be suspected of theft, for he both despised the Greeks and was ignorant of them’ (Contr. 10. 4. 21). His most extensive comparison of a theme (clearly Greek in origin) developed by both Greek and Latin declaimers is intended to show ‘how easy is the passage from Greek eloquence to Latin’ and how Latin has ‘as much resourcefulness [as Greek], but less licence’ (Contr. 10. 4. 23).7 These attitudes are still visible at the end of the century and the beginning of the next in Quintilian and Pliny the Younger (if such a chronological leap may be excused). The comparability of Greek and Latin literature is the subject of much of book 10 of Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria, and he includes a short section (5. 2–3) on the value of translation for expanding vocabulary and developing 6 7
On this aspect cf. O. Wenskus, ‘Wie schreibt man?’ Ut cogitetis Latinam linguam facultatis non minus habere, licentiae minus.
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powers of expression. But the last book, book 12, is the most interesting for our purposes. Here Quintilian concentrates on the intellectual and moral qualities and the general knowledge needed to produce a perfect orator. The penultimate chapter (10) is a fascinating commentary on Roman bilingualism. Praise of Cicero (the revival of whose style and concept of oratory is Quintilian’s constant goal) leads to a Ciceronian deWnition of what constitutes the true Roman ‘Attic’ orator (10. 12–26). The self-appointed Roman ‘Attici’ of the Late Republic had attacked Cicero but failed to appreciate that the best Attic oratory was to be found in Cicero’s model, Demosthenes. Quintilian does not record this as historical information.8 The view he opposes, that Lysias represented the best in Athenian oratory, is, he says, still held by Greeks (10. 21, 24, 27).9 He is evidently sensitive to the ‘Atticizing’ renaissance of Greek literature that was now Wrmly under way in the Greek world. Perhaps for this reason he now jumps to a general comparison of Greek and Latin (10. 27–39). Latin, he aYrms, closely resembles Greek in many departments of rhetoric, but is inferior in its sounds and elocution. It shows ‘extreme poverty’ in word-building (a major worry for Quintilian: 1. 5. 32, 5. 70, 6. 31; 8. 3. 30–3, 6. 31–3). But the demerits of Latin are turned into a major triumph. For if Romans are not as ‘graceful’, they must win on the intellectual resources available to them, viz. inventiveness, strength, weight, and fullness of expression (12. 10. 36–9). Styling the major Roman orators uelut Attici Romanorum, he asks about them, ‘Who is dissatisWed by something that cannot be bettered?’ (10. 39).10 Quintilian’s pupil, Pliny the Younger, saw himself as to some extent standing in Cicero’s shoes (cf. Letters 4. 8. 4–5), so it is not surprising that he displays a recognizably Ciceronian attitude towards Greeks. Contempt towards the moderns is combined with a self-conscious admiration of the classics. Pliny’s views naturally bend with circumstance. The last letter in book 8 to a certain Maximus who is going to Greece as an imperial troubleshooter contains obvious echoes of Cicero’s famous public letter to his brother during his propraetorship of Asia (Ad Quintum 1. 1) and is the clearest example of a negative and patronizing 8
On the Republican debate see J. Wisse, ‘Greeks’; Swain, Hellenism, 21–7 (the wider Greek picture). 9 Inst. 12. 10. 27 in hac . . . opinione perseuerantis Graecos. Cf. e.g. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Lysias, and contemporary with Quintilian Plutarch’s ridicule of the man who drinks only from Attic ware, has clothes of Attic wool, and ‘sits still and inactive in the delicate, thin jacket of Lysias’ (De audiendo 42 d–e). 10 Cui porro non satis est quo nihil esse melius potest?
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viewpoint.11 The comments are literary pretension, but are not to be dismissed on that account. They are a perfect example of the normal Roman distinction between the present-day Greeks and their cultural and racial ancestors. Two contemporary Greeks who followed the ideals of the past are fulsomely praised. The Stoic philosopher Euphrates at 1. 10 and the Atticist orator Isaeus at 2. 3 (sermo Graecus, immo Atticus), both well known from Greek sources, virtually serve as models for Pliny’s own life (in the Letters at any rate). Otherwise there are the familiar slurs. Pliny sneers at the Bithynian noble Fonteius Magnus: ‘he is like most of those Greeks in mistaking wordiness for word power—the result is that you Wnd yourself overwhelmed by a torrent of sentences that are lengthy, stilted, and monotonous’ (5. 20. 4).12 Naturally Pliny found nothing odd about quoting Homer a little later in the same letter to promote the merits of a ‘little speech’ of his own. In the previous book he laments to Arrius Antoninus, ‘I envy the Greeks when I see your preference for writing [verse] in their language. The brilliant work you have done in that foreign tongue you have learned means that I do not have to guess about your ability to express yourself in your native speech (sermone patrio)’ (4. 3. 5). Arrius’ Greek is of course more ‘Attic’ than the Athenians’ own, a conceit we shall observe in other second-century authors.13 Later in book 4 we read the fascinating letter about the exile Valerius Licinianus, who was resident in Sicily. Formerly among the most eloquent barristers at Rome, he has now become ‘a rhetor after being an orator’, i.e. he has been reduced to the status of a teacher of rhetoric from that of an active speechmaker at the Roman bar. Pliny comments that Licinianus is obliged to enter the lecture hall ‘in a Greek cloak’, for he is banned from wearing the citizen’s toga, and therefore has to begin by saying, ‘I am going to declaim in Latin’ (4. 11. 1–3). Greek higher intellectual culture is Wne, but popular activities are bound to be scorned. Thus Pliny crows about the suspension of a Greek-style gymnastic competition at Vienna in Gallia Narbonensis which ‘had been infecting the moral character’ of the townsfolk (4. 22). When he himself acted as a 11 8. 24. 2–5 ‘reverence (Greece’s) ancient glory and its present old age . . . It is Athens you are approaching, Lacedaemon you are ruling . . . Remember the past of each city, without despising it because it is this no more (non ut despicias quod esse desierit)’. Cf. A. N. Sherwin-White, Letters of Pliny, ad loc. 12 Est plerisque Graecorum, ut illi, pro copia uolubilitas: tam longas tamque frigidas perihodos uno spiritu quasi torrente contorquent. 13 Cf. Swain, ‘Bilingualism in Cicero?’, 148 for possible precedents in the characterization of Pomponius Atticus.
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governor in Bithynia he sneered to Trajan about the Greeks’ addiction to ‘gymnasia’ (10. 40. 2). None of this is surprising, for Roman authors had for a long time hypocritically condemned the material side of Greek culture while openly appropriating and acknowleding its intellectual opportunities.14 The use of Greek to validate one’s culture in front of male Roman peers comes through again strongly. Pliny tells Arrius that his Latin versions of Arrius’ Greek poems were hampered by ‘what Lucretius calls ‘‘the poverty of our native tongue’’ ’ (4. 18. 1).15 Pliny does not believe this any more than Cicero or Quintilian.16 The invocation of Lucretius is a polite apologia. The comparability of the two languages (see especially the start of 7. 9 on translation as the key to original composition, cf. 7. 30. 5 on Pliny and Demosthenes) is assumed. But it must be remembered that the Romans’ Sprachanschluß meant that no genuine equality was intended in their bilingual culture. The diVerence in power was far too clear. And for Pliny this is neatly expressed in his claim that his hendecasyllables (a Romanized Greek metre) were ‘set to the cithara and the lyre by Greeks who have learnt Latin out of love for my little book; but why should I boast?’ (7. 4. 9). Pliny’s generation witnessed further cosmopolitan developments in the capital. There were senators from the Greek East for the Wrst time and the massive Hellenistic complex of Trajan’s Forum on the design of Apollodorus of Tarsus.17 Trajan’s selfpresentation as a new Augustus, emphasizing the importance of Italy through his alimentary foundations, is no more out of keeping with this than the Greek verse of Pliny and his friends. On this reading his successor Hadrian’s obsession with Greek culture should be seen as part of a long-term process rather than as an individual’s taste. Hadrian’s erection of the Wrst Greek-style temple at Rome—Venus and Roma, where Roma as the spirit of Empire was for the Wrst time worshipped at Rome itself—is a bold 14 Note Sherwin-White, Letters of Pliny, 353 ‘Pliny is freer than most of his contemporaries from the Roman dislike of Graeculi’. 15 For Lucretius (De rerum natura 1. 136–9, 832; 3. 260; cf. Seneca the Elder, Contr. 7 pr. 3, Seneca the Younger, Letters 58. 1) see D. Sedley, ‘Lucretius’ Use of Greek’. For a full survey of the evidence with attention to sociolinguistic categories, see T. Fo¨gen, Patrii sermonis egestas. Cf. S. M. Beall, below, p. 219. 16 Cicero: cf. De Wnibus 1. 10, 2. 13, 3. 15, 3. 51; De nat. deor. 1. 8; Disp. Tusc. 2. 35, 3. 11; Ad Atticum 12. 52. 3. 17 H. Halfmann, Die Senatoren, and ‘Die Senatoren aus den kleinasiatischen Provinzen’; J. E. Packer, Forum of Trajan, esp. 174–200.
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but realistic assessment of the changing character of the City and its role within a cosmopolitan empire. At some point in the latter part of Trajan’s reign or the early part of Hadrian’s Suetonius wrote his biographical accounts of Roman history and culture. Suetonius sometimes wrote in Greek. Whom for? The Suda ( 895) lists his works in Greek (of course) and this has caused confusion. It is possible that lost works like that on Roman customs (—æd ŒÆd H K ÆPB § ø ŒÆd MŁH ) were written for educated Greeks, thereby documenting their wish ‘to be informed about the Roman world to which they felt they belonged’;18 but since it is probable that only two titles—the fragmentarily surviving On the Games of the Greeks (—æd H Ææ ‚ººØ ÆØØH ) and On Terms of Insult (—æd ıø ºø Ø ºÆØH )19—were actually written in Greek (these are known to late Greek authors, whereas the other lost works are quoted in the main by Latin authors), it is more likely that composition in Greek of what are essentially lexical commentaries with copious quotation from the poets should be seen as a normal part of a grammarian’s output and a display of Greek for Roman pupils and friends. In fact there are a number of casual comments in the Caesars which show the attitudes we have been considering well enough. But a much more important work is the De grammaticis et rhetoribus. Here Suetonius outlines the development of grammatical and rhetorical studies at Rome and sketches the lives of some of the leading practitioners from the end of the second century bc down to the second half of the Wrst century ad. He is almost totally silent about the role of Greeks in establishing the teaching of language and letters at Rome. As Robert Kaster remarks, ‘the Romans are seen to pull themselves up by their own cultural bootstraps’.20 Suetonius, like Cicero, is evidently keen to accord Latin culture its own pedigree. The same attitude is clear from the less well-preserved section of his book which deals with Latin rhetoric. The attitudes of Quintilian, Pliny, and Suetonius are traditional: well adjusted to the Empire politically, culturally they recall and further the mindset of Cicero and the Late Republic. Behind the application of this to contemporary culture we may, as has been hinted, see a sign of a ‘purist’ reaction to the renaissance of Greek 18 A. Dihle, Greek and Latin Literature, 259. Plutarch, for example, oVers very many explanations of Roman customs and institutions. 19 Ed. J. Taillardat, Sue´tone. 20 R. A. Kaster, edn. of Suetonius: De Grammaticis, p. xlv.
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literature, especially rhetoric, that was well under way in the Greek East by the reign of Trajan. Before turning to Fronto, Gellius, and his contemporaries, something must be said about this so-called ‘Second Sophistic’ movement and its reception at Rome. Second Sophistic is the modern name for the Greek culture of the Roman period. In recent work the phrase, which is found in Philostratus’ Lives of the Sophists (481, 507), has been applied to the distinctive combination of literary and cultural activity and political life that Philostratus records for the sophists—the rhetorical stars and, speciWcally, the teachers of rhetoric—of the period from the mid-Wrst to the mid-third century when he was writing. Philostratus actually intends it as a description of the taste for Wctional declamatory oratory that characterizes the sophists’ work; but he spends much of his time describing their way of life and their civic and political activity, and that is why ‘Second Sophistic’ has come to take on a wider sense that includes but goes beyond literature alone. More to the point, there is a very distinctive combination of classicizing linguistic and literary tastes with a phenomenally successful urbanism in the Greek world from c. ad 50 to 250. The word ‘sophist’ at this time means someone who teaches declamatory oratory. It carried prestige because (and this was explicitly in Philostratus’ mind) it recalled the great sophists of classical Athens.21 There is a good deal of overlap with the unmarked term ‘rhetor’, and at any one time the sense of teaching or declamatory virtuosity may prevail.22 If Suetonius had lived a century later, we might have had a list of Latin sophists comparable to that of Philostratus. Clearly there were such Wgures who taught the art of Wctional declamation. From the second century (probably) we have the Minor Declamations attributed to Quintilian; but there is not much else.23 In fact we know of no one who exactly matches the proWle of the sophists of the Greek East. That said, if we use the phrase Second Sophistic in its enlarged sense (as we should), can we not then include Suetonius, Gellius, Fronto, Marcus, Apuleius, and others like them within it? To my mind such a usage adds little and causes confusion. There is no obvious link in the western Empire between a thriving civic culture 21 Philostratus’ overuse of the term in his Lives (where it is applied to those who rejected it like Aelius Aristides and Dio Chrysostom) is also due to the appointment of oYcial sophists on public salaries from the 180s onward. 22 Swain, Hellenism, 97–8. 23 The declamations of Calpurnius Flaccus and the Major Declamations (also Ps.-Quintilian) are of uncertain date.
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and a distinctive form of language and literature, as there is in the Greek East. Thus it does not help to follow e.g. Barnes in calling the Christian Latin author Tertullian a ‘sophist’. He was certainly not one.24 The only possible candidate is Apuleius, and I wish to examine his credentials in this regard more carefully, for his attitudes to Greek and Latin high culture will help to illustrate those of his contemporaries nicely. Even on an exclusively intellectual or literary level Apuleius’ range and standard make him look quite diVerent from comparable Greek Wgures. Apuleius was a showman and a playboy, clever but shallow. He deserved to be condemned for seducing a rich widow, but had the audacity to base his claim to innocence on the intellectual aYnity between himself and the judge (the Apology). His egotism made him publish four books of highlights from his display speeches, which were thoughtfully pruned in later antiquity (the Florida). Intellectual vanity led him to write a hack account of Socrates and his Deity. Finally his talents found a legitimate outlet in a comic novel about a man’s life as an ass (the Metamorphoses), a story he plagiarized (perhaps) from an anonymous Greek text called the Ass. The collection of Florida looks like the sort of display rhetoric that Greek rhetors and sophists had to perform for a living.25 But Apuleius did not write Wctitious speeches or (pseudo-)historical declamations. He did not write exercise books of rhetoric and no pupils are known. If his style of writing was ‘sophistic’, i.e. jingly-jangly, ecphrastic, archaizing, obscure, pretentious, what does this add up to? In any case he claimed to be a ‘philosopher’. Perhaps we should just call him an ‘intellectual’.26 Apuleius, like Gellius, had a huge admiration for classical Greek culture. Contemporary Greece was a place to poke fun at (Metamorphoses). If we want to understand his cultural background, we must place him in the same cultural mould as the other Roman 24 T. D. Barnes, Tertullian, ch. 14 (whose point is stylistic). At Adv. Valentinianos 5. 1 Tertullian refers positively to the apologist Miltiades as the ‘sophist of the churches’; Miltiades may have been a sophist before converting and using his talents for apologetic. Elsewhere he uses the term, if at all, with disapprobation (e.g. De idololatria 9. 7 as part of a rejection of all traditional teaching). In his training and inclination Tertullian was simply a rhetor Romanus (P. Steinmetz, Untersuchungen, 231). 25 J. L. Hilton in S. J. Harrison et al., Apuleius: Rhetorical Works, 123–33. 26 Thus I cannot agree with S. J. Harrison, Apuleius, that Apuleius should be styled a ‘Latin sophist’. Harrison is relying on the loose modern—Bowersockian—interpretation of a sophist as a ‘virtuoso rhetor’; but the sense of teaching should always be part of the deWnition. It is signiWcant that Apuleius keeps the term sophist to refer to the very diVerent sophists of classical Athens: Fl. 9. 15; 18. 18, 19, 28; De Platone 2. 9.
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authors we have been examining. For Apuleius was particularly concerned to be known for his knowledge of Greek; that is, the demonstration that he commanded Greek culture was a key part of his self-presentation as a master of Latin. There is one passage where he depends precisely on this for the basis of his personal identity, and I shall come to it shortly. But the text which most obviously presents his claim to high culture is the Apology, for knowledge of both the languages, education, cosmopolitanism, and intellectual broad-mindedness are the major planks of his defence. If Latin and Greek were equals on the standard Roman view, a view which is encapsulated in Romans’ use of the phrase ‘both the languages’,27 other tongues and cultures were beyond the pale. Thus Apuleius was free in this speech to impugn his enemies’ barbarian manners (10, 91). He could not have written a Greek letter they had attributed to him because it was composed in such ‘barbarous language’ (87. 4). It suited his opponent better, who could not read Greek at all (cf. 30. 11). He himself regards the Greek classics as maiores meos and promptly produces for the court—or alleges he did—a scientiWc treatise he had written in Greek (36. 3). He uses Greek terms—taking care to express them with a ‘Latin stamp’—because he is breaking new ground in science (38). He combines a patriam barbaram (Madauros) with an eloquentiam Graecam (25. 2), which (as he tells us elsewhere) had been acquired in Athens (Florida 18. 15–16, 42–3; 20. 4). This reference to his place of origin as ‘barbarian’ is of course ironic, as is made plain by the preceding reference to the Scythian wise man, Anacharsis (Apology 24. 6). As with Fronto when he decides to write in Greek, Anacharsis is invoked by Apuleius to make it plain that in his own opinion his Greek is as proWcient as any nonGreek’s could be, and that his social and educational standing is every bit as good as that of the legendary sage. This irony is not just a ploy for the court, for the speech we have is addressed to a general, reading audience, and has no doubt been tampered with for the purpose.28 Apuleius does not think his background is barbarian any more than he believes his opponent’s home is ‘your famous Attic Zarath’ (24. 10).29 He thinks of the barbarian 27
Cf. below n. 127, and pp. 9, 29. See T. Kotula, ‘Vtraque lingua eruditi’, on Africa; M. Dubuisson, ‘Vtraque lingua’; N. Horsfall, ‘Doctus sermones’, L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Vtraque lingua’, for limitations. 28 Clear references to rewriting for publication can be found in Plin. Epp. 1. 20. 6–8, 3. 18. 1, 4. 9. 23; cf. Quint. Inst. 12. 10. 49–57. On this aspect of the Apology see B. L. Hijmans, ‘Apuleius orator’, 1715–19. 29 Cf. Fronto fr. 51 (p. 271) illae uestrae Athenae Dorocorthoro (i.e. Reims).
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because it is a negation of being a Roman whose culture is assured through the knowledge of Latin and Greek.30 In the famous preface to his Metamorphoses Apuleius teases readers by asking who the author of the work is (Quis ille?).31 He answers by saying that his ‘ancient stock’ is ‘Attic Hymettus and Ephyrean Isthmus and Spartan Taenarus, fruitful lands preserved for ever in even more fruitful books’; I take this to refer to a cultural rather than a family background.32 ‘There’, he continues, ‘I served my stint with the Attic tongue in the Wrst campaigns of boyhood. Soon afterwards, in the city of the Latins, as a newcomer to Roman pursuits I took on and cultivated the native speech with laborious eVort and no teacher to guide me.’ The Wrst sentence in this section is explained by familiar Roman educational practices. ‘I prefer’, says Quintilian, ‘that a boy should begin by speaking Greek, because Latin, being in general use, will be imbibed by him even if we do not want it . . . I do not, however, wish that this principle should be adhered to so religiously that he should for a long time speak and learn only Greek, as is commonly done . . . Latin ought to follow at no great interval and in a short time proceed side by side with Greek. The result 30
Cf. Claudius’ remark to ‘a certain barbarian’ who is holding forth in Greek and Latin: ‘since you are trained in both our languages (cum utroque . . . sermone nostro sis paratus)’ (Suetonius, Claud. 42. 1). 31 The preface is now the subject of a volume of essays in itself: A. Kahane and A. Laird, Companion. My comments are designed to exemplify the development of bilingual politics in the Antonine Empire rather than to engage with the plethora of Apuleian scholars. The translation below in text is a conXation of versions by Hanson (Loeb Classical Library) and Harrison and Winterbottom in Kahane and Laird. For convenience the text (Harrison and Winterbottom; see also Nisbet’s treatment of cola and clausulae in the same volume) is: At ego tibi sermone isto Milesio uarias fabulas conseram auresque tuas beniuolas lepido susurro permulceam—modo si papyrum Aegyptiam argutia Nilotici calami inscriptam non spreueris inspicere. Wguras fortunasque hominum in alias imagines conuersas et in se rursum mutuo nexu refectas, ut mireris, exordior. ‘quis ille?’ paucis accipe. Hymettos Attica et Isthmos Ephyraea et Taenaros Spartiatica, glebae felices aeternum libris felicioribus conditae, mea uetus prosapia est. ibi linguam Atthidem primis pueritiae stipendiis merui; mox in urbe Latia aduena studiorum Quiritium indigenam sermonem aerumnabili labore, nullo magistro praeeunte, aggressus excolui. en ecce praefamur ueniam, siquid exotici ac forensis sermonis rudis locutor oVendero. iam haec equidem ipsa uocis immutatio desultoriae scientiae stilo quem accessimus respondet: fabulam Graecanicam incipimus. lector intende: laetaberis. 32 Cf. above, 13, for maiores meos at Apol. 36. 3. For Hymettus as a reference to Attic oratory see van den Hout, Commentary, 261 on Fronto Ep. Ant. imp. 4. 2, p. 106. 23. The reference to Corinth (‘Ephyraean Isthmus’) is interesting because of course modern Corinth was Roman and however much it was Hellenized by the 2nd c. (cf. below, 31) Greeks were well aware of its history: see e.g. Swain, Hellenism, 339, 347–8 on Pausanias. For the purpose of stressing his cultural aYliations Apuleius uses an erudite name sanctioned by Latin poetry.
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will be that, as soon as we begin to pay equal attention to both the languages (linguam utramque), neither one will get in the way of the other’ (Inst. 1. 1. 12–14).
Tacitus also mentions the early learning of Greek.33 This introduction was consolidated by attendance on a grammaticus Graecus. Such teachers were hired, of course, and there is perhaps a reference to this expenditure in the prologue-speaker’s stipendiis. Next Latin: ‘soon afterwards’ (cf. Quintilian’s ‘at no great interval and in a short time’) the speaker went to Rome new to ‘Roman pursuits’ to get to grips with the Latin of the capital’s lawcourts (the ‘foreign speech of the forum’ in the next sentence) with ‘no teacher to guide me’, not to learn Latin ab initio.34 The idea of ‘cultivating’ civilized accomplishments at Rome recurs at Fl. 17. 4 in an address to the proconsul of Africa in 163/4.35 And the language of the city of Rome as a paradigmatic form of Latin is speciWed again at Met. 11. 28. 6 ‘lawsuits in the Roman language’ (probably) and Fl. 18. 43 (surely).36 33 Dialogue on Orators 29. 1 at nunc natus infans delegatur Graeculae alicui ancillae. For these Greek nurses cf. Soranus, Gynaecology 2. 19. 15: the wetnurse should be ‘Greek so the infant nourished by her becomes accustomed to the fairest of languages’. 34 Indigenam sermonem refers to Apuleius’ own Latin. For the antithesis ‘newcomer’/’native speech’ (aduena studiorum Quiritium indigenam sermonem . . . excolui), cf. Met. 11. 26. 3: Lucius is ‘a newcomer to the shrine (of Isis on the Campus Martius) but a native of the cult’ ( fani quidem aduena, religionis autem indigena). 35 semper ab ineunte aeuo bonas artes sedulo colui, eamque existimationem [i.e. the governor’s correct appreciation of Apuleius’] morum ac studiorum cum in prouincia nostra tum etiam Romae penes amicos tuos quaesisse me . . . testis es. 36 There are obvious linguistic links between 1. 1. 4 studiorum Quiritium indigenam sermonem aerumnabili labore . . . exotici ac forensis sermonis, 11. 28. 6 patrocinia sermonis Romani, and 11. 30. 4 gloriosa in foro . . . patrocinia . . . studiorum meorum laboriosa doctrina. At Fl. 18. 43 Romanae linguae is paired with atticissabit as speciWc forms following the couplings Graeco et Latino (38) and Graecum et Latinum (39). In the Met. contrasts between Latin and Greek are noted as such (4. 32. 6, 9. 39, 11. 17. 3) and ‘Greek’ is always a marked usage (3. 9. 1, 3. 29. 2, 10. 10. 4, 10. 29. 4), not a starting point. J. N. Adams, ‘ ‘‘Romanitas’’ ’, 191–7 shows that the paradigmatic value of the Latin of Rome was an idea that only really enjoyed currency in the 1st c. bc; in the Empire ‘Roman’ in lingustic contexts has no connection with Rome (cf. further Flobert, ‘Lingua Latina’, 206–8; J. Kramer’s wide-ranging but pertinent Sprachbezeichnungen). But he notes that the Ciceronian passages that express it (Verr. 5. 167; esp. De orat. 3. 42–4 cum sit quaedam certa uox Romani generis urbisque propria, etc.) are the basis of Quintilian, Inst. 8. 1. 3 (et uerba omnia et uox huius alumnum urbis oleant, ut oratio Romana plane uideatur, non ciuitate donata). Apuleius like Quintilian is recalling the Late Republican viewpoint (pace Adams). He has no technical concern with dialect: it is a cultural-political assumption of the power of the centre that was, if one wished to use it, as valid in Apuleius’ day as it had been in Cicero’s.
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Next Apuleius links bilingualism with the bicultural subjectmatter of his book. ‘Now in fact this very changing of language corresponds to the style we have approached, which is like the skill of jumping from one horse to another: we begin a story that is Greek in form.’ ‘This very changing of language’ is the speaker’s successive education in Attic Greek and Roman Latin, his bilingualism. How does it ‘correspond to the style’ of the work? Since adjectives in -cus could be ethnic (‘a Greek woman’) or ktetic (‘a Greek yoghurt made in England’) in sense, Latin developed suYxes to avoid the ambiguity, especially in technical contexts. The word Graecanicus is one of these.37 Apuleius is writing a Milesian tale, he says in the Wrst line. He refers of course to the ‘Milesian tales’ of Cornelius Sisenna. These were a translation from a Greek source. But Apuleius is certainly not coming clean about the fact that the Metamorphoses is a version of the anonymous Ass. The Ass is a ribald, sexually explicit tale of life in Roman Greece. It is written in good enough Greek, but not the Atticizing Greek required for higher, formal literary genres in this period. It was not the sort of text that a high stylist in Latin would want to acknowledge in the context of talking up his own Latin and Greek culture.38 What he means is that his story is Roman but Greek in form/set in Greece. This is its style and the style recalls, he says, the scientia of jumping from one horse to another. This expertise refers to Apuleius’ own biculturalism.39 When he says his ‘changing of language corresponds’ to this style, he is not referring to the Greek source of his book, but to its typology, which demonstrates familiarity with Greek while staying carefully within the bounds of what was sanctioned by the Latin heritage. Roman bilingualism aYrmed the value of Roman culture through its 37 M. Dubuisson, ‘Graecus, Graeculus, Graecari’, 319–20 n. 31, referring to M. Fruyt, Proble`mes me´thodologiques, 61–8, esp. 66–7. Harrison and Winterbottom’s ‘of Greek origin’ is quite wrong. 38 Given the nature and style of the Ass and its non-idealization of Greece and the fact the hero is very probably Roman (since he and his brother have diVerent praenomina: Swain, ‘Hiding Author’, 61), it is diYcult to envisage a Greek writer from the period of the Second Sophistic. There is one obvious Roman candidate: Apuleius (an old idea: see H. J. Mason, ‘Fabula Graecanica’, 3 ¼ 220; note also Mason’s scepticism about Apuleius acknowledging the Ass: 6 ¼ 226, id., ‘The Metamorphoses’). Cf. and contrast Harrison, Apuleius, 181–3 on the (possibly pseudonymous) De mundo, which hides the fact it translates a particular text (ps.Aristotle —æd Œ ı) but ensures mention of Aristotelen prudentissimum et doctissimum philosophorum et Theophrastum auctorem (§289). 39 M. Dubuisson, ‘Art de la voltige’, 612, sees desultoria scientia as a ‘de´signation image´e’ for ‘code-switching’; but there is no code-switching in the Met. in the proper sense of the phrase.
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command of Greek. The Metamorphoses takes on a Greek guise to show it is Roman; and the speaker proves his knowledge of Greek to show his standing in Latin. In this regard, not much had changed since Cicero. This is how Apuleius wishes his identity to be discovered.
2. c o r n e l i u s f ro n to Apuleius’ bilingualism was theatrical: no Greek who spoke Latin would have performed in both languages consecutively, as he boasts of having done (Fl. 18. 38–43; ‘False Preface’ to De deo Socratis, fr. 5). Yet the more he shows oV, the more he boasts, the more worried he seems. Anyone who reads him will notice immediately that he includes spectacular archaisms in his Latin, especially in the comic Metamorphoses, but also in the excerpts of the Florida.40 We know that this ‘gouˆt archaı¨sant’ was shared, though without anything approaching the contortions of Apuleius, by Gellius and Fronto. Was Marache, who Wrst promoted the idea of archaism, right to separate what was going on in Latin from the classicizing and puristic Atticism of the Greek Second Sophistic? From the literary point of view, the answer is ‘yes’.41 The preVergilian and pre-Ciceronian authors who were modish among the archaizers (if I may use this term) did not enjoy the status of canonical texts in a way comparable to the Greek classics. Vergil and Cicero were certainly of huge importance too. Crucially, the archaizers formed many more new words than they dredged up old ones.42 So ‘archaism’ seems misleading. For what emerges from Fronto and Gellius is the importance of knowing the whole of Latin literature down to Vergil. We might do better to see these second-century authors as linguistic nationalists whose aim was to reinvigorate Latin as a language that was capable of change and innovation but also rightly proud of its ancient pedigree.43 The extension of this nationalism beyond literary circles is in doubt, however, and it is diYcult to argue that we are dealing with a ‘movement’ as such. It looks much more like the personal tastes 40
See the studies of M. Bernhard, Stil; H. Koziol, Stil. Marache, Critique litte´raire, 110–11. W. D. Lebek’s study of archaizing usages in the literature of the Republican period is also important. 42 Marache, Mots nouveaux. 43 So F. Portalupi, Marco Cornelio Frontone, 21–38; cf. ead., Frontone, Gellio, Apuleio; see too Steinmetz, Untersuchungen (on Fronto 171–87). 41
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of a limited group of intellectuals dedicated to grammatical and exegetical researches rather than the ‘high’ end of an extended linguistic continuum with ramiWcations down to the lower levels, such as we Wnd in the case of the Atticism of the Greek world. On the other hand, these intellectuals and grammarians were sensitive to what was happening in Greek society. Apuleius’ Latin certainly gave him a distinctive style and the appearance of intellectual superiority from his command of all Latin literature. He alone of the archaizers uses the verb atticissare of his Greek (Fl. 18. 43; ‘False Preface’, loc. cit.).44 He would have been fully aware of the social prestige that linguistic Atticism expressed in the Greek East, and to this extent he was surely trying to mimic or rival in Latin the purism of his Greek contemporaries. He must have expected his readers to approve, if not to follow, his endeavours. The fact that he was the Wrst Roman litte´rateur of note to make his career in a provincial environment may also be relevant: Apuleius was as free from normative pressures as his later contemporary, the even more contorted Tertullian. But he also had to demonstrate possession of the highest culture to be taken seriously. In an earlier study of Cicero’s bilingual practices I have followed Carol Myers-Scotton’s use of the well-known concept of ‘markedness’ to try to determine the function in Cicero’s Latin of individual Greek words and runs of Greek. Unlike the modern oral correspondents studied by Myers-Scotton, Cicero’s negotiation of a Greek identity is (as I have remarked above) an expression of his Romanness rather than a genuine biculturalism. For the most part code-switching into Greek as we see it in his letters is a (paradoxically) unmarked choice. Cicero naturally uses a limited quantity of Greek to some addressees in a private context within and as part of his Latin speech. We have no idea how Apuleius used Greek in non-public discourse since we have no private letters. The works he wrote in Greek are obviously a marked choice: a very clear expression of a Roman’s ability to control Greek. But for the use of Greek code-switching and longer passages of Greek in Antonine bilingualism we can turn to Apuleius’ older contemporary Cornelius Fronto. Fronto’s letters comprise a mixed bag of private and public correspondence including especially letters to his pupil Marcus Aurelius Wrst as Caesar under Antoninus Pius and then as emperor. Several of the letters are in fact treatises or declamations. There are six letters 44 Plautus’ use of atticissare (Menaechmi 12), albeit non-linguistic (but cf. PF 26. 7–8 L.), would have been a welcome precedent.
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(and a fragment of a seventh memo) by Fronto entirely in Greek, to which I shall return. Language is naturally important in the Wve scenes recorded (or invented) by Gellius. Fronto taught Marcus rhetoric.45 The relationship of pupil and master was always overshadowed by that of the client and the prince. The two men used two codes to speak to one another. The Wrst is profuse expressions of love and friendship. The second is problems of health. These occupy much of the correspondence. They may of course be taken at face value (and often are), but probably should not be wholesale. Language purity and ability to change register—to code-switch—into Greek is certainly important in the Wrst code, love, and it is on this that I shall be concentrating here. An example or two will be helpful.46 At Ep. M. Caes. 1. 3 (ad 144–5) Fronto expatiates on the excessiveness of Marcus’ love for him. ‘You wish to run to me, to Xy to me, the peculiar behaviour of lovers’ (1, p. 3 v.d.H.2). Marcus’ mother is envious of Fronto. Marcus should be ready to answer those who ask why he loves Fronto so much. The causes can never be known—there is no ratio behind it. ‘Let them doubt, discuss, dispute, guess, puzzle over the origin of our amor as they do about the sources of the Nile’ (10, p. 5. 13–14). In a letter to Fronto during the latter’s consulship (142) Marcus begins, ‘I surrender: you have won. Beyond question your loving has beaten all the lovers who ever lived. Take the crown and let the herald proclaim publicly before your own tribunal this your victory: ‘‘M. Cornelius Fronto, consul, is the winner. He is crowned in the contest of the Great Games of Love’’ (. ˚ æ ºØ æ ø o Æ ØŒA†, Æ FÆØ e IªH Æ H ªºø غ ø )’ (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 5. 1, p. 25. 23–6). Marcus will never fail in his ‘prothymia’, a Plautine Graecism (hence in the Roman alphabet) which leads him to make up a Plautine pastiche about the rival love of Fronto’s wife, Cratia.47 It was not the eloquence of Fronto’s letter to him, but its huge aVection that makes him feel thus (2). He then comes to business: ‘that other letter of yours, in which you indicated why you were putting oV delivering the speech in which you will praise my Lord’ (i.e. Pius). Marcus took the letter straight to Pius, who thoroughly enjoyed its ‘superlative elegance’. The Lord Pius told Marcus that he approved Fronto’s 45
E. Champlin, Fronto, ch. 8. Numeration of the letters follows that of van den Hout’s Teubner; translations are based on Haines’s Loeb. Chronology follows van den Hout 292–4 as modiWed by the recently corrected date of Fronto’s consulship (W. Eck, ‘Cornelius Fronto’). 47 On prothymia cf. Marache, Mots nouveaux, 95: ‘Le mot n’est pas senti comme grec, mais comme plautien.’ 46
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reasons in the course of the ‘long conversation we held about you’ (3). There is much in this exchange of signiWcance, not least being the code-switch in §1. There is no need for scepticism about the aVection between Marcus and Fronto, though the diVerence in status was far too great to make it equally balanced and some have been too ready to take the expressions of love at face value. The language of friendship is well known from the politics of the Late Republic as a political discourse. This discourse is present in the letters of Fronto to Marcus, Pius, and Verus.48 Yet there is nothing in the earlier period to compare with the lovers’ talk used by Marcus and Fronto. In the present letter the ‘long conversation’ about Fronto ‘no doubt made your ears keep ringing in the Forum’. No doubt it did: yet another Plautine comic term (tinnire) reinforces the courtier’s status relative to the prince’s. The Greek code-switch itself is complex: it is a joke and also a compliment, but one Marcus can aVord to make. Political realities should always be kept in mind. Consider the following. Love is expressed in Greek at great length in the Greek erotic letter Fronto sent to Marcus shortly after Marcus took the name ‘Caesar’ in 139 (Addit. epist. 8, pp. 250–5). Fronto had whetted Marcus’ appetite for this work by saying that very few of his compositions pleased him as much, Marcus tells him (Ep. M. Caes. 3. 9. 2, p. 42. 9–10). Fronto says his letter is a ‘third’ following letters ‘after’ Lysias and Plato (i.e. Socrates) in the Phaedrus.49 Fronto is c KæH , ‘not a lover’. But he appreciates Marcus’ beauty better than ı, ‘this man’ (2). If Fronto gives Marcus money, it is a gift; if KŒE does, it is payment. You should know, he continues, what disgrace comes upon you from the fact that everyone knows ‘he is your erastes’—they suspect you of B æø, ‘the act’, and call you ‘his eroˆmenos’, but I call you kalos (5). This evil will stick to young men at the start of a long life for longer (7). His erotic poems are disgusting. He is like a wild beast driven on P Yæ ı, ‘by sexual desire’ (8). Tell the other boys about the Xower which vainly loves the sun: ‘I shall show it to you, if we go for a walk outside the wall as far as the Ilissus’ (10–11). 48 D. Konstan, Friendship, for the rosy view in general, with references to other less amiable scholars. 49 Van den Hout, Commentary, 561 must be right in contending that Buttmann and later editors were wrong to take Fronto as saying he had simply sent copies of the Plato: rather, the phrases Øa ¸ı ı and Øa —ºø —referring to the two earlier letters—mean a ‘cento of Plato’s Phaedrus with additions by Fronto himself ’.
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Fronto’s remarks owe much to those of Plato’s Lysias (Phaedr. 230 e–234 c). He too is a ‘non-lover’. But for Lysias the non-lover is in fact a sexual partner who is not handicapped by the usual emotions of lovers. The contrast between this non-lover and the ‘lover’ is theoretical. Now Fronto begins from this; but for him Marcus’ ‘lover’ is a real person, a real rival, who has composed obscene poetry for him (not mentioned by Plato). Fronto himself of course is a real non-lover: no sex for him. In his reply (Addit. epist. 7, pp. 249–50) Marcus overturns his arguments by insisting that he is the lover of Fronto (‘erasten tuum’) and sidesteps Fronto’s preference for ‘non amantibus’ by telling him he will go on loving him for ever. He ignores Fronto’s Platonic insinuations and casts himself in the role of the superior in their relationship. He rejoices in the triumph of Fronto as his eroˆmenos (2). The triumph is speciWcally Fronto’s command of Greek, which leads Marcus to say that Fronto has ‘outstripped those Attici [here ¼ Atticists] who are so self-satisWed and provocative’. Marcus is Socrates to Fronto’s Phaedrus (3), another inversion of the pupil–master relationship. What or whom Fronto is really getting at in the erotic letter is unclear.50 Among the many other expressions of love between the two men we should at least mention Ep. M. Caes. 2. 10. 3, p. 30. 13, where Marcus writing to Fronto as consul Wnishes by calling him mi semper anima dulcissima. This is almost certainly a female form of address, used between women and to women. Marcus is suggesting that he wears the trousers.51 As to Fronto and his erotic letter, it is signiWcant that he appears to raise a problem about the nature of their love in Greek, which is a typical use of a diVerent linguistic register to discuss an awkward topic. This has nothing to do with ‘bilingualism’ as such: it is a very Roman matter. And it allows Marcus in his reply to praise Fronto as superior to the Greek Atticists. If the above surmise is right, Fronto may not have found this entirely satisfactory. The superiority of Fronto’s language is often on Marcus’ lips (e.g. Ep. Ant. imp. 1. 4. 2 ‘the elegance of your style . . . you speak Latin, while the rest of us speak neither Latin nor Greek’, p. 92. 6–7). As to Greek, Fronto himself is conWdent. At Ep. Ant. Pium 8 (pp. 166–7, of c.156/7), where he asks to be excused from his proconsulship, he tells the emperor as proof of his integrity that 50 Van den Hout, Commentary, 561, ‘This trivial work should not be taken seriously’, is an inadequate dismissal of suspicions raised amongst others by A. Barigazzi, Favorino, 162. 51 J. N. Adams, ‘Vindolanda’, 120 with n. 195. E. Dickey, Address, 158 misunderstands Adams’s point.
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he has already arranged for friends from Alexandria to deal with his Greek correspondence. But this is administrative convenience. We have in fact one letter in Greek to a Greek speaker on business: Ad amic. 1. 2, p. 171. Thanks to a recently published inscription from Side it is clear that the addressee, Apollonides, is Marcus’ and Verus’ ab epistulis Graecis, P. Aelius Apollonides.52 Fronto asks him to aid Sulpicius Cornelianus (who would go on to be ab epistulis Graecis under Commodus).53 Language choice is here pragmatic. Apollonides dealt with the emperors’ Greek, and the letter concerns a man whose career was heading in the same direction. Fronto wanted something done for him; hence he wrote in Greek.54 More interesting than this letter of recommendation are the two letters in Greek to Marcus’ mother Domitia Lucilla, the letters to and from the historian and advocate Appian of Alexandria, and the letter of consolation to Fronto’s sometime enemy the great Herodes Atticus. The Wrst letter to Domitia Lucilla is an elaborate apology for the delay in producing his speech of thanks to the emperor for his suVect consulship (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 3, pp. 21–4). It was ‘written in Greek as a compliment to her high standard of education’.55 This is true on one level. It is also a compliment to Marcus, since Fronto sends the letter via Marcus (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 2. 8, p. 21. 12–15) requesting him to correct any ‘barbarism’ in it ‘for you are fresher from Greek (than I)’.56 He would not want Marcus’ mother to think he was an ‘opicus’, a term which is used in second-century authors to signal ignorance of Greek.57 Fronto says he has used Greek out of ‘shamelessness’ (inpudentia). Certainly the letter could have been written in Latin. But much of it is an elaborate discussion of similes (NŒ ) oVering excuses for not having written before. The vast majority of the Greek code-switches in the Letters are in fact metalinguistic: Greek remained essential to grammatical and rhetorical instruction.58 Thus it has a natural W. Eck, ‘P. Aelius Apollonides’. He was apparently the Wrst to hold this post. Champlin, Fronto, 29–30; Eck, op. cit. 54 Eck’s diagnosis of ‘eine besondere Reverenz vor seiner Stellung’ (op. cit. 240) goes too far. 55 A. Birley, Marcus, 83; cf. J. Kaimio, Romans and Greek Language, 190, 249–50. 56 Cf. Cicero, Ad Att. 1. 19. 10. 57 See below, 38–9. 58 Examples: Ep. M. Caes. 3. 8. 2, p. 41. 20–4, technical terms, cum ¨ æ ı locos K ØØæø tractaremus . . . in hac NŒ [on this ‘Mischform’, cf. O. Wenskus, ‘Triggering’, 175–8], quam de patre tuo teque depinxi, Ø H ıŒø ºÆ , Œº. (p. 41. 20–4); Marcus in Ep. M. Caes. 1. 4, pp. 5–8, a run of code-switches, 52 53
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role here. But just as it allowed Fronto to praise Marcus’ command of the other tongue, so he Xatters Domitia by asking her to disregard anything which is barbarous or ‘not fully Attic’ (2. 3. 5. p. 24. 1–3). He compares himself to the wise Anacharsis who could not ‘Atticize fully’, but spoke sense. As we have seen, Apuleius invokes this sage for similar reasons at Apology 24. In the second letter, from the end of his consulship (so August 142), Fronto excuses himself from attending Domitia’s birthday celebration (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 15, pp. 32–3). In his stead he has sent his wife Cratia. As with the previous letter, he informs Marcus of what he has done, though this time he does not send the Greek (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 13, cf. 14, p. 32). Neither letter provides evidence for the linguistic choice of Roman women.59 What we may note is that both letters are excuses and suggest (and no more) that the shift into Greek should be connected with this. It oVers an indirect method of deXecting criticism and because of this is at the same time a further admission of inferiority. As has been indicated, the happy surface layer of Antonine politics should not blind us to the realities of a courtier’s life in an autocratic regime, however benevolent. Cratia is presented to Marcus as Domitia’s ‘clienta’: the word is indeed ‘arresting’.60 I pass on to the Appian letters (Addit. epist. 4–5, pp. 242–8). Appian of Alexandria the historian tells us himself that he worked as an advocate at Rome for many years.61 At some point in the 150s Fronto wrote to Pius for the third time to request an honorary procuratorship for his long-standing friend (Ep. Ant. Pium 10, p. 168). Appian was Fronto’s client. In Fronto’s correspondence including quotations especially from the Odyssey (for the pattern, cf. Swain, ‘Bilingualism in Cicero?’, 158), on which Fronto comments in the next letter, omnia istaec inter Graecos uersus Latina ita scite alternata sunt a te et interposita, ut est ille in pyrrhicha uersicolorum discursus, quom . . . (‘like the movements of the variously coloured performers in the pyrrhic dance . . . ’, 1. 5. 4, pp. 8. 20–9. 3); De eloq. 2. 14, p. 142. 1–3 ÆFÆ Kd ÆhØ , ØÆŒıØ , < æ ß >æªŁÆØ, Œº. 59 Note Apul. Apol. 78–87 on Pudentilla’s epistulam . . . Graecatiorem to her son about her marriage to Apuleius and the letter to her written in Apuleius’ name in bad Greek by his enemies. Generalization from this is hazardous; but cf. Juvenal’s well-known comments at Sat. 6. 187–99 about Roman women using Greek to express ‘their fears and troubles, their joy and anger . . . their heartfelt secrets’ (tr. Rudd) and for terms of endearment to arouse male lovers; this concerns switching register in the private domain: Swain, ‘Bilingualism in Cicero?’, 164–6. In general, Wenskus, ‘Wie schreibt man?’ 60 Champlin, Fronto, 109. It is another Plautine favourite. On the letters to Domitia note Wenskus, ‘Wie schriebt man?’, 227–30. 61 ´ . Famerie, Le Latin, 8–13; cf. Champlin, Appian, Preface 15. 62 with E Fronto, 42.
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are two ‘polite but remarkably uninformative letters in Greek’ concerning two slave boys whom Appian had presented to Fronto and whom Fronto had returned.62 In his letter to Pius Fronto had stressed Appian’s probitas. The main point of the Greek letters is that Appian had overstepped the mark by giving Fronto a gift that was too costly. It is clear from the Wrst letter (Appian to Fronto) that Fronto had simply returned the slaves. As a social inferior Appian was due to pay his respects but had feigned illness (‘I could not see you today either, as owing to gastric trouble last night I have only just got up’, Addit. epist. 4. 1, p. 242. 13–14). That gave him time to oVer up written arguments that might be ‘just’ or ‘pedantic’ ( ºÆØŒ).63 He argues from the general behaviour of cities and gods. With the letter he sent back the slaves and he ends by demanding that they should not be returned. Fronto replies at some length and without preamble. His language becomes strong. The scale of the gift suggests an arrogant and tyrannical attitude on the part of the receiver and makes him appear greedy (4, 6). Appian has attempted to secure himself a reputation as ªÆºæø , whereas Fronto has been put upon and has lost repute.64 But he will be ªÆºæø if he does not accept the gift. Exchange should proceed on an equitable basis and people should do as Fronto does in ‘sending back exactly what was sent’ (8). Appian spoke Latin very well. Why Greek? Gifts are complicated matters, especially between social unequals. There is a very nice example from the 120s of a successful attempt by a social inferior to foist a gift on a superior. The small town of Forum Sempronii had decreed a statue to their local bigwig, C. Hedius Verus. When he read the decree, he refused the honour. On the base of the statue that was erected later the decurions record that on the earlier occasion Verus had ‘as it were reproached us with our feebleness’. They were right. The second time round they ‘did not send the decree’. Rather, ‘so that you cannot turn it down, the statue has already been made and is on its way’. It only remained for Verus to write his own inscription.65 All this is very much in keeping with Plutarch’s fascinating little essay, —æd ıø Æ. To suVer dusoˆpia is to be ‘discountenanced’, and the essay reXects a particular problem of high imperial society at this time, that of not 62
63 Champlin, loc. cit. Cf. van den Hout, Commentary, 551 ad loc. Kb b K Æ ı I æE æ ŁÆØ ØÆ . 65 CIL 11. 6123 antea . . . (15) honore tantummodo te conten/tum esse rescriberes, quae res tuam quidem / modestiam inlustraret, nobis uero uelut / segnitiam exprobraret. igitur statua / decreta, ne quid negare possis, iam comparata / (20) aduehitur . . . qualem inscriptionem dandam putas, petentibus facito notum. 64
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being able to say no to superiors, for Plutarch speciWcally Romans, and also to inferiors who eVectively have one cornered. As to Fronto and Appian, Greek may seem a strange choice because the superior is writing in the language of the inferior. But as Plutarch realized, superiors in an autocratic regime do not have absolute power. They are caught in perpetual negotiations over status. The complexity of negotiation between Fronto and Appian was carried out in Greek not because it gave Fronto the opportunity to use Greek to a Greek, but because writing in Greek oVered a subtler way of reminding Appian where power lay. Finally, I turn to Herodes Atticus and the lawsuit in which he and Fronto were rival advocates in what appears to be Herodes’ prosecution of one Demostratus (who is presumably the same man who with others attacked Herodes in the 170s).66 Marcus ‘advises’ or, as he then says, ‘asks’ Fronto to ensure he deals with Herodes honourably (honestissime, Ep. M. Caes. 3. 2. 1, p. 36). This letter must be from near the beginning of their relationship, since Marcus describes himself (ironically, of course) as a ‘little boy’ (puerulus), which surely means he is not much more than twenty.67 Fronto writes back to ask for ‘advice’ (Ep. M. Caes. 3. 3, pp. 36–8). The trial will bring up many unpleasant matters. But ‘if I call him a Greekling and an ignoramus, it won’t be war to the end’ (3). Fronto is obviously frightened, for he immediately sends a short note telling Marcus who else will be opposing Herodes.68 Among them is ‘Marcianus noster’, where ‘our’ means from Cirta like Fronto (Ep. M. Caes. 3. 4, p. 38). Fronto knew full well that ‘this age needs the adviser more than the helper’,69 and the acceptance of Marcus’ advice is rammed home in the following two letters and the Wrst two of the next book. What is going on? When Fronto went on the attack, he reached for a familiar slur: 66 For the whole matter see W. Ameling, Herodes, i. 74–6; ii. 30–5; Champlin, Fronto, 62–3; G. W. Bowersock, Greek Sophists, 92–100 in full Symean mode. 67 Note also that Herodes had plainly not yet become his teacher: ‘I do not forget that he was educated in the house of my grandfather P. Calvisius, and I educated with you’ (p. 36. 20–1). 68 He shows similar concern much later on when he Wnds out from Marcus that Lucius Verus, who has requested some of his work and had been sent Pro Demostrato as Fronto’s own choice, is likely to be oVended by remarks he had made about a certain Asclepiodotus. Since the speech had long been in public circulation, there was nothing to do but promise that Asclepiodotus (perhaps a successful imperial freedman: Champlin, Fronto, 172 n. 113) would in future be amicissimum just as Herodes is ‘despite the speech’: Ep. Ant. imp. 3. 4. 1 (p. 102. 17–19), Ep. Ver. imp. 1. 8. 1 (p. 113. 12–14). 69 De eloq. 2. 18 (p. 144. 22–3).
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‘Greekling’.70 But ‘ignoramus’ (indoctus)? There may be aversion from Atticist pretensions.71 But Fronto could hardly have believed the charge. The Wnal chapter in the aVair is the death of Herodes’ neonate (c.144/5) and Marcus’ ‘wish’ that Fronto write to console him (Ep. M. Caes. 1. 6. 10, p. 13. 14–16). The consolation was written in Greek (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 1, pp. 16–17). The choice is again interesting. In political standing Herodes was superior to Fronto (having been consul ordinarius in 143). The register could reXect this, or purvey sympathy to Herodes by writing in his own language. Yet it is a consolation with a sting in the tail. That Herodes is told not to mourn more than beWts a man of paideia is traditional advice (though Herodes’ bouts of excessive grieving must have been known about).72 But Fronto’s main point is to advise the Athenian to concentrate on loving Marcus. ‘As long as he remains to us—for I confess and make no secret of the fact that I am your anterasteˆs— everything else in our case is easily remediable and of far less importance.’73 Fronto makes it plain that their good relations are conditional on the existence of Marcus. He does this in Greek. In Cicero’s letters there are two long continuous passages in Greek at Ad Atticum 6. 4. 3 and 6. 5. 1–2. These are certainly humorous in intention and concern the Wnancial practices of a freedman with a signiWcant Greek name (Philotimos). Plutarch apparently knew of letters by Cicero to Greeks in Greek.74 That is as we should expect. In the same way freedmen might have been spoken to and written to in Greek. In the case of Fronto we have a fragment he quotes from a memo in Greek to a libertus of Verus called Charilas (Ep. Ver. imp. 1. 12. 3, p. 116. 16–18). The powerful freedman of an emperor was a very diVerent creature from any Greek freedman Cicero had to deal with. Fronto asks this chamberlain(?) if it is convenient (hŒÆØæ ) to attend the emperors in the diYcult situation following the death of Pius.75 He records this in a 70 Pliny, Ep. 10. 40. 2; Juvenal, Sat. 3. 78, 6. 186. Note that Graeculus is not in itself pejorative, but takes its tone from the context: Dubuisson, ‘Graecus, Graeculus, Graecari’. 71 Cf. Marcus’ impolite remarks about Polemon, with Fronto’s reply (Ep. M. Caes. 2. 10. 1, pp. 29. 19–30. 6; 2. 2. 5, p. 20. 6–8), Marcus on the prouocantis Atticos (Addit. epist. 7. 2, p. 249. 11), Fronto on the Atticists’ laboriousness(?) (Ep. Ant. imp. 4. 2. 5, p. 106. 23–4). 72 Herodes’ grieving: cf. Gellius 19. 12. 2 ex morte pueri (with Philostr. VS 558–9). 73 † æÆ (p. 17. 14–15). a ƺºÆ ª Æ E PÆÆ ŒÆd ı ÆŒæH 74 Plutarch, Cicero 24. 75 Chamberlain: cf. Ep. Ver. imp. 1. 7. 1 primum me intromitti in cubiculum iubebas (p. 112. 2–3).
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letter excusing his non-attendance to Verus in reply to a reproachful, but (as he is keen to stress) aVectionate letter from the prince (Ep. Ver. imp. 1. 11. pp. 114–15). Verus could aVord to be both: the courtier himself needed a defensio. The appropriate register to Verus was Latin; to his freedman, Greek; or rather, it was easier for Fronto to seek instructions (‘you tell me— Ø—as a man of sense and a friend to me’) from this freedman in Greek without compromising his status too nakedly.76 This is as much a sign of the changed times as the composition of letters in Greek to Domitia Lucilla. For the most part, as I have said, Greek in Fronto is metalinguistic. There are in addition a handful of code-switches involving matters of health or in greetings (Cicero is similar here). But there is one Wnal matter to be addressed before passing to Gellius. Codeswitches and borrowing are obviously interrelated. Indeed, the borrowing has been well deWned as ‘a code-switch with a fulltime job’.77 In his Meditations Marcus recalls that Fronto had taught him that the Roman nobility lacked real aVection ( ƒ ŒÆº Ø . . . P ÆæÆØ I æªæ ø N ).78 In a letter to Verus asking him to support the impoverished senator, Gavius Clarus, Fronto describes him as a man who has a ‘غ æªÆ which is perhaps not Roman, for there is nothing I have found less at Rome . . . than a man genuinely غ æª . The reason why there is not even a Roman word for this virtue must, I suppose, be that in reality there is no one at Rome who is غ æª ’ (Ep. Ver. imp. 1. 6. 7, p. 111. 17–20). Only Marcus is addressed as غ æª Æ Łæø (De fer. Als. 4. 2, p. 234. 13). In another letter of recommendation, to the proconsul of Africa Lollianus Avitus on behalf of his fellow-Cirtan Licinius Montanus, Fronto describes Montanus as ‘worthy, upright, philostorgus . . . since there is no term for this among the Romans’ (Ad amic. 1. 3. 4, p. 173. 15–16). If we can trust the terribly diYcult codex of the letters, Fronto here wrote it in the Latin alphabet. Clearly, to his pupils Marcus and Lucius Verus, he used the word in Greek as something that was untranslatable. Before code-switching was studied properly, it was often thought that switches represented a speaker’s attempt to plug gaps in the lexicon. This idea has now been discarded because code-switches in the main duplicate 76 Van den Hout, Commentary, 285 notes that ‘Fronto cannot have a word with Charilas himself: Charilas sends him a note (hortante eo).’ 77 P. Gardner-Chloros, ‘Code-Switching’, 102. 78 Ad se ips. 1. 11.
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information and operate alongside synonyms in the matrix language. Use of the term غ æªÆ is, however, a conscious attempt to Wll a hole, and this is why the word in Fronto Xirts with the status of a borrowing. In recent decades borrowing itself has come to be viewed as a sociolinguistic process in which each borrowing will be subject to a varying degree of phonological and morphological integration.79 It may be suggested in addition that the Latinization of the word in the letter to Lollianus Avitus felt right in the public context of a letter of recommendation to a governor (who was not an ex-pupil). But Fronto’s move to naturalize the term went too far: no other Roman uses a word which is so implicitly critical of Roman practice,80 and which puts Fronto’s expressions of amor to Marcus in their rightful place.
3. aulus gellius Fronto shows key symptoms of what has been termed the ‘service aristocracy’. The idea of a service aristocracy is in this context a development of Norbert Elias’s classic work on the rise of the mannered, courtly aristocracies of Europe in the late Middle Ages.81 In the hands of Veyne and Foucault this was elaborated into a thesis about the ‘privatization’ of aristocratic life in the High Roman Empire and its disengagement from real power. As means of public competition were removed from the nobility, manners and conduct became increasingly important. Family life and the aVective marriage relation assumed a crucial role in the nobleman’s self-fashioning as the places where he must achieve maximum control of himself. ‘Spiritual exercises’ were the particular route to ‘le souci de soi’. These exercises were for dedicated Stoics like Seneca and of course Marcus Aurelius.82 But the culture of mutual and self-inspection was found among the elites of East and West. I have argued elsewhere that the Veyne–Foucault model does not work without modiWcation for the eastern, Greekspeaking nobilities. For them we can certainly point to a clear concern with internal and external evaluation of appearance, of sexuality and marriage, of language; but the context of all this is the still considerable local political power of their class in the great 79
Cf. the studies of R. Mougeon and E. Beniak, Linguistic Consequences. Cf. Champlin, Fronto, 90. N. Elias, Court Society and Civilizing Process. 82 P. Veyne, ‘La famille et l’amour’ and ‘The Roman Empire’; M. Foucault, Care of the Self; P. Hadot, Inner Citadel. 80 81
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cities of the East.83 The same is doubtless true of the majority of the western elites. But the model is attractive for Fronto and Gellius and anyone else who belonged to the court or its periphery (and we need to take the idea of a periphery Xexibly, remembering that we often know very little of individual aspirations and opportunities or institutional spurs). Thus the intensity of the discourse of love and aVection between Fronto and Marcus marks it out as a mannered response to the pressure of an unequal relationship.84 There is also a good deal in the letters on the perfect marriages of Fronto and Cratia and his daughter and her husband AuWdius Victorinus and on Fronto’s grandchildren.85 The longest of the letters concerns the death of one of these (De nepote amisso 2, pp. 235–9) and ends with a ringing self-endorsement of Fronto’s life as a faithful public servant, a signiWcant combination.86 Language was crucial as one of the primary means of selfevaluation, external validation, and commentary. It was properly the sphere of the language professional, the grammarian; but the basis of his inXuence lay in the wide acceptance of his premisses and their usefulness in determining social status and social integration. In Aulus Gellius the grammarian’s interests and the cultural practices they reXect are presented to a general, educated audience. In the preface to his book the practice of excerpting, which was the beginning of the collection, explicitly reXects the activities of the grammarian (§§2 V.). But the literary motive for writing is emphasized immediately: not for Gellius are the ‘witty titles’ ( festiuitates inscriptionum) of writers of works like his in ‘both the languages’. The Nights are here located in a bicultural environment, for of the thirty titles Gellius now mentions nineteen are Greek. He condemns these predecessors and rivals for their studied prettiness. He is rustic with no regard for elegantia; but he does not induce a feeling of ‘repugnance’ (taedium) like the others—‘especially the Greeks’—who aimed only at ‘volume’.87 He will stimulate quick minds to learning, and rescue those who are busy with life ‘from an ignorance (imperitia) of things and words which is disgraceful and boorish’ (10–12). His reader is precisely the ‘educated member of polite society’.88 The rest of the preface is an elaborate captatio 83
S. Swain, ‘Plutarch’s Moral Program’, 90–6. That complications may have been felt (above, 23) is not surprising. 85 See esp. the aVective letter on Fronto petit-Wls, Ad amic. 1. 12, pp. 178–9. 86 §§8–9, p. 238. 6–25. The tone recalls Fronto’s letters of recommendation: here he recommends himself. 87 Taedium: cf. 9. 4. 12, 10. 12. 1. 88 L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 37 [27] citing §13 of the Preface. 84
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beneuolentiae which culminates with Aristophanes’ call in the Frogs (354–6, 369–71) for the uncultured to leave while the initiates of the Muses ‘stir up our all-night revelling’.89 In all this Gellius styles his reader a member of the in-group who will want to possess the fruits of ‘both the languages’. Gellius was an admirer of the great cultural Wgures of his day. Some of these have professional expertise in grammar (Sulpicius Apollinaris) or rhetoric (Antonius Julianus) or philosophy (Calvenus Taurus, Favorinus), others are over-educated amateurs who combine high education and occasional teaching with politics (Fronto, Herodes Atticus). The most appealing chapters of the Attic Nights are dialogues or staged scenes presenting these characters in discussion of Roman or Greek high culture. This is part of the artistry of the work. But it is also a genuine reXection of a culture where continuous evaluation by male peers was the name of the game. Language looms large in Gellius’ focuses, of course; and there is a good deal of thought on the relationship between Romans, classical Greece, and contemporary Greek speakers. What emerges very strongly from Gellius is a sense of the past as a repository of correct social behaviour. This is hardly surprising given the traditions of Roman historiography and the value accorded to exempla in literature and art. What is new in Gellius is the convergence of this tradition with linguistic correctness and the bilingual/bicultural attitudes of Romans to Greece. I begin with an example from the end of the Attic Nights which places discussion of these matters in a familiar courtly and mannered context. The scene is a debate between Favorinus and the jurist Sextus Caecilius (Africanus), pupil and follower of the great jurist-politician Salvius Julianus Aemilianus. For anyone investigating Antonine culture, Favorinus has to be a focus. As we shall see, Favorinus appears in Gellius as an expert on Greek and Roman culture. He is biculturalism incarnate. Yet as Gellius was quite aware, Favorinus presented himself Wrst and foremost as a Hellenist.90 Favorinus came from Arelate in Gaul and we know little of his background and education other than that he was very rich.91 All his works were in Greek. His ‘conversion’ to Hellenism is made explicit in a well-known passage of his Corinthian Oration, which survives as Dio Chrysostom Or. 37.92 In this witty, ironic, 89
Cf. n. 105. Cf. 13. 25. 4, on which see below, 33. Barigazzi, Favorino, 98–148 includes the Gellian testimonia and fragments for Favorinus with useful comments. 91 M. Gleason, Making Men, 3–20, 131–58. 92 On this see the Wne study of J. Ko¨nig, ‘Favorinus’ Corinthian Oration’. 90
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sarcastic speech he demands that the Corinthians retain his statue. Greek Corinth was destroyed by the Romans in 146 bc and was then founded as a Roman colony in 44 by Julius Caesar. In the Hadrianic period its public epigraphy suddenly turns Greek.93 This may well have to do with Hadrian’s strenuous attempts to repristinate the modern Greeks, for Corinth was promptly enrolled in the Panhellenion, the organization Hadrian set up to promote classical Greek culture through worship of his own cult.94 The Hadrianic eVort points to a city that was still strongly Roman (as we should expect of the administrative capital of provincia Achaia), and it is this that Favorinus unkindly alludes to after a panegyric of the classical Greek city.95 He has zealously pursued Greek culture with greater success than any Roman heretofore and any Greek of the present day. He has sacriWced everything ‘for one thing, to seem Greek and to be Greek’ (25). He deserves a statue in every city, ‘in yours, because though Roman he has been rendered Greek, as your own country has been’ (26).96 This arrogant claim to be a champion of Hellenic culture was naturally contested by Greeks.97 For Gellius Favorinus’ Hellenism is not a problem, so long as it respects Roman culture. At Attic Nights 20. 1 Favorinus disputes Caecilius’ claim that the Twelve Tables were drawn up in the ‘choicest and most concise language’. To Favorinus they appeared to be riddled with confusion and laid down punishments that were either too harsh or too lenient. The cruelty of some punishments is what particularly exercises him: there is ‘nothing more savage and divergent from human nature (ab hominis ingenio)’ (19). The attack focuses on hominis ingenium not for sentimental reasons only, but because for Gellius’ circle being a human being—humanitas— refers to the combination of education and civilization in society.98 93 J. H. Kent, Corinth, 18–19. Roman culture is taken as dominant in Ps.-Julian, Letters 198 Bidez, which A. J. S. Spawforth, ‘Corinth’, convincingly dates to the 1st c. ad. 94 Panhellenion: Swain, Hellenism, 69 n. 7, 75–6; C. P. Jones, ‘Panhellenion’; esp. A. J. S. Spawforth, ‘Panhellenion’. 95 Even the panegyric is not free of spite: §18 Corinthian treachery at the Battle of Salamis (‘I pay no attention to Herodotus’). 96 ‘øÆÐØ J Iºº Ł, u æ Ææd !æÆ. For the rare Iºº Ø cf. Philo, Leg. ad Gaium 147, Pollux, Onom. 5. 154 s.v. "æ . 97 Galen, De opt. doctr. i. 41. 12–42.6 K., De diV. puls. viii. 587. 13 K.; Lucian, Eunuch; Phrynichus, ¯Œº ª 218 Fischer; Polemon, On Physiognomy (Script. physiogn. i. 160–4 Foerster). Philostr. VS 489–92 is neutral. 98 See 13. 17. 1 ‘humanitatem’ appellauerunt id propemodum, quod Graeci ÆØÆ uocant, nos eruditionem institutionemque in bonas artis dicimus. See too Beall, below, Ch. 8.
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Gellius has Caecilius ‘embrace Favorinus with both arms’ and praise his superlative command of Greek and Roman culture. With a suspicion of philosophical discourse that is found elsewhere in the Nights,99 he then bids him depart from his ‘sceptical procedures’ (i.e. his Academic scepticism, §21), and is presented as justifying the Laws from Favorinus’ critique, culminating in a defence of the ‘merciless and inhumane’ punishment of sundering debtors Wdei gratia (§§47–54). ‘When Sextus Caecilius had said these and other things to the approval and praise of everyone present including Favorinus . . . ’ (§55): Gellius allows Favorinus’ Hellenism to be checked by a moral apology for early Roman brutality.100 For most of the time Favorinus is a revered source of bilingual knowledge. For example, at 2. 22 he discourses on the Latin and Greek names for winds before apologizing for delivering an IŒæÆØ K Ø،، (25). In glossing the comments Gellius writes quod supra autem dixi KÆ (30): Favorinus and Gellius are fused. Later in the same book (2. 26) Favorinus and Fronto (in his Wrst appearance in the Nights) discourse on Latin and Greek terms for colours. Favorinus is made to say that Latin suVers form a greater inopia than Greek in names for colours. Fronto defends Latin from the Greek which ‘you seem to prefer’ with regard to terms for ‘red’ (7, cf. 17). The early borrowing poeniceus, ‘which you called E Ø in Greek, is ours’, whereas its ı ı spadix (Vergil) is ‘ours from the Greek’ (§9).101 ‘Therefore, my dear Favorinus, the Greeks do not have more names for shades of red than we’ (16). As to green, Vergil was happier ‘to use a well-known Greek term [i.e. glaucus] than an unusual Latin one [i.e. caerulus]’ (18). Favorinus answers in an appropriately courtly manner: ‘Were it not for you, and perhaps you alone, the Greek language would surely have stood out in front; but you, my dear Fronto . . . ’, and he is immediately enabled to explicate two lines of Ennius ‘which I (previously) could not understand in the slightest’ (20–3). It is important for Gellius to present Favorinus talking with authority on Latin. So at the start of book 4 Favorinus squashes the pretentions of ‘a certain man with a wealth of grammatical material who was parading triXing matters from the classroom’ and dared to discourse on the word penus. While the man ‘prattles 99
e.g. 5. 15. 9. Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 128 [90]. Note 6. 15 for neutral information on harsh early punishments (cf. Holford-Strevens, op. cit. 313–14); 6. 18 the power of oaths in the Hannibalic War; further 7. 14, cf. 11. 18. 101 Cf. 3. 9. 9. 100
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away’ (blatiret; another Plautine favourite), Favorinus speaks ‘quietly’.102 He ends by saying, ‘Although I have dedicated myself to philosophy, I did not neglect to learn things like this. For Roman citizens speaking Latin it is no less disgraceful not to designate a thing by its proper term than it is to call a man by another’s name’ (4. 1. 18). There is an important gloss on this comment by Gellius: ‘this is how Favorinus took discussions on common matters like this from the insigniWcant and the trivial to something much more useful to hear and learn of, which was not dragged in irrelevantly, nor for display, but arose from the context and accorded with it’ (§19).103 The explicit political comment turned remarks on the usage of penus into something of general utility. At 11. 3. 1 Gellius himself contends that trivial grammatical matters—such as the usage of pro—‘are extremely important for acquiring a deep knowledge of the ancients’ writings and an understanding of the Latin language’. At 13. 29. 6 he says something similar of Fronto’s remarks on the meaning of mortales in the annalist (and favourite Gellian author) Claudius Quadrigarius.104 He had included Fronto’s comments ‘lest a fairly thorough consideration of such words should escape us’. For Gellius detailed linguistic knowledge was the indispensable basis of culture. Favorinus as an expert on Latin is the theme of 13. 25 on manubiae and praeda and the role of synonyms. The setting is courtly: Trajan’s Forum awaiting ‘his friend the consul who was trying cases’ (§2). When a man with a reputation for doctrina asserts that ‘ex manubiis means ex praeda’, Favorinus is made to say, ‘Even though my principal and almost entire attention has been given to the literature and arts of Greece, I am not so inattentive to the Latin lexicon, which I study in an occasional and haphazard manner, that I am unaware of this common interpretation of manubiae, that makes it a synonym of praeda’ (§4). He then proceeds to reveal his deep familiarity with Cicero and Cato, backed up by quotations from Homer and Aristophanes to make general points. The fact that the quotations are to some extent at least those of Gellius reinforces the point that it is Gellius’ Favorinus who is moderating Latin usage.105 102 As recommended by 7. 11, cf. 6. 17 for Gellius himself; further 8. 14 (Favorinus; title only), 9. 2 (Herodes), 13. 20. 5 (Sulpicius Apollinaris), 18. 10. 5 (Calvenus Taurus). For lack of courtesy in this regard cf. e.g 13. 21. 9 (Valerius Probus prope inclementer), 14. 5 (wrangling grammarians), 18. 7. 2–3 (Domitius the Madman). 103 Indidem nata acceptaque. 104 Quadrigarius: cf. 17. 2 with Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 243 [179–80]. 105 As Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 125 [88] points out, the Frogs is ‘the one Aristophanic play that Gellius has demonstrably read’.
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This emerges explicitly in 14. 1 where Gellius writes up his notes of a speech delivered by Favorinus against astrology. The speech had been in ‘brilliant’ Greek. Gellius does not allow continuous Greek into his Nights with the exception of quoted passages, only one of which is long.106 At 14. 1 he includes much direct speech, but it is evidently his. There is virtually no Greek.107 At §32 Gellius apologizes for the pedestrian style in which ‘we have touched on these mattters’. And after treating us to a little more of Favorinus, he adds, ‘In addition to what I heard Favorinus say, I can recall many testimonies of the ancient poets . . . ’ (i.e. Pacuvius and Accius, §34). He adds, ‘The same Favorinus . . . concluded with arguments of this sort . . . ’ (§§35–6). The interweaving of Favorinus and Gellius is manifest and the quotation of similar thoughts in the old Roman poets successfully Romanizes a Greek topic. A like apology for a translation comes at the end of 12. 1 after the rendition of Favorinus’ advice on breastfeeding to a Roman noblewoman. ‘I heard Favorinus say this in Greek, and I have reproduced his views, so far as I can remember them, for the sake of general utility . . . [though] hardly any Latin eloquence could equal his, and least of all my slight powers’ (§24). As editors have noted, the Latin translation is improved by echoes of Ovid.108 Gellius is highly conscious of his mission to give information by presenting interesting examples (pr. 16 V.). Here again advice which is suited to Greek—a medical subject—is purveyed in Latin, though his audience would have been perfectly capable of reading it in Greek.109 The Romanized Favorinus is on show also in 14. 2, where he advises Gellius how to proceed as a judge by aptly quoting a speech of Cato the Elder on the fact that recourse must be had to character to decide disputes where the evidence is insuYcient. At 17. 10 Favorinus is allowed to compare Vergil unfavourably with Pindar (which suggests the remarks are Favorinus’); but the criticism of what is for Favorinus an unrevised passage shows why Vergil was in general ‘the most elegant of poets’.110 106 Cf. 19. 2. 5 (Aristotle), 16. 3. 7–8, 10 (Erasistratus), and the long 10. 22. 4–23 (Plato). 107 Cf. 5 ut uerbo ipsius utar, Æıææ (NB a colloquialism), 23. Gellius several times quotes snippets of Favorinus in Greek. 108 Am. 2. 14. 7 at 12. 1. 8, Met. 15. 218 at 12. 1. 9. 109 Cf. 16. 3 for Favorinus on Erasistratus’ idea of appetite (with Gellius’ own quotation in Greek of Erasistratus, cf. above, n. 106). For the importance of medical knowledge to humanitas see 18. 10. 8. 110 Cf. Valerius Probus’ criticism at 9. 9. 12–17.
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The function of the particular point as a spur to general knowledge has been alluded to already regarding the testimonies of Favorinus and Fronto. Gellius was quite aware that some of his recollections were boring and pedantic. He countered this by placing dull information in an arresting or entertaining context— the routing of an obstreperous grammarian, a boat trip on the starstudded Saronic gulf, wandering home from the Vatican plain as the sun set, and so on. Fronto’s discussion of words used mainly in the singular or the plural attracts another apology: it is indeed ‘on a trivial matter, but not at variance with the study of the Latin language’ (19. 8. 2). Although the discussion is exclusively Roman, the results tell us much about Antonine biculturalism. Fronto is made to tell his audience to Wnd examples of the forms he has been discussing in any orator or poet ‘provided they are from the earlier band (e cohorte . . . antiquiore)’,111 which sort he glosses as classicus adsiduusque aliquis scriptor, non proletarius (15). The deWnition of a good ‘classical’ author is expressed in terms of the old Republican constitutional arrangements as someone who is ‘good-class’ and ‘landowning’, not ‘proletarian’.112 It owes something to Plautus, Miles Gloriosus 752.113 But the political meaning should not be ignored, and in three ways. First, intellectuals in the ancient world tended to be restricted to the wealthy. Second, grading citizens by class and making clear their duties and obligations to each other is something dear to Gellius.114 Third, for Fronto and his like good Latin literature went back a long way into the Republican period. Antiquity as a basis for sustaining the idea of Latin’s parity with Greek was as important to Fronto and Gellius as it had been to Cicero. Bilingualism is explicit in the last appearance of Fronto in the Nights, 19. 13. The subject is Fronto’s belief that the Latin word pumilio should be used for ‘dwarf’ rather than the ‘vulgar and barbarous’ nanus. Gellius’ teacher Sulpicius Apollinaris corrects him by informing him portentously that nanus is not barbarous but Greek. ‘Yet this word would have been given citizenship by you or established in a Latin colony, if you had deigned to use it, and it would be very much more acceptable than the low and vulgar words which Laberius introduced into the Latin language’ (3). 111 Here antiquior means any one before Julius Caesar, whose De analogia is the point of departure. 112 Cf. 6. 13; 16. 10 for Gellius’ interest in these terms. 113 Proletario sermone nunc quidem, hospes, utere. 114 See e.g. 2. 2 (fathers and sons), 2. 7 (children), 5. 13 (precedence of obligations), 12. 4 (Ennius on behaviour of inferiors).
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This is not much of a compliment; but Laberius’ use of the word had stuck in Gellius’ mind.115 The idea of words being given citizenship is a cliche´.116 It is only partly humorous: the power of Fronto to arbitrate on good Latin is aYrmed.117 Humour is on display again in the marvellous vignette of the rhetor Antonius Julianus, ‘the public teacher of young men’ (including Gellius himself), and ‘a large number of Greeks’ who derided Latin poetry (19. 9). The scene is a dinner party at a small estate ‘near the City’ held by a young man of equestrian rank from Asia for his friends and teachers, an unpromising mixture. The man is a Greek who has come to Rome to learn Latin. Julianus asks for some lyric, and Gellius includes a drinking song to relieve the ‘labour of his sleepless toils’. This is tongue in cheek, of course; but also sets the scene for the Greeks to attack Julianus as a mere ‘ranter’ of a language devoid of Venus and the Muse. These Greeks are Latin-speakers: they are ‘not uninterested in our literature’, and ask Julianus whether there are any delightful poems in Latin ‘barring some of Catullus and Calvus. For those of Laevius are involved, Hortensius’ lack charm, Cinna’s reWnement, Memmius’ are heavy, and in short all have written work which is unpolished and discordant’ (§7).118 Julianus, roused to anger, then speaks pro lingua patria tanquam pro aris et focis, attacks their ‘ditties’, and proceeds to sing some early Latin epigrams ‘lest you should condemn us, that is, the Latin Name, for I Ææ ØÆ, as if we were clearly without culture and taste’ (§9). There is plenty of light-heartedness in all this; but when Gellius says he thinks ‘nothing can be found in Greek or Latin which is more elegant, more charming, more polished, or more concise’119 than the Latin poems he quotes, he is being quite serious. Whether Gellius here records quotations actually delivered or foisted on his speaker is irrelevant:120 it was he who chose to publish them in his work. The Preface makes clear what is evident throughout, that Gellius is a very ‘hands-on’ author who uses 115
See 16. 7. 10; cf. A. Garcea and V. Lomanto, below, Ch. 2, esp. 50---2. O. Wenskus, ‘Markieren’, 234–6. On citizenship and Latin cf. Adams, ‘ ‘‘Romanitas’’ ’, 185–8. 117 Cf. §5 for the hierarchy of the grammarians. 118 Nam Laeuius inplicata et Hortensius inuenusta et Cinna inlepida et Memmius dura ac deinceps omnes rudia fecerunt atque absona. On the attitudes here cf. B. Rochette, Le Latin, 267–9, Fo¨gen, Patrii sermonis egestas, 212–16. 119 Reading pressius; see A. D. Vardi, ‘Brevity’. 120 He sometimes claims to have ‘noted down the very words at the time’: 20. 6. 15. But at 12. 13. 17 he congratulates himself on a quotation he prepared ‘before coming to you (i.e. Sulpicius Apollinaris)’. 116
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others’ material as he wants to purvey a strong moralizing tone and to promote his belief in the association of antique virtue and correct Latinity. This attitude is relevant to his control of Greek material and his comments on it. The Nights contain a fair amount of Greek (the overall quantity is of course very small), but most of it is technical terminology or free-standing quotation. There is virtually no code-switching which is not clearly connected with grammatical, rhetorical, or philosophical subjects (the most common type of code-switching in Latin literature).121 Most of the technical switches are marked as ‘the Greeks say’, vel sim. The Nights are not private letters: the private scenes Gellius gives us, however Wctional, are presented to a male public audience.122 Hence code-switching as an unmarked choice as we see it in Cicero’s private letters was not an option. The sketch of Julianus certainly shows how relaxed Gellius can be with regard to contemporary Greeks; Fronto could never have laughed like this. Gellius and his fellow-Romans went as students to Greece ‘ad capiendum ingenii cultum’, which is not ‘in quest of culture’ (Loeb), but rather ‘to train their intellects’ (1. 2. 1). Gellius had not the slightest doubt that ‘culture’ was fully available at Rome. The comparability of Roman and Greek culture is clear from the same note 1. 2, which is set at a dinner held by Herodes Atticus in Greece. Herodes is always introduced in the Nights as a consular or senator, i.e. he is Romanized as well as celebrated for his knowledge of Greek.123 In this note he demolishes the pretensions of a pseudo-Stoic who sets himself above ‘all leaders of the Attic language, the togaed race, and the Latin Name’ (§4). The abuse accords both cultures equal status. This belief in comparability is seen especially in Gellius’ practice of and concerns about translation from Greek.124 His fears of 121 Cf. 1. 5. 1 a Œ ł illa ºÆ ŒØÆ (quoting Aeschines, In Tim. 131 a Œ ła ÆFÆ ºÆ ŒØÆ), 11. 15. 8 P غø hercle Apollinaris noster . . . ait. Contrast 18. 7. 4 (said by Favorinus) Videtur enim mihi K ØÆ ŁÆØ. Scitote . . . tamen intemperiem istam, quae ºÆª ºÆ dicitur, non paruis nec abiectis ingeniis accidere, Iººa r ÆØ Ø e Ł F æøœŒ et ueritates plerumque fortiter dicere, sed respectum non habere ŒÆØæ F æ ı; Favorinus is allowed to code-switch, and maybe he did do so readily. For technical switching cf. n. 58. 122 It is worth noting that discussion of women in the Nights remains entirely traditional: 1. 6; 4. 3, cf. 10. 23, 12. 1, 17. 21. 44, 18. 6; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 308–13. 123 See 1. 2. 1, 9. 2. 1, 18. 10. 1, 19. 12. 1. 124 Cf. L. Gamberale, La traduzione, chs. 2–3 on Gellius’ techniques of literary translation, Fo¨gen, Patrii sermonis egestas, 193–216; [Holford-Strevens, ‘An Antonine Litte´tateur’]. For the wider context of Latin translation from Greek consult A. Traina, ‘Le traduzioni’, G. J. M. Bartelink, Hieronymus.
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spoiling the Greek of Favorinus have been mentioned. At 10. 22. 3 he refrains from translating Plato’s words in the Gorgias, for ‘no Latin speech could aspire to their qualities, much less my own’.125 Elsewhere he oVers a translation of a passage in the Symposium (17. 20. 3, 9; note the false modesty). On the other hand Epictetus is translated without apology at 19. 1. 15–20,126 and in 19. 11 Gellius is happy to oVer a verse paraphrase of the famous amatory epigram attributed to Plato done by ‘a friend of mine, PŒ Æ ı adulescens’. Unfortunately the note on his experiences of translating Plato in book 8 is lost (8. 8). But the various comments on the problems of and opportunities presented by translating longer passages or individual words give suYcient indication that Gellius thought some things were best left in Greek and at the same time believed that Roman authors like Vergil could translate with real Xair or could fall Xat.127 It is knowledge of Greek that is crucial. Symptomatic of this is the development of the word opicus. In origin this was an ethnic, an early form of Oscus. But a fragment of Cato the Elder makes it clear that it was used by Greeks to disparage Romans.128 It then developed the sense of a Roman who failed to understand Greek. Gellius quotes this usage from Cicero’s freedman, Tiro (13. 9. 4). Philodemus’ use of the word (in Greek) is comparable.129 This sense was current among second-century intellectuals (Juvenal, Terentius Scaurus, Fronto, Marcus, Gellius).130 Gellius calls his 125
His quotation from Plato is the longest piece of continuous Greek in the Nights. Similarly 9. 3. 5–6 (a letter attributed to Philip of Macedon). The story of Arion at 16. 19 is a very free paraphrase of Herodotus; cf. Fronto’s declamation on the same theme, pp. 241–2, with G. Anderson, below, 108---11. 127 Cf. 2. 23 (lengthy evaluation of Caecilius Statius’ unsucessful version of Menander, with adverse judgement on Roman comedy in general, cf. Quint. Inst. 10. 1. 99–100; Fo¨gen, Patrii sermonis egestas, 194–6); 9. 9 (Vergil); 11. 16 ( ºı æƪ , with praise of Greek’s terseness at §9; Fo¨gen 210–11); 16. 8 (IøÆ); 18. 13. 5 (examples of sophismata); 18. 14 (‘absurd’ to invent Latin terms for hemiolios or epitritos; NB the MSS transliterate, but perhaps Greek script should be restored; cf. 1. 20. 9); 19. 2. 2 (IŒºÆ ); 20. 5. 13 (ı ). 128 Cato, De medicina fr. 1 (Pliny, NH 29. 14) nos quoque dictitant barbaros et spurcius nos quam alios Opicon appellatione foedant. On the development of the ethnic (Opicus>Opscus>Oscus see O. Skutsch on Ennius, Ann. 291 (pp. 469–70 of his commentary). 129 AP 5. 132. 7 ‘if she is an Opikeˆ and called Flora and cannot sing Sappho’. 130 Juvenal, Sat. 3. 207; Scaurus, De orthogr., GL vii. 23. 2; Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 2. 2. 8, p. 21. 15 (cf. above, 22), Marcus ap. Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 2. 11. 2, p. 31. 6; the reading at Ep. M. Caes. 3. 6 (p. 39. 19) is very insecure. At Juvenal, Sat. 6. 455 female language, but not speciWcally Greek, is at issue. The same usage occurs three centuries later in Sidonius Apollinaris, Ep. 8. 3. 1 (his ‘barbarian transcription’ of Philostratus’ Apollonius). But in Ausonius, where the word is used several times, 126
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fellow-students ‘opici’ in jest: ‘why don’t you barbarians . . . ?’, and at 11. 16. 7 he applies it to a man who had failed to grasp his explanation of ºı æƪ (cf. §2: the man is ‘ignorant of Greek language and literature’). This humour is not without signiWcance. In the grammarian Scaurus there is contempt for someone who cannot follow his explanation of aspirated words in Greek. In Fronto there is tension, in Marcus self-irony. Gellius’ attitude is relaxed towards his companions. But the ignorant man was plainly annoying: he is one of the ‘profane crowd’ to whom Gellius applies the words of Aristophanes at the end of his Preface. Not to understand Greek was not to belong. The picture which emerges from Gellius is that of a man who believed fervently in the association of culture and morality. Knowledge of language and literature was the key expression of this. When the grammarian Aelius Melissus published a book ‘within my memory’ with the ‘hugely attractive title’ of On Correct Language, ‘who would regard himself as qualiWed to speak correctly and properly unless he had learned Melissus’ correct meanings (proprietates)?’ (18. 6. 1–3). When Melissus had made a mistake (as he had), who could fail to be disappointed?131 It is in the nature of grammarians to pronounce on correct speech and correct spelling (Scaurus’ De orthographia). But the interest of a wider public in such matters—Gellius’ readers—implies a wide concern about the role of language. But what role? As has been remarked, Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius oVer insuYcient evidence of a widespread linguistic movement. In any case, trying to look at things in terms of Greek purism is the wrong way to go about it. Rather, Gellius and the others are concerned to demonstate their command of all Roman culture and its transmission through literature. This includes early Latin (the ueteres); but it certainly does not stop with these authors. Their understanding of the Latin language in its full development gave them the right in their own eyes to innovate extensively. We should assume that they would have been happy for those as cultured and as literary as themselves to do the same. Tertullian has been seen as one of their natural heirs in this regard.132 As the Wrst Latin churchman, he the sense ranges from ‘obsolete’ to ‘indulging in oral sex’: see J. N. Adams, ‘An Epigram’, 100, 109 on the genital alphabet of Ep. 87. 131 Other good examples of Gellius confronting the experts: 6. 3, 6. 17, 13. 31, 14. 6, 15. 9. 132 Steinmetz, Untersuchungen, 231, 374.
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was trying in part to establish an intellectual Latin lexicon for the new religion. This lexicon had perforce to contain and naturalize Greek terminology.133 This is a further stage in the process of Sprachanschluß that began with Republican authors and was continued by Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius. All these men needed Greek to show they possessed culture. They needed it to enrich Latin as necessary. They needed it as an alternative register (for technical subjects, the aVections, awkward or problematical relations). They needed to be in control of it in an era when the Greek language was again at the height of its powers. Favorinus and Marcus Aurelius (Meditations) are the most striking surviving examples of Latin speakers making extensive use of Greek at this time. But we should not forget Claudius Aelian in the early decades of the next century. His two surviving miscellanies, the Varia historia and De natura animalium, not to mention his Letters of Farmers, would have excited the scorn of Gellius. In them he makes bold claims for his choice of language (Atticizing Greek) and his ability to sustain it (Nat. An. pr. ad Wn., epil. ad Wn.; Letter 20 ad Wn.). Yet Aelian was exceptional. More interesting is evidence for the continuing acceptability of Greek codeswitching in Latin in the same generation from the great jurist Ulpian.134 Ulpian may have been a descendant of Roman or Italian merchants. If his family were ‘Greek’, then he is the Wrst writer from the Greek East whose political choices led him to write in Latin. Whatever the case, he clearly expects his Latin readers to know suYcient Greek to understand his switches and, more importantly, to accept them as normal. There are in fact a very few examples of code-switches in earlier jurists and a couple immediately after Ulpian. But Ulpian’s usage is far more extensive, with thirty-eight examples. This should perhaps be connected with his conscious attempt to promote Roman law in the new environment of the Constitutio Antoniniana. It may well show that he was in fact a Greek speaker who failed to appreciate the constraints on Greek in Latin public discourse (law). It also shows an appreciation that Greek was a natural part of Latin speech and that display of a Greek identity, far from being intrusive, was a sine qua non of the highest Roman culture. This is something Gellius’ age understood perfectly. 133 See esp. Against the Valentinians 6 on the futility of translating Valentinus’ technical terms. Cf. Adv. Praxean 3. 3 ‘si quid utriusque linguae praecerpsi’. For Tertullian’s innovative graphical procedures to aid Greekless readers see Adv. Val. 6. 2 with J.-C. Fredouille, edn. ii. 216–17. 134 T. Honore´, Ulpian, 90–2.
2 Gellius and Fronto on Loanwords and Literary Models Their Evaluation of Laberius A l es sa n dr o Ga r ce a an d Va l er ia L om a nt o In this chapter we shall focus on ch. 19. 13 of the Noctes Atticae, where Fronto investigates the origin of the word nanus (§1). In his analysis, Gellius recalls the linguistic categories of Latinus, Graecus, barbarus, whose theoretical grounds we shall clarify (§2). After considering the Latin texts where nanus occurs (§3), we shall speciWcally discuss the case of Laberius, an author on whom Gellius and Fronto have a diVerent opinion. We shall complete our analysis with the study of the references to Laberius in the Noctes Atticae (§4).
1. the hesitation of fronto between nanvs and p v m i l i o (gellius 19. 1 3 . 1–2) In Noctes Atticae 19. 13 Fronto (test. 9, p. 265. 3–14 v:d:H:2 ) doubts the Latinity of nanus, suspecting it to be a sordidum . . . uerbum et barbarum. To nanus Fronto prefers the native term pumilio, which is attested in the works of early writers. As Fronto is not sure of his choice, he asks his friends, who are waiting with him to pay the emperor their respects in the salutatio Caesaris: C. Sulpicius Apollinaris, regarded by Gellius as an outstanding grammarian, teacher of the future emperor Pertinax in the early 140s (HA Pert. 1. 4), and M. Postumius Festus, an orator of Numidian origin, equally Xuent in Greek and Latin (cf. CIL vi. 1416 oratorem utraque facundia maximum). We wish to thank Leofranc Holford-Strevens for discussing a previous version of this paper.
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1. Stabant forte una in uestibulo Palatii fabulantes Fronto Cornelius et Festus Postumius et Apollinaris Sulpicius, atque ego ibi adsistens cum quibusdam aliis sermones eorum, quos de litterarum disciplinis habebant, curiosius captabam. 2. Tum Fronto Apollinari ‘fac me’ inquit ‘oro, magister, ut sim certus, an recte supersederim ‘‘nanos’’ dicere parua nimis statura homines maluerimque eos ‘‘pumiliones’’ appellare, quoniam hoc scriptum esse in libris ueterum memineram, ‘‘nanos’’ autem sordidum esse uerbum et barbarum credebam.’
The term pumilio represents a sort of hyperonym for human, animal, and vegetable varieties of dwarfs. In his Natural History, Pliny, who had described Conopas as a minimus man and implicitly Andromeda as a minima woman during the reign of Augustus (7. 75), notes that there are dwarf kinds (pumiliones) of birds like hens (10. 156), and, more generally, of all species of animals (11. 260). Later on, he speaks of the pollard plane called chamaeplatanus, lit. ‘ground-plane’, stunted in height and belonging to the genus pumilionum (12. 13). Finally, he describes the methods of making a vine slow to fruit, shrivelled, and knotty, ‘with the growth natural to dwarfs’ (pumilionum incremento 17. 176). The use of pumilio with reference to human beings, lacking in Pliny, occurs in Lucretius’ De rerum natura, which can be identiWed, according to the present evidence, with the libri ueterum mentioned by Fronto. While showing that love makes people blind to the faults of the beloved, the poet quotes some examples of the ancient topos of euphemistic terms of endearment and, more generally, of the psychological mechanism of changing the objective reality in bonam partem (4. 1160–70).1 A squat, dwarWsh woman (pumilio) appears in the eye of her lover as one of the Graces, as the very soul of wit: paruula pumilio ‘chariton mia’ ‘tota merum sal’ (4. 1162). The reference to Lucretius is consistent with Fronto’s ideas on style, according to which Lucretius is a linguistic model. Using metaphorical expressions, Fronto conceives his literary theory in three stages: the genus humile of mutterers (murmurantes), and two levels of genus sublime, i.e. the lower, represented by the mugitus of Ennius, Accius, and Lucretius, and the higher, represented by the tuba of Cato, Gracchus, Cicero, and Sallust (De eloq. 4. 4, p. 148.
1 See the description of the behaviour of the I cæ KæøØŒ towards the ÆE in Plato, Rep. 474 d 7–475 a 2 and Ovid’s imitation, Ars 2. 657–62; other examples of Xattering terms applied to unattractive characteristics are found in the Hellenistic handbook —æd Iæ Øø by Philaenis (P. Oxy. 2891 fr. 3. 5–9); Theocr. 10. 26–37; Hor. Serm. 1. 3. 38–67; Asclepiades, AP 5. 210. See R. Verdie`re, ‘L’euphe´misme amoureux’.
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8–11 v:d:H:2 ).2 Fronto also expresses similar evaluations in a sort of canon of ueteres who have operated dilectus uerborum. They should be imitated, because their long-neglected language may suggest insperata atque inopinata uerba, i.e. unconventional words: Wherefore few indeed of our old writers have surrendered themselves to that toil, pursuit, and hazard of seeking out words with especial diligence. M. Porcius alone of the orators of all time, and his constant imitator C. Sallustius, are among these; of poets Plautus especially, and most especially Q. Ennius and his zealous rival L. Coelius, not to omit Naevius and Lucretius, Accius too, and Caecilius, also Laberius. Besides these, certain other writers are noticeable for choiceness in special spheres, as Novius, Pomponius and their like in rustic and jocular and comic words, Atta in women’s talk, Sisenna in erotics, Lucilius in the technical language of each art and business. (Ep. M. Caes. 4. 3. 2, pp. 56. 18–57. 4 v:d:H:2 , tr. C. R. Haines, i. 5.)
The imitation of ancient authors, pursued by Fronto and Gellius3 in order to give new vitality and meaningfulness to the literary language, must not hinder the perspicuity of communication. Both the former (ibid. §3, p. 57. 24–7 v:d:H:2 ) and the latter (11. 7. 3) think that the unsuitable use of archaisms, without clarity or reWnement, betrays incomplete (semidoctus) or belatedly acquired learning (OłØÆŁÆ) respectively. Such inadequate messages should be replaced by common, even trite, expressions. Gellius agrees with his master Fronto on the theoretical aspects of his literary doctrine, but, as we shall see, he makes his own independent assessment of the authors to be imitated. The case of Laberius, the Wrst to use the word nanus, is exemplary of this attitude.
2. the categories of l a t i n v s g r a e c v s barbarvs ( gellius 19. 1 3 . 3 a ) In his answer to Fronto, Apollinaris admits that the word nanus belongs to the sermo uulgaris. Yet he speciWes that it is not a 2 See the commentary by A. Pennacini, La funzione dell’arcaismo, 109–11 (misinterpreted by M. P. J. van den Hout, Commentary, 350–1) and P. Soverini, ‘Aspetti e problemi’, 936–7. Fronto also proposes a quadripartite division of the genera dicendi (gracilis, aridus, sublimis, mediocris), where Lucretius is deWned as sublimis (De eloq. 1. 2, p. 133. 12 v:d:H:2 ). On the evaluation of Lucretius by Fronto, see R. Poignault, ‘Lucre`ce’, 179–83. 3 On the theoretical problem of archaism from Caes. Anal. fr. 2 Funaioli to Gell. 1. 10 (the source of this fragment), see V. Lomanto, ‘Cesare e la teoria dell’eloquenza’, 57–64; on Fronto, see also Soverini, ‘Aspetti e problemi’, 955–63.
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barbarous word, but a Greek one (< A , ): it occurs in literary works such as Aristophanes’ comedy The Cargo Boats ( ˇºŒ; fr. 441 Kassel–Austin), and—according to an etymological principle—its brief extent is consistent with its small referent. ‘Est quidem’ inquit ‘hoc’ Apollinaris ‘in consuetudine inperiti uulgi frequens, sed barbarum non est censeturque linguae Graecae origine; ı enim Graeci uocauerunt breui atque humili corpore homines paulum supra terram exstantes idque ita dixerunt adhibita quadam ratione etymologiae cum sententia uocabuli competente et, si memoria’ inquit ‘mihi non labat, scriptum hoc est in comoedia Aristophanis, cui nomen est ˇºŒ.’
The Greek origin of nanus is already attested in Varro, LL 5. 119, where a jar shaped as a bearded dwarf is named nanus cum Graeco nomine et cum Latino nomine . . . barbatus (see also Fest. 184. 25–7 L., where the Latin name of the same object is pumilio, and CGL ii. 28. 22 bardatus e ŒF ). What is interesting in Apollinaris’ answer is the opposition between uerba Graeca and uerba barbara, according to what is a conventional antithesis within Greek culture. The Greeks considered anyone who was not a Greek as a barbarian, including the Romans (cf. Fest. 32. 14–15 barbari dicebantur antiquitus omnes gentes, exceptis Graecis).4 This viewpoint was adopted by the Romans themselves in ethnic as well as in linguistic terms. For the former, note Plautus’ description of Naevius as poeta barbarus (Mil. 211);5 for the latter, the contrast between Graecus and barbarus, the later designating Latin, can already be found in the expression uortit barbare of Plautus (Trin. 19; Asin. 11) and is still current in Cic. Orat. 160. Here the author criticizes the reproduction of Greek phonemes in Latin nominal inXection (in barbaris casibus Graecam litteram adhibere).6 Soon, however, the employment of grammatical Greek patterns for the description of Latin linguistic structures admitted the 4 See e.g. H. Diller, ‘Die Hellenen-Barbaren-Antithese’ and E. Le´vy, ‘Naissance’. In Greece, the deviations from the standard language are represented in Plato’s Cratylus as ØŒ (forms not belonging to Attic) and foreign words not understandable by Greek speakers (ÆæÆæØŒ). See B. Rochette, ‘Les ØŒ et les ÆæÆæØŒa O ÆÆ’, 95–7. Aristotle, in ch. 22 of his Poetics, recommends grandeur and avoidance of the ordinary in style. These qualities can be achieved by employing unusual words ( ØŒ): however, their presence in the ºØ must not be excessive, in order to avoid ÆY تÆ, i.e. surfeit of metaphors, and ÆæÆæØ, i.e. excess of foreign terms (1458a 18–31). See R. Dupont-Roc and J. Lallot, edn. 357–60. 5 Cf. PF 32. 15–16. Whereas J. C. Dumont, ‘Plaute’, 70 considers Plautus’ line as a ‘de´rision des pre´juge´s grecs de supe´riorite´’, F. Desbordes, ‘Latinitas’, 38 observes that Plautus ‘pre´sente le point de vue des Grecs, non pas force´ment qu’il l’assume’. 6 Cf. also Cic. Rep. 1. 58 (Romulus rules over ‘barbarian’ speakers).
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theory that Latin was a kind of Greek,7 speciWcally a sort of Aeolic dialect. Both Greek grammarians living and teaching in Rome (Hypsicrates of Amysos, Philoxenus of Alexandria, Terentius Tyrannio, Claudius Didymus, L. Ateius Praetextatus Philologus) and native Latin grammarians (Santra, Clodius Tuscus, Cloatius Verus) wrote on this subject between the beginning of the Wrst century bc and the middle of the Wrst century ad.8 Varro, who criticizes his master Aelius Stilo for systematically explaining Latin words only out of other Latin words, does not on the other hand follow the opposite ‘Hellenizing’ explanation. He points out, however, some speciWc features common to ‘Aeolic’ and Latin:9 (1) the preservation of the Aeolic digamma = in the Latin semiconsonant /w/ (a phenomenon typical of Cypriot and Pamphylian): =Øƺ > uitulus (LL 5. 96), = æÆ > uesper (LL 6. 6), æ =ØE > prouidere (LL 6. 96); see also Priscian, Inst., GL ii. 15. 1–5, who quotes Varro’s opinion (fr. 71 Goetz– Scho¨ll ¼ 270, pp. 291–2 Funaioli) and Didymus fr. 1, p. 447 Funaioli on the identity of Aeolic = with Latin /w/; (2) barytonesis, a phenomenon occurring in Asiatic Aeolic: puteus< Aeolic (Attic ; LL 5. 24–5); (3) > ı with nasal or labial voiceless consonant (see point 2); typical of Aeolic and Arcado-Cypriot; (4) the preservation of ancient Æ (which excludes the Ionic–Attic dialect): Aº > malum (LL 5. 102). Another similarity between ‘Aeolic’ and Latin is pointed out by Philoxenus, who notices the absence of the dual in the nominal inXection of both languages (fr. 323 Theodoridis ¼ Choerobosc. In Theod., GG iv. 2. 34. 4–9).10 As we can understand from all these phenomena, the concept of ‘Aeolic’ in these authors is an extended 7 See M. Dubuisson, ‘Le latin’, 67: ‘on peut conside´rer comme au moins probable que l’e´laboration de la the´orie de l’origine e´olienne du latin, indispensable comple´ment a` la le´gende de l’origine grecque de Rome, fut l’œuvre des grammairiens grecs et romains de l’entourage de Pompe´e, suscite´s et encourage´s par celui-ci’. 8 See T. Cupaiuolo, La teoria della derivazione, and R. Giomini, ‘Il grammatico Filosseno’. 9 See G. Pascucci, ‘Le componenti linguistiche’, 356–8; F. Cavazza, Studio su Varrone, 88–97; D. Briquel, ‘La conception du latin’, 1035–7; further observations in K. Scho¨psdau, ‘Vergleiche zwischen Lateinisch und Griechisch’, 117–21. 10 The fragment of Philoxenus which seems to make a connection between the weakening of /g/ in Aeolic and the evolution of -gy-> -iy-> -i- in Latin (fr. 11, p. 446 Funaioli ¼Etym. Gud. p. 377 Sturz: Ø . . . KŒ FÐ ÆªÆ i.e. maiestatis) is not retained in C. Theodoridis’ edn. (Die Fragmente, 49–50), because the sentence غ . . . Ææ `N ºFØ ªæÆc Øa F NHÆ is declared to be a gloss arising from fr. 542 (dealing with the allographs ªØæ =ªØæ ).
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one: it is the language of diVerent people who at various times departed from Latium (Siculi: Varro, LL 5. 101 lepus > º æØ) or entered it (Pelasgi: Varro in Macr. Sat. 1. 7. 28–30; Evander’s Arcadians, Hercules’ Argei: Varro, LL 5. 21, 45). This hypothesis is parallel to, and probably convergent with, the annalistic tradition of the Arcadian origin of Rome, as found in the fragments of Fabius Pictor (1, p. 2 Funaioli ¼ 1, p. 5 Peter2 ), Cincius Alimentus (p. 2 Funaioli ¼ 1, p. 40 Peter2 ) and Cn. Gellius (2, p. 120 Funaioli ¼ 3, p. 148 Peter2 ).11 Consequently, Greek and Latin form a pair frequently considered as a sort of unity, utraque lingua,12 while the word ‘barbarian’ represents a tertium genus, including all other languages. Even when Greek is incorporated in the domain of peregrinitas, as is the case with the taxonomy of Quintilian, Inst. 1. 5. 55–8 (where Latin and foreign words are diVerentiated: §55 uerba aut Latina aut peregrina sunt), a special relationship between Greek and Latin is nevertheless underlined. Greek loanwords are so many—Quintilian claims—because Latin is derived from Greek and it also borrows Greek terms when it lacks its own. The contributions from diVerent languages, on the other hand, constitute a distinct, composite ‘barbarian’ group.13 Increasing linguistic awareness among Latin grammarians is indicated by the fact that, having at Wrst been deWned as a variety of Greek, Latin eventually becomes the theoretical focus, in relation 11 ` abbastanza chiaro in See E. Gabba, ‘Il latino come dialetto greco’, 190: ‘E primo luogo che la teoria del latino come dialetto eolico e` collegata alla partizione linguistica delle stirpi greche, riferita da Strabone ma certamente derivata dall’indagine dialettologica dell’eta` alessandrina; in secondo luogo che essa e` stata originariamente elaborata non sulla base di una qualsiasi indagine linguistica, ma come conseguenza e riXesso di una teoria ‘‘storica’’ largamente accettata, vale a dire dell’origine ‘‘arcadica’’ di Roma.’ On the role of Evander in the transmission of the Greek alphabet to the Romans, see A. Garcea, ‘Ce´sar et l’alphabet’, 159–60. 12 See M. Dubuisson, ‘Vtraque lingua’; Desbordes, ‘Latinitas’, 37. L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Vtraque lingua doctus’ gives a great number of important examples of Greek knowledge of Latin as well as Roman knowledge of Greek. 13 According to Quintilian, Etruscan, Sabine, and Praenestine words can be considered as Roman ones. Some Gaulish words, such as raeda ‘four-wheeled travelling-carriage’, used by Cicero (cf. Mil. 28–9; Phil. 2. 58; Att. 5. 17. 1; 6. 1. 25) and petorritum ‘open four-wheeled carriage’, used by Horace (cf. Serm. 1. 6. 104; Ep. 2. 1. 192), are also well established. Quintilian also mentions the Punic mappa ‘table-napkin’ and the Hispanic gurdus ‘blockhead, dolt’ (see infra, §4 and n. 55). On this passage, see B. Rochette, ‘Latinitas—peregrinitas’, 104–5 and R. Mu¨ller, Sprachbewußtsein, 44; on petorritum, see Gell. 15. 30, who quotes Varro’s Antiquitates rerum diuinarum (§7: fr. 203 Cardauns ¼ 133, p. 236 Funaioli) in support of the Gaulish origin of the term.
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to which all other languages are diVerentiated.14 Thus the tripartite pattern Latinus, Graecus, barbarus, which also occurs in ethniccultural hyperboles,15 is now systematized in the grammatical tradition, where Latin at all linguistic levels undergoes a tripartition. On the phonographematic level, for example, Diomedes (GL i. 426. 8–10) considers that the sign < z >, designating /z/, has been introduced from Greek into Latin in order to transcribe both Greek (e.g. Zenon, Zacynthus) and ‘barbarian’ words (e.g. Mezentius, gaza). Moreover, according to Cassiodorus (in Eutych. GL vii. 199. 13–15), both Greek (e.g. Halys, He˘cuba, He¯gio, Hieron, Ho˘merus, hymen, ho¯ra, Thybris, Phoebus, chorus) and ‘barbarian’ (e.g. Rhenus, Hannibal) forms preserve the original aspiration in Latin. On the morphophonemic level, Varro (fr. 113 Goetz–Scho¨ll ¼ 243, p. 269 Funaioli) had already classiWed syllables as Greek (e.g. hymnos, Zenon) or ‘barbarian’ (e.g. gaza) depending on language of origin.16 Moreover, the norms ruling Latin accent do not apply to interjections, i.e. marginal elements of lexicon, and loanwords. But, while a barbarum nomen uel uerbum aliquod peregrinum takes an arbitrary accent, non-integrated Graeca uerba save their original accent (cf. Explan. GL iv. 483. 29–34).17 On the morphological level, the tripartition Latinum, Graecum, barbarum applies to both variable and invariable forms. Priscian’s Institutiones grammaticae oVer the most systematic treatment of nominal inXection of barbarian words, according to their ending in the nominative. He not only lists diVerent typologies (e.g. GL ii. 222. 1–4 on forms ending in -ar: Latin Caesar, Greek nectar, ‘barbarian’ Aspar, Bostar), but also illustrates some peculiarities of the barbarian terms. For example, commenting on the toponyms Suthul and Muthul, Priscian prefers to consider them as communia, rather than neuter, because Punic, like Chaldaean, Hebrew, and Syriac, lacks this gender (GL ii. 147. 18–148. 3). He adds that barbarian words end frequently in phonological clusters which 14
See M. Baratin, La Naissance de la syntaxe, 350–8. See e.g. Cic. Fin. 2. 49 a quo [sc. Epicuro] non solum Graecia et Italia, sed etiam omnis barbaria commota est; Diu. 1. 84 si Graeci, si barbari, si maiores etiam nostri; Juvenal 10. 138 Romanus Graiusque et barbarus induperator; Quint. Inst. 5. 10. 24 nec idem [sc. mos] in barbaro, Romano, Graeco. 16 See J. Collart, Varron grammairien, 73–5. 17 See also Diomedes, GL i. 433. 31–4; [Prisc.] Acc., GL iii. 520. 23–5; Donatus, Mai. 610. 9–10 Holtz; Cledonius, GL v. 33. 18–20; Jul. Tol. 172. 60–4 Maestre Yenes. 15
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are foreign to Latin and Greek and diYcult to adapt to Latin inXectional classes (GL ii. 148. 7–12: e.g. Abraham, Ioachim, Loth, Ruth, Iacob, David, Balac). This kind of problem was already discussed by Varro, who attests to a polemic between Crates and Aristarchus (LL 8. 64–5). The latter explained the invariability of the uocabula litterarum, both in Greek and Latin, by their barbarian, Chaldaean, origin (§64 non esse uocabula nostra, sed penitus barbara). Varro agrees with this opinion in a fragment of his De antiquitate litterarum (fr. 40 Goetz–Scho¨ll ¼ 1, pp. 183–4 Funaioli): the characters’ names cannot be adapted to the system of Latin cases because they reproduce their original form in Chaldaean. The taxonomy of linguistic units in three species hides their diVerent contribution to the overall system of the Latin language. In the vast corpus of the grammatici Latini, only barbarian proper nouns18 are taken into account and admitted. On the other hand, barbarian common nouns are generally proscribed as errors in speech in chapters de uitiis et uirtutibus orationis, where the external 18 Barbara nomina ending in -al: Adherbal, (H)Annibal, (H)Asdrubal, Hamilcar, Hiempsal, Mastanabal (Charis. 24. 24–6, 29–32, 44. 6–8 Barwick; Anon. Bob. 14. 8–12 De Nonno; Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 2. 147. 7–8, 214. 8–10, 312. 14–16; [Prisc.] Acc., GL iii. 523. 8–9; [Probus] Cath., GL iv. 8. 27–9; Phocas, 9. 1, p. 35. 2–3 Casaceli; Sacerdos, GL vi. 473. 24–6; Martyr. GL vii. 187. 11–16); in -ar: Arar, Aspar, Bostar, Hamilcar (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 149. 14–150. 6; 222. 1–4; 313. 12–14); in -co: Sic(c)o, Franco ([Probus], Cath., GL iv. 9. 37–10. 1; Sacerdos, GL vi. 475. 8–9); in -e¯l : Michael, Gabriel, Abel, Nechamel, Daniel, Samuel, Isdrahel (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 147. 11–12; 214. 15; 312. 19–20; Sacerdos, GL vi. 473. 27–9); in -es: Tigranes, Mithridates, Ariobarzanes (Prisc. Nom. 5. 10–13); in -on: Rubicon, Saxon ([Probus], Cath., GL iv. 9. 12–18; Sacerdos, GL vi. 474. 18–19); in -ul: Suthul, Muthul (Charis. 30. 22, 44. 6–8 Barwick; Anon. Bob. 19. 14–15 De Nonno; Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 147. 18–148. 3; [Probus], Cath., GL iv. 8. 29–30; Sacerdos, GL vi. 473. 26–7); other forms: Abodlas (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 42. 15–16); Abraham (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 7–12); Aizi (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 205. 6–7); Artabazes ([Probus] Cath., GL iv. 31. 17–18; Sacerdos, GL vi. 481. 25–6); Atax (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 164. 6–7; 166. 24–167. 2); Balac (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 10); Berzobim (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 205. 6–7); Bocchus (Martyr. GL vii. 172. 6–8); Bogud (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 146. 18–19; 213. 14–214. 2); Brixo ([Probus] Cath., GL iv. 11. 10–11); David (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 10); Heriul ([Prisc.] Acc., GL iii. 523. 14); Iacob (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 9); Iliturgi (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 205. 5–6); Ioachim (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 9); Loth (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 9); Massiua (Martyr. GL vii. 172. 8–11, 4–10); Muluccha (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 201. 15–17; Phocas 5. 2, p. 32. 20–1 Casaceli); Ormizas ([Probus] Cath., GL iv. 31. 16–17; Sacerdos, GL vi. 481. 23–4); Pharnax (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 279. 5–8); Ruth (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 148. 9); Tanaquil (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 214. 16); Tharros ([Probus] Cath., GL iv. 22. 25–7); Turia (Cledon., GL v. 41. 24; Phocas 5. 2, p. 32. 20–1 Casaceli); Volux (Prisc. Inst., GL ii. 166. 24–167. 2, 279. 5–6); Zidar ([Probus], Cath., GL iv. 13. 24). Outside the few examples of barbarolexis, the only ‘barbarian’ common noun quoted in the corpus of grammatici Latini is nap(h)t(h)a(s) ([Probus] Cath., GL iv. 22. 21–2, 29. 4–6, 30. 15–17; Sacerdos, GL vi. 480. 3–5, 481. 19–21).
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opposition Latin/barbarian gives way to the internal opposition Latin/barbarism.19 Quintilian, at Inst. 1. 5. 7–10,20 proposes a tripartite classiWcation of such phenomena: one type is the ethnic word (§8), another comes from an insolent or vulgar way of speaking (§9), a third consists in the addition (addictio), omission (omissio), substitution (immutatio), or transposition (transmutatio) of a letter or a syllable (§10). The Wrst type is exempliWed by loanwords such as the Gaulish cantus ‘iron tyre of a wheel’, used by Persius 5. 71, and ploxenum ‘carriage body’, used by Catullus 97. 6, casamo (¼adsectator?), used by Labienus or Cornelius Gallus, and the Sardinian mastruca ‘heavy cloak’, used by Cic. Scaur. 45h Clark ¼ 45d Olechowska. This last term also occurs among the examples that Latin grammarians, following Donatus, derive from classical authors in order to illustrate the phenomenon of barbarolexis.21 They conceive the use of a term which is neither indigenous nor derived from Greek as a threat to the correct usage of their language, i.e. Roman Latin.22 Their examples are given below: (1) acinaces ‘Persian short sword’ (Hor. Carm. 1. 27. 5; Curt. 4. 15. 30; V.Fl. 6. 701; Tac. Ann. 12. 51);23 19
See Desbordes, ‘Latinitas’, 39. See R. Vainio, Latinitas and Barbarisms, 25–6, 87–8, 131. See Donatus, Mai. 653. 2–4 Holtz; Pompeius, GL v. 284. 20–8; Jul. Tol. 179. 13–18 Maestre Yenes; Consentius, Barb. 2. 6–10, 19. 9–16 Niedermann. Holtz, edn. of Donatus, 150 comments upon these passages: ‘ce n’est pas n’importe quels mots barbares qui sont cite´s, mais uniquement des termes qui ont pour eux l’auctoritas . . . Ces exemples sont classiques depuis longtemps . . . ’. See also the deWnitions of barbarolexis in Cominianus quoted by Charis. 350. 4–6 Barwick; Diom. GL i. 451. 30–2; Serv. Mai., GL iv. 444. 7–8; Audax, GL vii. 361. 19–21; Isid. Etym. 1. 32. 2. The Wrst occurrence of the term barbarolexis (cf. TLL ii. 1735. 14–23) is found in the 3rd-c. grammar attributed to Sacerdos (GL vi. 451. 4–15): according to this text, ‘if a word—either a Latin or a Greek one—was corrupted by an element from another language, this was a barbarolexis, a barbarous way of writing the word’ (Vainio, Latinitas and Barbarisms, 91). From Charisius on the term barbarolexis no longer refers to Greek words. Holtz, edn. of Donatus, 137 rightly observes: ‘Il est vraisemblable que le sens premier de ÆæÆæØ [i.e. language where foreign words have penetrated] survit dans barbarolexis ( æÆæ ºØ), terme qui lui-meˆme suppose la linguistique stoı¨cienne.’ 22 As R. Coleman (‘Quintilian 1. 6’, 917) rightly observes, ‘Helle¯nismo´s embraced certain dialects outside Attic that enjoyed considerable and long established cultural and political prestige [ . . . ], Latinitas by contrast was identiWed expressly with Roman Latin.’ This is also the reason why Latin grammarians do not take into consideration ‘regional’ loanwords, i.e. ‘the transfer of local terms belonging to other languages into the Latin’ of diVerent areas of the Empire (see J. N. Adams, Bilingualism, 443). 23 This word also occurs in a list of peregrina uerba by Consentius (Ars, GL v. 364. 8–15): Gallic mannus, Persian acinacis and gaza, Punic tubur. 20 21
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(2) cateia ‘curved missile’ (Verg. Aen. 7. 741 with DS ad loc., V. Fl. 6. 83; Sil. 3. 277; Gell. 10. 25. 2; cf. also Isid. Etym. 18. 7. 7); (3) dellas ‘reed-grass, sedge’: Augustine, GL v. 496. 10; (4) magalia ‘huts, tents’ (Hem. Hist. 38; Verg. Aen. 1. 421 with DS ad loc., Aen. 4. 259 with. Serv. ad loc.; Liv. 41. 27. 12; cf. also Char. 37. 8–9 Barwick; Isid. Etym. 15. 12. 4);24 (5) mastruca (cf. Isid. Etym. 19. 23. 5).
3. vulgarisms and disdain for laberius ( gellius 19. 13. 3b–5) Apollinaris’ contrast between Latina and peregrina uerba explains why Fronto hesitates to use the term nanus without knowing its origin: he risks making an error of barbarolexis. In his answer, Apollinaris not only quotes a reference showing the Greek origin of nanus, but also acknowledges in his friend the right that Pomponius Porcellus had denied to the emperor Tiberius, i.e. that of conferring Roman or at least Latin citizenship upon every word he uses. Anyway, nanus is considered a much less vulgar word than those introduced into the Latin language by Laberius. Fuisset autem uerbum hoc a te ciuitate donatum aut in Latinam coloniam deductum, si tu eo uti dignatus fores, essetque id inpendio probabilius, quam quae a Laberio ignobilia nimis et sordentia in usum linguae Latinae intromissa sunt.
The theoretical assumption underlying the praise of Fronto by Apollinaris is that correct linguistic usage must be evaluated through the criterion of auctoritas, i.e. the warrant of the prestigious authors of Latin literature. In comparison with the deWnition of Latinitas given by Varro (fr. 115 Goetz–Scho¨ll ¼ 268, pp. 289– 90 Funaioli), where the four parameters of natura, analogia, consuetudo, auctoritas are mentioned, only the last one (the literary tradition) is maintained in the Noctes Atticae, to the detriment of linguistic system and common linguistic habits.25 According to this theoretical pattern, in the concluding sections of Noctes Atticae 19. 13, an anonymous grammarian is asked by Postumius 24
See D. Lippi, ‘Magalia’. On the parameters of Latinitas in Varro and Quintilian, see V. Lomanto, ‘Il sistema del sermo Latinus’ and Coleman, ‘Quintilian 1. 6’; on their reception by Gellius, see F. Cavazza, ‘Gellio e i canoni (varroniani?)’ and A. Garcea, ‘Gellio e la dialettica’, 189–94. 25
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whether nanus, commonly26 applied to small mules and ponies, is correct in Latin, and which authors have made use of it. In his reply, the anonymous grammarian recalls some lines of Helvius Cinna (fr. 9, p. 221 Bla¨nsdorf ¼ p. 220 Courtney): 4. Tum Festus Postumius grammatico cuipiam Latino, Frontonis familiari ‘docuit’ inquit ‘nos Apollinaris ‘‘nanos’’ uerbum Graecum esse, tu nos doce, in quo de mulis aut eculeis humilioribus uulgo dicitur, anne Latinum sit et aput quem scriptum reperiatur.’ 5. Atque ille grammaticus, homo sane perquam in noscendis ueteribus scriptis exercitus, ‘si piaculum’ inquit ‘non committitur praesente Apollinare, quid de uoce ulla Graeca Latinaue sentiam, dicere, audeo tibi, Feste, quaerenti respondere esse hoc uerbum Latinum scriptumque inueniri in poematis Helui Cinnae, non ignobilis neque indocti poetae’, uersusque eius ipsos dixit, quos, quoniam memoriae mihi forte aderant, adscripsi: at nunc me Genumana per salicta bigis raeda rapit citata nanis.27
The example of the poeta nouus Cinna bestows on nanus the status of a term perfectly integrated in the Latin lexicon, as is the case with raeda, a word occurring in the same line and considered by Quintilian (Inst. 1. 5. 57) as Gaulish (see above, §2). Fronto, however, had doubted the propriety of using nanus not so much for animals as for people. Gellius seems intentionally to forget some occurrences of this term: (1) Propertius 4. 8. 41 nanus (Paris. lat. 8233mg : Magnus ø) et ipse suos breuiter concretus in artus, but this author is never quoted in the Noctes Atticae; (2) Juvenal 8. 32 nanum cuiusdam Atlanta uocamus, but this author is never quoted in the Noctes Atticae;
26 Vulgo: see Mu¨ller, Sprachbewußtsein, 133: ‘Daß Gellius mit vulgus und vulgo die Ausdrucksebenen der untadeligen consuetudo sermonis meinen kann, zeigen mehrere Rechtfertigungen von Wortwendungen . . . ’. 27 These lines probably belong to a poem in Phalaecian hendecasyllables written ¨ berlegungen’, during a journey and perhaps to a verse letter (see K. Deichgra¨ber, ‘U 67; E. Courtney, The Fragmentary Latin Poets, 220). The syntagm Genumana per salicta, which has been interpreted by some scholars as an allusion to the Cisalpine origin of Cinna (see A. Traglia, Poetae noui, 142; T. P. Wiseman, Cinna the Poet, 46–7; L. C. Watson, ‘Cinna and Euphorion’, 100; Courtney, op. cit. 220–1; contra G. V. Sumner, review of Wiseman, op. cit., 394; G. E. Manzoni, ‘Elvio Cinna’, 18–19), recalls both the salicta of Enn. Ann. 39–40 Vahlen2 ¼ 38–9 Skutsch and Euphorion’s use of personal and place-names. The Gaulish paroxytone pronuntiation of Cenoma˘´ni is adapted into Latin Cenoma¯´ni or Ceno´ma˘ni: the prosody Ge˘nu˘ma¯na˘ may be deemed a licence on Cinna’s part (see A. Grilli, ‘Sul nome’).
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(3) Suetonius Tib. 61. 6 a quodam nano astante mensae inter copreas, but this author is quoted only twice in Noctes Atticae (9. 7. 3, 15. 4. 4); (4) Laberius: Gellius (16. 7. 10) himself testiWes that Laberius, 2 in his mime Anna Peranna (fr. 3 Ribbeck3 ¼ 12 Bonaria ), was the Wrst to use nanus for pumilio. This strange forgetfulness is consistent with other pieces of evidence spread in ch. 19. 13: Wrst, Fronto doubts the Latinitas of the word nanus when it is applied to human dwarfs (§2); secondly, Apollinaris considers this term as deriving from the variety of sermo uulgaris and, at the same time, qualiWes many terms that Laberius introduced in Latin as ignobilia nimis et sordentia (§3); thirdly, an anonymous grammarian quotes some lines by Cinna (§5), where nani is referred to animals, rather than Laberius, who uses nani to refer to human beings. The argumentative structure of Noctes 19. 13 tries to hide the discrepancy between Gellius and Fronto in evaluating Laberius: Fronto introduces the mimographer in the canon of the ueteres who are most expert in dilectus uerborum; Gellius, while not overturning his master’s judgement, nevertheless corrects it.
4. laberius ’ lexicon Gellius acknowledges Laberius’ narrative and descriptive skills. In 10. 17. 2, after reporting that Democritus deliberately blinded himself to be able to concentrate better on his meditations, Gellius praises Laberius’ retelling of this episode (72–9 R. ¼ 90–7 B.) for its reWned construction and its detailed descriptiveness: Id factum eius [sc. Democriti] modumque ipsum, quo caecitatem facile sollertia subtilissima consciuit, Laberius poeta in mimo, quem scripsit Restionem, uersibus quidem satis munde atque graphice factis descripsit.
In general our mimographer’s language is considered to be authoritative on the morphological and syntactical level. In 6. 9 Gellius discusses the vocalism of the reduplicative perfect and notes that the reduplicative syllable sometimes features the timbre /e˘/ as in Greek, e.g. tetuli, while at others the timbre of the root vowel, e.g. cucurri. Even in this latter type, however, the correctness of non-assimilated forms is vouched for by both archaic and late Republican authors. Among these, Gellius includes Laberius: in §§3–4 he quotes two fragments, one from Galli (49–50 R. ¼ 63–4 B.) de integro patrimonio meo centum milia j nummum memordi, and
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the other from Colorator (27–8 R. ¼ 40–1 B.) itaque leni pruna percoctus simul sub dentes mulieris j ueni, bis, ter memordit.28 In 1. 7. 12 a line from Gemelli (51 R. ¼ 65 B.) non putaui hoc eam facturum is inserted among quotations from Plautus, Gaius Gracchus, Claudius Quadrigarius, and Valerius Antias to justify the invariable form of future inWnitive in Cicero, Verr. 2. 5. 167: hanc sibi rem praesidio sperant futurum.29 When relating a discussion with Sulpicius Apollinaris on the alternative forms of the genitive of personal pronouns in 20. 6, Gellius quotes a line from Necyomantia (62 R. ¼ 81 B.) dum diutius detinetur, nostri oblitus est to show the correctness of the type nostri uestri as opposed to the type nostrum uestrum.30 Gellius also approves of a number of Laberius’ word-choices.31 In 16. 9. 4 the line from Compitalia (29 R. ¼ 43 B.) nunc tu lentu’s, nunc tu susque deque fers shows that the Latin syntagm susque deque ferre is equivalent to the Greek IØÆ æE .32 In 3. 18 Gellius questions the meaning of the formula pedarii senatores by contrasting the interpretation given by Gavius Bassus (fr. 7, p. 490 Funaioli)33 with that given by Varro (Men. 220 Astbury).34 In §9, he quotes a line 28
This fragment from Galli is also quoted by Nonius (205 L. ¼ 124. 24–5 M.). On the reduplicative perfect, see LHSz i. 586–7; for a more detailed discussion, see F. Bader, ‘Vocalisme et redoublement’, 167–75. 29 On the invariable future inWnitive, see LHSz i. 618–19, ii. 342–3. For a more detailed discussion, see V. Bulhart, ‘InWnitiv auf -urum’; M. Leumann, ‘InWnitiv auf -turum esse’. 30 On the genitive of personal pronouns, see LHSz i. 464–5. 31 In our discussion of the words used by Laberius, we shall point out only the parallel passages drawn from literary texts predating Gellius. 32 On this syntagm, see LHSz ii. 263; see also A. Otto, Sprichwo¨rter, n. 1723. The nexus susque deque also occurs in Plautus, Amph. 886 atque id me susque deque esse habituram putat; Lucilius 110–11 Marx ¼ 3 fr. 8 Charpin uerum haec ludus ibi, susque omnia deque fuerunt, j susque et deque fuere, inquam, omnia ludus iocusque; Varro, Log. fr. 65 Bolisani quod si non horum omnium similia essent principia ac postprincipia, susque deque esset; Cicero, Att. 14. 6. 1 de Octauio susque deque. PF 371. 4 glosses susque deque as plus minusue. 33 Gell. 3. 18. 4 Senatores [ . . . ] dicit [sc. Gauius Bassus] in ueterum aetate, qui curulem magistratum gessissent, curru solitos honoris gratia in curiam uehi, in quo curru sella esset, super quam considerent, quae ob eam causam ‘curulis’ appellaretur; sed eos senatores, qui magistratum curulem nondum ceperant, pedibus itauisse in curiam; propterea senatores nondum maioribus honoribus ‘pedarios’ nominatos. 34 Ibid. §§5–6 M. autem Varro in satira Menippea, quae l Œø inscripta est, equites quosdam dicit pedarios appellatos uideturque eos signiWcare, qui nondum a censoribus in senatum lecti senatores quidem non erant, sed, quia honoribus populi usi erant, in senatum ueniebant et sententiae ius habebant. Nam et curulibus magistratibus functi, si nondum a censoribus in senatum lecti erant, senatores non erant et, quia in postremis scripti erant, non rogabantur sententias, sed, quas principes dixerant, in eas discedebant.
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from Stricturae (88 R. ¼ 109 B.) to conWrm that pedarius is to be preferred to the barbarism pedaneus.35 In 17. 2. 21 Gellius points out that arrabo, meaning pignus, though used by Claudius Quadrigarius (fr. 20, p. 215 Peter2 ), thereafter in sordidis uerbis haberi coeptus est ac multo uidetur sordidius arra, quamquam arra quoque ueteres saepe dixerint et compluriens Laberius (152 R. ¼ 125 B.).36 When discussing the words signiWcatione aduersa et reciproca in 9. 12, Gellius includes among the examples provided in §11 the line from Sorores (86 R. ¼ 104 B.) ecastor mustum somniculosum, where he assigns to the adjective somniculosum the causative meaning of ‘sleep-inducing’. Such a meaning is also attested in one of Cinna’s fragments (10, p. 221 Bla¨nsdorf, Courtney) somniculosam ut Poenus aspidem Psyllus.37 However, Gellius does not always seem to consider Laberius’ selection of suYxes as grammatically correct or semantically clear. In 3. 12 he disagrees with Nigidius’ proposal (fr. 26, p. 170 Funaioli) to describe the person who is bibendi auidus non only as bibax, but also bibosus following the model of uinosus. The adjective bibosus is attested only in Salinator, from which Gellius quotes the line (80 R. ¼ 99 B.) non mammosa, non annosa, non bibosa, non procax. Although in this context Laberius’ use of the suYx -o¯sus 35 On the competition between the two suYxes -a¯rius and -a¯neus, see W. A. Baehrens, Appendix Probi, who discusses the following pairs: extraneus/extrarius, praecidaneus/praecidarius, praesentaneus/praesentarius, proletaneus/proletarius, ripaneus/riparius, subitaneus/subitarius, temporaneus/temporarius. In his gloss on pedarius Festus 232. 6–10 reports the mocking comment by Lucilius (1102 Marx ¼ H fr. 103 Charpin): pedarium senatorem*signiWcat Lucilius*‘agi pes uocem mittere coepit’; qui ita appellatur, quia tacitus transeundo ad eum, cuius sententiam probat, quid sentiat, indicat. Pedaneus also occurs in Cic. Att. 1. 19. 9, 1. 20. 4 and Tac. Ann. 3. 65. 2. On the technical meaning of pedaneus, see A. O’Brien Moore, Senatus, 680–1. 36 Although Gellius claims that the ueteres usually employed arra, i.e. the apocopated form of the Graecism arrabo (cf. Varro, LL 7. 175 hoc uerbum item a Graeco IææÆ ), in fact arra became widespread in the language of jurists and of the Church only after Pliny (NH 29. 21, 33. 28). A. Ernout and A. Meillet (Dictionnaire, s.v. arra) put down the apocope of arrabo to the frequency of this Graecism—perhaps mediated by Etruscan—in the language of trade, and especially of procurers: arra would then be an example of a vulgarism turning into a technical term. On the two forms, see LHSz i. 382 and E. P. Hamp, ‘arr(h)a’. 37 Laberius’ line is also quoted by Nonius (254 L. ¼ 172. 26–7 M.). Cinna’s line is also quoted by Gellius at the end of his analysis (9. 12. 7–12) of the twofold meaning, both active and passive, of adjectives ending in -o¯sus. In addition to the two lines by Laberius and Cinna, somniculosus also occurs in Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 4. 12. 4, p. 66. 13–14 v:d:H:2 : hoc unum ex Annalibus sumptum amoris mei argumentum poeticum et sane somniculosum: see van den Hout, Commentary, 182. somniculosus is attested much more often with the meaning of ‘sleepy, drowsy’: e.g. Cic. Sen. 36; Sen. Nat. 5. 11. 1; Mart. 3. 58. 36; Suet. Claud. 39. 1.
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is motivated by the pursuit of assonance and isosyllabism, Gellius rightly observes that this suYx is to be joined to nominal stems only.38 In 11. 15 Gellius’ consideration of the meaning of the suYx -bundus starts from amorabunda, which occurs in Laberius’ Lacus Auernus (57 R. ¼ 69 B.) and is called by Gellius uerbum inusitatius Wctum. In his opinion, the interpretation of amorabunda is doubtful, because according to Caesellius Vindex (pp. 232–6 Vitale) words ending in -bundus are the same as present participles, according to Terentius Scaurus (fr. 9, p. 3 Kummrow) they express simulation, according to Sulpicius Apollinaris they have an intensifying force.39 Gellius’ reservations, hinted at in 3. 12 and 11. 15, are developed at length in 16. 7. Here he reproaches Laberius for his excessive boldness in coining neologisms and questions the correctness of many of his word-choices; as the capitulum has it:40 Quod Laberius uerba pleraque licentius petulantiusque Wnxit; et quod multis item uerbis utitur, de quibus, an sint Latina, quaeri solet.
On the basis of purist criteria and apart from any aesthetic evaluations, Gellius identiWes two categories of words which he Wnds equally blameworthy, namely neologisms and vulgarisms, i.e. terms that are excluded from the literary tradition although they are current in living Latin.41 In §§1–3 examples are given of neologisms coined praelicenter, and for some of them the customary equivalent is also provided: 38 To the suYx -o¯sus Gellius also devotes ch. 4. 9, where he contests Nigidius’ hypothesis (fr. 4, p. 162 Funaioli) that this suYx has a pejorative meaning, and from adjectives, such as formosus, ingeniosus, oYciosus, he infers that -o¯sus indicates the abundance of a not necessarily negative quality or tendency. On this point, see LHSz i. 341–2, and A. Ernout, Les Adjectifs; also F. Cavazza, below, Ch. 3, §3.5. 39 On the Gellian passage, see L. Dalmasso, ‘Aulo Gellio’, 204; M. Carilli, ‘ArtiWciosita`’, 22 n. 15; Cavazza, below, Ch. 3, §3.13. On this formation, see LHSz i. 332, and for a close analysis P. Langlois, ‘Les formations en -bundus’, and E. Pianezzola, Gli aggettivi verbali in -bundus. 40 On this chapter, see Dalmasso, ‘Aulo Gellio’, 208–14, 480–4, with abundant references to glossaries. On the composite character of Laberius’ lexicon, see Carilli, ‘ArtiWciosita`’, 24–6, 32–3. 41 Gellius makes a partially identical distinction in 11. 7. 1, where he Wrst makes a general condemnation (par . . . delictum) of both neologisms and trite terms, but then, as if to rectify his strong censure (sed), distinguishes between the two categories, judging neologisms—by which he means both new coinages and terms which have long been dismissed (cf. §3)—as more disagreeable and reprehensible (molestius . . . culpatiusque): Verbis uti aut nimis obsoletis exculcatisque aut insolentibus nouitatisque durae et inlepidae par esse delictum uidetur. Sed molestius equidem culpatiusque esse arbitror uerba noua, incognita, inaudita dicere quam inuolgata et sordentia.
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1. Laberius in mimis, quos scriptitauit, oppido quam uerba Wnxit praelicenter. 2. Nam et ‘mendicimonium’ dicit et ‘moechimonium’ et ‘adulterionem’ ‘adulteritatem’que pro ‘adulterio’ et ‘depudicauit’ pro ‘stuprauit’ et ‘abluuium’ pro ‘diluuio’ et, quod in mimo ponit, quem Cophinum inscripsit, ‘manuatus est’ pro ‘furatus est’. 3. Et item in Fullone furem ‘manuarium’ appellat: ‘manuari’ inquit ‘pudorem perdidisti’, multaque alia huiuscemodi nouat.
In the hapax legomena mendicimonium (150 R. ¼ 137 B.) and moechimonium (150 R. ¼ 138 B.) the suYx -mo¯nium, which is used to derive abstract nouns from nomina personalia designating social or juridical condition, e.g. matrimonium, testimonium, is joined to the native word mendicus and to the Graecism moechus to deWne the condition of the beggar and the adulterer respectively.42 Likewise, adulterio and adulteritas are both derived from adulter, by means of the unprecedented attachment of two very productive inXections, -io¯n- (150 R. ¼ 122 B.) and -ta¯t- (150 R. ¼ 123 B.) respectively, to the stem.43 In depudicare (150 R. ¼ 128 B.), a verb derived from pudicus, the preWx de- retains the concrete privative meaning shown in the likely models or parallels for depudicare, Plautus’ deartuare (Capt. 641, 672) and Varro’s deuirginare (Men. 409 Astbury).44Abluuium (150 R. ¼ 120 B.) is attested only in the technical jargon of land-surveyors with the meaning of ‘Xood’ and features a mismatched preWx. Fronto had warned against the selection of inappropriate preWxes, especially as far as the compounds of luere and verbs derived from the same root are concerned (Ad M. Caes. 4. 3. 4, p. 58. 5–13 v:d:H:2 ). With his reWned linguistic sensitivity, Fronto considers colluere to be Wtting to mean the act of rinsing one’s mouth, pelluere that of washing the Xoor, lauere that of wetting one’s cheeks with tears, lauare that of washing clothes, abluere that of wiping oV dust or one’s sweat, eluere and elauere that of washing away a stain whether slight or very stubborn, diluere that of diluting honeyed wine, proluere that of gargling, subluere that of scraping the hooves of a beast of burden.45 While manuari (39 R. ¼ 53 B.) occurs uniquely in 42 The two words are also quoted by Non. 205 L. ¼ 140. 32–3 M. On the suYx -mo¯nium, see LHSz i. 297. On the possible parody of juridical language, see Carilli, ‘ArtiWciosita`’, 27. 43 Adulterio is also quoted by Non. 97 L. ¼ 70. 3 M. On the two suYxes, see LHSz i. 365–6, 272–4. 44 On the preWx de-, see LHSz ii. 263–4. 45 Nolim igitur te ignorare syllabae unius discrimen quantum referat. Os ‘colluere’ dicam, pauimentum autem in balneis ‘pelluere’, non ‘colluere’; lacrimis uero genas
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Laberius’ corpus,46 manuarius (46 R. ¼ 60 B.) occurs elsewhere but it is employed as a synonym of fur only by Laberius. As an adjective, it is deWned in the DiVerentiae of Pseudo-Suetonius (p. 311. 30 ReiVerscheid) quod manu tangitur aut sustinetur, and occurs in legal language and in Suetonius’ De poetis (p. 20. 1–3 Rostagni), where it refers to the millstones that Plautus was compelled to turn.47 It is not clear how this deWnition can be related to the use made of manuarius in NA 18. 13. 4. In this chapter Gellius tells that he has celebrated Saturnalia in Athens with some friends and that they whiled away the time telling each other riddles. The right solution to each riddle earned the prize of a sesterce; otherwise, the penalty of a sesterce had to be paid: hoc aere conlecto quasi manuario cenula curabatur omnibus, qui eum lusum luseramus.48 Much more numerous are the words in Laberius’ lexicon of which Gellius disapproves as alien to literary language, a sort of blemish or a jarring note in a stylistically lofty register. The survey of such words opens in §4 with catomum (87 R. ¼ 107–8 B.), a term resulting from the fusion of ŒÆ t and indicating someone who is heaved onto somebody else’s shoulders to be Xogged: Neque non obsoleta quoque et maculantia ex sordidiore uulgi usu ponit, quale est in Staminariis: tollet bona Wde uos Orcus nudas in catomum.
Undoubtedly the syntagm in catomum had a certain vulgar Xavour.49 This syntagm also occurs in Fam. 7. 25. 1, where Cicero ‘lauere’ dicam, non ‘pelluere’ neque ‘colluere’; uestimenta autem ‘lauare’, non ‘lauere’; sudorem porro et puluerem ‘abluere’, non ‘lauare’; sed maculam elegantius ‘eluere’ quam ‘abluere’. si quid uero magis haeserit nec sine aliquo detrimento exigi possit, Plautino uerbo ‘elauere’ dicam. tum praeterea mulsum ‘diluere’, fauces ‘proluere’, ungulam iumento ‘subluere’. On this passage, see van den Hout, Commentary, 157–8. 46 This neologism is also quoted by Non. 205 L. ¼ 141. 1–2 M. On manuari and manuarius, see Carilli, ‘ArtiWciosita`, 27–8. 47 Plautus . . . propter annonae diYcultatem ad molas manuarias pistori se locauerat. On the alternative suYxes -a¯lis (-a¯ris) and -a¯rius, see LHSz i. 351; see also Pliny (fr. 17, p. 249 Mazzarino ¼ Dub. serm. fr. 44 Della Casa): aqualium an potius aquarium dici debeat quaerit Plinius Secundus et putat, ut laterale laterarium, scutale scutarium, et manuale saxum, manuarium uas, proin aqualis aquarium dici. 48 Translators and dictionaries assign to the adjective as it occurs in this passage the meaning of ‘won in a game of dice, at gambling’, which they infer from the context in which Gellius compares exchanging riddles to playing dice, a kind of entertainment typical of Saturnalia. But quasi suggests that by means of this comparison Gellius intends to associate the money collected through an erudite pastime with that won by lucky gamesters. 49 For the numerous emendations proposed to Laberius’ text, see the apparatus in Bonaria’s edn.
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expresses his fear that Caesar, once returned from his victory at Munda, would avenge himself on those who had shown sympathy to Cato, now dead by suicide in Utica, just as a schoolmaster would cane his undisciplined pupils: magister adest citius quam putaramus: uereor ne in catomum Catonianos.50 Also the derivative verb catomidiare occurs in an informal context in Petronius, 132. 2, where it means the punishment inXicted on Encolpius by a lady from Croton: matrona . . . me iubet catomidiari. The list of words of which Gellius disapproves goes on cadenced by the anaphora of item in §§5–9, where isolated forms are found together with quotations of entire lines: 5. Et ‘elutriare lintea’ et ‘lauandaria’ dicit, quae ad lauandum sint data, et ‘coicior’ inquit ‘in fullonicam’, et quid properas? ecquid praecurris Calidoniam? 6. Item in Restione ‘talabarriunculos’ dicit, quos uulgus talabarriones; 7. item in Compitalibus: malas malaxaui; 8. item in Cacomnemone: ‘hic est’ inquit ‘ille gurdus, quem ego me abhinc menses duos ex Africa uenientem excepisse tibi narraui.’ 9. Item in mimo, qui inscribitur Natalicius, ‘cippum’ dicit et ‘obbam’ et ‘camellam’ et ‘pittacium’ et ‘capitium’: ‘induis’ inquit ‘capitium tunicae pittacium’.
The reasons for Gellius’ censure are not always clear. It can be pointed out that many of the words he lists are either hapax legomena or terms attested, in the age before Marcus Aurelius, only in texts with technical content. Elutriare, which in Laberius occurs with lintea as its object (150 R. ¼ 130 B.), is used by Pliny with the same meaning of ‘to wash, to rinse’ in NH 9. 133, where elutriare is said of the wool to be dyed purple. In NH 14. 114, elutriare refers to the ingredients of the oxymeli, a mixture consisting mainly of honey and vinegar, and means perhaps ‘to Wlter, to purify’. Lauandaria (150 R. ¼ 133 B.), in which the gerundive suYx is joined to the suYx -a¯rius, is not attested elsewhere as a neuter plural noun. The other occurrences of 50 A scrupulous exegesis of both Cicero and Laberius is provided by R. Y. Tyrrell and L. C. Purser, v. 192, on Epist. 668 ¼ Fam. 7. 25.
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fullonica (147 R. ¼ 127 B.) as a feminine noun are found only in technical texts.51 One wonders how vulgarism may apply to Calidoniam, the emendation generally accepted for the caldonia read by the extant manuscripts (148 R. ¼ 176 B.). It may be that Laberius alludes to the mythical Atalanta, excellent huntress and unequalled runner, who took part in the hunting of the Calydonian boar.52 Laberius used the vulgar word talabarrio even more sordidly in the diminutive talabarriunculus (79 R. ¼ 98 B.); neither occurs elsewhere and their meaning is obscure.53 In the alliterating syntagm malas malaxaui (37 R. ¼ 42 B.), Laberius uses the Graecism malaxare with a tranferred meaning. The verb malaxare, whose origin is explained in Varro, LL 6. 96 (ab eo quod illi ƺÆØ nos malaxare),54 also occurs in Seneca, Ep. 66. 53 an potius optem ut malaxandos articulos exsoletis meis porrigam? The vulgar character and foreign origin of gurdus (13 R. ¼ 26 B.) are attested by Quintilian, Inst. 1. 5. 57, where this term is included among examples of uerba peregrina: ‘gurdos’, quos pro stolidis accipit uulgus, ex Hispania duxisse originem audiui.55 Cippus (60 R. ¼ 76 B.) appears to be a technical term rather than a vulgarism. It occurs in Varro, LL 5. 143, with the meaning of ‘boundary stone’ (cippi pomeri stant et circum Ariciam et circum Romam), and poets use it with the meaning of ‘tombstone’. The word is found in Lucilius (1255–6 Marx ¼ H fr. 105 Charpin) to exemplify a sacrilegious robbery: homines nequam, malus ut quartarius, cippos j collegere omnes; in Horace, Serm. 1. 8. 12–13, it refers to communal graves: mille pedes in fronte, trecentos cippus in agrum j hic dabat; in Persius 1. 37 it is used with regard to a poet’s lasting fame: non leuior cippus nunc inprimit ossa? From the latter meaning, according to Caesar, BG 7. 73. 5, the soldiers’ habit 51
On fullonica, see LHSz i. 338. Rolfe retains caldonia, which he relates to cal(i)dus and interprets as a vocative addressed to either an attendant at the public baths or a ‘quick, hasty’ woman. Julien accepts the emendation Calidoniam and suggests the translation ‘la chauVeuse’. Our ignorance of the plot prevents our understanding the word. 53 J. Knobloch (‘Talabarriunculus’) recognizes in this neologism the juxtaposition of two elements that he relates to barrire and to the Wrst element of the onomatopoeic taratantara (Enn. Ann. 140 Vahlen2 ¼ 451 Skutsch), dissimilated as tala. He speculates that the term could be assigned the meaning of ‘kleiner Schreihals’. 54 The Latin verb is modelled on the Greek sigmatic aorist: see LHSz i. 552. 55 On Quintilian’s testimony, which has long been debated by both literary and linguistic scholars, see e.g. F. Scho¨ll, ‘Wortforschung’, 313–17, and J. Cousin, ‘Proble`mes’, 63–4: both scholars acknowledge the vulgar connotation of gurdus, but while the former allows its Spanish origin, the latter doubts it. 52
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derives of calling cippi the network of branches emerging from the trunks hammered into the ground to defend the camp.56 The elder Seneca uses cippus with a more generic meaning in Contr. 7. 4. 7 to designate the stand on which Calvus climbs during trials to make his threats more telling: inponi se supra cippum iussit—erat enim paruolus statura. Obba (60 R. ¼ 78 B.) too seems to be a technical term. It is glossed poculi genus by Nonius (213, 874 L. ¼ 146. 8, 545. 1 M.) and used by Varro, Men. 114 Astbury: dolia atque apothecas triclinaris {Melicas{ Calenas obbas et Cumanos calices,57 by Pers. 5. 147–8: Veiientanumque rubellum j exhalet uapida laesum pice sessilis obba?, and by Tert. Apol. 13. 7: quo diVert ab epulo Iouis silicernium, a simpulo obba, ab haruspice pollinctor? While obba designates a vessel of above-average quality,58camella (60 R. ¼ 75 B.) indicates a rather rough vessel. It is attested in the literary language both in Ovid, Fast. 4. 779–80 (tum licet adposita, ueluti cratere, camella j lac niueum potes) and in several occurrences in Petronius.59 The phrase capitium tunicae pittacium is of doubtful interpretation (61 R. ¼ 77 B.) because the meaning of capitium is multifarious and that of pittacium is very generic. In Varro, LL 5. 131, capitium seems to designate a sort of brassiere: capitium ab eo quod capit pectus, and this meaning is conWrmed by two fragments of the De uita populi Romani (47–8 Riposati) where a number of women’s garments are listed. The lexicographers, however, assign capitium a diVerent meaning. Festus 230. 12–13 reports that Stilo (fr. 3, p. 58 Funaioli) glossed pescia of the Carmen Saliare (fr. 5, p. 6 Bla¨nsdorf) with the phrase capitia ex pellibus agninis facta. Nonius, 56 Truncis arborum aut admodum Wrmis ramis abscisis atque horum delibratis ac praeacutis cacuminibus perpetuae fossae quinos pedes altae ducebantur. Huc illi stipites demissi et ab inWmo reuincti, ne reuelli possent, ab ramis eminebant. Quini erant ordines coniuncti inter se atque implicati: quo qui intrauerant se ipsi acutissimis uallis induebant. Hos cippos appellabant. 57 In the second passage dedicated to the lexeme obba (874 L. ¼ 545. 1–6 M.), Nonius quotes a fragment from the Menippeae as well as an extract from the Epistula ad Marullum: utrum meridie an uesperi libentius ad obbas accedas, locus ac tempus aduentus declarabit. 58 The name probably derives from the name of the African city of Obba, mentioned in Livy 30. 7. 10, from where this artefact had spread. 59 Cf. Petronius, 64. 13: Trimalchio camellam grandem iussit misceri potionesque diuidi omnibus seruis; 135. 3–4: Oenothea . . . camellam etiam uetustate ruptam pice temperata refecit. tum clauum, qui detrahentem secutus cum camella lignea fuerat, fumoso parieti reddidit; 137. 10: infra manus meas camellam uini posuit. According to Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, s.v. (cf. W. Heraeus, ‘Die Sprache des Petronius’, 80, with abundant evidence) the derivation of camella from the Graecism camera (ŒÆæÆ) is rendered uncertain by the /e¯/ of the Greek form ŒºÆ.
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in turn, paraphrases capitia with capitum tegmina (870 L. ¼ 542. 23 M.).60 In Celsus 3. 10 the Graecism pittacium, which designates a remnant of leather or of cloth, means a compress soaked in an emulsion of vinegar and rose-water to be kept on the forehead as a remedy for migraine. In Petronius 34. 6 pittacium designates a label: statim allatae sunt amphorae uitreae diligenter gypsatae, quarum in ceruicibus pittacia erant aYxa; and in 56. 7 a lottery ticket: pittacia in scypho circumferri coeperunt.61 In §§10–12 Gellius lists a series of words drawn from three mimes: 10. Praeterea in Anna Peranna ‘gubernium’ pro ‘gubernatore’ et ‘planum’ pro ‘sycophanta’ et ‘nanum’ pro ‘pumilione’ dicit; quamquam ‘planum’ pro ‘sycophanta’ M. quoque Cicero in oratione scriptum reliquit, quam Pro Cluentio dixit. 11. Atque item in mimo, qui Saturnalia inscriptus est, ‘botulum’ pro ‘farcimine’ appellat et ‘hominem leuennam’ pro ‘leui’. 12. Item in Necyomantia ‘cocionem’ peruulgate dicit, quem ueteres ‘arillatorem’ dixerunt. uerba Laberi haec sunt: duas uxores? hercle hoc plus negoti est, inquit cocio; sex aediles uiderat.
The Graecism gubernius (3 R. ¼ 11 B.) is attested only in late Latin, in particular Christian Latin, although it may have been common in nautical parlance in pre-classical times.62 By contrast a few occurrences of planus (3 R. ¼ 13 B.) are recorded in literary texts. Gellius himself mentions Cicero, who, in Cluent. 72, calls Staienus, one of his client’s antagonists, a planus improbissimus ‘most wicked impostor’. The word occurs in Hor. Ep. 1. 17. 58–9, with the meaning of ‘impostor’: nec semel inrisus triuiis attollere curat j fracto crure planum. In Petronius 140. 15, planus refers to people who live by their wits and exploit the gullibility and greed of the mob: unde plani autem, unde leuatores uiuerent, nisi aut locellos aut sonantes aere sacellos pro hamis in turbam mitterent? (cf. 82. 2). In Plin. NH 35. 89, planus refers to a court jester: Apelles was invited to a banquet by one of Ptolemy’s jesters, who was urged to do so by the painter’s rivals, aware of the king’s dislike for him; at Ptolemy’s request, Apelles then portrayed the jester who had invited him: arrepto carbone extincto e foculo imaginem in pariete delineauit, 60 In Republican Latin, capitium designated a jacket or shawl that adhered to the tunic so as to become an appendix to the tunic itself. Eventually, in late and especially in ecclesiastical Latin, it came to mean the neck-opening of the tunic or a hood: on the change in meaning, see Dalmasso, ‘Aulo Gellio’, 211–12. 61 See A. D’Ors, ‘ ØŒØ ’. 62 See G. Gundermann, ‘Gubernius, gubernus’.
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adgnoscente uoltum plani rege inchoatum protinus. Botulus (801 R. ¼ 100 B.) occurs in texts that draw abundantly on slang. In PF 32. 8 the botulus is deWned as a genus farciminis, namely a kind of sausage; like many words relating to cookery, it may be of Oscan origin. Tomacula and botuli make up the stuYng of the pig laid, among countless other courses, on Trimalchio’s table. Since the cook pretends that he has forgotten to disembowel the pig, Trimalchio orders him to do so in front of the guests, and suddenly (49. 10) ex plagis ponderis inclinatione crescentibus tomacula cum botulis eVusa sunt. A botulus is the subject of Martial’s epigram 14. 72, with which the poet oVers a friend the sausage that he in his turn had received as a present: qui uenit botulus mediae tibi tempore brumae, j Saturni septem uenerat ante dies. Leuenna (801 R. ¼ 101 B.), whose suYx is apparently of Etruscan origin, is not attested elsewhere.63 Cocio (63 R. ¼ 79 B.) occurs elsewhere only in Petronius (14. 7, 15. 4 and 8), that is in the episode where Encolpius and Ascyltos manage to recover the stolen tunic in which they had hidden their money by exchanging an elegant cloak for it.64 Paul glosses Cocio as a synonym of arillator (19. 1) and suggests a meaningful paraetymology (44. 15–16): coctiones dicti uidentur a cunctatione, quod in emendis uendendisque mercibus tarde perueniant ad iusti pretii Wnem. The digest of Gellius’ censures ends in §§13–14 with the notice about a Graecism, emplastrum, very widespread in the technical jargon of medicine and agriculture. Gellius approves not so much of its use as of the adherence to the original neuter gender:65 13. Sed enim in mimo, quem inscripsit Alexandream, eodem quidem, quo uulgus, sed probe Latineque usus est Graeco uocabulo: emplastrum enim dixit PŁæø, non genere feminino, ut isti nouicii semidocti. 14. Verba ex eo mimo adposui: ‘quid est ius iurandum? emplastrum aeris alieni’.
The use of emplastrum (1 R. ¼ 9 B.) as a feminine noun is not attested in texts that either precede or are contemporary with Gellius. Nor can the nouicii semidocti be identiWed who are held responsible for the mistake. Perhaps they are the grammarians of average education with whom Gellius often conducts a polemic. However, in actual fact many Greek loanwords that came into Latin through contacts among uneducated speakers show 63
See W. Schulze, Eigennamen, 283, and Carilli, ‘ArtiWciosita`’, 32. On this term, see LHSz i. 154, and the extensive treatment in Heraeus, ‘Die Sprache des Petronius’, 56–7. 65 Cf. Cavazza, below, Ch. 3, §3.17. 64
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alterations in both their gender and stem. For instance, Greek neuters ending in -Æ with stem ending in a dental consonant have been assimilated in Latin to feminine nouns in -a¯- (e.g. diadema, dogma, schema). Greek masculine and feminine consonant-stems have been included among Latin nouns in -a¯- (e.g. cratera, crepida, lampada). Other such nouns are interpreted as masculine nouns in -o˘- (cf. abacus, delphinus, elephantus etc.).66 Gellius concludes the chapter so decidedly critical of Laberius by pointing out his correctness as far as morphology is concerned, consistently with his comments in other chapters. His disapproval is limited to the lexicon, which, on the other hand, is the aspect of the mimographer’s language that Fronto appreciates. In addition to some terms that are not attested in texts predating the midsecond century or are not attested elsewhere (mendicimonium, moechimonium, adulterio, adulteritas, depudicare, manuari, manuarius with the euphemistic meaning of ‘thief’, lauandaria meaning ‘laundry, washing’, talabarriunculus, gubernius, leuenna), Gellius censures other words, whose vulgar character is evident either from other sources (gurdus) or from the structure of the word itself (catomum and perhaps malaxare). The vulgar connotation of a number of terms apparently depends, above all, on the character of their referent (garments: capitium; cooking utensils: obba, camella; simple food: botulus; people living on the fringe of society: planus, nanus, cocio), or on their use in the technical jargons of arts and crafts (abluuium, elutriare, fullonica meaning ‘laundry’, cippus, emplastrum), or on their generic meaning (pittacium). These words, however, occur either in technical texts (of land-surveyors, medical doctors, veterinary surgeons), or in literary, even poetic, works, whose language deliberately draws on folk idioms (Lucilius, Varro the satirist, Horace’s Sermones and Epistulae, Persius, Petronius, Martial).
5. conclusion Among the vulgarisms mentioned in 16. 7 the most important term in the light of 19. 13 is nanus, which in the former is only brieXy criticized, while in the latter it is discussed in detail as to its origin and use. Gellius’ perspective in the two chapters is not contradictory: nanus is not a uerbum barbarum but a Graecism, it occurs in Aristophanes and Cinna and therefore has the status of a literary 66
On this phenomenon, see LHSz i. 453–9.
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word. These remarks, however, do not prevent Gellius from negatively assessing the extension of the use of nanus from small animals to people of short stature. Gellius and Fronto thus express two divergent opinions of Laberius: the latter’s appraisal is unreservedly positive, the former is critical especially of Laberius’ lexical selections.67 This diVerence in opinion between disciple and master not only shows that, at least on some occasions, Gellius gives proof of his independence from Fronto, in spite of his great admiration for his master. Most of all, such a discrepancy shows that within a literary movement which is generally considered to be homogeneous, one can record a variety of positions and that the love for the ueteres does not necessarily imply an unconditional approval.68 If 19. 13 reXects a real conversation between Fronto, Postumius, and Sulpicius Apollinaris, 16. 7 represents a sort of expansion of the reservations which Fronto had put forward with regard to one or more of Laberius’ lexical choices. If, on the other hand, the debate on nanus is Wctitious, the doubt attributed by Gellius to Fronto could be seen as a trick on Gellius’ part to make his master in some way share his own perplexity concerning Laberius’ lexicon. 67 R. Marache, Critique litte´raire, 158, 232–3 attributes to Fronto and Gellius an equal admiration for Laberius; by contrast, Mu¨ller, Sprachbewußtsein, 149 n. 40 hints at a diVerent evaluation by the two. 68 On a similar discrepancy between Gellius and Fronto with regard to Vergil, see A. Garcea, ‘Gellio, il bilinguismo greco-latino’, 194–5. For a recent evaluation of the archaist movement, see U. Schindel, ‘Archaismus als EpochenbegriV’.
Addendum. Although this chapter is the fruit of joint research, §§1–3 are attributable to Alessandro Garcea, §§ 4–5 to Valeria Lomanto.
3 Gellius the Etymologist Gellius’ Etymologies and Modern Etymology Fr a nc o Ca v az za
1. introduction 1.1. Students of grammar and etymology have always known that in antiquity these two disciplines fared unequally. Grammar, which lent itself more both to theorizing and to direct analysis, became so systematic that its study depends even now in part on the ancients; etymology, not an independent science till the nineteenth century, was by its nature too technical, too dependent on a scientiWc rigour unattainable in antiquity, to achieve successes and stable results and to leave an inheritance for posterity. In consequence, although the Stoics, unjustiWably conWdent in their methods, proclaimed that there was no word whose etymology could not be stated (Varro fr. 130 Goetz–Scho¨ll ¼ 265. 125–7, pp. 281–2 Funaioli), such etymologists as Plato and Varro have bequeathed us only a few intuitions and guesses, not all without merit. Quintilian’s substantial mistrust of etymology (Inst. 1. 6. 28–38) is expressed in words that betray the ancient linguists’ discomfort and uncertainty, despite the claim by many etymologists (whether or not they acknowledged the name) that etymology discharged the special function of revealing the ueritas of a word used for example in law or public institutions or religious ritual, even at times of accounting for sociolinguistic phenomena. 1.2. That, in substance, is the spirit of Varronian etymology (the most familiar to us), devised by the student of national IæÆØ º ªÆ in order to investigate primitive Rome and her original institutions. Clear and well known too is the connection of etymology with philosophy, not only in the systematic structure of the etymological Author and translator wish jointly to acknowledge fruitful discussions of this chapter.
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chapters in De lingua Latina, but also in the search for the uerum of things and the relation between the human mind and reality, for which the etymological studies of Aristotle may serve as symbol.
2. gellius the etymologist and his sources 2.1. Gellius, heir to a similar intellectual tradition, could not stand outside it; neither the knowledge nor the premisses for such an advance were available, even had he been a titan of erudition. As an etymologist we cannot expect him to do more than continue on established lines with the methods, procedure, and to a lesser extent ends already stated. Being the student and devotee of grammar that he was, he is interested in etymology mainly as a means towards correctness in the use of language. He had already seen that it provided a key for the interpretation of linguistic facts: correct spelling, correct expression, correct meaning all came from the etymology of words. This is the essence of Gellius’ ‘etymological thought’, even though, having been brought up on previous researches, he did not always avoid philosophical schemes of etymology related to the quest for the uerum, as when he puts forward etyma, not his own, of soror and frater (13. 10).1 2.2. Gellius, despite some scholars’ opinion to the contrary, is an independent thinker.2 And Gellius the etymologist is the same as Gellius the historian, the jurist, the scientist (in the broad sense), the archaeologist (in the Varronian sense), the philosopher, etc. He depends on his sources, but has a mind of his own;3 he does not merely weigh up other people’s ideas, he judges them, Wlters them, and shows in his selection an individual personality: he aims at aesthetic beauty, at linguistic correctness. He not only quotes his sources but corrects them, as he not infrequently does in matters of philology and literature. Sometimes he names them; at other times we can identify them with a high degree of probability from his mode of composition (since consecutive chapters may derive from 1
I cite Gellius by P. K. Marshall’s edn., but use my own text of books 1–13. See F. Cavazza, ‘Gellio grammatico’, 259–60 ¼ 85–6 and passim, esp. 273–74 ¼ 99–100. 3 Gellian source-criticism attracted most interest in the second half of the 19th c.; I know of no more recent exhaustive or important works in the Weld. Amongst the chief exponents (cited by Hosius in his edn.) are L. Mercklin, ‘Citiermethode’, J. Kretzschmer, De Gellii fontibus, and L. L. Ruske, De A. Gellii fontibus (who was concerned only with part of Gellius’ work), cited below as ‘M.’, ‘K.’, and ‘R.’ respectively. 2
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the same source), from other indirect evidence in his work, or by legitimate conjecture. However, it is those etymologies that cannot be assigned to his sources, and therefore may be considered his own, with which I shall be concerned below. 2.3. Gellius has privileged and preferred sources for etymology;4 the most important are Favorinus (K. 104–6; R. 53–61), Sulpicius Apollinaris (K. 106–8),5 P. Nigidius Figulus (K. 54–8), M. Verrius Flaccus (K. 68–76; R. 38–40), M. Terentius Varro (K. 44–54; R. 21–33), and Valerius Probus (K. 82–92).6 These stand out clearly for the abundance of references to their authority and consequently give rise to the most problems relating to Gellius’ etymologies. They plainly suYce, with their doctrina, to cover the whole range of his interests, except perhaps for legal terms, and are the main sources both of the etymologies and of the Noctes Atticae as a whole. 2.4. In addition there are minor sources, mainly jurists but also amateur etymologists (if the term is permissible for Antiquity), including minimal sources cited in this context only once; amongst these we may pick out Gellius’ teacher M. Cornelius Fronto (K. 103), whose etymologies appear in seven passages, and his friends and presumed oral sources Julius Celsinus and the poet Julius Paulus.7 4 References to named authors, readily located in the respective editions, are omitted on grounds of space; but I shall normally cite the passages in which anonymous authors, less easily found, appear. 5 Cf. J. W. Beck, Sulpicius Apollinaris, 18–50. 6 Cf. J. Aistermann, De M. Valerio Probo [hereafter ‘Aistermann’], 115–56 (‘De Probo Gellii auctore’). 7 Others are the emperor Hadrian (R. 43), Alfenus Varus (K. 65), Annianus (K. 101), M. Antistius Labeo (K. 66; R. 65–6), Antonius Julianus (K. 101), M. [immo C.] Asinius Pollio (K. 64, cf. Aistermann 132), Q. Asconius Pedianus (cf. H. Nettleship, ‘The Noctes Atticae’, 411 ¼ 271), C. Ateius Capito (K. 66; R. 66–7), Aurelius Opillus (K. 41–2), Calvenus (alias Calvisius) Taurus (R. 50–3), Sex. Caecilius, Caesellius Vindex (K. 95), Ser. Claudius (K. 42–3), Q. Claudius Quadrigarius (R. 17–19), Cloatius Verus (K. 98), P. Cornelius Scipio minor (R. 14–15), C. Aelius Gallus (K. 61), Suetonius Tranquillus (R. 43–4), Ser. Sulpicius Rufus (K. 59–60; R. 65), Timaeus (K. 38–9; R. 5), certainly at second hand, Aelius Stilo (K. 41), Gavius Bassus (K. 99–100; R. 38), Hypsicrates (K. 44), C. Julius Hyginus (K. 77; R. 40–1), Julius Modestus (R. 38), read directly despite the single quotation, D. Laberius, Laelius Felix (R. 71, cf. 66), P. Lavinius (K. 100), Masurius Sabinus (K. 79–80; R. 67–70), Q. Mucius Scaevola (K. 40–1; R. 64), perhaps at second hand (presumably through Masurius Sabinus’ De iure ciuili, cf. R. 64), Neratius, read directly though cited only once, C. Plinius Secundus (K. 13–15; see M. 641–3 and Beck, ‘Studia’, 5–25, esp. 9–11), M. Porcius Cato (K. 39–40; R. 10–14), Sempronius Asellio (cf. K. 71), probably through Verrius, Sinnius Capito (K. 61–2), C. Trebatius, probably at second hand, M. Tullius Cicero (K. 59), M. Tullius Tiro (K. 62–4), M. Valerius Messala Augur (R. 65), Q. Valerius Soranus (in Varro, Quaest. epistol.),
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2.5. To these we should add anonymous persons, most of whom are oral sources; in some cases they are probably Wctitious—not covers for Gellius himself since he does not accept their etymologies. They are the intelligentsia of the time.8 2.6. Amongst the 366 etymologies advanced by Gellius,9 some may be claimed for him in the absence of even hidden evidence for a source; others, as I shall show, seem not to be original. Clearly, not all the anonymous etymologies can be assigned to Gellius, in view of the ancient (and modern) practice of ementiri doctrinam. Without other evidence, it may be hard to tell what is truly Gellius’ own; take the case of Morta in 3. 16. 11. It has been suggested that the treatment of some Greek words implies Gellius’ dependence on Sulpicius Apollinaris (cf. K. 108) or Favorinus, although in view of his visit or visits to Greece he might have been capable of expressing his own opinion on the topic. Furthermore, the treatment of homoptota (which more than once is anonymous) may suggest he is applying a rule laid down by others. Yet it remains possible, as we shall see, that some etymological comments genuinely belong to him and his doctrina. On the other hand, inconsistent in this as in other matters, Gellius does not systematically pass oV other people’s learning as his own, nor does he on principle hide his own light under a bushel. We can but draw what inferences we may on the authorship of, or responsibility for, the etymologies proposed. It will be understood that a Gellian scholar likes to think, where he can, that the etymological doctrine is Gellius’ and not another’s. C. Valgius Rufus (K. 68), Velius Longus (K. 93), who is named in only one passage, passed on by a doctus amicus, though K. 93 envisages direct use. 8 Quispiam (2. 21. 6–7), amicus (7. 15. 2–5), (erat) qui (diceret) (12. 14. 3), (fuit) qui (diceret), homo in libris atque in litteris adsiduus (12. 14. 6), homo (15. 30. 2–3), nebulo (16. 6. 12), cf. uulgus grammaticorum (2. 21. 6–7), turba grammaticorum nouicia (11. 1. 5), nouicii semidocti (16. 7. 13), commentarii ad ius pontiWcum (16. 6. 13). 9 This Wgure retains validity despite a degree of approximation. Etymologies of related words, or words structurally associated by a common derivational morpheme (e.g. -osus, -mentum, -ulentus), are open-ended as covering words not expressly mentioned. Sometimes no etymology as such is proposed for discussion, but one is implicit in the discussion itself (e.g. of humanitas in 13. 17). Nevertheless, the count attests Gellius’ undoubted interest in etymology: relative to his 398 chapters it shows a ratio of 0.9 etymologies per chapter, which, allowing for miscounts, leads to the rather high average for a miscellany of one etymology per chapter, proving Gellius’ interest beyond doubt. The calculation comes from a study I have not had time to prepare for publication; the list of etymologies, not reproduced here for reasons of relevance and above all space, is available—though in need of revision and possible corrections—for any interested party by email from or .
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3. gellius ’ etymologies 3.1. This said, we may now examine certain interesting passages capable of attribution to Gellius and therefore useful in revealing him to us as an etymologist in the ancient tradition; granted that he shows no innovations in method, certain interesting observations, certain correct proposals, or at least certain good intuitions conWrm his grammatical competence.10 3.2. In 1. 18. 5, having noted that Varro challenged false etymologies made by L. Aelius Stilo on Stoic principles,11 preferring in accordance with common Latin practice12 to derive Latin words from Greek when the sound seemed to match, Gellius remarks that Varro made a like error in deriving Latin fur from furuus and not from æ:13 Nonne sic uidetur Varro de fure, tamquam L. Aelius de lepore? Nam quod a Graecis nunc Œº dicitur, antiquiore Graeca lingua æ dictus est. Hinc per adWnitatem litterarum, qui æ Graece, est Latine ‘fur’.
3.2.1. The source is unknown. Hosius (edn. i, p. xxiv) denies Gellius the credit for discovering Varro’s error. Since the passage seems to be of legal interest, the source may be a jurist;14 but although Hosius writes ‘Gellius videtur sua mutuatus esse a iurisconsulto aliquo’, he may also have used an etymological, that is to say grammatical source.15 Doubt is unavoidable. However, 10
See Cavazza, ‘Gellio grammatico’, esp. 269 ¼ 95, on Gellius the etymologist. SpeciWcally the interpretation of lepus as le(ui)-pes, with false division. Plainly, too, the ancients paid no attention to the consonantism of their etymologies or even the vowel-quantities, audible as they still were. 12 Obviously the Latins could not imagine a common IE origin for Greek and Latin, but only suppose the more prestigious language to be a superstrate over another whose literature had a later historical origin, being thus superior both absolutely and in age. 13 Varro . . . ‘furem’ dicit ex eo dictum, quod ueteres Romani ‘furuum’ atrum appellauerint et fures per noctem, quae atra sit, facilius furentur (Gell. 1. 18. 3–4). 14 So Hosius (edn. i, p. xxiv); but the texts he cites with the Greek etymology are from late Latinity: cf. D. 47. 2. 1. pr.; the author cited is Paul, who Xourished in the early 3rd c. ad, hence later than Gellius. In this passage several etymologies are cited, showing that uncertainty persisted in Paul’s day (from fraus, according to Masurius Sabinus; from ferre or from Greek, according to others); cf. also J. 4. 1. 2, which adds to the etymologies mentioned that of Varro cited above from Gellius. Behind all this there will have been a long etymological tradition whose origin is lost to us. 15 Hosius (ibid.) does not consider Cloatius Verus as Gellius’ source because Gellius does not trust him (NA 16. 12). Indeed he does not; but some correct Greek etymologies may still have reached him through Cloatius, of whom indeed he admits (ibid. cap.) that, amidst his errors and absurdities, there were words he satis commode . . . ad origines linguae Graecae redigit. 11
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since some jurists relate furtum to furuum (cf. Labeo, fr. 14, p. 561 Funaioli), others to æ with Gellius, there is no bar on supposing a juristic source. Unfortunately Masurius Sabinus, whose De furtis Gellius knows and quotes, does not help us resolve the problem, so that this conjecture is only a partial solution. But other attestations of a Greek etymology for fu¯r, albeit post-Gellian, may be of value as coming from grammarians,16 and might tell against dependence on a purely legal source. The grammarians are unlikely to depend on Gellius; at best he and they have a common source, so that it is legitimate to think of Probus,17 whether or not (in Gellius’ case) transmitted through Sulpicius Apollinaris, even in respect of the phonetic correspondence.18 Be the source legal or grammatical, such reasoning is admissible only if Gellius is to be denied even a modicum of authority; moreover, had he depended on a respected source, he would not assert with his typical modesty (cf. 14. 1. 32, 14. 2. 25) that Varro might be right and that he dare not express a view in the face of so great an authority. There is no reason why Gellius’ contacts with the Greek world should not have enabled him to detect similarities between Greek and Latin words, and therefore to derive the latter from the former. If so, he found conWrmation in other authors of a conjecture he had made suo Marte.19 Although Gellius sometimes presents matter from the same source or on similar subjects in two successive chapters, no such assistance is available in the present case. 3.2.2. Gellius’ etymology is correct within the limits of the ancient perspective: the connection between æ and fu¯r seems beyond doubt. J. Pokorny, IEW 128–32 (esp. 129–30) derives both words from the root *bher-, whose Greek (æø) and Latin (fero¯) descendants are Indo-Europeanist classics; the consonants are regular, but the vowels require explanation. In the Greek word 16 Cf. Serv. on Georg. 3. 407, Aen. 2. 18, 9. 348, derived (not very convincingly) by Hosius from Gellius (cited in Serv. Aen. 5. 738). Cf. too Prisc. GL ii. 11. 19–21. 17 For Servius’ and Priscian’s dependence on Probus cf. Nettleship, ‘The Noctes Atticae’, 391 ¼ 248. 18 Festus, who cites various derivatives of furuus (PF 74. 11–12: Furuum nigrum, uel atrum. Hinc dicta furnus, Furiae, funus, fuligo, fulgus, fumus), does not help us here: fur is absent, but silence does not disprove its presence in Verrius, who appears to be the source for the other passage presenting a phonetic relation between Greek and Latin (13. 9, esp. §5). Unhelpful too is Val. Max. 2. 4. 5 (furuus ¼ niger); he shares sources with Gellius, but only for history (cf. Nettleship, ‘The Noctes Atticae’, 402–3 ¼ 261–2). 19 On fur and its etymological complex see R. Maltby, Lexicon, 248, whose account, albeit incomplete, conWrms that Varro’s is the oldest attested.
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the lengthened grade o¯ is a regular Indo-European Ablaut from the normal grade e.20 The word, even though not Homeric, is an archaic root-noun (*bho¯r-) of a type that Indo-European languages tend to eliminate,21 and ought to mean ‘carrier’: the sense of carrying away what is not one’s own but has been stolen need not be connected with the form of the word, given that Armenian bur˙n (<*bho¯r-), ‘hand, Wst, force’, has a diVerent sense, so that the Latin word, even if independent, does not serve to conWrm the sense of the Greek word as original. Chantraine, Walde–Hofmann, Ernout–Meillet,22 and others feel obliged to account for the Latin u¯. Despite its widespread acceptance, I am not convinced by Ernout–Meillet’s notion that the Latin word is indeed a Greek loan (as Gellius will have it), but via Etruscan,23 which they take to account both for the initial f- (but IE bh-> Lat. f- is normal, e.g. IE *bhudh-underlies fundus) and, above all, for u¯;24 I concur in Gernet’s rejection of this theory.25 Ernout–Meillet also entertain the possibility that Greek and Latin forms both come from a non-Indo-European word; I disagree for three reasons: (i) the 20 Even though, like the corresponding long vowel in Latin, it is not conWned to particular morphological categories, e.g. the nom. sg., but maintained throught the declension: both æ øæ and fu ¯ r fu ¯ ris illustrate a tendency, especially in Latin (also found in Germanic, but rare or absent in other IE languages), to generalize the lengthened grade throughout the paradigm. The nom. sg. is normally asigmatic in masculines and feminines: cf. A. Ernout, Morphologie, 43–4, who also discusses the lack of long/short vowel alternation between the nominative and the other cases (citing monosyllables such as fu ¯ r and so¯l), but also A. L. Sihler, New Comparative Grammar, 211, who proposes *fer->*fo¯rs (sic) >fu ¯ r-, for Wnal *rs>rr>r comparing (obscurely) fa˘r, a neuter derived from the -s- stem *fars, farris (<*far(o)s, *far(e)zes). 21 Besides æ, Greek had Œºł, which was early replaced by Œº , found once in Homer. 22 P. Chantraine, Dictionnaire, 1238, A. Walde and J. B. Hofmann, LEW i. 569, A. Ernout and A. Meillet, Dictionnaire, 262–3. 23 ´ le´ments’, 93 n. 1. See too A. Ernout, ‘E 24 Etruscan lacks o, like Hittite, but retains a, e, i, u: see V. I. Georgiev, Introduction, 235—assuming that this student of Mediterranean and Balkan languages is right to derive Etruscan from Hittite. 25 L. Gernet, ‘Notes’, 391–3, sees no reason to regard fu ¯ r, even if dialectal, as a borrowing from Greek: in a loanword, Greek should not have given f in Italic (in the broad sense, including Latin) but p(h), assuming no Etruscan mediation, even if one of the various Latin f-sounds (the spirants G. Bottiglioni, Manuale, 87, calls ‘semiocclusive italiche’, comparing Gk. , Ł, ) corresponds precisely to Greek in words derived directly from IE (fero¯ æø). In addition, Gernet does not think that the legal sense of æ/fu ¯ r is suYciently explained by reference to æØ in the sense ‘take (away)’ when theft is not violent but clandestine removal or the thief is caught red-handed with his loot, himself carrying the corpus delicti. But that is another question.
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Indo-European etymology presents no problems phonetic or semantic, (ii) it is diYcult to imagine a ‘Mediterranean’ language from which a term of the type and sense of fur could be borrowed, (iii) in my opinion Alinei’s Continuity Theory must be borne in mind.26 To be sure Ernout–Meillet do not forget what must be the true etymology, but treat it as a folk-etymology and therefore unscientiWc or parascientiWc, so that the verb ferre becomes a factor of attraction, not a clear example of the original radical. Chantraine appears to agree on a common Indo-European derivation with Walde–Hofmann (who, however, show some reservations), given that the development of Latin u¯ matches other instances of monosyllables such as cur u¯ before r in monosyllables is also accepted by Sihler,27 albeit from a laryngealist point of view;28 he uses it to show the stability in Latin of inherited Indo-European long vowels. Walde–Hofmann’s reservations are due to their allowing the possibility that the Latin word is a borrowing from Greek. But in the latter case they rightly note that mediation through Osco-(Samnite)-Umbrian29 or Etruscan would not be certain, given that u¯r < o¯r may perfectly well be a Latin development. 3.3. NA 2. 20. 1, 2, 5, 7–8 run as follows: 1. ‘Viuaria’, quae nunc dicuntur saepta quaedam loca in quibus ferae uiuae pascuntur, M. Varro in libro de re rustica III. dicit ‘leporaria’ appellari. 2. . . . leporaria . . . te accipere uolo, non ea, quae tritaui nostri dicebant, ubi soli lepores sint, sed omnia saepta, adWcta uillae quae sunt et habent inclusa animalia quae pascuntur . . . 5. Sed quod apud Scipionem omnium aetatis suae purissime locutum legimus ‘roboraria’, aliquot Romae doctos uiros dicere audiui id signiWcare, quod nos ‘uiuaria’ dicimus, appellataque esse a tabulis roboreis, quibus saepta essent . . . 7. Lacus uero aut stagna piscibus uiuis coercendis clausa, suo atque proprio nomine ‘piscinas’ nominauerunt. 8. ‘Apiaria’ quoque uulgus dicit loca, in quibus siti sunt aluei apum. 26 M. Alinei, Origini, i. 365–488 and ii, passim: the Indo-Europeans were CroMagnons, the Wrst, or amongst the Wrst, inhabitants of the Mediterranean, while other peoples (the Basques and the Etruscans) may be considered bearers of adstrate languages—not necessarily superstrate, since they did not conquer and settle (let alone as pioneers) large areas of the Mediterranean. 27 Cf. Sihler, New Comparative Grammar, 49. 28 That is, the theory, not proved beyond refutation, that IE long vowels may be due to a lost laryngeal; thus ¯o in an IE language may derive from PIE *o¯, *oH, or *eH3 . 29 Oscan and Umbrian too lacked o, or rather their alphabets lacked the sign for o (whether for graphic or for phonetic reasons, the o sound being closed to the point of confusion with u), which is u in Old Oscan and Old Umbrian and u´ in Late Oscan: cf. Bottiglioni, Manuale, 13–14, 30–1.
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3.3.1. The passage as presented above appears at Wrst sight to be the fruit of Gellius’ independent thought and reading. It also seems to have a certain coherence and connection with the next two chapters, in which Greek and Latin words are set side by side (as in §9) with references Wrst to Varro and then Favorinus (stated to have been present). But this passage appears to stand apart. The source problem is rather complex, since it is also necessary to establish whether the chapter derives from a single source or combines more than one, as sometimes happens in Gellius. We have in this chapter etymologies for uiuaria, leporaria, roboraria, piscinae, and apiaria (besides Varro’s Graecism melissones in §9). The obvious intuitive etymology of piscina30 may in all probability be assigned to Varro if only because it can be recovered from book 3 of De re rustica (3. 17. 2); that book is explicitly also the source for leporaria and also for melissones in §9. From the same book, too, will come apiaria: the word is found, along with ºØH (and uiuaria) in Colum. 8. 1. 4, where ºÆª æ EÆ ( ¼ leporaria) also appears. That leaves the sources for uiuaria and Scipio’s roboraria.31 Varro’s treatment of formations in -ariu(m) and the like make him the indirect source for all similar instances of declinatio: cf. LL 5. 126, 128, 146, besides 5. 105 and 6. 2, turdarium, precisely amongst the examples of that procedure. Viuarium is well attested in Pliny and must have been in use for some time (cf. Hor. Epist. 1. 1. 79), for which reason the etymology may come from an Augustan grammarian; Hosius (edn. i, p. xxviii) regards Verrius a possible source for the whole passage. Varro would then be the ultimate source, mediated (like Scipio) through Verrius. If, unwilling to accept direct reading of Varro, with the addition of uiuaria (from Gellius’ own experience of the spoken language?) and of roboraria, supplied by unknown uiri docti in Rome whom he had heard directly (cf. §5), we seek a mediator, we may very well accept Verrius. A slight perplexity is caused by Gellius’ rare and limited use of the De uerborum signiWcatu,32 and by the weak support (as even Hosius admits) aVorded by PF 325. 1–6 robum . . . unde et materia . . . dicta est robur. Hinc . . . robusti. Robus quoque in carcere dicitur is locus, quo praecipitatur 30
However, the etymology is not found earlier; it returns in late Latinity: cf. Aug. Dialect. 6 (Varro, p. 239. 24–7 Goetz–Scho¨ll ¼ 265. 161–4, pp. 282–3 Funaioli) and Prisc. GL ii. 80. 15–16. 31 In his Wfth speech contra Claudium Asellum, as is expressly stated in §6 (fr. 20, i. 129 Malcovati). 32 Quoted only in 5. 17. 1, 2 and 5. 18. 2, in two adjacent chapters and always with reference to book 4 alone.
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maleWcorum genus, quod antea arcis robusteis includebatur. The possibility thus remains, however remote, that the etymology of uiuaria is a proposal of Gellius’ own. 3.3.2. Whoever proposed it, it must be right. Words in -a¯ri-u-s, -a¯ri-u-m constitute a prominent class of words,33 with a great future before it in the Romance languages, forming an open class of derivatives in -ier (French), -ero (Spanish), -aio (Italian).34 Its origin seems to be Indo-European, even though the derivational model is not at all secure, and corresponding forms are conWned to Hittite.35 Latin -a¯rio- is matched by Oscan -asio-; it might be derived from thematic formations in -a¯ (e.g. uia¯-sio-), the subsequently rhotacized -s-being conWrmed by such inXectional forms as ancient genitives singular like uia¯s or locatives plural like *uia¯si, making derivatives in -(i)o-. Adjectivization of the genitive ending in -sio, Indo-European -syo, must also be considered, even though it is conWned to stems in -o/e-. The problem remains open, but would take us too far from our topic.36 3.4. In 3. 16. 11 Gellius writes: Caesellius . . . Vindex in lectionibus suis antiquis: ‘Tria’ inquit ‘nomina Parcarum sunt: ‘‘Nona’’, ‘‘Decuma’’, ‘‘Morta’’ ’ . . . Sed homo minime malus37 Caesellius ‘Mortam’ quasi nomen accepit, cum accipere quasi Moeram deberet.
3.4.1. Caesellius’ error thus consists in taking Morta as the name of a Parca and not as generic for all three. The source is not indicated and the etymology proposed, not found elsewhere, appears to be Gellius’ own, which also seems to be suggested by the manner in which he states it. The reference just before (§10) to Varro, Res diuinae 14 (fr. 132, p. 235 Funaioli), concerns the etymology of the names Parca, Nona, and Decima, not the passage as a whole, so that identifying its source is a diYcult problem with no certain solution. One might think of the emperor Hadrian in the decree cited in §12, which does not preclude the note’s being Gellius’ own insertion. But in any case, although citing the true 33 See F. Gaide, ‘Les de´rive´s’, who establishes three groups of collective derivatives (words in -arium belonging to the same group as those in -e¯tum and -ına). 34 Dialectally (e.g. in romanesco) -aro; there are a few cases of dissimilation, like armadio <armariu(m), which ought to have been *armaio. This was also due to the suYx’s wide range of meaning, emphasized by E. W. Nichols, ‘Semantics’, and after him by M. Fruyt, ‘Me´taphore’, esp. 115–16. 35 Those in Germanic are borrowings; nor are assimilations in loanwords of the Greek diminutive suYx -%æØ to Latin -a¯rium or vice versa relevant. 36 See LHSz i. 300, with literature there cited. 37 On the meaning of minime malus see F. Cavazza, ‘Appunti’.
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source last pertains to Gellius’ practice, although the ensuing quotations may be explained as subsequent additions,38 and although on chronological grounds Hadrian is the only person who could have cited all the authors previously named, the hypothesis does not explain why Gellius can claim to have read the texts quoted in §§1–11 and present his acquaintance with Hadrian’s decree as a later development. Let it be emphasized once for all that Gellius’ work, chapter by chapter, is based on his own notes, even if scattered over time and most importantly whether the mode of presentation is truthful or a highly artiWcial Wgment. Mercklin identiWed procedures that recur with incontestable persistence.39 But in our passage, as in others, I am inclined to take Gellius’ word at face value: he has cited the ancient authors with legi, the decree with legimus. Variatio apart, he could have read the former to check the learned emperor’s display; the abundance and precision of the quotations will thus result from direct reading, particularly as Gellius reports that Hadrian had relied on the authority of philosophers and physicians, which excludes (if not Varro) Plautus, Menander, Caecilius, and Caesellius. None of this settles the source for the etymology of Morta, but leaves the door open to Gellian authorship40 (though if determined to deny it in all cases, we may ascribe the etymology to Sulpicius Apollinaris, or even Probus). 3.4.2. This etymology appears to be right, though hesitation may be in order. That Moera is the transliteration of EæÆ is beyond doubt. The connection between Morta and the Greek word, however, is fraught with diYculty (as shown by Pokorny’s twofold etymology, IEW 735 and 969): Ernout–Meillet assign them to a common root, IE *(s)mer-, ‘remember’,41 cf. Lat. memor and perhaps Morta (<*(s)mert-), and hence ‘provide’, cf. Gk. æ ÆØ (<*(s)mer-iomai), EæÆ (<(s)m-), Lat. mereo¯, ‘I Ð earn, acquire’, and the Gaulish divine name Ro-smerta. But others, including Marstrander,42 connect the name (rightly in my opinion) with the root *mer- of Lat. morior: Mor-ta seems to be a participial form, cf. Skt. mr. ta´-, ‘dead’, from *mr-to´-. Even those who do not accept this interpretation cannot deny˚ that the word has undergone the inXuence of morior, mors, mort-u-u-s (with -uu- on the analogy 38
So M. 655–6, followed by R. 1–3, and Hosius, edn. i, p. xxx. So too, independently, K. 3–27. Even Ernout–Meillet (Dictionnaire, 415) appear to accept it as Gellius’ own work. 41 Cf. also P. Ramat, ‘L’etimologia’. 42 Cf. C. Marstrander, ‘Les noms’, 52. 39 40
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of uiuus): Marstrander sees in it an ancient abstract comparable with porta (root *per-) and multa (an Italic word of uncertain etymology); this too is not without diYculty, as Ernout–Meillet note, but I prefer the connection with morior, disagreeing in this with the last-named scholars, who further suggest the inXuence of Mau(o)rs.43 3.5. In 4. 9. 2, 8, 12 Gellius discusses another class of derivatives, those in -o¯sus from a clearly deWned source: 2. Nigidius: ‘Hoc’ inquit inclinamentum semper huiuscemodi uerborum, ut ‘‘uinosus’’, ‘‘mulierosus’’, ‘‘religiosus’’, signiWcat copiam quandam immodicam rei, super qua dicitur. Quocirca ‘‘religiosus’’ is appellabatur, qui nimia et superstitiosa religione sese alligauerat, eaque res uitio assignabatur . . . 8. Masurius autem Sabinus in commentariis, quos de indigenis composuit: ‘ ‘‘Religiosum’’ ’ inquit ‘est, quod propter sanctitatem aliquam remotum ac sepositum a nobis est; uerbum a ‘‘relinquendo’’ dictum, tamquam ‘‘caerimoniae’’ a ‘‘carendo’’ ’ . . . 12. Quod si, ut ait Nigidius, omnia istiusmodi inclinamenta nimium ac praeter modum signiWcant et idcirco in culpas cadunt, ut ‘uinosus’, ‘mulierosus’, ‘morosus’, ‘uerbosus’, ‘famosus’, cur ‘ingeniosus’ et ‘formosus’ et ‘oYciosus’ et ‘speciosus’, quae pariter ab ingenio et forma et oYcio <et specie> inclinata sunt, cur etiam ‘disciplinosus’, ‘consiliosus’, ‘uictoriosus’, quae M. Cato ita aYgurauit, cur item ‘facundiosa’, quod Sempronius Asellio XIII. rerum gestarum ita scripsit . . . , cur, inquam, ista omnia numquam in culpam, sed in laudem dicuntur, quamquam haec item incrementum sui nimium demonstrent? an propterea quia illis quidem, quae supra posui, adhibendus est modus quidam necessarius?
3.5.1. These are easy, intuitive etymologies, with espressly cited sources. Nigidius is quite right about the suYx, which indicates that something abounds; he adduces uinosus, mulierosus, and religiosus. Gellius for his part suggests various correct etymologies on Nigidian lines: morosus, uerbosus, famosus, whose principal is implicit (but then stated in §13), and ingeniosus, formosus, oYciosus, speciosus, which he refers to ingenium, forma, oYcium; to these must be added species (not in the manuscripts but restored, though in §14 Gellius cites not species but gratia as the basis of gratiosus, which has not appeared before). In this way, too, he interprets Cato’s coinages disciplinosus, consiliosus, uictoriosus, and Sempronius Asellio’s facundiosa, giving their principals in §14. The sources are plainly Nigidius (fr. 4, p. 162 Funaioli) and Masurius Sabinus (fr. 1, p. 357 Mazzarino ¼ 13, i. 75 43
Dictionnaire, 822; cf. M. Lejeune, ‘Discussions’, 438, who agrees with Ramat, ‘L’etimologia’, in separating Morta from Maurtia (sic <Mauortia), an adjectival derivative from the name Mars.
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Huschke–Seckel–Ku¨bler),44 two authors of whom Gellius shows direct knowledge, not only here. Simple as the etymologies are, Gellius knows how to choose: he cites Sabinus at the semantic level, but does not appear to accept his etymology. Furthermore, Gellius rightly observes that this derivational class is denominative and not deverbative: at 3. 12 (where the source is not stated) he justly criticizes Nigidius for pairing bibax with bibosus, incorrectly formed not from a nomen but from a verb. As an example of correct derivation he cites uinosus, a word cited by Nigidius at 4. 9. 2, but adds uitiosus ceteraque, quae hoc modo dicuntur, quoniam a uocabulis, non a uerbo inclinata sunt (3. 12. 3). Furthermore, in modifying Nigidius’ account Gellius anticipates modern insistence on considering semantics as well as phonetics (cf. e.g. 15. 3. 6 cohaerentia uocis), giving due weight to meaning. Which etymology of religiosus does Gellius accept? From his criticism of Nigidius’ semantics, he might seem to side with Sabinus (¼ Ser. Sulpicius) in deriving the word from relinquere (§10 dies religiosi dicti, quos ex contraria causa propter ominis diritatem relinquimus). But in asserting against Nigidius (§§12–14—not from the sources cited but on his own account, unless we posit subsequent addition from some other source) that the excess of a quality expressed by -o¯sus is sometimes a fault and sometimes laudable, depending on the quality, he seemingly reconnects religiosus with religio (for its various senses see §§3–10). To that extent Nigidius prevails, unless we will suppose that Gellius expounds without choosing; elsewhere, though scrupulous in stating various interpretations (as with indutiae, 1. 25), his regular tendency is to accept a speciWc solution as probabilior. What interests us, however, is that Gellius’ etymological discussions take note of polysemy; his comments on -o¯sus formations need not come from a source (though cf. Varro, LL 8. 15 declinata . . . ab ingenio ingeniosi), but may be his own in the wake of Nigidius or indeed Probus (e.g. for 3. 12, to which add 9. 12, where other words in -o¯sus appear). 3.5.2. Words in -o¯sus, whose meaning and derivation were already understood by the ancients and are uncontested now, 44
This is a diVerent problem, but matters are slightly complicated by a passage of Macrobius (Sat. 3. 3. 8) that attributes Sabinus’ etymology to Servius Sulpicius (fr. 14, p. 425 Funaioli; fr. 14, i. 35 Huschke–Seckel–Ku¨bler). A possible solution (cf. K. 79–80) is that Masurius cited Servius (as on penus in NA 4. 1), so that both Macrobius and Gellius are right. The only diYculty is that Macrobius is often dependent on Gellius; however, the existence of exceptions makes this solution probable.
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have continued to Xourished in the Romance languages.45 The likeliest-seeming explanation combines morphology and semantics in an apparently logical and convincing manner: if Lat. uino¯sus, as the ancients already supposed, corresponds to Gk. N Ø, we may posit a suYx *we/ont-, with related forms in Hittite and Indo-Iranian; -Ø would thus come from *- = - (with the Indo-European possessive suYx) and -o¯sus from -ownts -to-s. However, since the extension in -to- seems unmotivated, ˚various other explanations have been proposed (leading to the comparison with Gk. -), which Ernout Wnds unsatisfactory. Neither way are the phonetics satisfactory; starting from them, one might speculatively derive uino¯sus from uino¯d (abl.) þ -to- (participial) þs. It may be better to leave the problem to others, being content to have pointed it out. 3.6. NA 6. 7, on the accentuation of a´dfatim, a´dmodum, exa´duersum, a´dfabre, a´dprobe, a´dprobus, ends (§12): Idem Liuius in Odyssia ‘praemodum’ dicit, quasi admodum: ‘Parcentes’ inquit ‘praemodum’, quod signiWcat ‘supra modum’, dictumque est quasi ‘praeter modum’, in quo scilicet prima syllaba acui debebit.
3.6.1. Not only does the oral source seem obvious—Gellius cites the poet Annianus—but we may suppose that Annianus too had an oral source, namely Probus.46 It is evidence for the initial stress or ‘intensive’ accent of archaic Latin (cf. intentio §5), which many scholars believe to be demonstrated by known facts of language, short internal vowels being subjected to either change of timbre or syncope.47 Clearly, then, the etymological phenomenon known to the ancient grammarians as compositio (uerborum) is here seen as leading to the creation of new words no longer felt as compounds, which behave like simplicia (cf. §10) even though etymologically they remain compositiones. The last section, which presents a diVerent case, not concerning ad-compounds, seems, and not only from its position, to be 45 Their remote origin, as adjectives denoting abundance, in competition with forms in -ulentus, was studied by A. Ernout, Adjectifs, 5–9, following M. Leumann in F. Stolz et al., Lateinische Grammatik, i. 231, cf. 228–9, LHSz i. 341–2. On this chapter see too A. Garcea and V. Lomanto, above, 54–5. 46 Cf. Aistermann 118–19, who compares NA 4. 7. M. 675–81 (following H. E. Dirksen, ‘Die Auszu¨ge’, 37–49 ¼ 28–38), supposes that all Gellius’ oral sources, chief of whom are Favorinus and Sulpicius Apollinaris, are in fact quoted from a written text, so that the scenes described by Gellius result from artiWce. In my opinion this may be true in certain cases but not as an absolute rule. 47 Cf. e.g. M. Niedermann, Phone´tique, 18–36.
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Gellius’ own addition. The chapter is thus in two parts; the question is whether the second begins at §6, with other compounds in which the long vowel of the second syllable tells against Wxed accentuation on initial intensive ad, or consists solely of §12. Uncertain as the source of §§6–11 may be,48 I am inclined to think that the reference to pra´emodum, not envisaged in the previous quotations, is Gellius’ own; to be sure the word is said to match admodum in sense, but on the one hand the equation of prae with praeter may echo Verrius,49 on the other when the adprime of 6. 7. 7 reappears in 17. 2. 14 amongst words and phrases from book 1 of Claudius Quadrigarius, Gellius expressly states that his notes are the result of his studies and his memory (§§1–2), which may be plausibly said of this passage too. 3.6.2. Gellius’ etymology is either an apparent parahaplology, so to speak, or a case of syncope, if praemodum be understood as from pra´e[te˘r]mo˘dum, or else asserts homosemy of ad, prae, and praeter¼supra. Since in ancient etymologists dictum quasi normally indicates derivation, his quasi ‘praeter modum’ points to the former. The homorrhizy of prae and prae-ter, comparable with in and inter, prope and prop(e)-ter, sub and sub-ter, suggests that Gellius’ etymology (whether or not he understood the concept) is correct, particularly as the sense is acceptable. 3.7. To explain how in ordinary speech nequitia was given an incorrect sense Gellius has methodically correct recourse to etymology; in 6. 11. 8 he cites from Varro (LL 10. 81, with a slightly diVerent text) the words: Vt ex ‘non’ et ex ‘uolo’ inquit ‘nolo’, sic ex ‘ne’ et ‘quicquam’ media syllaba extrita compositum est ‘nequam’.
3.7.1. That is to say, the etymology of nequam, ‘worthless’, bestows a purely negative connotation on nequitia, such as ‘insigniWcance’, in contrast to the sense of ‘skilfulness’ and ‘cunning’ that it had in Gellius’ own day. On the basis of the preceding chs. 7, 9, and 10, Josef Aistermann took 6. 11 to be mediated through Probus; his arguments have varying force.50 In any case, the 48 If a second source is suggested, it is not by any reWnement in the linguistic judgement, but only by the new word-class. 49 Cf. Fest. 224. 6 praepetes aues quidam dici aiunt, quia secundum auspicium faciant praeteruolantes and cf. Gellius 7. 6 and the equivalence of praepetere with anteire at Fest. 286. 14–16. Intermediation through Sulpicius Apollinaris is possible, not that that matters here. 50 Aistermann 136. Whereas the case for attributing 6. 10 to Probus seems sound, that for ch. 11 is more doubtful: although Aistermann adduces some repetitions and
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etymologies, whatever their immediate source, are clearly Varro’s. That of nolo, accepted by subsequent grammarians (cf. Cornut. fr. 7, p. 179 Mazzarino) down to late antiquity (cf. Maltby, Lexicon, 413), is almost right; that of nequam is (in part) wrong, whereas that proposed in PF 185. 6 nequam, qui ne tanti quidem est, quam quod habetur minimi, is correct as to compositio but wrong in the interpretation of quam.51 If Gellius accepts Varro’s etymology, he shares his error in allowing compositio of ne˘ to yield ne¯. 3.7.2. Ne¯quitia (also ne¯qu-iti-e¯s) is rightly derived from nequam. The etymology is easy, intuitive, and correct, which means that it may be due to Gellius, who implicitly states it. However, obvious as the etymology is, an interpretation of the word had already been given, and almost inevitably in error, by Cicero, Tusc. 3. 18 nequitia ab eo (etsi erit hoc fortasse durius, sed temptemus: lusisse putemur, si nihil sit) ab eo quod nequidquam est in tali homine, ex quo idem ‘nihili’ dicitur. Cicero may, recalling Varro, have lumped nequam together with nequitia; Gellius may not have known the passage or else thought it not worth mentioning after Varro. Thus Gellius may err after and with Cicero without knowing it, or else, as we have supposed, hit the mark. In any case he does not express himself clearly on the etymology, but simply, and rightly, connects nequam with nequitia. He may have been wrong on the origin of nequam; but a modern etymologist may also wonder whether nequitia stands to malitia as nequiter
textual resemblances between this and other chapters, it is typical of the entire Noctes Atticae for particular theses to be expressed with speciWc stylemes, whereas individuals’ utterances are often linked to stereotypical formulae or generic citations (as already noted by M. 656–8, 696–8). 51 Nolo, of course, comes from ne˘ (not no¯n) þuo˘lo¯, which yields *no˘uo˘lo¯ (standing to it as nouos to = ) >no¯lo¯. Ne¯quam is as Verrius saw a compound of ne¯ þ quam, but the quam is not the comparative conjunction but the indeWnite quam of quis-quam (in fact quis underlies both elements), which partly rehabilitates Varro’s etymology.
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3.8.1. The speaker in §3 is one of those anonymous grammarians of whom Gellius frequently makes fun. He does not accept as the sole sense that propounded by his interlocutor, ‘culpae suae conscius’ (§3), maintaining that the word has several meanings.52 Nor does he give a clear account of the etymology, despite three statements of his intention to do so (cap., §§1, 12). True, it may be deduced from the passage of Plautus cited above, where obnoxii appears to be explained by deuincti: it appears that Gellius wrongly rejects the obvious and straightforward etymology from ob þ noxa in favour of ob þ necto, nexus, for the sake of the parallelism uincire nectere. Nor is the source evident. As in other passages one may look to jurists as well as grammarians. Hosius (edn. i, p. xxxvi) ‘suspects’ Verrius, but as he himself admits PF 207. 10, obnoxius poenae obligatus ob delictum does not help much and seems to stand halfway between Gellius’ etymology and that (from noxa) of the grammaticus nebulo, who in his embarrassment goes so far as to say that it applies to obnoxius and not obnoxie (§5). However, Hosius does not seem to have recalled the other passage of Festus 180. 25–32, where, on the authority of a jurist, Ser. Sulpicius Rufus (fr. 4, p. 423 Funaioli ¼ 9, i. 35 Huschke–Seckel–Ku¨bler), obnoxius seems to be linked to noxa, in the sense culpa, peccatum, and hence poena: which appears to exclude dependence on Verrius. The matter is all the more confused by Isidore’s assertion, Etym. 10. 198, obnexus [obnoxius?], quia obligatus est nexibus culpae, on the face of it a curious synthesis between what we have attributed to Gellius and what was stated by the nebulo; in essence, Isidore, while apparently reporting Gellius’ (?) etymology, clearly follows the deWnition found in Paulus. This suggests Verrius, already ruled out as a possible source for Gellius; it is precisely in relation to culpa, which obnoxius does not always imply, that Gellius disagrees with the suggested interpretations and asserts his independence. Those who deny that he excerpted his own quotations must think of Probus (¼ Sulpicius Apollinaris?), at least for those from Vergil, Sallust, Plautus, and Ennius, authors whom, together with Cicero, Probus often cites in Gellius. But given the overall uncertainty, we prefer to credit the implicit etymology to Gellius himself; it will naturally also apply to obnoxiosae, cited in §10, plainly derived from obnoxius þ o¯sus (cf. above, §§3.5–3.5.2), despite the irregularity (the suYx is normally attached to substantives).
52 However, in order to bestow coherence on Gellius’ exposition it is necessary to mistranslate Plaut. Stichus 497, cited in §4; cf. my edn. iii. 215 n. 6.
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3.8.2. Noxa and noxius, related according to Ernout–Meillet (Dictionnaire, 435) with nex and noceo, apparently have nothing to do with obnoxius. The confusions, sometimes due to manuscript corruption, between nexa(e) and noxa(e) (e.g. CGL iv. 454. 27 nexe conligate, iv. 540. 40 nexa coniuncta ligata; iv. 126. 23, v. 468. 45 noxe ligat(a)e), and between obnexae (Acc. Trag. v. 257 Ribbeck2) and obnoxae, cause Ernout–Meillet (loc. cit.) to include s.v. necto¯ a reference to obnoxius even while preferring another explanation,53 that the ancients connected obnoxius ‘subject (to)’ . . . with noxa (no doubt noxius assisted the process). Obnoxius, it is argued, owes its primary sense ‘subjected/exposed (to)’ to a root *nok(*no k-),54 also found in the -to- formation nactus, an adjective related to nancıscor.55 But on the one hand the ‘straightforward’, quasi-popular etymology of the ancients must have inXuenced the word’s semantic evolution and its frequency of use in a speciWc meaning, ‘guilty’, and a particular, namely legal, Weld of reference,56 so that this use, though in fact a later development, appeared to be the original sense, derived from noxa, and underwent expansion in the manner familiar to students of semantics. In fact, Walde–Hofmann, LEW ii. 155, Wnd the connection between obnoxius and nancıscor neither formally nor semantically convincing; I concur, not least because the connection felt by the ancients makes sense. Certaintly the whole group is related to nex (whence the denominative neco¯ and the o-grade causative noc-e´ye/o-, i.e. noceo¯), and the radical *nek-, *nok-, or rather *nekˆ-, to judge by the sat m languages, seems correct for a whole family of words of which noxa and obnoxius should form part. Walde–Hofmann (ibid.) also take pains to exclude a link with necto¯, for which no o-grades are attested, so that in the doublets cited above involving nexae vs. noxae and obnexae vs. obnoxae only the -e- forms will be correct. None of this aVects Ennius’ and Plautus’ obnoxiosus, in any event a derivative in -o¯sus. 3.9. An interesting passage is 7. 12, an entire chapter with two etymologies, one of which applies to a word-class: e
Seruius Sulpicius iureconsultus uir aetatis suae doctissimus, in libro de sacris detestandis secundo qua ratione adductus ‘testamentum’ uerbum 53
For which see ibid. 214–15 n. 4. The present discussion supplements and partly corrects the commentary, since I now prefer Walde–Hofmann’s explanation to Ernout–Meillet’s. 54 Structure and sense require ex hypothesi, in addition to this root, a -s- marking the desiderative, so that ob-noks-ius is to be interpreted as ‘inclined/subject to’. 55 Or nancio(r), found only in the grammarians, cf. Prisc. GL ii. 513. 16. 56 Cf. obnoxios criminum (C. 3. 44. 1), cuiusdam criminis obnoxius (C. 9. 2. 2).
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esse duplex scripserit, non reperio; nam compositum esse dixit a mentis contestatione. Quid igitur ‘calciamentum’, quid ‘paludamentum’, quid ‘pauimentum’, quid ‘uestimentum’, quid alia mille per huiuscemodi formam producta, etiamne ista omnia composita dicemus? Obrepsisse autem uidetur Seruio, uel si quis est, qui id prior dixit, falsa quidem, sed non abhorrens neque inconcinna quasi mentis quaedam in hoc uocabulo signiWcatio, sicut hercle C. quoque Trebatio eadem concinnitas obrepsit. Nam in libro de religionibus secundo: ‘ ‘‘sacellum’’ est’ inquit ‘locus paruus deo sacratus cum ara’. Deinde addit uerba haec: ‘ ‘‘Sacellum ex duobus uerbis arbitror compositum ‘‘sacri’’ et ‘‘cellae’’, quasi ‘‘sacra cella’’ ’. Hoc quidem scripsit Trebatius; set quis ignorat ‘sacellum’ et simplex uerbum esse et non ex ‘sacro’ et ‘cella’ copulatum, sed ex ‘sacro’ deminutum?
3.9.1. Obvious as the truth was, Gellius here avoids the traps— of illustrious Stoic origin at that—into which an amateur etymologist might no less easily fall. If he knew the passages from the two authors directly, the refutation is his own. This is likely enough to be the case, if only for his assertion that the productio in -mentum is an obvious form of declinatio (understood as ‘derivation’) and his implication that everyone else is as well aware as he is that sacellum is the diminutive of sacrum. Contrariwise, if the authors are cited indirectly, the whole chapter should come from a single source, given the close relation between the two critiques of etymological errors involving imaginary compositiones. Who, in those pioneering times, could collect gross errors in etymology except for a welltrained grammarian? Hence, if we refused to credit Gellius with the refutation, we should have to disregard the juridical and religious theme and seek his source amongst grammarians rather than legal scholars and practitioners, even though these include Ser. Sulpicius and C. Trebatius.57 One might have thought of Varro, had not Donatus on Ter. Ad. 576 reported his assertion (fr. 453, p. 369 Funaioli) sacellum . . . sacra cella est.58 In the face of this crass error, Varro’s credit could be saved only by supposing that he intended not an etymology but a deWnition, since LL 5. 180 sacramentum a sacro shows the word as the basis for a productio in 57 Interestingly, and curiously, the false etymologies of testamentum known to us are of juristic origin except for the fantasy in Isid. Etym. 5. 24. 2 testamentum . . . testatoris monumentum, which nevertheless pays its homage to the law: see J. 2. 10. pr. testamentum ex eo appellatur, quod testatio mentis est, pointing to a tradition of legal etymology. 58 Varro’s misinterpretation of sacellum had become standard with the sacral lawyers; Gellius was the only writer to give a correct account, but amongst the grammarians there is an echo at Prisc. GL ii. 27. 17, who by listing sacrum sacellum after labrum labellum shows that he recognized the diminutive.
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-mentum; if so, he was grievously misunderstood by Ser. Sulpicius. But Donatus’ evidence seems to condemn Varro unequivocally, at least for sacellum, so that nothing results from comparing Donatus’ quotation with Varro, LL 7. 84 in aliquot sacris ac sacellis, which might seem to refute Trebatius in advance and to be Gellius’ source, ultimate or direct. Nor is Festus 422. 15–17 (¼ PF 423. 6) sacella dicuntur loca dis sacrata sine tecto grounds for attributing to Verrius the correct etymology of sacellum. If Gellius is to be denied responsibility for the correction, a plausible source will be one of his masters in grammar.59 To conclude, Gellius’ good etymological training—good amidst all the pitfalls of the age—is responsible for the etymology; but it would seem to be his own, based on observations and considerations arising from his own knowledge. To be sure, it is elementary and trivial for us, and was easy even for Gellius, but it was not so easy for those whose misunderstandings he corrected. His etymologies are correct for both words, and for all the derivatives in -mentum. 3.9.2. The latter cannot be separated form the neuters in -men, plainly Indo-European in origin (cf. nouns in -in-, nom. -en, and forms in -mentum: e.g. agmen and fragmentum). Both types are highly productive in Romance (-mentum more than -men). But however probable the extension in -to-, i.e. -men-to-m, the latter remains unexplained. One might posit a suYx *-mn-to- and com˚ -Æ shows pare Greek formations in -Æ (< mn), whose genitive ˚ an Erweiterung in -t- and whose plurals in -ÆÆ recall the Latin neuter plural -menta (-mn-t-a) (?).60 Diminutives in -ellus (also ˚ in all Latinity down to late times and -illus), another living class inherited by Romance, are now interpreted as coming from various secondary suYxations, often themselves formed from diminutives: 59 Hosius (edn. i, p. xxxvii) merely refers the passage to Gellius’ quoted authors (implicitly crediting the refutations to him?); K. 59, starting from M. 648, proposes an intermediary for the citations (and the corrections?), but leaves him totally anonymous. We have no right to think of Fronto, since the attribution to him of the work De diV. (see GL vii. 523. 26–7 sacellum paruulum aediWcium diis consecratum) is a Renaissance fantasy. 60 Cf. J. Perrot, Les De´rive´s, 11–30: Latin derivatives in -men and -mentum are connected with an important, ancient, and well-represented IE group, based on *-m(e/o)n-, with thematization in *-m(e)no- (cf. Sanskrit and Greek passive participles) or with added dental element *-ment-, or on a composite suYx *-mnto-> ˚ one Lat. -mentum. From *-men- Latin has thus derived two productive neuter types, in -men, the other in -mentum, alive in Romance but not in their original semantic relation. Cf. too LHSz i. 369–72, and Sihler, New Comparative Grammar, 297, who envisages two IE suYxes, an -n- stem *-mon- forming nomina agentis (m.) and nomina actionis (n.), and a secondary derivative -me =o nt- forming possessive adjectives often substantivized as neuters (cf. Latin abstracts in -mentum).
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their bases are *-(e)l-(e)lo-, *-(e)r-(e)lo-, *-en-(e)lo- (the alveolar lateral liquid l is often regressively assimilated and thus geminated); of this last a well-known example is bellus <*duenelos, going Ð back to bonus.61 3.10. An apparently relevant passage, albeit lost, is 8. 2, of which we have only the capitulum: Quae mihi decem uerba ediderit Fauorinus, quae usurpentur quidem a Graecis, sed sint adulterina et barbara; quae item a me totidem acceperit, quae ex medio communique usu Latine loquentium minime Latina sint neque in ueterum libris reperiantur.
3.10.1. The particular interest and importance of this passage lie in the possibility of crediting etymologies to Gellius in person; far from depending on his teachers, he is capable in his turn of informing one of them about the etymologies of certain words. It is of course impossible, in the absence of the text and any source (barring Favorinus, in part only), to reconstitute the subject-matter; nor is it clear whether barbara is a mere synonym for adulterina or denotes derivation from another language. In the latter case, the words discussed will not have come from Italic dialects, if they are recent coinages not found in ancient authors, even if that could be meant by saying they are minime Latina, since ancient etymologists had no notion of linguistic aYliations and (with the exception of Varro) paid little attention to dialectal variants. Nor will they be Greek, or Gellius would surely have expressed himself diVerently and indicated their provenance explicitly. We may therefore suppose they are words from one or more barbarian languages, but cannot say whether they were also found in Greek usage. Perhaps they resembled cupsones, to which we turn next. 3.11. Another capitulum from the lost book 8 (ch. 13) encourages the notion that Gellius himself was responsible for an etymology: ‘Cupsones’, quod homines Afri dicunt, non esse uerbum Poenicum sed Graecum.
3.11.1. This aVords us no opportunity for speculation about the source, unless one thinks of Favorinus.62 But, as in the preceding 61 Cf. LHSz i. 305–11, with bibliography (on bellus i. 306). For the Latin consonant groups yiedling -ll- see Sihler, New Comparative Grammar, 209–10. 62 Where the main topic is etymology or lexicology connected with etymology, Gellius tends (though it is not an absolute rule) to indicate the relevant source(s) in the capitulum: besides 8. 2 see e.g. 2. 4, 2. 26, 5. 7, 13. 10, 13. 11, 16. 12. Where he has authority for an etymology, it is speciWed in the course of the chapter, even though there are cases in which the primary source is suppressed: at 16. 10. 13, 15
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instance, the possibility remains open of attributing the etymology to Gellius, who was not devoid of Greek. Leaving aside the textual uncertainty,63 we Wnd cupsones in Augustine (Serm. 46. 39, PL 38. 293),64 which seems to support Marshall’s thesis that that is the correct reading, not eupsones. However, the sense of the word remains obscure. Augustine is an African writer; either this, or Gellius’ statement that it is used by Africans, have led some scholars to make Gellius his compatriot, in a broad and general sense, as an Afer.65 Baldwin dissents,66 denying the possibility of African origin for Gellius, whether on this footing or on others; it would be interesting or even decisive for establishing the origin of the etymology, which might then be Gellius’ own, but rejection of Gellian Africitas in no way diminishes the possibility that the etymological discussion is his own. Although source-criticism is hampered by the loss of the text, certain points may be made. As to Favorinus: Greek-speaker as he was (a plausible Greek etymology is proposed), the next chapter (8. 14) proves nothing, nor does the recourse to Greek. There is no more reason to suppose an African source, or to detract in any way from Gellius’ etymological auctoritas. Moreover, in stating that the word is not Punic,67 Gellius is correcting an extant opinion (as in Gellius gives the respective etymologies of proletarii and adsiduus, both stated orally by Julius Paulus, though of the two interpretations of adsiduus one (ab aere dando) goes back to Aelius Stilo (fr. 6, p. 59 Funaioli) and had been taken up by others. 63 The MSS are divided between eupsones (read by Hertz, Hosius, and Rolfe) and cupsones, for which see P. K. Marshall, ‘Four Lexicographical Notes’, 273, followed by Marache (edn. ii. 111) and me (edn. iii. 279–80). G. Bernardi Perini also sides with Marshall (as always except as noted in edn. i. 45–76). 64 In Numidia . . . muscarium uix inuenitur, in cupsonibus habitant. Here too the reading is not entirely secure. 65 Cf. P. Monceaux, Les Africains, 250. The suggestion has never met with much approval (cf. next n.). It arises not so much from this very weak, not to say irrelevant evidence, as from the fact that the chief cultural Wgures of the age, Apuleius, Fronto, and Sulpicius Apollinaris, with the last two of whom Gellius was in close contact, were of African origin. On Apollinaris’ Carthaginian origin see Beck, Sulpicius Apollinaris, 3. See too L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 14–15, 83–4 [11–12, 61–2]. 66 Studies in A. Gell. 6 (though he reads eupsones); so already A. Milazzo, A`ulo Ge`llio, 9–17 ¼ 256–62, locating Gellius’ patria in Rome; Marache, edn. i, p. viii. 67 A slight indication that Probus is the source is the likelihood that the preceding chapter, 8. 12, is derived from him (cf. Donatus on Ter. Andr. 55: so Aistermann 139), but although, living in Berytus, he might have acquired some Phoenician, the argument is very weak, weaker even than that for Favorinus, who is at least named in 8. 14. cap. As might be expected, Punic words have very little presence in Gellius; apart from any discussed in 8. 2, the prosody of Hanniba¯l, Hasdruba¯l, and Hamilca¯r is treated in 4. 7, expressly taken from Probus’ Epistula ad Marcellum.
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15. 30, though there he cites Varro, perhaps mediated through Verrius): this may indicate that the word is well known, or that it had been studied by some lexicographer or etymologist. We shall therefore credit the etymology to Gellius, whose learning here, as elsewhere, may come from books (so Baldwin). The Greek etymology is correct, if we adopt cupsones and the Maurists’ suggestion (cited by Migne) that ‘in cupsonibus’ means in rupibus et speluncis,68 supported by Marshall’s highly apposite observation that Gellius must have derived cupsones from Œ Ø , ‘bend forward’. 3.12. In 10. 5. 1, 3 there is a passage I Wnd particularly interesting, as I indicated in edn. iv. 233:69 ‘Auarus’ non simplex uocabulum, sed iunctum copulatumque esse P. Nigidius dicit in commentariorum undetricesimo. ‘Auarus enim’ inquit ‘appellatur, qui auidus aeris est. Sed in ea copula ‘‘e’’ littera’ inquit ‘detrita est’ . . . 3. . . . de ‘auaro’ ambigitur: cur enim non uideri possit ab uno solum uerbo inclinatum, quod est ‘aueo’, eademque esse Wctura, qua est ‘amarus’, de quo nihil dici potest, quin duplex non sit?
3.12.1. As often Gellius does not cite the source of his etymology, which is correct as to the derivation from aueo and probably also the comparison with ama¯rus.70 If we are unwilling to make it Gellius’ own, attention as always falls on his teachers: but no evidence accrues, since the DiVerentiae uerborum edited under Fronto’s name are not his work.71 Furthermore, the meagreness of the DiVerentiae apart, oral tradition too must be rejected: that the passage derives directly from Nigidius’ Commentarii (fr. 14, p. 166 Funaioli) seems to be shown by the preceding chapter, taken from the same source. Even Gellius’ mode of expression leaves no doubts. He is not so much of a forger as to use such language for presenting genuine research of his own; the etymology must be his, without a precursor. There is a strange recurrence in Isidore (Etym. 10. 9), who gives Gellius’ etymology for auidus and auarus 68 TLL s.v., col. 1438. 50–1 oVers no explanation; Latin etymological dictionaries say nothing of the word at all. 69 ‘Dopo aver fatto un’indagine su quelle che appaiono etimologie ‘‘gelliane’’ autonome ci pare di poter aVermare che l’etimologia qui proposta non e` mediata da altri o almeno che Gellio scrive qui dopo una meditazione e una ricerca personale; e coglie nel segno.’ 70 Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, 25: ‘Comme le remarque de´ja` Aulu-Gelle, 10, 5, 3, la formation rappelle celle de aua¯rus a` coˆte´ de aueo¯; elle n’est pas re´presente´e autrement.’ 71 See n. 59; they include locuples (GL vii. 525. 4–5), another word presumed to result from compositio, which Gellius discusses in this chapter without raising any objection, and auarus auidus (which recurs in Non. 710 L. ¼ 442. 9–16 M.).
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(hinc [sc. ab auendo] et auarus), but concludes with Nigidius’ auarus . . . auidus auri. 3.12.2. Latin words in -a¯rus are listed in the ever-useful reverse index of Otto Gradenwitz.72 As said, Gellius’ etymology is correct, even though it is a mere comparison without the kind of explanation that we moderns should give but cannot expect of an ancient. Yet these words, few in number, give rise to several diYculties. An ancient (nor are we any better oV) could Wnd only a few theoretically comparable words, ama¯rus, aua¯rus, ca¯rus, cla¯rus, (gna¯rus), ra¯rus, and ua¯rus; amongst these adjectives Gellius certainly does not choose ill. SuYce it to indicate the verbal roots to be found in aua¯rus (aueo¯<*au-, *aue¯(i)-, ‘love, favour’), ca¯rus (from a root Ð *ka¯-, ‘desire’, with extension in -ro-)73, cla¯rus (a root *kel-, *k(e )le¯/a¯-, ‘shout’, accounts for Lat. calo¯, cla¯mor, cla¯mo, cla¯rus), and (g)na¯rus (*gˆen-, ‘know’, >*gˆno¯-ro, with the Ablaut form *gˆn¯˚ ro->gna¯rus). For ra¯rus, recourse to a root *er-, *er -, or thematic *(e)r-e-, ‘slow, retarded’, yields few certainties and leaves the word ra¯rus with nothing better than the contrived reconstruction < *e r -ro´-s. The same extension must be posited for ama¯rus (*om-, *o m-ro-, ‘raw, bitter’: cf. Skt. amla´-, ‘acid’)74 and ua¯rus (from *ua¯-, Ð ‘wide apart’, used by itself in this word, but otherwise always with extensions; cf. Germ. *waþwan-, ‘curve’ > Old Icelandic vo˛ðvi, ‘muscles, esp. the large muscles of the arms and legs’, OHG wado, ˘ t-> Latin ‘calf, fetlock’, MHG wade¼ German Wade), e.g. *ua ua˘ta¯x, ‘having deformed feet’, probably related to ua¯Ð rus). In any event Gellius has chosen well, basing his comparison on the only homosyllabic word amongst those cited; accounting for -a¯- and reconstructing the suYx *-ro- would be too much to ask of him. 3.13. Our next passage, 11. 15. 6, like those discussed in §§3. 5, 9, concerns not individual words but word-classes, formations in e
e
72 See O. Gradenwitz, Laterculi, 511–12. The few relevant adjectives are discussed in the text. 73 The Sanskrit forms listed by Pokorny, IEW 515, are unconvincing: where the initial consonant is not k- but c-, the Collitz–Saussure palatal law requires not -a¯- in the root but -e¯-. 74 Ama¯rus has been discussed by various scholars; against the comparison with Sanskrit see W. F. Wyatt, Indo-European /a/ 20–1, who sees diYculties in the uncertainty of the Sanskrit accent, in the -a¯- of the Latin word (which needs to be explained in all these words, not necessarily in the same way; alternation between long vowel and shwa will be invoked, or laryngeal suYxes by adherents of laryngeal theory), and also in the initial vowel (Pokorny, IEW 777–8 cites only *om-, which Wts other languages but not Latin, which requires *am-; Wyatt prefers *om(a)-roas starting-point for IE languages). Gellius’ acuity is further demonstrated by the contrast with A. Zimmermann, ‘Zu aua¯rus’.
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-bundus, explained (erroneously) by Sulpicius Apollinaris,75 and in -ulentus, for which (I would suggest) it is Gellius himself who accounts: Hoc enim fuit potius requirendum in istiusmodi Wgurae [sc. the particle or suYx -bundus] tractatu, sicuti requiri solet in ‘uinulento’ et ‘lutulento’ et ‘turbulento’, uacuane et inanis sit istaec productio, cuiusmodi sunt, quae Ææƪøª Graeci dicunt, an extrema illa particula habeat aliquid suae propriae signiWcationis.
3.13.1. Although Gellius may reasonably be credited with the explanation of these words, we are not given a true etymology, since the interpretation of -lentus is a problem merely mentioned but not resolved like that of the other Ææƪøª -bundus. Nevertheless, even dividing the word into stem and -lentus is to etymologize, inasmuch as the question is raised—though not answered— whether the origin of this productio is such as to give it a particular meaning. As we have seen, the source for Gellius’ account of words in -bundus is Sulpicius Apollinaris, as usual orally. But the reported observation and the comparison between the two suYxes may perfectly well be Gellius’; one reason is that we lack the exhaustive explanation to be expected from Apollinaris. However, Gellius does not give an etymology for -lentus, suggesting that this productio is an extension of the word, and therefore that we have a declinatio in the sense of derivation pure and simple. Conversely, the fact that in §5 Gellius calls -bundus a particula suggests that he and his source allow semantic autonomy to the suYx, a lexeme in its own right. Assuming correct use of terminology, formations in -lentus, only half-etymologized as unexplained productiones, count as declinationes, whereas (even though the passage as a whole seems to discuss productiones in general, what the Greeks call ÆæƪøªÆØ) the fact that every formation in -bundus not only habeat aliquid suae propriae signiWcationis, but is also deemed a copula with abundare/ abunde, classes it with compositiones uerborum. 3.13.2. The etymology is correct within its limits. Words in -ulentus (also -ilentus and -olentus after -i-: cf. uiolentus, uinolentus [earlier uinulentus], sangui(no)lentus) have been studied more than once. They have no clear counterparts in other languages, which tells against Szemere´nyi’s suggestion below. Hence the many conjectures about their origin.76 It is unclear whether this (not 75
Cf. Garcea–Lomanto, above, 55. See e.g. LHSz i. 336, after Ernout, Adjectifs, esp. 98–100, O. Szemere´nyi, ‘The Latin Adjectives’ (cf. id., Syncope, 147), R. Aitzetmu¨ller, ‘Lateinisch -lentus’, 131–4; cf. my edn. v. 129–32, with further bibliography. 76
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particularly rich) adjective-class has a common origin or results from diVerent suYxes: but overall there seems to be an underlying suYx -lent-, which remains to be accounted for. Other possibilities are formations in -en-ont-, a primitive form IE *op-enont- being dissimilated to -el-ont-> Old Lat. *opelont->*opelent->*opolent-, whence *opolentus>opulentus, corresponding to Hitt. happinant-, ‘rich’ (so Szemere´nyi, ‘The Latin Adjectives’ 277–9, and Syncope, 147),77 or fusion of two suYxes, -ul(o)- and -ento- (so Ernout), or even development of the Indo-European suYx went- (Skt. -vant-, Gk. = ) into Lat. -ent- (<*e¯-went-) or -lent- through processes of dissimilation, e.g. after stems like uio- or uino- (so various scholars).78 3.14. NA 12. 3. 1–2, 4 is of particular interest, not least for Latin historical phonology and the study of Indo-European: Valgius Rufus in secundo librorum, quos inscripsit de rebus per epistulam quaesitis, ‘lictorem’ dicit a ‘ligando’ appellatum esse, quod, cum magistratus populi Romani uirgis quempiam uerberari iussissent, crura eius et manus ligari uincirique a uiatore solita sint, isque, qui ex conlegio uiatorum oYcium ligandi haberet, ‘lictor’ sit appellatus; utiturque ad eam rem testimonio M. Tulli uerbaque eius refert ex oratione, quae dicta est pro C. Rabirio: ‘Lictor’, inquit ‘conliga manus’. Haec ita Valgius (§§1–2).
Then, in refuting Tullius Tiro’s etymology (‘lictor’ a ‘limo’ uel a ‘licio’), Gellius adds (§4): Si quis autem est, qui propterea putat probabilius esse quod Tiro dixit, quoniam prima syllaba in ‘lictore’, sicuti in ‘licio’, producta est et in eo uerbo, quod est ‘ligo’, correpta est, nihil ad rem istuc pertinet. Nam sicut a ‘ligando’ ‘lictor’, et a ‘legendo’ ‘lector’ et a ‘ui[u]endo’ ‘ui[c]tor’ et ‘tuendo’ ‘tutor’ et ‘struendo’ ‘structor’ productis, quae corripiebantur, uocalibus dicta sunt.
3.14.1. As regards lıctor (ı is attested by Gellius and inscriptions) the source seems clearly to be Valgius Rufus himself, nor is there reason to suppose intermediation through Verrius (cf. PF 103. 1 lictores dicuntur quod fasces uirgarum ligatos ferunt), least of 77 ´ A. Pariente, ‘Sobre los compuestos’, esp. 115–16, 123–4, 140 assumes a similar starting-point but a diVerent process: *poleo (¼polleo without expressive gemination) >*polens> *oppolens>*oppulentus, which, simpliWed to opulentus, underlay the entire adjective class, giving rise to a suYx -ulentus. 78 But Aitzetmu¨ller (n. 76) does not see a direct relation between -went- and -lent-, which have in common a group -nt- with elative force (reconstructed from various languages), whereas the possessive sense (‘furnished with’) puts the preceding -l- of the Latin suYx on the same plane as the -w- of the Greek, as already having that sense, like the -li- of Lat. Wde¯lis (cf. M. Leumann, ‘Lat. Laut- u. Form. 1955–1962’, 100).
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all since, though the etymology is the same, the explanation is diVerent. Problems arise with the other deverbatives. If the passage of Valgius Rufus and Tiro are allowed to be direct quotations, the last part of the chapter may be Gellius’ own; dependence on Varro for so obvious a suYx, on the basis of LL 6. 36 ab lego lectio et lector, 8. 57 a legendo lector, is not very likely. Only those who deny all originality to Gellius—even though, as in other cases, he appears to list a series of examples derived from his own reading— will think (as not even Aistermann does) of Probus, mediated by Sulpicius Apollinaris (perhaps even for the quotations); there is no evidence in favour of such a notion. 3.14.2. Gellius’ etymology is correct inasmuch as the Romans, perhaps by folk-etymology, associated lictor with ligare; but direct derivation is impossible. The list of -tor formations that follows is not only correct in itself, but bears out a law that nomina agentis have a long stem-vowel even if in the present on which they are based it is short. This is indeed generally the case, as with the past pasticiples and frequentatives discussed in 9. 6, provided the Wnal consonant of the stem is devoiced before the suYx and not originally voiceless.79 However, it is not absolute: in particular, /i/ is not lengthened in the past participle or nomen agentis when it is short in the present.80 Hence, although lıctor could in principle come from a hypothetical *ligere, this would have to be not the *lıgere implied by Gellius’ explanation but *lıgere. 3.15. In 13. 9. 5 we have a list of Latin words supposedly derived from Greek, two of which may be Gellian etymologies: ueteres nostri non usque eo rupices et agrestes fuerunt, ut stellas hyadas idcirco ‘suculas’ nominarent, quod o Latine ‘sues’ dicantur; sed ut, quod Graeci ! æ, nos ‘super’ dicimus, quod illi o Ø , nos ‘supinus’, quod illi ! æ, nos ‘subulcus’, quod item illi o , nos primo ‘sypnus’, deinde per ‘y’ Graecae Latinaeque litterae cognationem ‘somnus’: sic, quod ab illis !, a nobis primo ‘syades’, deinde ‘suculae’ appellatae.
3.15.1. Tiro had asserted (§4; fr. 13, p. 402 Funaioli) that the ueteres had calqued suculae on !, which they had wrongly 79 This appears to be a corollary of Lachmann’s much-debated Law, which can no longer be accepted as a universal principle, but remains a sound observation of certain facts: see K. Lachmann, In T. Lucr. De rerum nat. libros, 54–5, also my edn. iv. 185–9 on NA 9. 6, vi. 120–7 on 12. 3. The bibliography is endless; I have taken account of most of it in the 70-odd pages I devote to the topic in the forthcoming vol. iii/2 of my Lezioni di indoeuropeistica, §6. 3 V. 80 This is one of the few certainties in the debate over Lachmann’s Law. Note too pıstor from pınso, with secondary lengthening before /ns/.
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derived from o instead of oØ .81 Gellius denies that they had mistaken the etymology, and credits them for noticing what appeared to have escaped Tiro, that Greek !- corresponds to Latin su-; hence ! was Wrst Latinized as syades, then adapted to give suculae. He would seem to have this etymology from Verrius: see Fest. 394. 13–15 (super) uerum ponitur etiam pro de, Graeca consuetudine, ut illi dicunt ! æ and above all 390. 11–19 (where Tiro’s explanation is probably faulted); cf. 370. 20–4 suppum antiqui dicebant, quem nunc supinum dicimus ex Graeco, uidelicet pro aspiratione ponentes <s> litteram. Over suculae < !82 (cf. Fest. 390. 17) there seems to be no real disagreement between Tiro and Verrius, since the two relationships o sues and ! suculae are set side by side; at most Tiro’s only explanation for the initial s of suculae may seem to be the false semantic—not phonetic—association with sues, whereas Gellius’ source clearly demonstrates that in the words listed Greek !- corresponds to Latin su-. The phonetic relations are correct, but having no conception of diachronic comparison, the Romans, including Gellius, had to envisage the Latin words as straightforwardly derived from Greek. However, the surviving parallel accounts do not include subulcus and somnus; they might well have been in Gellius’ source, but it seems better to suppose them his own additions. 3.15.2. Even phonetically these etymologies are correct within ancient limitations, some formal inaccuracies apart, given that forms with a common root do not always correspond. As regards the two ‘Gellian’ words, I repeat my comments in edn. vii. 130–1: su˘bulcus is derived from su¯s, with short stem-vowel in alternation with the long (cf. su˘-cerda) on the pattern of bu˘bulcus,83 derived from bo¯s, where -bulcus/-fulcus may correspond to ıºÆŒ, even though caution is needed.84Subulcus and ! æ85 are not an exact match, but remain valid as regards the Wrst syllable, which is precisely Gellius’ point here. Inexact, but basically correct, is the 81 In fact this last is a folk-etymology, whereas !, formed like ºØ, does indeed seem related to y, ‘sow’; Lat. suculae will be either a semantic calque or an independent word. 82 Cf. Cic. ND 2. 111, Arat. fr. 28 Soubiran, Plin. NH. 2. 106. The etymology of suculae (and !) is taken up by Isid. Etym. 3. 71. 12. 83 A dialectal variant, with internal -f-, was bufulcus, which remains in Italian bifolco<*bofolco. 84 So O. Lagercrantz, ‘Lat. worterkla¨rungen’, 177–81; but see Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, 74 (s.v. bo¯s, Wn.), Walde–Hofmann, LEW i. 119, and Chantraine, Dictionnaire, 1232 (s.v. ºÆ). 85 From the !- of y þ æ, from the root of æ, ‘fodder, pasture’, and æø, ‘I feed’.
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link between o and so˘mnus: sypnus is unattested and has every appearance of being invented by Gellius for the sake of his argument. The root is *swep-/*sup- (cf. Pokorny, IEW 1048), which in its verbal form does not survive in Latin (cf. dormio in contrast to the causative so¯pio), but does in *swop-no-, with the normal o-grade and the suYx -no-,86 while Greek presents the zero grade *(s)up-no. Immediately after etymologizing somnus, in which he posits a parallel evolution, Gellius states the etymology that gives rise to the chapter, suculae<syades< !, a calque (probably understood as phonetic rather than semantic) or a loan, even if apparently by a diVerent process from somnus. But Gellius, as we have already seen, is content here, as the ancients often were, with Wrst-syllable correspondence, hastening past the false association of -culae and -. 3.16. In 15. 3. 4–8, on autumo and the preverb au-, Gellius combines factual observation and criticism of another scholar’s opinion with an etymological proposal: Inuenimus . . . in conmentario Nigidiano uerbum ‘autumo’ compositum ex ‘ab’ praepositione et uerbo ‘aestumo’ dictumque intercise ‘autumo’ quasi ‘abaestumo’, quod signiWcaret ‘totum aestumo’ tamquam ‘abnumero’. Sed, quod sit cum honore multo dictum P. Nigidii, hominis eruditissimi, audacius hoc argutiusque esse uidetur quam uerius. ‘Autumo’ enim non id solum signiWcat ‘aestumo’, sed et ‘dico’ et ‘opinor’ et ‘censeo’, cum quibus uerbis praepositio ista neque cohaerentia uocis neque signiWcatione sententiae conuenit. Praeterea uir acerrimae in studio litterarum diligentiae M. Tullius non sola esse haec duo uerba [sc. ‘aufugio’ et ‘aufero’] dixisset, si reperiri posset ullum tertium. Sed illud magis inspici quaerique dignum est, uersane sit et mutata ‘ab’ praepositio in ‘au’ syllabam propter lenitatem uocis, an potius ‘au’ particula sua sit propria origine et proinde, ut pleraeque aliae praepositiones a Graecis, ita haec quoque inde accepta sit.
3.16.1. The passage is preceded by one from Cicero’s Orator (158) asserting that aufugio and aufero are compounds with the preposition ab, transformed into au to soften the pronunciation, and that there are no other instances. Cicero’s ostensibly correct etymology—I call it so because it has its own logic and (albeit invented) phonetic principle—does not exceed the limits of his observation, but also serves, indirectly, to refute Nigidius’ derivation of autumo from ab(aes)tumo by deminutio of a syllable. Gellius in his justiWed objection makes good use of Cicero’s statement and also appeals to the meanings of the words discussed. There 86 The process is *swep-no-, *swop-no-> *sop-no-> som-no-, with regressive assimilation (cf. O. Szemere´nyi, Einfu¨hrung, 41).
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also seems to be merit in his implicit intuition, inexact but coherent, that Nigidius’ etymology is phonetically unsound, since the particle ab > au- in au-tumo is not in the required phonological situation (preceding an f ), unless that is to over-interpret him. Unfortunately he says nothing else on the etymology of autumo, leaving us unable to pass a Wnal judgement on his comment, not least because we lack his analysis of the word: evidently not as au-tumo, but we do not know whether he considered it a uerbum Latinum et uetus, or perhaps connected with words in -tumu-s (see his discussion of aeditumus and similar forms in 12. 10). Speculation apart, Gellius’ hesitation, this time legitimate, about the origin of au- does not extend to autumo, but only to the two verbs mentioned by Cicero. His suggestion of a Greek etymology for au is thus well founded (perhaps the only case in Antiquity: see below) and seems to counter Cicero’s thesis of euphonic mutation of ab. We shall return to the etymologies below. As for the source, here too I prefer to see Gellius as independent. Not so Hosius (edn. i, p. xlix), who after evaluating other scholars’ conjectures proposes Velius Longus, who lived approximately in Gellius’ time or a little earlier, in the Wrst half of the second century ad. He cites the same passage of Cicero (GL vii. 60. 6–10), but does not mention Nigidius; moreover, the work concerned is De orthographia. Gellius does cite Velius Longus, but only in 18. 9, for his commentarius de usu antiquae lectionis, featuring archaic Latin authors and passages of Homer. But other considerations arise here, since several problems are rolled into one: the Ciceronian passage, Nigidius’ etymology of autumo, and the Greek etymology of au-. It is possible that Cicero was mediated (through Velius Longus?),87 but Gellius (if we may trust what he writes) has said legimus in §1, which, used with reference to himself (as usual in the pluralis maiestatis, cf. e.g. 13. 18. 3 nobis praesentibus), makes Cicero the immediate source. That would exclude Velius, who contributes at most the Homeric verses of §8. It is better to suppose that Gellius read Cicero directly and that the quotation from Orator is all his own work. As others have noted, NA 15. 3 reappears almost word for word in Macrobius (GL v. 600. 17–22 and 637. 19–31 ¼ 15. 14–16, 17 De Paolis, besides v. 637. 19–31, also incorporating Gell. §8); given his propensity to quote Gellius, there is no need to posit a common 87 An alternative source would be Probus, whose concern for euphony is attested in 13. 21 and who may be Sulpicius’ (or Gellius’) source in 4. 17 (Aistermann 132–4); however, the arguments adduced by Hosius for deriving 2. 17 from him are unsatisfactory.
Gellius the Etymologist
95
source. The grammarians, well acquainted as they are with the Ciceronian passage, do not cite further instances (cf. Prisc. GL ii. 18. 14, 39. 3–4, 46. 15–16; so already Quint. inst. 1. 5. 69); there is no question of adducing Nigidius’ autumo. Hence, although Velius Longus cites Cicero’s examples too, he need not necessarily be Gellius’ source, as Hosius would have it; his comparison with 18. 9, derived from Velius, is insuYcient proof, since there Velius seems only a partial source, either because he is (in part?) cited indirectly (perhaps a mere literary device), or because the vague expression doctores . . . et interpretes uocum Graecarum (§9) seems to exclude him, unless it is a blind concealing a single source (cf. K. 6 V.). But then whom do the Greek verses come from? Perhaps from the anonymous doctores et interpretes or even Gellius himself (knowledge of Homer was not a mark of extraordinary erudition; cf. Gell. 15. 6. 1), but despite the above comments they may yet go back to Velius, who might therefore also be the source for those in 15. 3. 8.88 Even so, Gellius may be credited with the observation on the nature of au (with reference to Greek), not found in any previous Latin author. His usual modest tone in making this suggestion, together with the comparison with other prepositions supposedly derived from Greek (cf. super in 13. 9. 5), which he might have observed for himself, may vindicate paternity of the proposal for him. In conclusion, although there are no certainties, both the manner of expression and the structure of the passage bring me back once again, but more willingly, to Gellius himself. 3.16.2. As for the etymologies, one is not actually present, and Gellius’ doubt tells against Cicero’s seemingly correct suggestion, not otherwise disputed in antiquity. For us too the etymology of autumo is uncertain. One might relate it to autem as nego to nec, neg-, but without the excessive conWdence of Walde–Hofmann, LEW i. 88, or rather the authors they cite. Negumo, or rather negumate for negate in the carmen of the uates Cn. Marcius, cited by Festus (162. 5–7), gets us nowhere, being (if it ever existed) a uocabulum Wctum based on autumo. As for au-, Gellius deserves credit for writing an potius ‘au’ particula sua sit propria origine: although, like all ancient scholars, he ascribes correspondences between words with a common Indo-European origin to derivation from Greek, his intuition, though hesitantly expressed, is exceptional and well founded. It is not certain that he had in 88 Gellius’ failure to cite Velius outside the passage quoted does not mean he did not use him elsewhere.
96
Franco Cavazza
mind Greek Æs (related to Lat. aut, autem), which as even an ancient might have seen is an independent particle and not a preverb. In fact the (Aeolic) Greek forms he cites should be analysed as follows: in ÆPæıÆ , ÆP- comes from *I -=æø, whereas ÆPÆ Ø breaks down as I-=-=Æ Ø, with uncertainty whether I- is copulative-intensive (perhaps better) or privative. The examples, in short, are not correct, but the basic fact remains that au-, or rather au, has an origin of its own. Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, 2, write: ‘le au- qui devant f sert de pre´verbe, dans au-fero¯ . . . , au-fugio¯ . . . re´pond a` v. irl. o´, ua et a` v. pruss. au-, v. sl. u, lit. au, hitt. u-wa (correlatif), cf. skr. a´va et lat. ue¯-. C’est un mot diVe´rent [sc. from ab].’89 Naturally other scholars agree, not so much on fero, aufero, or fugio, aufugio, as in treating au as an independent word.90 Gellius’ intuition, besides being valid, is all the more meritorious for having no ancient counterparts and even being advanced against the authority of Cicero, whose prestige erects a barrier for the ancients, and without reference to whom they did not discuss the subject.91 3.17. In 16. 7. 13 we have a Graecism: [Laberius] in mimo, quem inscripsit Alexandream, eodem quidem, quo uulgus, sed probe Latineque usus est Graeco uocabulo: ‘emplastrum’ enim dixit PŁæø, non genere feminino, ut isti nouicii semidocti.
3.17.1. The correction (emplastrum is etymologically neuter!),92 directed against ignorant innovators, may be ascribed to one of Gellius’ teachers, for instance Sulpicius Apollinaris, who in 19. 13. 3 cites a Greek word adopted in Latin (nanus), but deemed vulgar and censurable (contrast our present passage) and also mentions Laberius. Either then it is Sulpicius who transits and comments on him orally, or, since the etymology is simple, we may 89 F. Metzger, ‘Latin uxor’, 171, exploits this diVerence to propose another etymology for a much-vexed word: ‘we may . . . explain uxor as IE *u-k-sor, in which u belongs with IE *au(e) ‘‘away’’ (Latin aufero, Skt. avabharati, Latin aufugio, Got. auþeis, etc.)’. 90 Walde–Hofmann, LEW i. 79 (cf. 485; less clearly 556), LHSz i. 61, citing Gk. ÆPØ , ‘retire, retreat’ ¼ I ÆøæE , I ÆŁÆØ (Hesych.), and Pokorny, IEW 72–3, on the root *au-, *aue-, *ue¯˘-, ‘down, away from’, with congeners in at least Ð nine Indo-European phyla.Ð 91 See too Maltby, Lexicon, 1–2, cf. 65, on the (casus) ablatiuus: Sergius (or Seruius), Explan. in Don., GL iv. 534. 31–535. 1–2 ablatiuus, quod per eum auferre nos ab aliquo aliquid signiWcemus, ut ‘ab hoc magistro’, 544. 14 ablatiuus ab auferendo dictus, ‘aufer ab eo’ (cf. Isid. Orig. 1. 7. 32). All this established a tradition and leaves Gellius in splendid isolation. 92 Cf. Garcea–Lomanto, above, 62.
Gellius the Etymologist
97
need look no further than Gellius himself. (The word is ancient; it is attested in Cato, Agr. 39. 2). 3.17.2. The etymology is correct (the word, a medical term, has entered Romance), as a borrowing from Greek ºÆæ ; plausible too seems Gellius’ observation that the feminine emplastra is incorrect. It may be one of those cases, frequent in the Romance languages, in which neuters plural, in both everyday words and technical terms—have been popularly interpreted as feminines singular, because of the common ending -a (cf. folia> It. foglia, mirabilia> It. meraviglia). 3.18. In 17. 2. 4, commenting on selected passages of Claudius Quadrigarius, Gellius presents an etymology by compositio: ‘Ea’ inquit ‘dum Wunt, Latini subnixo animo <ex uictoria inerti consilium ineunt.’ ‘Subnixo animo>’ quasi sublimi et supra nixo, uerbum bene signiWcans et non fortuitum; demonstratque animi altitudinem Wduciamque, quoniam, quibus innitimur, iis quasi erigimur attollimurque.
3.18.1. Quadrigarius has been read directly; the etymology seems to be Gellius’ own. Essentially we have an interpretation, but its etymological connection may be inferred both from Gellius’ need to explain the word and the contrast between this sense of subnixus, ‘buoyed up, ‘relying on’, and its rare opposite ‘subdued’ (cf. Nonius below), found at Tert. De patientia 4. 3 de hominibus . . . seruitute subnixis (subnexis J. J. Scaliger). This is not the only place where Gellius explains compositiones with a praepositio, or uses etymology to ascertain the true sense of a word.93 Attempts have been made to discern a double interpretation, non only from sub þ nitor, but—given Gellius’ twofold paraetymology, a typical ancient approximation—from the sup- of supra, and sub- (sublimis)94þ nitor, with support from Nonius (652 L. ¼ 405. 23–8 M.), who presents both senses and after inapposite quotations for the Wrst follows Gellius for the second: subnixum subditum . . . subnixum sublime, hoc est susum nixum. 93
Cf. e.g. 2. 17 and obnoxius (6. 17: above, §3.8), deprecor (7. 16), proXigo (15. 5), and further obesus (19. 7; see below. §3.19). For the two senses, ‘placed under’ and ‘supported’, and for other nuances cf. CGL ii. 465. 45 $ subnixus; v. 42. 11 (Plac.) subnixus est instructus aliquo auxilio. item subnixus suVultus ex omni parte ¼ 100. 17 and 155. 10 and cf. iv. 288. 10; iv. 394. 24 subnixus submisus humilis; 177. 35 subnixus humilis uel subpositus aut incumbens; iv. 177. 26 ¼ 287. 41 ¼ 570. 9 subnexa (subnixa) subiecta (uel) supposita (subp.) and cf. v. 153. 26 subnexa. subiecta subposita. set melius. suVultam uel subWrmata; v. 419. 22 ¼ 427. 55 subnixis subiunctis. 94 Sublımis (explained at PF 401. 5–6 with a play on superior and supra) comes from sub þ lımis (¼lımus, ‘oblique’) and means etymologically ‘rising aslant’, then generally ‘which raises itself’.
98
Franco Cavazza
Aiming to reproduce the compositio, Gellius explains the sense ‘supported by’ for subnixus by a word of similar though not identical meaning, sublimis; his use of supra, though not connected with the word in question, is not etymologically incorrect, given that sub (sup) and super clearly share a root despite the ancient, that is IndoEuropean, opposition between the two senses. For Quadrigarius, mediation through Probus (or even Sulpicius Apollinaris, his possible conduit to Gellius) is rendered conceivable by some features of the discussion, such as the apparent borrowing of §§5–6 from a peritus antiquitatis (etymology fruniscor < fruor) and of §9 from a specialist in the lingua castrensis (etymology copiari < copia) who exhibits the preference of historical and lexical over aesthetic interpretations, of which latter Gellius is not free. The suspicion that §§5–8, 9 may not be his own might have induced us to credit Gellius with only one of the Wve etymologies in this chapter; but such a decision would be highly questionable. Rather, all the etymologies in the passage should be ascribed to him. Citing words from Quadrigarius, Gellius writes (§§5–16): ‘’ rarius quidem fuit in aetate M. Tulli ac deinceps infra rarissimum, dubitatumque est ab inperitis antiquitatis, an Latinum foret. Non modo autem Latinum, sed iucundius amoeniusque etiam uerbum est ‘fruniscor’ quam ‘fruor’, et ut ‘fatiscor’ a ‘fateor’, ita ‘fruniscor’ factum est a ‘fruor’ . . . 9. . . . ‘’ uerbum castrense est, nec facile id reperias apud ciuilium causarum oratores, ex eademque Wgura est, qua ‘lignantur’ et ‘pabulantur’ et ‘aquantur’ . . . 14. . . . ‘Adprime’ crebrius est, ‘cumprime’ rarius traductumque ex eo est, quod ‘cumprimis’ dicebant pro eo quod est ‘inprimis’ . . . 16. . . . Inusitate ‘diurnare’ dixit pro ‘diu uiuere’, sed ea Wguratione est, qua dicimus ‘perennare’.
3.18.2. Gellius’ etymology of subnixus, from sub-nitor, despite a somewhat ambiguous interpretation, admittedly of homorrhiza, is correct.95 3.18.3. That of fruniscor is correct and, obvious though it is, is stated here for the Wrst time. It is an archaic (never classical) doublet of fruor, from which it derives, and resembles a few verbs with (expressive?) double suYx, -n- þ -ısc-, e.g. conquinisco or ocquinisco.96 The comparison with fatiscor/fateor is inopportune 95 Cf.Walde–Hofmann, LEW ii. 171, who rely on Gellius’ quotation from Quadrigarius for the Wrst attestation of subnixus. 96 The etymology of fruor, inseparable from frux, poses the problem that -g- is absent from the present stem; the IE root is *bhru ¯ g-, with congeners in Germanic (Pokorny, IEW 173, proposes that *fru ¯ gor, whence *fru ¯ g-nıscor > fru ¯ nıscor, was supplanted by *fru ¯ guor). Ð
Gellius the Etymologist
99
(there is no double suYx) and etymologically false: fatiscor has nothing to do with fateor, but is related to *fatis, found in ad fatim>aVatim, and hence to fatigo. The etymologies of copiari, lignari, pabulari, and aquari, which are found here for the Wrst time, unstated but implicit in the technical term Wgura (so too in Wguratione at §16), are correct, though these are obvious denominatives (cf. Prisc. GL ii. 433. 10) of unambiguous meaning (Gellius adds only that they belong to a special language): that of copiari reappears, this time explicitly, in Non. 123 L. ¼ 87. 3–6 M. copiatur a copia . . . ut lignantur et pabulantur et aquantur, obviously derived from Gellius, those of pabulor and aquor in Prisc. GL ii. 433. 20, 17–18 respectively a pabulo ‘pabulor, pabularis’; ab aqua ‘aquor, aquaris’. The derivation of cumprime from a compositio, namely cumprimis, is also correct and obvious, the basis clearly being primus; so too is that of diurnare, like that of perennare and other denominative verbs. The former is based not on diu¯ but on diurnus, which in turn seems to be formed not directly from dies but from diu-, formed from dies on the basis of nocturnus (Italian retains in full use the verb soggiornare <*subdiurnare), the latter on perennis or *perennus as in Anna Perenna, whence Macrobius (Sat. 1. 12. 6) derives annare and perennare. 3.19. In 19. 7. 3 we Wnd an etymology of the relatively rare type ŒÆ I æÆØ , explicitly so designated: ‘Obesum’ hic [in Laevius’ Alcestis] notauimus proprie magis quam usitate dictum pro exili atque gracilento; uulgus enim IŒæø uel ŒÆ I æÆØ ‘obesum’ pro ‘uberi’ atque ‘pingui’ dicit.
3.19.1. The source for text and meaning is Laevius, read directly, but the thoughts on obesus come from Gellius himself, or his friend Julius Paulus, uir bonus et rerum litterarumque ueterum inpense doctus (§1), or else Julius Celsinus, another friend of Gellius’, with whom he considers Laevian vocabulary (§2). But it was Gellius’ custom to note or memorize words or expressions worthy of consideration and use (cf. M. 695), which was also the case here. He indicates two opposite senses for obesus (one, the more frequent and longer-lasting, being ŒÆ I æÆØ ), each with its own legitimacy, the one from etymology, the other from established spoken usage. The etymology is not expressly stated, but is clearly implied: obe¯sus is the participle of ob-e˘do, ‘gnaw’, and that is what ought in Gellius’ view to establish the word’s correct and original sense, namely ‘thin’, ‘proprement ‘‘ronge´’’ . . . , sens tre`s rare’ (Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, 454). Non. 573 L. ¼ 361. 15 M.
100
Franco Cavazza
follows Gellius and his quotation, but the opposite sense of obesus appears in PF 207. 8 L.: obesus pinguis, quasi ob edendum factus, an etymology that casts light on its grammatical and semantic development, ob taking on the causal sense. In fact, Laevius’ oddity (a semantic hapax) apart, the past participle of obe˘do has passed, like po¯tus and pra¯nsus, from passive, ‘gnawn away’, to active, ‘one who has eaten much, too much’. And that is the sense preserved, albeit at learned level, in Romance. 3.19.2. It follows that in this case too Gellius has (indirectly) stated a correct and semantically well-justiWed etymology. 3.20. In 19. 7. 4–5, again concerning a passage of Laevius, presented as a Xouter of normal usage, we read: Notauimus . . . quod hostis, qui foedera frangerent, ‘foedifragos’, non ‘foederifragos’ dixit.
3.20.1. Notauimus and our comments on obesus bring us back to Gellius, Julius Celsinus, and Julius Paulus. Granted that the etymology is obvious, we may note how Gellius, strangely, comments on a word not only used in classical authors whom he might have called ueteres,97 as authorities for good language, but on the evidence considerably commoner than the alternative he lays before the reader, which indeed is a hapax known from him alone. The evidence is the Italian fedifrago, found in educated usage (and in literature from Machiavelli onwards) but not rare even now, which suggests a tradition behind it.98 It may be less relevant or noteworthy that he takes a dogmatic position on the admissibility, in compositio, of syllabic syncope (foed[er]i-), which ancient etymologists sometimes allowed with a freedom due to the very methods of ancient etymologizing. Certainly we cannot doubt that Gellius perceived the word to have been put together by licensed exception in what I have taken to be the ordinary way from foed(us) and -fragus, rather than using the rhotacized genitive stem, with the composition vowel -i- and -fragus, as he would (rightly) prefer. Ernout–Meillet, Dictionnaire, 243, write: ‘dans le compose´ archaı¨que et poe´tique [but also classical, see above] foedifragus, le the`me *bhoido- survit peut-eˆtre; mais, en composition, le latin a souvent des formes de ce genre en face du the`me en -es-: 97
Cic. De oV. 1. 38; deleted by Weidner and some editors, but accepted by Winterbottom, who takes the word for Ennian, and by the OLD s.v. 98 To be sure there is a paraetymology from fede, but the association already existed in antiquity (Varro, LL 5. 86). At all events the formation satisWes a native speaker’s Sprachgefu¨hl.
Gellius the Etymologist
101
ainsi uulni-Wcus en face de uulnus; cf. homicıda de *homo¯(n)-’. For the form see too LHSz i. 389–90, where the link-vowel -i-99 in foedi-fragus is said to cause the -in- or -er- in -n- and -s- stems to be suppressed as an unnecessary suYx, so as to produce a ‘Ku¨rzung des Stammes’. 3.20.2. Such reWnements apart, Gellius’ proposal is correct; modern linguistic science has found itself obliged to explain the phenomenon concerned.
4. conclusions 4.1. This study has added nothing to what was known of ancient etymology; rather, it conWrms the Wndings of ‘Gellio grammatico’ concerning certain characteristics of Gellius as an exponent of the ars grammatica,100 which make him, within antiquity, a scholar fully worthy of respect. He shows certain indisputable pecularities of technique and method, which emerge even from a limited study such as this, conWned as it is to etymologies for which Gellius appears to be reponsible, not to all those found within his work; they are: (a) dexterity in applying the etymological techniques of his times, and therefore (b) good knowledge of the ‘etymological categories’ employed by ancient grammarians: etymologies Ø (cf. 10. 4, a passage of Nigidius outside our scope), Graecisms, barbarisms, phenomena of compositio, of declinatio per similitudinem, ŒÆ I æÆØ , paronomasia, and declinatio in the general sense of ‘derivation’; (c) ability to advance etymologies apparently his own, not merely to depend on others;101
99 On this -i- see esp. F. Bader, Formation, 13–30, ‘Apophonie’, esp. 238–41; F. ´ . Benveniste, Origines, 77 points out Cavazza, ‘Gli aggettivi in -ı-tımus’, 581–6. E that ‘-i- en Wn de compose´ peut aussi bien reposer sur *-o-’ (cf. agri-cola). 100 Gellius’ studies are not conWned to Latin; even in the etymologies attributed to him there is considerable reference to Greek. That is no surprise, but simply demonstrates a fair acquaintance with the language. Gellius, the pupil of Favorinus and Herodes Atticus, was probably in Greece more than once (cf. my edn. i. 17–18; he attended the Pythian Games of ad 143 or 151) and stayed there for extended periods (cf. ibid.). This lasting relationship with Greece is symbolized by his very title, otherwise inexplicable. 101 Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 183–4 [134–5].
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Franco Cavazza
(d) ability to correct other etymologists (as with words in -mentum, above, §3.9); (e) to choose with judgement between two conXicting options or etymologies; (f ) a positive success-rate in hitting the target (see the striking percentages in the summary table below); (g) appreciation for the importance of semantics, inseparable from modern scientiWc etymology: Gellius uses etymology to explain the exact meaning of words, standing in a long GraecoRoman tradition from Platonic sound-symbolism to Varronian IæÆØ º ªÆ and juristic etymology that explains the facinus by the uerba; (h) concern for accuracy: Gellius checks what he says; see the comment of R. Marache, Critique, 311, who after pointing out that the Attic Nights preserve much on Gellius’ masters and their opinions adds: Jamais cependant Aulu-Gelle ne nous transmet un jugement sans le controˆler, sans en peser les termes et les raisons. S’il n’est pas l’inventeur de ce qu’il dit, il sait ce qu’il dit. Il s’appuie presque toujours sur des citations. Il donne ainsi a` son lecteur la possibilite´ de controˆler ce qu’il avance, de voir si ce qu’on lui propose est juste ou vraisemblable. Mais il donne d’abord l’assurance qu’il a fait lui-meˆme ce controˆle et qu’il a une opinion personnelle sur la question.
And that is naturally what he also does in the Weld of etymology. (i) non-amateurishness: once again he demonstrates expert knowledge of the ars grammatica, as I sought to show in ‘Gellio grammatico’. 4.2. I conclude with a table showing the main words or the fundamental morphemes of those amongst the Wfty-odd etymologies studied for which Gellius’ paternity appears to be established,102 together with a possible source for those determined a priori to deny it. The correctness of the etymology must be understood in the light of ancient approximations: thus the phrase uox Graeca deliberately does not distinguish between actual borrowing from Greek and common Indo-European derivation.
102 Owing to this limitation, and to the omission (besides a lost passage discussed in the text) of etymologies not stated clearly, those left in doubt without a suggestion (except for au-, a genuine personal intuition), and those relating to verbal or nominal categories of which only one example is cited, the number of etymologies does not reach 50, but only 25.
Gellius the Etymologist
103
word
type
verdict
presumed source
fur uiuaria Morta
uox Graeca declinatio uox Graeca
right right right?
4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19
-o¯sus praemodum nequitia obnoxius -mentum sacellum cupsones auarus -lentus -tor subulcus somnus auemplastrum subnixus fruniscor
declinatio103 compositio declinatio compositio declinatio declinatio uox Graeca declinatio declinatio declinatio uox Graeca uox Graeca uox Graeca (?) uox Graeca compositio declinatio
right right right wrong right right right right right right wrong right right right right right
20
fatiscor
declinatio
wrong
21
copior
declinatio
right
22
cumprime
declinatio
right
23
diurnare
declinatio
right
24 25
obesus foedifragus
ŒÆ I æÆØ compositio
right right
(Probus?) (Verrius?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Probus?) (Verrius?) (Probus?) (Probus?) (a grammarian?) (a grammarian?) (?) (?) (?) (Probus?) (Verrius?) (Verrius?) (?) (Sulpicius Apoll.?) (?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Sulpicius Apoll., Probus?) (Julius Celsinus?) (Julius Celsinus?)
1 2 3
4.3. A percentage calculation gives a very favourable assessment of Gellius’ etymologies: out of twenty-Wve discussed only three are certainly wrong, that is 12% wrong to 88% right. Surveying Greek 103 The technical meaning of declinatio varies (see F. Cavazza, ‘Come si forma’, 138–41, ‘Due note’, 212–14, ‘L’etimologia classica’, 22–7) from ‘declension’ to ‘derivation’, which is more frequent in ancient etymology, so that in theory a declinatio may also be a borrowing from the Greek; the term is subjected here to a useful diVerentiation.
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Franco Cavazza
and Latin etymological literature as a whole, we can only conclude that Gellius is among the best etymologists of antiquity. This is going too far for one who did not write systematically on the subject and has left us not a minimal but still a limited number of etymologies; nevertheless, having favourably assessed his etymological practice, methods, and technical knowledge, we are no less bound to take a favourable view of the practical results of Gellius’ labours in this Weld of the ancient ars grammatica. Translated by Leofranc Holford-Strevens
4 Aulus Gellius as a Storyteller G ra h am A nder s on Among students of ancient storytelling Gellius is likely to excite perhaps the least interest as a narrator in his own right.1 And among Gellian scholars his storytelling skills are not likely to be celebrated either.2 The same reasons hold good for scholars of narrative and scholars of Gellius: his reputation as an individualist antiquarian tends to distract us from his performance in an activity which would have been regarded as much humbler3 than the arts of philological footnoting. But this is the very reason why it is useful to look at his storytelling techniques. Gellius promises to show us a routine rather than a gifted performance in a despised line of activity. Here I examine three facets of his storytelling: the sorts of things we might like to notice about his choice of tales; how he can be measured against others in well-known tales which exist in other variants; and what sort of storytelling he was able to make his own, as the narrative of grammatical discovery (‘seated one night in the lamplight . . . ’).
I am grateful for a number of participants’ observations at the seminar discussion, and for additional references supplied by Dr Holford-Strevens. 1 For example Gellius rates only a single mention in the author-index of W. F. Hansen, Ariadne’s Thread (for 5. 14), despite the considerable amount of popular material in the Noctes Atticae; P. Steinmetz’s detailed and perceptive discussion (Untersuchungen, 276–91) focuses on anecdote rather than narration as such. 2 L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius tends to mention the topic only incidentally e.g. 59–93, 79–80, 246 [43–5, 57–8, 181–2] (in contexts of style, sources, and historiography respectively). [See also id., ‘An Antonine Litte´rateur’, §§3.10–11.] 3 For major new perspectives on popular storytelling, W. F. Hansen, Greek Popular Literature; id., Ariadne’s Thread.
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1. some aspects of repertoire In the Noctes Atticae we can notice a sprinkling of the normal tales and kinds of tales4 that any educated Imperial author would be expected to know and be inclined to collect or reproduce: anecdotes about Alexander the Great (characteristically, his gallantry with female captives); or Regulus and the Carthaginians; or Fabricius refusing a bribe from the Samnites. Here we have the sort of material we should expect to Wnd Wlling the exemplum Wles of Valerius Maximus5 and his like. But even here there are surprises. The story of Alexander respecting Darius’ wife and daughter is joined to an instance where Valerius Antias asserts that Scipio Africanus did not respect a female captive in his custody (7. 8). We should of course expect Gellius to pay lip service to traditional exempla uirtutis; but he is just as likely to be interested or titillated by gossip about the lapses of the great and the good. In a similar vein, on the subject of Regulus (7. 4), it is not the famous Wnest hour of the Roman commander calmly returning to Carthage that Gellius chooses to record: it is rather the Carthaginian tortures when he arrives back, and the divergence between the accounts of Tubero and Tuditanus as to what these tortures actually were. Nor are these atrocities used to support Carthaginian wickedness as opposed to Roman virtue: Gellius will just as readily cite the sanctity of an oath maintained by Hannibal (6. 18), perhaps again for the sake of paradox: even the Wgure who represents the Roman idea of the devil incarnate is still pledged to maintain universal human values. Beside the historical exempla we Wnd samples of para-historical chreia-style anecdotes: there is a variant of ‘what the bishop said to the actress’, as when Demosthenes tells the courtesan Lais that the price of folly is too expensive (1. 8): PŒ T FÆØ ıæø æÆH ƺØÆ . This is quoted from a philosophical source, Sotion, and might be supposed to carry a moral message; but again the suspicion of entertainment or titillatory value may not be wholly absent. Or we have the words of Scipio Africanus to Sulpicius Gallus for wearing an eVeminate chirodyta (6. 12). Here we might detect the typical texture of antiquarian detail and moral posturing: we have to be reminded of the development of the Roman dress code, as well as a puritanical prejudice against eVeminate mannerisms. 4
See still J. Bompaire, Lucien e´crivain, 443–68. On the latter’s approach, C. Skidmore, Practical Ethics, esp. 83–92; W. M. Bloomer, New Nobility, 59–146 passim. 5
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Other stories are more straightforward to account for: simple paradox would be enough to explain the inclusion of an extract from Apion on boy and dolphin (6. 8), though it may tell us something that Gellius has to go to Apion for it, rather than draw on more immediate contemporary information, as the Younger Pliny had done for a very similar tale (Ep. 9. 33); in the latter case it arises in ordinary dinner conversation. We note a typically piquant line in unusual anecdote (6. 5), where the actor Polus acts the part of Sophocles’ Electra while holding the ashes of his own son as those of Orestes: one thinks of the kind of extreme situation in the elder Seneca, where an artist paints Prometheus, using the body of a criminal under torture as his model (Sen. Contr. 10. 5). Others turn out unusual in other ways. I cannot think of a close parallel to the story of Papirius Praetextatus (1. 23): a child attends the senate with his father: forced by his mother to divulge its conWdential proceedings, he makes up the subjects that they were debating—whether a husband should have two wives or a wife two husbands: for Gellius this is a iucunda historia, but with the typical taste for old Roman grauitas: sons must learn to take after their fathers, and not trust secrets even to their own mothers, who have no proper appreciation of the conWdentiality of the senate. All this sort of subject-matter, then, we expect, even if the odd detail or mannerism surprises us, but in each case we should at least Wnd ourselves asking: ‘Why this tale and not such-and-such another?’ We might bypass the question altogether and invoke the miscellanist’s privilege:6 but it should still be worth asking about a story as lively and ben trovato as 1. 19, the story of Tarquin and the Sibyl. Gellius tells us that this example occurs in antiquis annalibus, but does not cite a speciWc source, which may well be his way of telling us that he does not have the source in front of him. The story is of interest because it is so obviously a traditional story type, though neither Hansen nor I can Wnd any very close parallel. There is no special storytelling technique required to tell it, because the tale is inherent in the mechanism of the action. We have a typical folktale rule of three: twice Tarquin refuses to buy the books, and only the third time does he realize their worth; but the price has now gone up to 300%. The reason for Gellius’ telling is in the last sentence: it explains an established custom of antiquarian religious lore, how the quindecimuiri came to consult the Sibylline Books in 6
For the miscellanist’s procedures, G. Anderson (1994), 1840–52; A. D. Vardi, below, Ch. 6.
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the Wrst place. In Gellius we cannot always say ‘the tale’s the thing’ or ‘it’s how you tell it’; often he may be just as interested in whatever nugget he can attach to it.
2. gellius on two well-known tales: ‘arion and the dolphin’ and ‘ androcles and the lion ’ And so to Gellius’ own performance over two ‘measured miles’. It is typical of Gellius’ preference to opt for a handling of narrative material that we should regard as halfway between translation and paraphrase. The main sequence of events in a clearly stated source is followed with minimal deviation, but with small expansions, roundings oV, or other minor adjustments which we can then attempt to explain. We can do this most eVectively for Gellius’ version of Herodotus 1. 23–4 at Gellius 16. 19, where we are in a position to compare not only the author’s working with an extant original, but also with a near-contemporary version by Gellius’ own philological acquaintance and literary senior Marcus Cornelius Fronto.7 As Yvette Julien notes, both authors produce freestanding versions not shaped by any speciWc context, and hence ideally suited to comparison with their obvious source and with each other. Although in some sense Gellius was at some point Fronto’s pupil, there is no compelling evidence of his knowledge of the latter’s working of the story,8 as there is none of its use as an exemplum for the latter’s pupil Marcus Aurelius.9 In the Wrst instance Herodotus tells us that Arion was the most distinguished musician of his day, and that he was regarded as the inventor of the dithyramb, which he practised at Corinth itself: K Æ ŒØŁÆæfiøe H K ø P e æ . This nugget of information might be important to Herodotus himself (as it is to us); but from a second-century Roman perspective it is rather less so: hence we Wnd from Fronto Arion Lesbius . . . cithara et dithy7 Text pp. 241–2 v:d:H:2 . On the relationship, E. Champlin, Antonine Rome, 46–50; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 131–9 [93–9]. There is valuable and detailed discussion of the Fronto version in Y. Julien, ‘Histoire d’Arion’, 323–38; and (succinctly and independently) in M. van den Hout, Commentary, 543–50. 8 [Resemblances are interpreted by Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 135 n. 26 [96 n. 19] as evidence for Gellius’ use of Fronto; others have argued that Fronto used Gellius.] 9 So van den Hout, Commentary, 544 (pace Julien 326), reminding us that it is not actually a letter at all.
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rambo primus (Arion 1, p. 241 v:d:H:2 ) and in Gellius only ‘Vetus’, inquit (sc. Herodotus), ‘et nobilis Arion cantator Wdibus fuit’ (16. 19. 2). Then Gellius rather trivially chooses to make heavy weather of his place of origin: for Herodotus the musician is simply Łı ÆE , for Fronto Lesbius. Only Gellius has to explain ponderously: is loco et oppido Methymnaeus, terra atque insula omni Lesbius fuit. As to his home town he belonged to Methymna, as to his homeland and island he belonged to Lesbos (16. 19. 3).
Then the respective narrators have to explain his relationship to Periander: for Herodotus (1. 24. 1) the matter is straightforward: e ººe F æ ı ØÆæ Æ Ææa —æØ æfiø. The information is actually delayed in Fronto, but Gellius oVers a little Xourish of his own: Eum Arionem rex Corinthi Periander amicum amatumque habuit artis gratia. This Arion King Periander of Corinth treated as a much-loved friend because of his skill (16. 19. 4).
Both Latin authors choose to inXate Arion’s successful concert tour: what was merely KæªÆ . . . æÆÆ ªºÆ in Herodotus becomes in Gellius: auresque omnium mentesque in utriusque terrae urbibus demulsit, in quaestibus istic et uoluptatibus amoribusque hominum fuit. he tickled the ears and minds of all in the cities of both countries, and there he was popular and a source of delight and devotion (16. 19. 6).
Once the hero is on the high seas on the deliberately Corinthian ship, Herodotus is again the simplest: f b K H† ºªœ K Ø ıºØ e `æ Æ KŒÆº Æ Ø a æÆÆ. This is now in Gellius nauique in altum prouecta praedae pecuniaeque cupidos cepisse consilium de necando Arione. When the ship was far out at sea, they conspired in their greed for loot and money to kill Arion (16. 19. 9).
If we thought at Wrst this was purely accidental alliteration,10 we soon realize that it is not, when we also Wnd Wdes capere et canere carmen casus illius sui consolabile, 10 For the diYculties of assessing the phenomenon, L. P. Wilkinson, Golden Latin Artistry, 25–8.
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to take his lyre and sing a song that would console him for his condition (16. 19. 12).
Gellius does not produce ornament at every opportunity, but he is not averse to it either. Fronto is best at the sense of occasion, with Arion on the poop and the crew scattered over the ship, in what amounts to a sophistic performance, complete with his gold-embroidered robe, in contrast to Herodotus’ simple AÆ c Œı . Gellius interestingly retains Herodotus’ detail that Arion sang the carmen, quod ‘orthium’ dicitur (16. 19. 14), which Fronto leaves out: for our author this is again valuable antiquarian detail. He misses out, however, on the climactic farewell, with only a uoce sublatissima, though when the dolphin arrives he does give us a little extra: Sed nouum et mirum et pium facinus contigit. But an unexpected, amazing, and dutiful act chanced to take place (16. 19. 16).
Come the dolphin, Fronto comes into his own: delphinus excipit, sublimem auehit, naui praeuortit, Taenaro exponit, a dolphin caught him, carried him aloft, swam ahead of the ship, and put him ashore at Taenarus (p. 241. 16–17);11
and the brachylogy continues with Arion inde Corinthum proWciscitur: et homo et uestis et cithara ac uox incolumis. from there Arion made his way to Corinth; his voice, his robes, his lyre, and his voice were all intact (§2, p. 241. 19–20).
By contrast Gellius has a rather feeble incolumique . . . corpore et ornatu (§16). So far honours even perhaps: but when we Wnd ourselves back with Periander, Herodotus is very terse: Periander ! I ØÆ has Arion shut away and awaits the arrival of the sailors. All this amounts to is that Periander Wnds the matter suYciently unusual to conduct an independent investigation, where of course the sailors will condemn themselves out of their own mouths. Fronto gets this exactly right: rex homini credere, miraculo addubitare: he believed the man, but was sceptical about the amazing event (p. 241. 22); 11 To say with van den Hout (547) that ‘here Fronto cuts the story short’ rather misses the artistic point of the tetracolon.
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Gellius by contrast seems to go oV the rails and takes his LCL translator J. C. Rolfe with him: Regem istaec parum credidisse, Arionem, quasi falleret, custodiri iussisse (LCL ‘The king did not believe the story, but ordered that Arion be imprisoned as an impostor’ 16. 19. 18–19). Come the hearing itself, as Julien has well shown, Fronto comes into his own as interested in the judicial proceedings, as we should expect from his profession as an advocate; Gellius, likewise with considerable legal background and experience at least by the time of the redaction of the Noctes Atticae, misses out on the opportunity.12 When we step back far enough from the three versions we can see that Herodotus’ account is easily the most consistently unvarnished and economical, and one can well see why it should Wgure so prominently in the subliterature of progymnasmata for its value as a narrative exercise.13 Neither imitator sets out to be extravagant in his paraphrase. Fronto’s version reXects in a discreetly limited way the values of a sophistic rhetorical culture: verbal elegance is carefully calculated, not by any means overdone, nor is Herodotus necessarily ‘improved’; but the telling is elegant and polished, yet still in line with its model; archaism is correspondingly restrained.14 By comparison, Gellius seems to me at any rate a little naı¨ve, a little ponderous, a little unimaginative, but perhaps worst of all despite the runs of alliteration a little colourless as well, and we should be tempted to add ‘full of missed opportunities’. It is a workaday eVort, of a competent Latinist going through the motions. He is a competent enough narrator; but here he can be compared with two excellent ones. Van den Hout15 suggests that of Herodotus’ many imitators on this subject ‘only Fronto16 and Gell. 16. 19 try to narrate it in a style that is even simpler than Herodotus’ own version’, and one might agree with the implication that neither quite succeeds. If we want to see creative or Xamboyant development of Herodotus, we must certainly look elsewhere: the 12
Fronto, Arion 2 (Julien 330–3); Gell. 16. 19. 18–23. Amongst many others, Nicolaus, Progymn. 2. 7 (Rhetores Graeci, i. 271 Walz); ps.-Liban. Progymn., narr. 29 (viii. 52 Fo¨rster). 14 Not always evident in printed texts: Julien (327) restores possiet on rhythmical grounds at Arion 1. 15 Commentary, 544. 16 I am less convinced than van den Hout (545) that Fronto’s literary ambitions were very limited, on the strength of a gesture of literary modesty; he himself eVectively contrasts the rhetorical panache of Fronto’s other excursions into belles-lettres with the Arion (544). 13
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prominent account in Plutarch’s Banquet of the Seven Sages 18 (160 e–162 b) combines charm and immediacy, reported in midaction at precisely the point where word reaches Periander’s court itself; still more so is the account in Lucian’s Dialogi Marini (5 Macleod) where the tale is (not wholly accurately) paraphrased in the mouth of a dolphin reporting to Poseidon, again close in time to the event. In neither case has the author set himself the task of mere ‘retelling’, but of resetting the tale from an unexpected point of view which considerably enhances the literary opportunities.17 We can do a similar, but less detailed, overview of the version of Androclus and the lion (5. 14), but not with the same hope of success. Here the stated source in Apion is lost apart from Gellius’ own version, but there is what seems to be an independent version of the same event in Aelian’s Natura animalium (7. 48).18 The diVerences here are again quite minor, and it is clear that Aelian is treating the matter as a genuine event, just as Apion himself had done; it is useful to remind ourselves of Aelian’s Italian background:19 he would have been well enough equipped to have got the story from Roman oral tradition itself, since the whole of the circus is supposed to have witnessed the event. Both narrators agree on the three-year sojourn in Libya by the runaway; Aelian engagingly adds that Androcles cooked his share of the lion’s meat, and emphasizes the aspect of xenia in their living arrangements. DiVerent accounts are oVered of why he had to leave the lion, and in Aelian it actually kills a leopard meant to kill him instead. But Aelian slips up on an eyewitness detail supplied by Apion through Gellius: he assumes that the news travels through the crowd by word of mouth, whereas Gellius preserves what seems a unique detail: that the story is circulated round the crowd quickly by means of placards—again a detail to appeal to Gellius, who prefers a written text of anything. Note too that Aelian is vague about Androcles’ master—simply a senator, rather than a proconsul, and about the giver of the show, anonymous in Aelian; whereas the emperor is present, if not the actual benefactor, in Gellius. An Italian has no problem with Roman rankings, about which someone culturally Greek is more likely to be unconcerned. 17
Other brief versions based on Herodotus include Strabo 13. 2. 4; Ovid, Fasti 2. 83–118; Pliny, NH 9. 28, and Favorinus (Corinth. ¼ ps.-Dion of Prusa Or. 37. 1–4); those of Hyginus, Fabula 194 and D.S. on Ecl. 8. 55 have access to considerably diVerent details. 18 For the folktale tradition, K. Ranke, ‘Androklus’; but of course Gellius sees his version in relation only to its literary source Apion. 19 So Philostr. VS 624–5.
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But Gellius does have a narrative trump card here: he describes the lion itself in very great detail in the arena scene itself, and this he places Wrst: then he has Androclus tell the whole story in Wrstperson Xashback: altogether much more of a storyteller’s presentation than the simple curiosity of animal memory we are oVered in Aelian.20 Unfortunately we are less well served by a further Gellian doublet. The fable of the Lark and her young can be inferred to come from a tetrameter account in Ennius’ Saturae, of which the Wnal moral is actually quoted (2. 29).21 Comparison with the versions in both Babrius 88 and Avianus 21 show that Gellius is following an expansive and prolix version, which feels the need to explain why the bird needs to move her family: normally such a bird times her nest-building so that her brood will be able to Xy by harvest; but this year she built it in a Weld sown rather early and so has to have the Xedgelings alert to when the harvest is to take place. We then have reported speech of the farmer and the Xedglings on each of the three occasions, rather than just the concluding speech on the part of the lark to underline the moral to trust oneself rather than friends or family. In this version too the father plausibly teams up with his son, rather than operate single-handed: a plausible interlocutor is thus made available.
3. gellius on cultural exchanges By contrast Gellius is in a very diVerent storytelling mode when he narrates his own personal experiences, either as eyewitness of other people’s contemporary encounters, or as narrator of his own. Here the bookishness is of a completely diVerent kind: the traditional academic/antiquarian subject-matter is there, but the events relating to it are actually happening in the here and now. We have in the nature of things next to no control here for Gellius’ narrative: he is the sole reporter. The Wrst such encounter is between Herodes Atticus and a would-be Stoic (1. 2). We can notice this to be much more elaborately written up than the materials so often sparely reported or paraphrased from annalistic sources. It has the characteristic form of a discussion leading up to the ipsissima uerba of a quoted text 20
Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 80 n. 57 [58 n. 48]. [See, however, M. J. Luzzatto, ‘Note su Aviano’, 82–4; L. Del Vecchio and A. M. Fiore, ‘Fabula in satura’, 59–67.] 21
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(Arrian’s Epictetus). The lead-in to the conversation actually contains a little ecphrasis of the cool shade aVorded by Herodes’ villa, although the details could be said to arise naturally out of his explaining how the party avoided summer and autumn heat. The sentence-structure of the encounter between Herodes and the would-be Stoic bore is ambitious and expansive (it might be said to inXate with the pretensions of the student himself ); Herodes can then abase himself with grovelling mock-humility before he leaves Epictetus to do his demolition for him. While the material is stock and likely to replicate itself naturally in academic situations, one has a sense that Gellius is both directly engaged with his material and able to narrate the course of events eVectively. This is not a stereotypical chreia, but an artistically expanded anecdote capped with an erudite antiquarian Xourish. In other instances, however, Gellius may choose to be less expansive. At its crudest an anecdote purporting to present personal experience may run as follows (14. 5. 1): Defessus ego quondam diutina commentatione laxandi leuandique animi gratia in Agrippae campo deambulabam. Atque ibi duos forte grammaticos conspicatus non parui in urbe Roma nominis certationi eorum acerrimae adfui, cum alter in casu uocatiuo ‘uir egregi’ dicendum contenderet, alter ‘uir egregie’.
The arguments are then reported in due detail until (§4): cum . . . eaque inter eos contentio longius duceretur, non arbitratus ego operae pretium esse eadem istaec diutius audire clamantes conpugnantesque illos reliqui.
In such episodes we sense Gellius wishing to have the best of both worlds: to home in on any grammatical debate, since that is in his own view where the action is; then to aVect contempt of the excess and misapplied enthusiasm of others. We sense the same sort of attitude in Lucian’s taking his leave of eminent philosophers telling ghost stories (Philops. 39), or stopping Lexiphanes’ selfindulgent parade of hyper-Atticism (Lex. 16). The narrator uses the story to advertise his own superiority and moderation(!). Yet in a sense this scenario is not just Gellius’ idea of a story: it is the story of Gellius’ life, as we say. Holford-Strevens22 has noted Gellius’ aversion to conventional visual description and to detailed physical description of the subjects of his anecdotes, and both traits are relevant to his outlook and technique as a narrator: he sees his own-life experiences 22
‘Aulus Gellius: The Non-Visual Portraitist’.
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through an academic prism where reputation and pretension rather than their outward manifestation are what seem to matter to him, and much of the supporting detail of anecdote material is trimmed down to suit such an emphasis: we can Wnd more of the same tradition in the tantalizingly brief reminiscences preserved in the rhetorical exercises of the Elder Seneca, doubtless for similar reasons. We can note too that Gellius’ accounts of encounters with Herodes Atticus or Favorinus are quite diVerent in the telling from the sort of incidents reported in Philostratus’ Lives of the Sophists and in the sophistic tradition generally, even though the focus of both sets of tales is often on the same kind of oneupmanship. The closest we get in Philostratus is that Philagrus of Cilicia oVended the pupils of the purist Herodes by perpetrating an Œıº ÞBÆ (VS 578). Philostratus as usual is interested in the incident because of its eVect on Philagrus’ temper, and arranges the incident round a one-liner of Herodes: Philagrus has simply mismanaged his introduction. What he does not bother to tell us is what the Œıº ÞBÆ actually was. In comparable incidents where Herodes or Wgures of equivalent standing are involved, the word or quotation itself will take pride of place in the discussion, with the bad manners of the arrogant challenger to Gellius’ idol a matter of secondary importance. The Wnal arbiter, and the close of the anecdote, will if possible be a book, where for Philostratus the spoken word is king. Similarly, if we compare the kind of anecdotes we Wnd in Lucian on his favourite hobby-horse—attacks on false philosophers, a standard second-century commonplace23—we Wnd that Gellius puts such an attack in the mouth of Herodes himself (9. 2), when a philosophic beggar asks him for money; but he then goes on to load the anecdote with what we might think of as antiquarian material: how the Athenians decreed that the names Harmodius and Aristogeiton could not be used as slave-names, and that names of disgraced patricians could not be given to patricians of the same gens. Sometimes Gellius seems to oVer a measure of spontaneity in narrating details leading up to his own lexical discoveries, or indeed in doing down others, as in the story of the books at Brundisium (9. 4). Gellius comes here as close as he can to making an exciting story of the discovery of books, only allowing himself one antiquarian observation on the name Brundisium itself, that it was called 23 e.g. C. P. Jones, Culture and Society, 31–2, though as usual he emphasizes experience against literary stereotype.
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praepes (‘propitious’) in Ennius. Sometimes he will become eloquent in attack on those he thinks he has worsted, as when he presents his own mock-humility against a reputable Roman grammarian, carefully putting his own ignorance of grammar a` la mode with that of Plautus, and dramatizing the tongue-tied fool as ille oscitans et alucinanti similis . . . At nebulo quidem ille . . . (6. 17. 11–12). Or he will revel at second hand when wrong-headed detractors outlaw a correct Ciceronian idiom by calling the master manifestarius (‘caught in the act’), like the adulterer in Plautus (Bacch. 918), for perpetrating futurum for futuram (1. 7. 3). One issue which pehaps looms larger than most others in discussing Gellian storytelling is the line between truth and Wction. How far did he ‘write up’ his genuine reminiscences in particular, and construct them into little dramas of his own to embody his personal preoccupations, or how far do they represent authentic occurrences?24 This is a problem which faces autobiographical material in most writers who purport to provide it, perhaps most obviously in a second-century context in the case of Lucian; but one might entertain suspicions in literary letter-writing in the case of the Younger Pliny,25 or in the case of Arrian’s Epictetus. I suspect that, where Gellius is concerned, and no glaring impossibility or implausibility can be shown, it is very hard to disqualify the shorter narrative sketches from at least a reasonable basis of authenticity, though interpolation in the light of further reading can never be ruled out. What seems obvious is that Gellius projects himself as so straightforward and simplistic a persona that he seems incapable of the level of artiWce one can readily credit to a Lucian or Philostratus. We can also say that the outlook of a grammarian and bibliophile are quite substantially divergent from that of a rhetor or sophist, and that Gellius very obviously falls on the grammatical side of the divide. To sum up: Gellius selects often quaintly angled stories for retelling, as miscellanists do; in the actual telling itself he does not in the main aim at much more than report; but in reminiscence or purported reminiscence his own enthusiasms begin to emerge. We should ask how storytelling adds to our total picture of the nature and guiding principles of Gellius’ activity; and how it contributes in a broadly educational context.26
24 25 26
Cf. L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Fact and Fiction’; id., Aulus Gellius, 64–72 [47–51]. On which A. N. Sherwin-White, Letters, 11–20. See Morgan, below, Ch. 7.
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Gellius is not a gifted storyteller, but rather a testimony to what happens to narratives at the hands of an erudite collector of curiosities from the twilight zone between the grammaticus and the wider world of higher education. He conspicuously lacks the sophistic panache of Apuleius, whose Florida cover fairly similar territory in a brilliantly verbose way; nor is he aZicted with the clumsy prolixity of a Valerius Maximus.27 His is not the world of ‘did you hear the one about—?’; it is rather the world of ‘you’ll never guess what book I found this in, here are the author’s exact words!’ In some respects Gellius is closer to the mental world and limitations of the Plinys, with the lack of imagination that that implies, than to the world of sophists so easily found in the Athens in which he immersed himself. 27 On the Florida, see now S. Harrison, Apuleius, 89–135; on this aspect of Valerius, C. J. Carter, ‘Valerius’, 42–5.
5 Gellius and the Roman Antiquarian Tradition A n d r e w J. S te v en so n Ancient Rome was as interested in her past as are historians today and antiquarian writing was an important written outlet for this interest. But, while the literary character of Roman historiography is well known, Roman antiquarian writing and its importance in the intellectual life of Rome has largely gone unnoticed.1 Antiquarianism in ancient Rome was the scholarly study of the past in all its aspects. It was a scholarly genre, lacking literary pretension, which could admit discussions of detail and could cite documentary evidence, as well as other writers. Other key features of Roman antiquarianism are the systematic rather than chronological treatment by the antiquarians of their material, and its use of the learned monograph.2 It can also take in the accumulated baggage of tradition that would be too trivial for ‘history’. It was, then, a sort of non-Kunstprosa history, possibly more recognizable as ‘history’ to modern historical scholarship than is ancient historiography. The indiVerence towards literary style and rhetorical inXuences is one of several characteristics shared with other scholarly genres and
1 Notable contributions have been H. Peter’s chapter on ‘Die antiquarischen Studien und die Curiositas’ (Die geschichtliche Litteratur, i. 108–58), the essays by A. D. Momigliano on ‘Ancient History and the Antiquarian’ and E. Rawson on ‘Cicero the Historian and Cicero the Antiquarian’, together with the chapter on antiquarianism in ead., Intellectual Life and A. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius. WallaceHadrill rightly stresses the antiquarian background to Suetonius’ biographies, while Rawson’s Intellectual Life is probably the Wrst work, in English at least, to see antiquarianism as an intellectual discipline in its own right, which would repay modern study. In my unpublished thesis (A. J. Stevenson, ‘Gellius’) I attempt to identify the antiquarian scholars of Rome and those works which contain antiquarian material and which can tell us something of the antiquarian tradition at Rome, and I develop at greater length the themes introduced here. 2 E. Rawson, ‘Logical Organisation’, 12 ¼ 324–5 rightly notes that the systematic organization found in Varro and other scholarly writers of the late Republic represents a signiWcant intellectual advance on the chronological organization of material.
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juristic writing. Antiquarian writing was also in prose: there was a close verse relation in aetiological poetry, though the two seem to have remained largely separate.3
1. the antiquarian tradition at rome Historiography and antiquarian writing emerged together at Rome early in the second century bc, and it would seem to be only with the development of the Kunstprosa of historiography that antiquarian writing became recognizable as a distinct mode of enquiry into Rome’s past. The Wrst antiquarian works seem to have been produced in the later second century bc by men such as M. Junius Gracchanus, though the elder Cato’s writings may already have had some antiquarian content. In the earlier half of the Wrst century bc, Aelius Stilo is the most prominent among a number of shadowy scholars who contributed to antiquarian scholarship. Not least of Stilo’s contributions was undoubtedly his role in the education of Cicero and Varro. Cicero evidently had some sympathy with antiquarian scholarship, and made use of antiquarian material on a number of occasions, most notably in the works De re publica and De legibus, though he never, as far as we know, wrote an antiquarian work. Varro, however, became the antiquarian scholar par excellence, and was apparently regarded as such by contemporaries and certainly by later scholars. It is worth noting at this point that there was no Latin word for an antiquarian scholar, and that those whom I call antiquarians were simply those whose interests included antiquarianism. The Varronian oeuvre represented the acme of Roman antiquarian writing. Varro’s most important work was probably the Antiquitates rerum humanarum et diuinarum, a systematic study of Rome and her past, which probably introduced the term antiquitates for antiquarian studies. It was certainly his most important antiquarian work. His antiquarian scholarship is evident in all his works, even including the De lingua Latina, but it is the Antiquitates which seem to have formed the most important source for later antiquarians and other scholars, who copied, commented on, and epitomized it, to the extent that much of the material circulating in the antiquarian tradition derived ultimately from this work. 3
On the chief representatives of Roman antiquarian verse writing, cf. J. F. Miller, ‘Callimachus’. Varro wrote a work entitled Aetia, but it is unclear whether this was in verse or prose (or both).
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And Varro’s inXuence continued through the Imperial period: for all he is doctissimus Romanorum (others may be doctissimi, but only of their age); and it would seem that he was regarded as the deWnitive auctoritas on matters concerning public and private life. The overall impression is of the vast, indeed overwhelming, inXuence of Varro. As far as we know his works formed the Wrst complete encyclopaedia of Roman Wissenschaft (which was no slight achievement). Yet it is unclear whether Varro’s importance lay in an innovative approach to the study of Rome’s past, in considerable original research and thought, or simply in being the Wrst to collect and collate existing research. All three doubtless contributed: it is unlikely that in compiling his works he did not on occasion have to add the results of his own research to that contained in his sources. His use of documentary sources tends to conWrm this; yet there are also occasions when the names of earlier writers are mentioned along with that of Varro, or are cited by him. Varro’s dominance of Roman scholarly writing has concealed the contribution of earlier, contemporary, and later scholars, for the deWnitive authority of Varro’s name could eclipse that of an intermediary source. The excesses of nineteenth-century Quellenforschung have devalued the study of the sources used by ancient writers, but it is notable that it is often not very diYcult to Wnd a connection between the antiquarian interests of later scholars and those of Varro; the one question which is probably impossible to answer is that of Varro’s relation to his predecessors. It is quite remarkable that we should have so little of such inXuential works. Antiquarian research seems to have thrived at times of crisis or change: the two major Xowerings of antiquarianism coincided with the Gracchi and the civil wars of the late Republic down to the establishment of the Augustan Principate. The works produced in these periods, but particularly the second, seem to have set the focus for all subsequent antiquarian writing, just as the constitutional changes in those years largely formed the basis of political life under the emperors. Such antiquarian writing was of particular, practical use to Augustus in that it could provide authoritative precedents and arguments for the workings of the Principate, though I would avoid suggesting that the antiquarians wrote proactively with that aim. Furthermore, interest in antiquarianism continued throughout the Principate and on into late antiquity, when it shows little sign of ceasing to be of interest. There is a more or less continuous thread throughout the Imperial period, linking eras of evident
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interest in antiquarian matters, as represented in, for example, the works of Ateius Capito, the younger Seneca (whose criticisms must have had an aim), Suetonius, Aulus Gellius, and Macrobius, and continued by such men as John Lydus, Isidore, and Petrarch.4 While these Wgures, whose works are known today, now represent highlights, there is no indication of a waning of interest in antiquarian studies between them. Such men as Pliny and Gellius did not see themselves as somehow ‘rescuing’ knowledge; and the sense that later writers such as Macrobius and Lydus were rescuing their antiquarian information from oblivion in order to restore a lost past may be more our perception than theirs. We simply do not know whether the extracts and information preserved by (say) Gellius are those which were not well known, perhaps even almost lost, or part of a common patrimony. Not only the mere existence of a tradition of antiquarian writing at Rome, but also its quantity, suggest that antiquarianism was of interest to many of the educated of all periods. That much antiquarian information is found in commentaries such as those of Servius, in digressions in annalistic histories and in encyclopaedic works such as Pliny’s Naturalis historia and Gellius’ Noctes Atticae conWrms that antiquarianism was a central discipline in the intellectual life of Rome. Antiquarianism provided the ‘factual background’ to public life. It explained institutions, procedures, and customs: matters which were apparently not within the curriculum of Roman education. It could also—as, for instance, in the Noctes Atticae—entertain: when the massive works of, for example, Varro were condensed, and ‘the best bits’ selected, the result was a digest of information of general interest.
2. gellius the antiquarian scholar? The central Wgure in any account of antiquarian studies at Rome should be Varro. In the mid-Wrst century bc Varro wrote his Antiquitates rerum humanarum et diuinarum, which set antiquarian studies on a Wrm footing at Rome. Varro’s works made him a role model for later scholars, none of whom ever entirely superseded him. But what are seen as Varro’s antiquarian works survive only 4 Indeed it seems likely that further research would show a continuous tradition of antiquarian studies from Varro through to the antiquaries of the Renaissance and later. G. Maslakov, ‘Roman Antiquarian Tradition’, looks brieXy at Ausonius’ and Augustine’s relation to especially Varro.
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in fragments, which are moreover often extremely brief and give little idea of the context and none of the works as a whole. Furthermore, very little of the work of other Roman antiquarian writers survives. The modern student needs a guide to help him along the shady and uncertain paths of Roman antiquarian scholarship: Gellius is an excellent guide. In 1883 Henry Nettleship remarked: ‘The name of Gellius is perhaps most familiarly connected in the minds of modern students with the subject of Roman antiquities, social, political and religious.’ That is, Gellius was an antiquarian. To a certain extent Nettleship’s essay succeeded in adjusting this view to the beneWt of Gellius’ notes on language and literature, and indeed HolfordStrevens all but ignores Gellius’ antiquarian interests.5 To call Gellius an antiquarian scholar would be wrong. But he was a man with antiquarian interests, and the Noctes Atticae contains much antiquarian material. Gellius is indeed the source of many of the fragments which we have from earlier antiquarian writers, particularly of the late Republic and Augustan period, and he is especially valuable in that he occasionally gives us some indication of the place of these fragments in their original context. Unlike the lexicographers (principally Nonius Marcellus), Gellius uses Varro for the substance of his argument rather than simply for the exempliWcation of words; and Gellius also preserves more coherent fragments, with more of Varro’s argument or line of thought, than do the commentators (notably Servius on Vergil). Furthermore his Noctes Atticae is essentially a compendium of miscellaneous information on virtually every subject under the sun. This means that there is scope for the inclusion of a greater variety of antiquarian material than we might expect to Wnd in works of a more limited nature. Out of the apparent and probably deliberate chaos that is Gellius’ organization of his material it is virtually impossible to produce an entirely satisfactory table of subjects covered, so miscellaneous is the collection. Nettleship produced a ‘rough analysis’, which divided the Noctes Atticae into a number of broad subject areas, though Gellius would have resisted the imposition of such a scheme.6 Similarly, it is not always easy to place into a single category many of the articles (a word I prefer to 5 H. Nettleship, ‘The Noctes Atticae’, 406 ¼ 266. L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, ch. 13, ‘History’, hardly strays beyond a catalogue of historians used by Gellius and a brief account of ‘Gellius’ Attitude towards Antiquity’ (255–9 [188–91]). 6 Nettleship, ‘The Noctes Atticae’, 399–413 ¼ 258–74. Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 65 [47], 33–5 [25–6].
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‘chapters’) which make up this patchwork. They are often complex, combining more than one theme: a number of articles contain antiquarian details, or simply suggest the methods of the antiquarian, without either the lemmata or the subject-matter of those articles giving any such indication. Taking into account these latter articles, we Wnd that antiquarian scholarship appears in one form or another in approximately 120 articles: almost a third of the total. Distinctions are not always easy, but we can break down Gellius’ antiquarian discussions as follows: the institutions of daily life (covering such matters as costume, music, shaving, eating, etc.) are mentioned nearly Wfty times; legal matters on about thirty-Wve occasions; religious institutions appear some twenty-seven times; political institutions twenty-two times; military institutions eleven times; and physical antiquities appear on seven occasions. There is in addition a quantity of miscellaneous material, which may be characterized as at least related to antiquarian scholarship: this includes such matters as the search for good texts, genealogy, an account of the diVerence between historia and annales, and the topography of Rome. The vast majority of Gellius’ articles are comparable (in spirit at least) to many of those in early editions of, for example, The Classical Weekly or Quarterly; and both the parts and the whole bear a marked similarity to the periodical Notes and Queries. This was Wrst published in 1849 with the subtitle A Medium of InterCommunication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc. Each issue still explains on the inside front cover that ‘It is devoted principally to English language and literature, lexicography, history and scholarly antiquarianism. Emphasis is on the factual rather than the speculative.’ One would need only to change the word ‘English’ to ‘Latin’ to get an accurate description of Gellius’ Noctes Atticae.7 Unlike today’s Notes and Queries, however, the Noctes Atticae does not for the most part present original research. Rather Gellius seeks to present a digest of information on a wide variety of subjects, for the use of gentleman scholars and those too busy in public life to make a serious study of these subjects. In short the Noctes Atticae represents a compendium of the sorts of things with which a man of aVairs in the second century 7 Taking—entirely at random—vol. 237 (ns 35), no. 1 of Notes & Queries (March 1988), we Wnd contributions on the origins of place-names (cf. Gell. 16. 17), on corruption and metre in Old English poetry (cf. Gell. 1. 21, 2. 6, 2. 16, 5. 8, 6. 7, etc.); the use made by (e.g.) Marlowe and Spenser of earlier works, respectively Justinian’s Institutes and Golding’s translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses (cf. Gell. 2. 23); and on Shakespearian epitaphs (cf. Gell. 1. 24).
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would be expected to be familiar. It is signiWcant for the importance of antiquarianism in the intellectual life of Rome that antiquarian topics recur in the Noctes Atticae.
3. the methods of roman antiquarianism It is surprising how little has as yet been established concerning the characteristics of Roman scholarship in general. The indications are that the techniques of antiquarian writing had much in common with other branches of scholarship, though further research is needed. Here I introduce some of the characteristic methods of the Roman antiquarians.8 Most of our evidence for antiquarian methodology and interests comes from within antiquarian works themselves, but a few remarks from outside the antiquarian tradition indicate that there were some commonly accepted ways in which an antiquarian scholar was expected to go about his business. Yet many of these comments on antiquarian writing amount to little more than the perception of antiquarian scholars as being learned men who pursued their studies in an expert, scholarly manner. Seneca’s criticism of the scholar’s emphasis on detail when discussing Cicero’s De re publica informs us of one characteristic of antiquarian writing, and it is interesting that, in the De re publica itself, Cicero is also able consciously to break from what would seem an established scholarly method, for, at the start of the discussion of the res publica, he has Scipio announce his intention not to start at the very beginning, ‘which is what learned men would do’. Scipio also says that he will begin his discussion according to the rule ‘which I believe should be used in discussing anything, if you want to avoid making mistakes: that the meaning of the name of whatever is under discussion should be explained.’9 Thus we see one reason for the widespread use of etymologies by the antiquarians. From these comments we learn three characteristics of Roman antiquarian writing: the discussion of speciWc details, rather than the construction of a general picture; a tendency to explain matters by looking at the origins of whatever is under discussion; and, clearly connected with the last, the use of the etymology of the name of whatever is under discussion as an integral part of an 8
For a fuller account see the chapter on ‘The Methods and Characteristics of Roman Antiquarian Writing’ in Stevenson, ‘Gellius’, 127–85. 9 Sen. Ep. 108. 30–1; Cic. Rep. 1. 38.
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explanation. In addition, we may detect several other features common to much antiquarian writing: more or less apparent vestiges of the question-and-answer process which seems to have formed the basis of much ancient scholarship, with a tendency to present a number of alternative views as the answer; the division and subdivision of works into separate sections, each with its own rubric or lemma as a heading; the provision of indexes and lists of contents; and the acknowledged use of earlier antiquarians, or, in other words, the propagation of the tradition.
3.1. The Use of Earlier Antiquarians The clearest sign of a consciousness that the antiquarians were writing within a pre-existing tradition comes from their naming of their sources and the giving of references. In virtually all surviving antiquarian writing, from Varro to Lydus (and no doubt, if one cared to look, beyond), we Wnd the explicit citation by name of the authors’ (usually antiquarian) sources, often with reference to book number and occasionally to the part of the book. Macrobius provides the exception which proves the rule. This awareness of a tradition in which they were writing is at its most apparent in the prefaces of Pliny and Gellius. Both include a list of titles ‘which many other (Greek and Latin) writers devised for works of this sort’. Similarly, in the preface to his books De rebus rusticis, Varro also includes a list of some Wfty-two, mainly Greek writers on agriculture. But Varro presents this as a guide to further reading.10 Gellius undoubtedly follows Pliny in this (some of the titles given are the same), and indeed there are further marked similarities between the two prefaces. For instance, Pliny stresses that he makes no claims to completeness, adding that ‘I am human and beset with duties and pursue these studies in my spare time, that is at night.’ We may compare Gellius, who twice explains the title of his work from the fact that he did much of the work ‘during the long winter nights in the land of Attica’. The theme of working at night is one that recurs in the Noctes Atticae and in much of Latin literature whenever there is any suggestion of scholarly activity. This may well be largely rhetoric, though it does betray a certain prejudice: that the production of scholarly works was somehow secondary to
10 Gell. pr. 4; Varro, RR 1. 1. 7 (the list follows); Col. 1. 1. 4–15 also lists those works the reader should consult before involving himself with agriculture.
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one’s daytime negotium. And indeed the antiquarian scholars usually appear as amateurs who studied in their spare time.11 Both Pliny and Gellius present their lists of titles in order to distinguish from them their own works; and it is interesting that Varro too distinguishes his work on agriculture from those of the Carthaginian Mago, his translator Cassius Dionysius Uticensis, and his epitomator Diophanes of Bithynia: Varro’s distinction, however, is merely one of length.12 Pliny bemoans the mira felicitas of the titles which Greeks give to their works and distinguishes what he sees as the more serious titles used by Roman scholars (Antiquitates, Exempla, Artes for—his—example), though he also notes that Varro gave striking titles to his satires which—in contrast to Greek works—contained much interesting information. Gellius does not make the distinction here between Greek and Roman festiuitates inscriptionum (‘witty titles’) and even includes in the list the Naturalis historia.13 But Gellius does not have quite the same polemical purpose as Pliny—it is elsewhere that he refers to libri Graeci miraculorum fabularumque pleni, res inauditae, incredulae14—for he is concerned mainly to point out that his title is unsophisticated and merely descriptive (neither of which it is). Pliny simply states that he could not be bothered to think up any witty title.15 This simultaneous adherence to and (at least claimed) divergence from the tradition of one’s predecessors is unlikely to be a mark of Gellius and Pliny alone. Indeed Wallace-Hadrill, who is much concerned to set Suetonius against his scholarly background, points out the contrasts between Suetonius’ works and those of other ancient biographers.16 As Gellius shows clearly, a writer had to be fully aware of the tradition in which he was writing in order to 11 Plin. NH pr. 18; Gell. pr. 4, 10, cf. §§12, 19; 9. 4. 5, 13. 31. 10, 15. 7. 3. Cf. T. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces, 97–8, 147–8. Cf. also Cic. Fin. 5. 48. 12 RR 1. 1. 11. Somewhat later, Priscian shows himself aware of previous writing on the ars grammatica, in order to distance himself from those earlier works (ep. ded. 1–4: GL ii. 1–2). 13 Plin. NH pr. 24; Gell. pr. 4–9. 14 NA 9. 4. 3, though some of the miracula and fabulae he also found in Pliny’s NH. On Gellius’ view of Pliny, cf. Holford-Strevens, Gellius, 165–6 [121–2]. 15 NA pr. 10; NH pr. 26. Of course, the rhetoric of prefaces is in play here: cf. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces, 98–100, 124–41, 145–9. Gellius’ title belongs precisely among the festiuitates inscriptionum, and indeed has a better claim to be included there than some, such as Naturalis historia, Antiquae lectiones, and Epistulae morales, which give a far better idea of the content of these works and which are present in Gellius’ list. 16 Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 70.
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take the decision to diverge from it. Given that Macrobius also diverges from the mainstream of the tradition (by using a continuous dialogue format), it is worth noting here that the preface of the Saturnalia contains much that is similar to, if not indeed reproduced from that of the Noctes Atticae.17
3.2. Indexes and Contents Lists Another important link between the Noctes Atticae and the Naturalis historia is the table of contents which follows the preface in each work.18 Both Gellius and Pliny state that this is for the reader’s convenience: as Friderici noted, such indexes are commonly said by their authors to be intended to facilitate the use of their works.19 Although the Noctes Atticae and Naturalis historia are rare among surviving Latin literature in preserving such indexes (rarer still in their being accepted as genuine by modern scholars), they were clearly not unprecedented in antiquity for, as Pliny mentions, one Valerius Soranus had, apparently for the Wrst time in Latin literature, included a list of contents at the beginning of his ¯ Ø. Soranus seems to belong to Cicero’s youth and is cited by Varro: so such contents’ lists were not a new feature of Latin scholarship (the festiuitas of Soranus’ inscriptio places him clearly in the tradition), although Pliny implies that he is the Wrst to follow Soranus in this. But an index also appears to have been included by Columella in his De re rustica, written only a few years before Pliny’s Naturalis historia. Again it is suggested that this is for the reader’s convenience, ‘so that, should the need arise, it will be easy to Wnd what is sought’.20 Since Columella appears as a source for seven books of the Naturalis historia, Pliny cannot mean that he was the Wrst since Soranus to include an index (though the authenticity of 17
Cf. e.g. NA pr. 2–3, 11 Sat. 1. pr. 2–3, 10 respectively. On this topic and that of §3.3 cf. R. Friderici, De librorum divisione, which seeks, generally convincingly, to establish the authenticity and the origin of the division of ancient works into capita, of the provision of lemmata for these capita, and of the compilation of capitum indices or summaria. See A. D. Vardi, below, 174–8. 19 Gell. pr. 25 ut iam statim declaretur quid quo in libro quaeri inuenirique possit; Plin. NH pr. 33 ut quisque desiderabit aliquid id tantum quaerat, et sciat quo loco inueniat; Friderici, De librorum divisione, 52–3. 20 NH pr. 33; Varro, LL 7. 31, 65, 10. 70; id. ap. NA 2. 10. 3, Serv. Aen. 1. 277. Columella’s index comes at the end of the eleventh book (bk. 12 being added later): omnium librorum meorum argumenta subieci, ut cum res exegisset, facile reperiri possit, quid in quoque quaerendum et qualiter quidque faciendum sit. 18
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Columella’s index has been doubted). Friderici, noting that Cato’s De agri cultura may have had an index prefaced to it, argued that Pliny means that he was the Wrst since Valerius Soranus to place his index in a separate book. This is convincing, in that it would explain why there is no suggestion in Columella that the provision of an index was anything novel, as is the case also for Pliny’s near contemporary Frontinus, who also provided an index to the contents of each book of his Strategemata.21 Such is the case also of the full index included in the Compositiones of Scribonius Largus ( Xoruit under Claudius); here also the index is included quo facilius quod quaeretur inueniatur. Another index appears at the start of what are commonly known as the Fabulae of the mythographer Hyginus.22 Some of the better manuscripts of Suetonius’ De grammaticis et rhetoribus also contain an index that may well be genuine, as indeed Roth allowed and ReiVerscheid asserted: the latter presumed that this index was typical of others which would have been placed at the start of each section of Suetonius’ De uiris illustribus, suggesting that their inclusion would have been ex more antiquitatis satis noto.23 Of course I cannot claim that all (if any) of the ‘indexed’ works just mentioned are antiquarian works, though they are all technical works, with the exception of Hyginus’ Fabulae. What then of the antiquarians: were their works indexed? In the absence of their works we do not know, though we may assume from the silence of Pliny that Varro’s Antiquitates were not indexed, at least to the same degree as the Naturalis historia. On the other hand, the delineation of subjects to be covered appears in Varro, though here it comes not as a separate entity in the form of an index, but in the body of the text. 21 Friderici, De librorum divisione, 56: on p. 55 he suggests that Gellius’ index should be seen as a separate libellus. We should believe Pliny: he was very interested in the Wrst appearance or discovery of things. For his use of Columella see NH 19. 68 Col. 11. 3. 53. 22 H. J. Rose, Hygini Fabulae, p. viii: mihi quidem non ita ueri dissimile uidetur Hyginum nostrum Antoninorum fere aetate scripsisse. One suspects that the work of Gellius’ (anonymous) familiaris, which was lent to Gellius and which he characterizes as full of mera miracula, may have had more than a little in common with this work of Hyginus: NA 14. 6. 23 C. L. Roth, edn., p. lvii; A. ReiVerscheid, edn. 370. R. P. Robinson, however, argued (edn. 1 ad loc.) that the index was composed ‘longe post Suetoni aetatem’. Cf. R. A. Kaster, edn. 41–2: ‘That the lists are authentically Suetonian is unlikely . . . Yet even if the lists are not Suet.’s work, they are probably ancient’, giving reasons to suppose them older than Jerome; also Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 51.
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The clearest instances of this come in the De lingua Latina, at the start of the Wfth book and at the beginning and end of Book 7, together with a further recapitulation at the start of Book 8. Thus, for example, Book 5 is de uocabulis locorum and Book 6 is de uocabulis temporum, divisions that correspond to two of the four divisions found in both parts of Varro’s Antiquitates. Within these divisions there are further subdivisions, and so, at the start of Book 7, Varro sets out the four divisions of that book, but with the qualiWcation si quid excedit ex hac quadripertitione, tamen in ea ut comprehendam (§5). There is a similar account of the contents of the Res rusticae and this can easily be detected in other works also.24 From the Wrst book of the De uita populi Romani, Nonius preserves Varro’s statement of the order in which he will deal de re familiari ac partibus, de uictuis consuetudine primigenia and de disciplinis priscis necessariis uitae. Riposati places this at the head of a postulated section on ‘condizione giuridiche e domestiche dell’antica Roma’, but it could well either belong to or resume a longer summary from the beginning of the work.25 Nonius also provides what may have been part of Varro’s explanation of the structure of his Logistoricus, ‘Cato, de liberis educandis’.26 Agahd noted that Augustine no doubt found the plan of the Antiquitates rerum diuinarum set out in the Wrst book of that work;27 one may wonder whether Censorinus’ account of Varro’s distinction of three periods of history (Nat. 21. 1–5) might not have come from a similar introductory passage in the Wrst book of (perhaps) the De gente populi Romani. As the Wrst book of the Res diuinae was introductory, so was that of the Res humanae and may well have included a discussion of the division of the work; certainly the twentieth book, which was introductory to the Wnal hexad de rebus, contained a recapitulation of the division of the work: et ea quae ad mortalis pertinent quadrifariam dispertierim: in homines, in loca, in tempora, in res.28 24 LL 5. 1, 10, 7. 5, 109–10, 8. 1; RR 1. 5. 3–4. Cf. G. Boissier, Varron, 135–8; J. E. Skydsgaard, Varro, 92–3. 25 Non. 792 L. ¼ 494. 9–12 M. ¼ fr. 24 Rip. Cf. B. Riposati, De vita populi Romani, 132–3. In the ‘serie dei frammenti’ of Book 1 (pp. 91–3) he indeed places this fragment directly after those assumed to be from the preface. 26 Non. 718 L. ¼ 447. 35–448. 1 M.: educit enim obstetrix, educat nutrix, instituit paedagogus, docet magister. 27 R. Agahd, ‘Rerum divinarum libri’, 15–16. 28 Non. 131 L. ¼ 92. 11–13 M. ¼ RH 20, fr. 1 Mirsch. This division recurs throughout Varro’s works, so much so that Boissier found it boring and monotonous (Varron, 136–7). But it means that if one is familiar with one work (or book), one may more easily Wnd one’s way round another.
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The inclusion of such indexes was not, however, a unique feature of antiquarian scholarship: not only are Pliny’s Naturalis historia and Gellius’ Noctes Atticae not purely antiquarian works, but, as we have seen, indexes seem also to have been used in agricultural works and, I may now add, also in grammatical works: the Ars grammatica of Charisius and the Institutiones grammaticae of Priscian contain indexes:29 the epistula dedicatoria of the latter ends with the familiar note that titulos etiam universi operis per singulos supposui libros, quo facilius, quicquid ex his quaeratur, discretis possit locis inveniri (GL ii. 3. 3–4). The concept of providing an exposition of the most important parts of one’s argument was far from unknown: as Friderici noted, the partitiones of speeches provide a clear parallel.30 Rather indexes seem characteristic of Roman scholarship in general: it might be the case that such indexes or summaries were more common than has been presumed, whether provided by the writers themselves or by librarii. Certainly the repeated emphasis on their practical utility is no mere rhetoric.
3.3. Rubrics and the Question-and-Answer Process Clearly such indexes would be most eYcacious in those works where the individual items included in the index were paralleled by similar headings, lemmata (‘capita rerum’) or rubrics in the main body of the text, and these recur in antiquarian writing. Even where there is no trace in the manuscripts of an ancient division of the text into sections, each headed by a rubric, the method is often apparent in the construction of the work, or in the way that the writer proceeds, or both. This reXects the systematic nature of antiquarian scholarship: the organization of the material to be presented, its categorization, and the subsequent division and subdivision of the work to reXect those categories are an important characteristic of Roman antiquarian writing.31 There are traces of what one might call the ‘rubric mentality’ in Pliny’s Naturalis historia: thus, for example, Isager’s study of Books 33–7 is structured according to the rubrics according to which Pliny seems to have written.32 But Pliny’s text is not 29
GL i. 2–6; ii. 3–4. Friderici, De librorum divisione, 45. Cf. Quint. Inst. 4. 5. Note also Rawson, ‘Logical Organisation’. Compare Scribonius Largus, who says (ep. ded. 15) that he has numbered his various compositiones for ease of reference. 32 J. Isager, Pliny. 30 31
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provided with separate rubrics, and an essential diVerence between the contents lists of Gellius and Pliny is that the latter’s has more of the character of a summary of the work. Pliny lists the subjects covered and gives total numbers of res et historiae et obseruationes (etc.) for each book: these form the main divisions of his material. Gellius, however, merely presents what now appears to be more like a table of contents as we know it: he lists the titles of the articles to be found in each book. While Gellius’ lemmata can be quite discursive, most of those of Hyginus consist merely of the name of the subject of each fabula. In the latter part of the collection, however (Fabulae 224–77), there is a more pronounced rubric form, comparable to the individual clauses of Pliny’s index, and in some cases even the subject-matter would not have been out of place in the Naturalis historia. Possibly the most ‘Plinian’ are those on who Wrst held games, who discovered something, who founded towns, on large islands, and on those who invented something (Fabulae 273–7). Invention and institution are common in antiquarian works. It may be that Hyginus’ index and lemmata are not merely an attempt to imitate one characteristic of the scholarly tradition (and hence to give his Fabulae an air of greater legitimacy), but they also indicate Hyginus’ familiarity with the antiquarian tradition. In Greek we may compare the `Ø ØÆ ¯ºº ØŒ and `Ø ØÆ øÆœŒ of Plutarch, in which various questions are posed and act as rubrics: the use of rubrics may also be detected in Plutarch’s other works.33 Perhaps Varro’s Aetia was constructed along similar lines? On the evidence of the Digest at least, the works of the jurists also contained rubrics (as did the laws themselves): these are anyway often not unrelated to those of the antiquarians. The systematizing of Roman antiquarianism suggests that such headings would naturally have found a place in antiquarian works, and it is notable that Gellius could identify the sections into which Book 21 of Varro’s Res humanae was divided (NA 13. 13. 5). The alphabetical order in which Verrius Flaccus arranged his material reXects a similar systematizing, and it is interesting that Pliny’s lists of artists are arranged in alphabetical order.34 It is worth noting that indexes and rubrics would be rather more useful in the context of personal consultation (rather than public 33 Cf. D. A. Russell, Plutarch, 45–6. The form may go back to Aristotle’s —æ ºÆÆ. Cf. Roman Questions, tr. H. J. Rose, 49. 34 NH 33. 155; 34. 85–91; 35. 138–44, 146. Note also the alphabetical order of Pliny’s discussion of gemstones, NH 37. 138–85. Cf. Isager, Pliny, 75, 103, 113, 135–6.
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declamation) of the works, and indeed rubrics would be disruptive in poetry or historiography. Rather, the use of rubrics in a work marks out that work as one intended for reference (or alternatively for dipping into) and also, perhaps, as a scholarly one.35 Works such as the Noctes Atticae and the Naturalis historia reXect either an alternative to, or a trend away from, public performance as the prime means of publication. Similarly, one would imagine that works such as Varro’s Antiquitates and Verrius Flaccus’ De uerborum signiWcatu were singularly ill suited to public declamation, and indeed they seem to have been designed to be reference works. Particularly in view of their scale, such works must have had a limited circulation, which would partly explain their poor survival, and few could or would aspire to own something like Varro’s Antiquitates. Atticus may have had a copy; Cicero did not, and references to the work often suggest that it has been consulted in a library. We should perhaps not underestimate the extent to which the libraries of Rome served as reference institutions and to which works were written for deposition in them. Many of Varro’s works must have remained largely inaccessible, both in terms of their size and the restricted number of copies available; this diYculty seems to have been met by Varro’s own production of epitomes of, for example, the Antiquitates and the De lingua Latina; similarly Festus’ epitome of Verrius Flaccus’ De uerborum signiWcatu probably had a similar purpose, and it is perhaps not entirely irrelevant that Mommsen also produced an Abriß of his own Ro¨misches Staatsrecht.36 Of course, the division of material under rubrics was a common feature of much ancient scholarship. Wallace-Hadrill is right to link it ‘with the basic exercise of Greek and Roman education: the reading of the literary classics, and their elucidation through a word by word question and answer exchange between master and pupil.’37 Not only has each article in the Noctes Atticae its own rubric following the preface, but within the articles themselves we can frequently see the clear application of this method: a considerable number of articles begin with such phrases as quaeri solitum est, and many take as their starting point a phrase or word in a literary work, a law or whatever, although Gellius sometimes 35 Cf. Friderici, De librorum divisione, 23, 25: facile intelligimus in libris, qui ad perlegendum scripti erant, lemmata superXua fuisse. 36 T. Mommsen, Ro¨misches Staatsrecht3; id., Abriß des ro¨mischen Staatsrechts. 37 Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 42–3. Cf. Suet. Tib. 70. 3 for examples of the quaestiones with which Tiberius used to test grammatici; and Gramm. 11 for a grammaticus who could ‘solve all quaestiones’.
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disguises his use of this method by only placing at the end of the article whatever was the stimulus for the point which he has just made.38 The use of this method is by no means unique to Gellius. The Wrst sentence of Book 10 of Varro’s De lingua Latina, for instance, ends with the words multi quaesierunt and there are numerous traces of the question-and-answer process to be found in his works: Boissier noted that in his works of literary criticism Varro proceeded by deWnitions and categories.39 There is, however, no evidence that he broke up his text with separate sub-headings, though as we have seen he did divide his books into various sections: how that division was indicated remains unknown.40 In Macrobius’ Saturnalia, despite the dialogue form, it is very easy to identify where headings might have been placed, had Macrobius so wished, and indeed several editors have inserted appropriate rubrics.41 Similarly, it would not be diYcult to supply suitable lemmata for Pliny’s Naturalis historia. It is, however, improbable that rubrics would have been removed at some stage in the transmission of the texts of Macrobius and Pliny; rather one would expect the medieval copyists to have inserted them. Instead, this should be seen as a conscious eVort on the part of Pliny and Macrobius to write continuous prose uninterrupted by headings. Unlike those of Plutarch, Gellius’ rubrics rarely take the form of a question, but usually give an abstract of the information presented. Possibly Gellius was making a related eVort (at least to vary the style of his articles): one could easily supply a question for many of his articles (that is where he himself does not), to which he then provides an answer. Yet the presence of the lemmata in the Noctes Atticae might suggest that Gellius wrote more ‘traditionally’.42 Wallace-Hadrill has shown how all Suetonius’ works were dominated by rubrics: these exist in the fragments of the lexicographical works (and here one may compare Verrius Flaccus), but 38 Typical of examples too numerous to cite in full are NA 2. 19, 3. 18, 13. 3, 22. H. Berthold, Aulus Gellius, 23 notes that ‘allenthalben wird der Leser einbezogen in das Fragen und Wissenwollen, in das Suchen . . . und Finden’; he produces lists of such recurrent phrases (ibid. 73–4, 87–94). 39 Boissier, Varron, 158. 40 On the various methods of division available, cf. Friderici, De librorum divisione, 21, 24–5, 27–33, 43. 41 Cf. e.g. the Dring and Harper edn. of 1694 and the Nisard edn. of 1850. Of course the dialogue form itself leads to progression by question and answer: the procedure is at its clearest in Sat. 7. 8–13. Cf. also 7. 16. 1–12. 42 E. Tuerk, ‘Macrobe’, sees Macrobius as aiming to create a homogenous work, in terms of both style and content, in contrast to the lack of organization in the NA.
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also lie behind the arrangement of the antiquarian and biographical works: Even within the lives the construction is often around rubrics, topic after topic, though since this is consecutive prose, the reader is normally spared the abruptness of a one-word heading at the top of a paragraph. But always the old method shows through: Suetonius’ thought runs not in consecutive narrative like a historian’s, nor in developing argument like a philosopher’s, but in word-heading and commentary with instances.43
It is clear, then, that there was a common method: the questionand-answer process, which seems on occasion at least to have been developed into the use of rubrics.
3.4. Ancient Antiquarian Research It is unfortunate that we know little of the preparatory stages of Roman scholarship: where and how did the authors get their information?44 In the early days there must have been a combination of essentially empirical research and the codiWcation of oral tradition: how else could much of the information have Wrst found its way into the antiquarian tradition?45 But by the time we get to Pliny and Gellius, the key preparation was reading, as they make clear. We know that there were aids to the reading of books and documents. A fragment of a text survives which may belong to a work De litteris singularibus of M. Valerius Probus—perhaps the most important grammarian of the Wrst century, whom Suetonius includes in the Wnal place of his list of grammatici.46 This is the so-called De iuris notarum, which is perhaps merely an extract from the original work: what we have is a list of abbreviations (together with their expanded forms) as used in various forms of documents. After a brief introduction, the Wrst section deals with abbreviations 43 Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 44. It is interesting to note in connection with the mention of a philosopher’s method that Gellius (NA 14. 1. 2) could discern headings within what the philosopher Favorinus had to say. In the Vitae Caesarum Suetonius’ rubrics are not always merely notional, but sometimes appear in the questions which Suetonius seems to have set himself: cf. e.g. Aug. 9, 61. 1; Claud. 22; Galba 3. 1; Dom. 3. 2. 44 Cf. Rawson, Intellectual Life, 239: ‘To our eyes Roman antiquarianism omitted the essential preparatory stages . . . ’. 45 Cf. e.g. LL 5. 125, where Varro discusses the use of one sort of table me puero. Cf. also J. F. Miller, ‘Callimachus’, 402: ‘In general, Ovid’s method of ‘‘research’’ seems to be a combination of scholarly work and recollection.’ 46 Suet. Gramm. 24. On Probus see Schanz–Hosius ii. 734–41; for the texts see GL iv.
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found in oYcial, historical, and religious writing, the second with juristic abbreviations found in laws and plebisscita, the third with those in legis actiones, and the fourth with those found in edicts. The manuscript breaks oV here, though some further abbreviations (of legal terminology) are preserved elsewhere.47 It is tempting to suppose that the De occulta litterarum signiWcatione in epistularum C. Caesaris scriptura (ascribed to Probus by Gellius) may have formed part of a larger work, which also included the original of De iuris notarum: it certainly suggests Probus’ interest in the area.48 Probus was not alone in his writing on this subject: we know of a work by Suetonius On Signs in Books, which may have been similar, and Verrius Flaccus also explained some abbreviations.49 Such works on abbreviations were clearly designed to facilitate the reading of documents: as such material was not commonly part of the school curriculum, then one may presume it was intended for the scholar and interested amateur; and the whole work must have proved a valuable tool for the antiquarian, who consulted documents. Yet it is strange that such self-evident abbreviations as SPQR and AVC, and those of praenomina, are included in what remains of Probus’ work. These might be later interpolations, though they would also reXect the same desire for completeness as is found in Pliny’s Naturalis historia. Pliny claims to have read about two thousand volumina from a hundred diVerent authors and his nephew makes clear the method: ‘a book was read and he made notes on it and excerpts from it’. Thus the younger Pliny inherited 160 papyrus rolls Wlled on both sides with his uncle’s notes.50 This was, of course, a very common method: Skydsgaard, who devotes most of his discussion of ‘The Roman Scholar’ to how these excerpts were kept, traces the method back to the Alexandrians and notes its presence also in Cicero, Plutarch, Livy, and Dio. And generally, reading often appears as synonymous with excerpting: as Marache notes in the introduction to his Bude´ edition of Gellius, Fronto and Marcus Aurelius were so aware of this synonymity that they use the expression legere ex. Nonius’ initial method was similar too: Lindsay 47 Edited by T. Mommsen in GL iv. 267–76. For other lists of abbreviations, apparently from late antiquity and the Middle Ages cf. ibid. 277–352. 48 Gell. 17. 9. Suetonius also refers to Julius Caesar’s use of cipher (Jul. 56. 6). Cf. Mommsen, GL iv. 267. 49 On Suetonius cf. p. 281 Roth; Festus explains RR ( ¼ rationum relatarum) at 340. 27–30 L. s.v. R duobus; QRCF ( ¼ Quando Rex Comitiauit Fas) and QSDF ( ¼ Quando Stercus Delatum Fas) 310. 11–25 s.vv. 50 Plin. Ep. 3. 5. 10, 17; cf. Plin. NH pr. 17.
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distinguished forty-one separate word-lists, including one from the Noctes Atticae, Wve compiled directly from various works of Varro (mainly the satires), and two from what Lindsay regarded as probably a glossary compiled mainly from Varro, which included Varro’s Epistulae and the twentieth book of the Res humanae.51 This method is evident also in Varro’s writings: in the De lingua Latina he has extracted information from separate parts of his own work, the Antiquitates, and reassembled it in a diVerent form for the discussion of something else. Reitzenstein detected a similar modus operandi in Verrius Flaccus’ De uerborum signiWcatu (though unlike Nonius, Verrius had begun to revise his work on a more recognizably alphabetical basis).52 This has been conWrmed by Strzelecki and Bona. The latter identiWed three phases in the construction of the De uerborum signiWcatu: Wrst, the initial conception of the work and basic preparation, in which Verrius collected the works from which he intended to excerpt the individual glosses; then the reading and excerpting of those works, including the arrangement of the glosses according to the alphabetical order of the Wrst letter of each lemma and the order in which the various works were examined. The Wnal phase involved the rearrangement of the glosses already collected, following the alphabetical order of the Wrst syllable, or, occasionally, preserving a thematic connection between adjacent glosses.53 It is interesting that this implies some intermediate state and format in the written work: Bona speaks in terms of ‘index cards’; Pliny had his 160 papyrus rolls.54 Gellius’ procedure was much the same, as he tells us: ‘whenever I read a Greek or Latin book, or heard something worth remembering, I would note down whatever took my fancy and place it in a sort of literary store’ (pr. 2). Plutarch also had his own ‘literary store’: at the start of the De tranquillitate animi he explains that he has merely cobbled together material from his notebooks (! ÆÆ 264 f).55 It is interesting 51 Skydsgaard, Varro, 101–16 (he is mainly concerned with the meaning of commentarii and ! ÆÆ); R. Marache, edn. i, p. xv; Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 4. 6. 1 (p. 62. 10–11 v:d:H:2 ); W. M. Lindsay, Nonius, 3. 7–10. 52 R. Reitzenstein, Verrianische Forschungen, 73 n.3. 53 W. Strzelecki, Quaestiones Verrianae, 80, 93–103; F. Bona, Contributo, 165–8, esp. 167.z 54 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 15: ‘Sometimes we get the impression of a large card-index system at work.’ 55 Cf. NA 9. 4. 5, 12. On the form of these ‘literary stores’ cf. Skydsgaard, Varro, 102–15.
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that Gellius never refers to his having a book read to him—he either does his own reading or is the guest of someone who has laid on a reader as part of the entertainment for his guests—and it is signiWcant that we often Wnd Gellius at work in or browsing through the shelves of a library, or in a bookshop.56 As Verrius Flaccus had intended to do, Gellius then reworked his initial collection of material, embellishing it considerably. Gellius’ ultimate intention was, of course, diVerent, which perhaps makes it all the more signiWcant that his initial method was the same. There is always an attempt to form a literary whole out of these excerpts: even Gellius and Macrobius do more than simply write out these excerpts one after another. The Roman antiquarians treat their sources in a not unsophisticated manner: they show themselves clearly able to select from the same source information on diVerent topics, and to collect information on one topic from several sources. Gellius is a prime example: he can dismember a continuous account to provide information on various odds and ends.57 It is probably this use of their sources which places the antiquarian scholars above being ‘mere compilers’, a label which has probably been applied to them precisely because they readily acknowledge their sources. Quoting from existing works was naturally common, but it is worth remembering that somebody must have done the research in the Wrst place: it is unfortunate that we do not know who. But there were undoubtedly independent additions made by at least some scholars to the information contained in the antiquarian tradition. Such additions are by and large diYcult to detect now, for they are rarely advertised: the regard for the auctoritas of the ueteres scriptores must have meant that some independent research was subsumed under the name of, say, Varro, whose name lent one’s own work a degree of auctoritas. For example, Gellius has an extract from Varro’s ¯NƪøªØŒ/Epistolicae quaestiones, which seems to have been updated to take account of the institutions of the Augustan principate (14. 7). Pliny also tells us that he has added many facts unknown to his predecessors or discovered by subsequent experience (pr. 17). Pliny’s standard procedure is to present what his written sources say, following this with his own observations; Isager argues that much of what he says concerning works of art in Rome represents his own contribution. And indeed, Gellius 56 Libraries: NA 9. 14. 3, 11. 17, 13. 20, 16. 8. 2, 19. 5. 4; cf. 7. 17. Bookshops: NA 5. 4, 13. 31, 18. 4. Cf. J. E. G. Zetzel, Latin Textual Criticism, 59–65. 57 For Pliny’s reworking of his notes, cf. Isager, Pliny, 168, 187.
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reproduces an extract ‘which Pliny said in Book 7 of his Natural History was not something he had heard or read, but which he himself knew to be true and had observed’ (9. 4. 13).58 Pliny is probably our best source for autopsy as part of the antiquarian methodology. But he is not unique and we may, for example, compare the use of the evidence of statues made by Varro and Gellius to shed light on ancient shaving habits, and with Suetonius’ use of a bronze statuette to show that as a child Augustus was called Thurinus.59 There is also evidence for the use of epigraphic evidence: Varro, Cincius, Verrius Flaccus, Pliny, Suetonius, Gellius, and Plutarch are among those who noticed the evidence of inscriptions.60
3.5. Emphasis on Detail One of the most characteristic features of Roman antiquarianism is a predilection for detail: it would seem that the antiquarian scholars of Rome rarely took a general view of whatever they discussed (discussion rather than narrative is another characteristic of antiquarian writing); instead they selected matters of detail, often, it would seem now at least, of obscure or arcane detail.61 Again this is true of the jurists also. It would even seem that the more obscure, or the more arcane a subject was, the greater was the antiquarian interest, though we cannot but wonder just how obscure and arcane these matters remained after the repeated attention of the antiquarian scholars. The treatment of topics in detail is particularly evident in the Noctes Atticae. Gellius has a marked preference for working with matters of detail, and even when he considers a more general topic, such as questions of precedence of magistrates or of grammar, he does so in terms of detail, perhaps only drawing the general point in a closing sentence. It is signiWcant that Suetonius also has a delight in detail: as Wallace-Hadrill notes, ‘extraction of the relevant detail is Suetonius’ characteristic method’ and it should be 58
Ibid. 82, 139, and esp. 160–8. Plin. NH 33. 26–8; Varro, RR 2. 11. 10; Gell. 3. 4; Suet. Aug. 7. 1. 60 Cf. A. Stein, Ro¨mische Inschriften. Note also the ancient literary ‘falsiWcations’ of inscriptions collected at CIL vi/5. 1*. Some of this alleged autopsy was no doubt found in pre-existing literary sources: but again we must remember that somebody must originally have made these observations. 61 Note that Seneca’s main criticism of antiquarianism (Ep. 108. 30–1) was its detailed approach in contrast to the wider view of the philosopher. 59
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noted that such detail generally appears in connection with antiquarian subjects.62 Varro explicitly expresses his preference for detail in three fragments from the De uita populi Romani, particularly by comparing himself to Callicles, the painter of miniatures.63 It is, then, by no means insigniWcant that the vast majority of Varronian fragments deal with points of precise detail. For example, from Book 21 of the Res humanae we have the discussion of only the rights of arrest and summons of magistrates.64 Yet even if one were to suggest that there existed in that book a wider, more general discussion of the Roman magistracies, then it would be signiWcant that it is the detailed discussion which was preserved in the antiquarian tradition.
3.6. Presentation of Alternative Views Almost in contrast to the emphasis on detail would seem a characteristic which we Wnd in various forms in a number of antiquarians: an unwillingness to commit oneself to a particular view or explanation. The accumulation of several explanations can be detected in Suetonius, Pliny, Verrius Flaccus, Varro, Plutarch’s Roman Questions, Macrobius, and elsewhere: a statistical analysis of antiquarian vocabulary would probably reveal a greater than average frequency for words such as sed, autem, or tamen, marking an alternative explanation. This is undoubtedly at its most apparent in the Noctes Atticae, to the extent that it almost becomes repetitive when one reads the whole collection of articles from beginning to end (which is not how Gellius intended his work to be read). Berthold sees this reluctance to reach a conclusion as an imperfection of the work and identiWes various categories of this: Gellius may declare himself unWt to give his own verdict, reserve judgement, put oV giving a decision, or hide behind authorities.65 To list all the examples of Gellius’ unwillingness to commit himself is unnecessary, but there are several points which should be made. Firstly, this does seem to be a characteristic of Gellius the man, as well as of Gellius the writer, if we are to believe what he tells us of himself. This is made clear when he gives, or rather does not give, his verdict on the case before him in his capacity as a judge: iuraui, mihi non liquere, atque ita iudicatu illo solutus sum 62
Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 15, cf. 129. 64 Frr. 1–3 Rip. Cf. Boissier, Varron, 169–70. NA 13. 12–13. Berthold, Aulus Gellius, 23–6. He gives examples of each of these categories. The principal exceptions are when idiots or those who pretend to learning are ridiculed: in these cases there is little ambiguity as to Gellius’ views. 63 65
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(14. 2. 25). Secondly, in this he seems to follow not only the antiquarian tradition but also his mentor Favorinus, who at one point says Scis enim solitum esse me, pro disciplina sectae quam colo, inquirere potius quam decernere (20. 1. 9), and indeed Favorinus often appears in the Noctes Atticae as the questioner.66 Finally, it is important to notice that often one may infer precisely the opposite of what Berthold saw as ‘Schu¨lerscheu vor eigenem Urteil’; that is, rather, the teacher’s attempts to get his students to provide the answer themselves, or to reach their own decision on a subject.67 On at least two occasions this is made explicit and Gellius tells us that he has left something unexplained in order to exercise his readers’ minds.68 Elsewhere he directs his readers towards further consideration of the matter in hand,69 and we may compare his account of how Fronto inspired him and others to the studium lectitandi (19. 8. 6). On occasion, however, Gellius’ desire to demonstrate the thoroughness of his scholarship can pre-empt such further research, as, for instance, when he includes a variant etymology ‘lest it appear to some critic of these Nights better, simply because it seemed to have escaped my notice’ (1. 25. 18). This accumulation of diVerent explanations reappears in most antiquarian writing (and also in much juristic literature). Della Corte suggests of Suetonius that he ‘intends to stimulate interest: he collects the facts—all the facts—and displays them as if in support of a judgement, but this judgement never becomes explicit, but is entrusted to the readers.’70 This is applicable to a greater or lesser degree to all the known antiquarians. Remarkably the idea that the accumulation of facts was all-important is probably less applicable to Suetonius than it is to others, for as Bradley noted, if this were the case then we should expect the later lives to have been longer and more detailed.71 The presence of alternative explanations can also be detected in Varro, in Verrius Flaccus, in Pliny, and in Macrobius.72 But generally there is less reticence 66 The sect is the Academic sceptics: cf. NA 11. 5. 3, 5; L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Favorinus’, 207–17. 67 Berthold, Aulus Gellius, 24. This is, of course, connected with the marked educational impulse, which may be detected throughout the Noctes Atticae and so is not an imperfection of the work. See T. Morgan, below, Ch. 7. 68 NA 12. 6, 19. 14. 5. 69 NA 2. 22. 31 (unless this is a note to Gellius himself: cf. 3. 3. 8), 6. 3. 55, 7. 8. 4, 17. 6. 11. For a diVerent slant on this theme cf. 15. 9. 11. 70 F. Della Corte, Svetonio, 160. 71 K. R. Bradley, Historical Comentary, 16 n. 15. 72 e.g. Varro, LL 5. 18, 68, etc.; Plin. NH 2. 138–41, 28. 29; PF 82. 16–22 Xaminius camillus (though Paulus at times fails to distinguish between alternative
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in the Saturnalia about the giving of conclusions: this decisiveness may be due to the dialogue form of the work.73 It is noticeable that conclusions are more readily reached in the Noctes Atticae when the discussion is set within the framework of a dialogue. That Varro was accustomed to oVer more than one explanation is shown by a comment in Macrobius’ Saturnalia: his a Varrone praescriptis intellegere possumus id potissimum ab eo probatum quod ex sua consuetudine in ultimo posuit (3. 4. 3). Gellius agrees when he presents Varro’s opinions as to the origin of the name of the constellation Septentriones and adds ex his duabus . . . rationibus quod posterius est, subtilius elegantiusque est uisum (2. 21. 8–9).74 This is very interesting: not only did Macrobius (or his source) relay Varro’s alternatives and actually make a decision about which should be preferred, but that decision is based on what we are led to believe was Varro’s usual habit: that he usually put his favoured view last. Is this something that Varro had at some point made clear, or is it a result of the study of Varro’s works by later scholars? If the latter, then it is interesting to note that someone must, however cursorily and for whatever purposes, have looked at Varro’s methods, rather than, as is commonly assumed, only the results of his scholarship having been used by later generations. Plutarch provides a useful comparison: in his `Ø ØÆ he usually presents at least two (often more) alternative answers to his ‘question’ and Russell notes that ‘the most favoured solution usually comes last’. Plutarch may have borrowed this from Varro, though it seems to be a characteristic of aitiological works: Russell derives it (ultimately, I might add) from Aristotle and it also recurs in the aetiological verse of Propertius and Ovid. It is not, however, a method universally adhered to in the antiquarian tradition.75
4. the interests of roman antiquarianism Antiquarianism merged easily into grammatical, literary, historical, and legal scholarship: there was a tendency towards encyclopaedic explanations); Fest. 152. 28–33 maximum praetorem, 154. 4–5 maiorem consulem; Macr. Sat. 1. 7. 18–28, 32–3 (both give three alternatives). 73 Cf. e.g. Macr. Sat. 1. 15. 14–17; also 1. 10. 18, 1. 11. 50. 74 Cf. Varro, LL 7. 74 (which has only the Wrst explanation!). 75 Russell, Plutarch, 45. Cf. Prop. 4. 2, 4. 10. 45–8 and, in general, Miller, ‘Callimachus’, 391–2, 411–12. At NA 6. 4 Gellius says the Wrst (of two explanations) is better.
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coverage, both in terms of breadth of subjects and of the reference nature of many works, information being presented as a summary of facts, with the minimum of narrative. Hence Roman antiquarian writers were indeed less ‘antiquarian writers’ than ‘writers whose interests included antiquarian scholarship’.76 The most general antiquarian subject is simply ‘the past’: other interests of the Roman antiquarian scholars are merely subdivisions of this. Hence antiquarianism appears as no less than the scholarly study of the past in all its aspects. This study was further divided into the four main subject areas of homines, loci, tempora, and res. Naturally, however, certain aspects lent themselves better to the systematic nature of the antiquarian treatment. Indeed certain subjects seem ‘traditionally’ to have become objects of antiquarian treatment and interest: it almost seems that works on Roman religion and its institutions, or on the magistracies, were antiquarian by deWnition. Today, the most evident of the interests of Roman antiquarianism is the study of the institutions of Roman public life perfected in Mommsen’s Staatsrecht. The Roman antiquarian interest in ‘institutions’ extends to two senses of the word. On the one hand the interest is in ‘an established law, custom, usage, practice, organization, or other element in the political or social life of a people’. On the other hand there is an interest, and at times this almost appears to be the greater interest, in ‘the action of instituting or establishing; setting on foot or in operation’ or, more simply, in the origins of these institutions.77 (Antiquarian interest is also aroused by any action which changed customary or ‘instituted’ practices.) This then goes a long way to explaining the frequent presence of etymologies of words in Roman antiquarian writing: the origin or original meaning of the institution’s name is used to reXect its original nature and/or purpose. As Wallace-Hadrill correctly identiWes ‘institute’ as ‘a favourite antiquarian’s word’, so Rawson does etymology as ‘that favourite weapon of the antiquarians’.78 In this respect at least there was a relation between the studies of the antiquarian and of the grammarian, as well as those of the jurist. 76
It is perhaps not irrelevant that the library of the Warburg Institute in London shelves the Noctes Atticae of Aulus Gellius and some works by and on Varro under encyclopaedias. The dilettantism of Roman scholars was stressed by H. Dahlmann, ‘Der ro¨mische Gelehrte’, passim, but esp. 186 ¼ 2. 77 OED s.v. ‘institution’, deWnitions 6a and 1a. 78 Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 139 (and cf. his index s.v. ‘institutions’); Rawson, ‘Cicero’, 37 ¼ 65.
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In a sense Varro’s De uita populi Romani is the archetypal antiquarian work: in the Wrst book Riposati has identiWed sections on the institutions of the kings (including the tribal and centuriate division of the people), socio-economic conditions, temples, religion and the calendar, cult and funerary practice, marriage, and the houses, foods, domestic equipment, and clothes of the Roman people in the regal period. In the second book the institutions of the early Republic, the army, and games, in the third coinage, and in the fourth luxury appear as additional subjects. All these recur in later antiquarian writing.79 But should we not take the Antiquitates as the archetype? Certainly the name suggests that we should; and much of the material in the De uita came from it. But we know too little of precisely what Varro discussed: we do not even know the titles of the individual books and the fragments are not always particularly enlightening. For example, in several of Varro’s works we may detect a section de hominibus: we have little idea of what the hexad de hominibus of the Res humanae contained, though Boissier saw the hexad as eVectively a de uiris illustribus, and indeed we can detect the traces of such a treatment in the De uita. But it is diYcult to see biography and works de uiris illustribus as being antiquarian, though of course no study of the past could dissociate itself entirely from the important Wgures of that past. This is, of course, only an assumption and we have no idea of Varro’s approach here. Turning to the corresponding divisions of the ¯NƪøªØŒ ad Cn. Pompeium and the Res diuinae, we Wnd that Varro discusses magistrates and priests respectively. Again, when he discusses ‘men’ in the De lingua Latina it is the names of magistracies, priesthoods, military ranks, and of several occupations which are his subject. But Gellius tells us that the magistracies were discussed in the twenty-Wrst book of the Res humanae in the hexad de rebus, and there is no reason to disbelieve him.80 So in the Res humanae, either Varro had a diVerent idea of what he should discuss de hominibus or he repeated himself. The Roman magistracies form a good example of Roman antiquarian scholarship. Not only do we possess some fairly coherent fragments from antiquarian writers dealing with the magistracies, but we also have some antiquarian-inXuenced passages concerning magistracies from writers who would not be regarded as antiquarians. Dio’s narrative can assume an antiquarian air, as for instance 79 80
Riposati, De uita populi Romani. Varro, LL 5. 80–94; Gell. 13. 12. 5–6, 13. 13. 4–6.
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when he digresses on the tribunate, and such is also the case for Tacitus, for example in his digression on the urban prefecture.81 Besides the magistracies, we can still detect an antiquarian interest in Rome’s other political institutions. The senate was an institution closely connected to the magistracies, and the apparent emphasis in the fragments on the senators themselves, rather than seeing the senate as an institution per se, combined with the interest in the magistracies suggests that antiquarian writing reXects much of the interests of the senatorial elite. Suetonius appears particularly concerned with the maintenance of senatoria dignitas and similarly the section of the Digest which is de senatoribus concentrates on the status and rank of senators and their families.82 The interest in the privileges and duties of senators extends to certain aspects of their dress, particularly their footwear: this also reXects the antiquarians’ interest in costume.83 The emphasis on the interests of the senatorial elite is largely substantiated by antiquarian writing on religion which tends to concentrate on the priestly colleges, the members of which were largely drawn from that elite. Yet it may also be merely the accident of transmission, and indeed Gellius has one article (14. 7) which presents a range of information about the senate, drawing (ultimately and indirectly) on Varro’s ¯NƪøªØŒ ad Cn. Pompeium: it is interesting to consider that Gellius was not a senator, and that the ¯NƪøªØŒ was written as an introduction to the senate and its procedures for one (Pompey) who had never entered the curia. In what remains of antiquarian writing on the senate there is also a marked interest in the locations where meetings of the senate could be held: a similar interest recurs in other areas of antiquarian interest, such as religious institutions (where temples, shrines, and similar receive much attention), and points towards a periegetic tendency of much antiquarian scholarship.84 It is also unclear what Varro meant by loci in the Res humanae: in the ¯NƪøªØŒ and Res diuinae these are the places where the senate met and temples, shrines, and other religious places. Presumably Varro presented what would now be seen as a study of the 81 Zon. 7. 15 (from Dio bk. 4); Tac. Ann. 6. 11. On antiquarian writing on the magistracies, cf. Stevenson, ‘Gellius’, 220–81. 82 Cf. e.g. Suet. Jul. 4. 11, 76. 3; Aug. 35; Nero 15. 2, 37. 3; Vesp. 9. 2; D. 1. 9. 83 Plin. NH 9. 65 (citing Fenestella); Plut. Quaest. Rom. 76 (282 a–b); Gell. 13. 22; Fest. 128. 3–11 mulleos; Serv. Aen. 8. 458; Lydus, Mag. 1. 7, 17. 84 Cf. e.g. Gell. 14. 7. 7; Fest. 358. 1–6 religioni; 470. 5–13 senacula; PF 43. 1–4 curia; Varro, De uita populi Romani fr. 70 Rip.; LL 5. 13, 155–6, 6. 46, 7. 10; Serv. Aen. 1. 446, 7. 153, 11. 235.
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topography and monuments of Rome, as is reXected in the De lingua Latina, but there must have been considerable duplication of material with that in the corresponding section of the Res diuinae, unless Varro had some dividing line which may no longer be perceived.85 The marked paucity of fragments from these Wrst two hexads of the Res humanae suggests that Varro’s information de hominibus and de locis was regarded by later antiquarians as of lesser importance and not something that should interest them. It is, however, clear that the rest of the Antiquitates contained material suitable for antiquarianism. Information on the calendar reappears throughout antiquarian writing, as does that on magistracies, the senate, the assemblies, the organization of the people in peace and particularly at war—antiquarian research into the army and its institutions and customs is particularly frequent86—religious rites, priesthoods, temples, clothes, foodstuVs, the law, coinage, festivals and games, and the theatre. To discuss and list examples of antiquarian writing on all these subjects would require more space than the present study allows. It is interesting to note, however, that within these broad subjects there were items of particular interest to the antiquarians, or at least those of which there is more frequent discussion in what we have of their works. Generally, most interest is displayed in what would seem the more arcane subjects and in the creation of institutions and customs. The former is exempliWed by such discussions as those of tribunician sacrosanctity, of the Xamen Dialis and of augury. The creation of institutions and customs is found frequently, for instance in Suetonius, but is perhaps at its clearest in the elder Pliny, who hardly ever fails to mention the Wrst use or introduction to Rome of the many things which he discusses.87 Religious institutions are strongly represented in what survives of Roman antiquarian writing, but we should beware of allotting too great an importance to this aspect of Roman antiquarianism, for we owe the survival of most fragments on religion to the Christian writers, of whom Augustine is particularly important. While the preservation of these fragments is extremely valuable, it must be remembered that the Christian interest in the pagan past has seriously unbalanced the surviving remains of Roman 85
LL 5. 41–56, 145–65. Cf. e.g. Varro, LL 5. 87–91, 115–17, 7. 52, 56–8; Gell. 1. 11, 1. 25 (from RH de bello et pace), 5. 6, 10. 8–9, 10. 25, 16. 4, etc. Cf. Rawson, Intellectual Life, 240–1; Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 129–31. 87 On Suetonius cf. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, 77–8, 127, 130 n. 12, 139. 86
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antiquarian writing.88 An idea of the range of the antiquarians’, or at least Varro’s, studies in this Weld may be gained from what Augustine has to say of the institutions and rites of Roman paganism and from the edition and commentary on Varro’s Res diuinae by Burckhart Cardauns. It is, however, worth noting that there is an emphasis in what survives on the priesthoods, particularly their various competences, most interest being shown in the Xamen Dialis, the augurs, fetiales, and the Vestals. Religious institutions were clearly of greater interest to the antiquarians than the deities themselves. The section of Varro’s Res diuinae on the gods (de dis) formed a less important part of the whole, and we have Augustine’s testimony that this section was little more than an appendix to the work. Varro’s account was, of course, inXuenced by the nature of Roman religion: Roman paganism was not a ‘book religion’ and any religious laws were concerned more with prescribing practices than belief.89 Similarly, Gellius seems not to have consulted the Res diuinae, or even the section on the gods, primarily for information on gods; and in general, there is little sign of religious piety or superstition in the Noctes Atticae.90 But there is little indication that Varro took any less care when writing about the gods, and one should presume also that Augustine’s enumeration of the gods discussed by Varro is probably only a brief pre´cis of what Varro had written. Varro returned to gods, as he did to most of the subjects of the Antiquitates, in the De lingua Latina and discussed the names of several gods and their origins.91 There was then a precedent for antiquarians to discuss the gods, though probably not theology: besides Varro in the Wrst book of the Res humanae it would seem to be only Pliny and Macrobius who had thoughts on theology.92 88 Maslakov, ‘Roman Antiquarian Tradition’, 101–2 overemphasizes the religious studies of Roman antiquarianism; he does not note the role played by the interests of the Christian writers. Moralizing probably should not receive the emphasis given it by Maslakov either. 89 CD 6. 3. On the Indigitamenta, libri rituales, libri haruspicum, and libri fulgurales as merely prescribing formulae and rituals cf. Boissier, Varron, 202–3 and Agahd, edn. of RD 130–4. 90 Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 286–9 [212–14]. 91 LL 5. 57–74. 92 Pliny’s thoughts are essentially that it is all nonsense. Cf. NH 2. 14, 17, 143–4, 11. 273, 28. 17, 22–9. See also T. Ko¨ves-Zulauf, ‘Plinius’, 193–9. Macrobius (Sat. 1. 17–23) discusses a number of gods, listing their attributes and the origins of their names: by the 5th c. ad such matters may largely have become the province of antiquarian research alone. Macrobius’ main purpose, however, is to show that all
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Only twice does Gellius discuss a god per se (5. 12, 13. 23) and in one of these articles he is as much concerned with the pronunciation and declension of the name as he is with the attributes of the god. Furthermore, both articles start from the presence of the gods’ names in prayers. Another article (2. 28) illustrates the uncertainty at Rome as to which god sacriWce should be oVered when there is an earthquake: Gellius’ main point is the procedure of the sacriWce. Gellius’ three other references to gods (all of which also mention Varro) all present information for which the names of the gods merely provide supporting evidence.93 It is interesting that in the fragments of the De uita populi Romani Varro discusses religious matters only in the Wrst book, that on the regal period; and furthermore the relevant fragments relate to the cult of the gods. If we were to see gods as having a place in the antiquarian tradition, then we might expect antiquarian interest to focus on the early period and more particularly on the attitudes of the ueteres to the gods and so on the development of their cult. An interest in games is widespread among the antiquarian writers, much of this no doubt originating in Books 9 and 10 of the Res diuinae, which were de ludis circensibus and de ludis scaenicis respectively, though Suetonius’ Ludicra historia was no doubt also important for later writers.94 It is unclear how far the antiquarians regarded games as religious institutions: they were aware of their religious origins, but few of the fragments suggests any deep interest in their religious character, which was by the late Republic in any case subsumed beneath their value as spectacle. Certainly, Suetonius in his Caesares is most interested in games as spectacle. There was also considerable antiquarian interest in the calendar, which again had religious origins and retained religious connotations: the existing fragments concentrate on the explanation of dies atri, dies fasti, dies nefasti, nundinae and so on, and the division of time, particularly of the day. It is worth noting that these matters these gods should be seen merely as individual manifestations of one god, Sol. Outside the section in which he presents these views, it is signiWcant that gods appear only as the objects of the rites he discusses. 93
NA 3. 16. 9–11 (on the length of pregnancy), 16. 16. 4 (on the origin of the name Agrippa), 16. 17. 2 (on the origin of the name of the ager Vaticanus). 94 We also know of lost works by Varro De actionibus scaenicis, De scaenicis originibus, De actibus scaenicis, and the Theatrales libri, if this is not a general title for the previous three, which may in any case represent an epitome or republication of RD 10. Augustine is again an important source (cf. e.g. CD 6. 7, 7. 21), as is Tertullian, De Spectaculis.
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are those which would probably most aVect the elite in practical terms in that, for example, they governed the working hours of the senate.95 The problems of the (non-)survival of texts make it diYcult to be certain, though the indications are that there was less interest in other institutions. Such is the case for the development of the equestrian order, most interest being shown by the elder Pliny. Suetonius documents the reforms of the equestrian order or career structure introduced by the emperors, as well as the recognitiones equitum, which are Gellius’ main concern regarding the equestrian order, and Verrius Flaccus explained a few relevant terms.96 A similar level of interest is evident in the popular assemblies, most interest being shown by Gellius and Verrius Flaccus, though the latter referred to Varro’s discussion of praerogatiuae centuriae in Book 6 of the Res humanae, which would suggest that Varro dealt with the various comitia and concilia, presumably as exhaustively as he seems to have done other institutions.97 Rawson noted the antiquarian interest in military institutions, concluding that ‘here the antiquarian tradition is revealed as better than the annalistic’: it is interesting and characteristic for antiquarian writing that military tactics and tales of heroism appear very rarely, and
95 Varro, LL 6. 3–34 (at 6. 18 he refers the reader to the Antiquitates for further details: RH 14–19 were de temporibus); De uita populi Romani fr. 18 Rip.; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 19 (267 f–268 d), 24 (268 b–d), 25 (269 e–270 d), 84 (284 c–f); Suet. Jul. 40; Aug. 31; Gaius 15, 16. 4, 17. 2; Claud. 11. 3; Nero 55; Dom. 13. 3; Gell. 4. 9. 5, 5. 17, 7. 7. 6–7, 8. 1, 10. 24, 20. 1. 42; also Fest. 186. 23–9 Nonarum, nundinas; PF 33. 26–7 concilium, 28 conciliabulum, 34. 1–3 contio, 12–13 comitiales dies, 36. 21–7 conuentus, 44. 7–8 cum populo agere, 76. 17–19 ferias, 78. 4–5 fastorum libri, 83. 7–8 fastis diebus, 251. 25–6 procalare, 311. 1–5 quandoc rex comitiauit fas, quandoc stercus delatum fas; Macr. Sat. 1. 14–16, 3. 2. 14. Note also Ovid’s Fasti and L. Cincius’ De fastis (cited by Macr. Sat. 1. 12). Division of year, month, day: Plin. NH 2. 187–8, 7. 212–15; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 19 (267 f–268 d), 84 (284 c–f); Gell. 3. 2 (citing the book de diebus in RH); Censorinus, Nat. 20. 2–12 (citing Fenestella, Junius Gracchanus, Varro, Suetonius, et al.); Macr. Sat. 1. 3, 1. 4. 17–19, 1. 12–13. 96 Plin. NH 33. 29, 32–6; Suet. Aug. 38–40; Gaius 30. 2; Claud. 6. 1; 25; Vesp. 9. 2; Titus 6. 1; Gell. 4. 12. 2, 4. 20. 11, 6. 22; PF 36. 16–17 conscripti, 71. 18 equestre aes, 91. 10 hordiarium aes; Fest. 266. 11–15 priuato sumtu. 97 Gell. 5. 19, 18. 7 (citing Verrius Flaccus), 15. 27 (drawing on juristic sources). Fest. 290. 27–34 praerogatiuae centuriae, cf. 184. 8–12 niquis sciuit, 264. 17–22 populi, 268. 13–22 prohibere comitia, 326. 17–24 rogatio, 368. 11–18 respici, 372. 20–2 scita plebei, 442. 28–444. 1 scitum populi, 450. 23–452. 22 sexagenarios, 452. 32–5 sex suVragia; PF 33. 26–7 concilium, 34. 1–3 contio, 43. 9 curiata comitia, 47. 3–4 centuriata comitia, 58. 5 contio, 100. 20 in conuentione. Cf. Fest. 277. 2–3 patricios, citing a work De comitiis by L. Cincius.
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then only if they help explain the name or origin of some custom or institution of the army.98 But antiquarian scholarship was not limited to public life. There was also much antiquarian writing on institutions of private life, such as marriage, funerary practice, shaving, the drinking of wine, sitting or reclining at table, the use of foodstuVs and domestic utensils. Again it is the institutions that were central to their interest, rather than any attempt to write a social history of Rome. Subjects which had no place in Roman historiography, such as the origins and history of foodstuVs and domestic equipment, also recur in antiquarian writing. ‘Private life’ happens, however, to be less well represented in the surviving fragments of the antiquarian tradition than are such subjects as religious and political institutions, costume, the calendar (which was also a political and religious institution), coinage, the institutions of the Roman army, and games of all types, including the theatre.99 We cannot simply discount that the elite of Rome found these aspects of their past interesting, as many today Wnd their own past interesting. Possibly antiquarian writing on such private institutions could also serve as something approaching a handbook of etiquette. It is also possible that, having produced systematic histories of political and religious institutions, the antiquarian writers turned their attention to the institutions of private life, in a spirit of intellectual inquiry: to see whether, and to what extent the methods which they had developed (or at least adopted) for political and religious institutions could also be applied to other areas. The subject of political institutions of course overlaps considerably with juristic interests in public law; and the jurists’ lost works on public law must have had much in common with many antiquarian works. One further institution which governed life in ancient Rome and which was of interest to antiquarian scholarship was the civil and 98 Rawson, Intellectual Life, 240–1; Varro, LL 5. 87–91, 115–17, 7. 56–8; De uita populi Romani frr. 87–8 Rip.; Gell. 1. 11, 1. 25, 2. 11, 5. 6, 6. 4, 10. 8–9, 10. 25, 11. 1. 6, 16. 10; Fest. 202. 14–204. 19 opima spolia, 294. 3–9 procincta classis, 484. 9–14 turmam; PF 17. 1–2 accensi, 41. 11–12 caduceatores, 67. 15–18 endo procinctu, 96. 28–9 in procinctu, 251. 19–21 procincta classis, 506. 23–8 uelati. 99 Rawson, Intellectual Life, 240–2, recognized the Roman army and Roman coinage as ‘a couple of subjects of antiquarian investigation’; Wallace-Hadrill rightly stresses games, comprehending spectacula, board games, party games, and children’s games (Suetonius, 126–8, 44) and notes (p. 16) that Suetonius is concerned not with wars and battles fought by his subjects, but with military institutions. Similarly, Della Corte, Svetonio, 158 sees as characteristic of antiquarianism, works ‘on the laws’, ‘on the customs of Rome’, ‘on the Roman calendar’, and ‘on habits’.
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criminal law. This was, of course, the province of the jurists, but there were many points of contact between legal and antiquarian literature, and a considerable proportion of what is today known of Roman law, particularly its development, comes from antiquarian writers: as Wieacker notes, Die rechtshistorisch ergiebigsten erhaltenen Werke sind Varros libri de lingua latina, A. Gellius’ Noctes Atticae, der Verrius-Auszug des Sex. Pompeius Festus und dessen Epitomierung durch den Langobarden Paulus Diaconus und die Notae (Siglen) des großen Grammatikers Valerius Probus, die Compendiosa doctrina des Grammatikers Nonius Marcellus . . . sowie die Vergilkommentare des Grammatikers Servius . . . 100
Gellius refers to reading juristic works (NA 14. 2. 1, 20. 10. 6), and it is unlikely that such reading would have come as a particularly unpleasant task for him: the scholarly nature of much legal writing is well known, and it often recorded antiquarian details. Cicero, in the De oratore, makes Crassus speak of one of the results of occupation with the ius ciuile being an interest in the antiquitates (1. 193, cf. Brutus 81); Tacitus has the jurist C. Cassius Longinus speak of the amor antiqui moris of some of his colleagues (Ann. 14. 43); and the Younger Pliny says of Aristo, quantum antiquitatis tenet! (Ep. 1. 22. 2; cf. NA 11. 18. 16). Similarly the Digest (and in particular title 50. 16, de uerborum signiWcatione) contains many examples of the jurists’ use of etymology to understand the origin and hence explain the meaning of matters under discussion: we may compare Quintilian’s reference to jurists quorum summus circa uerborum proprietatem labor est (Inst. 5. 14. 34). Furthermore, it is perhaps not insigniWcant that one of the earliest known works of Roman jurisprudence is Q. Mucius Scaevola’s liber ‹æø , a ‘book of deWnitions’, the few surviving fragments of which suggest that it deWned concepts and institutions of law.101 Another aspect of Roman antiquarianism is that it is distinctly ‘Roman’, in that it is remarkably Romanocentric: very little interest is shown in anything outside the city of Rome, and when such an interest is shown, there is usually some connection with Rome. This is evident in, for example, Varro’s Antiquitates, as well as his satires. When Varro mentions in the De lingua Latina some other towns of Latium, it is only in so far as they were connected with the stirps Romana (5. 144). This Romanocentricity is perhaps at its 100
F. Wieacker, Ro¨mische Rechtsgeschichte, 101. Schanz–Hosius ii. 240. Note also the De signiWcatione uerborum quae ad ius ciuile pertinent of Aelius Gallus (ibid. 597; 2 frr. in O. Lenel, Palingenesia iuris civilis, i. 1). 101
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clearest in Lydus’ De magistratibus: although writing in sixthcentury Constantinople to show the continuity between the magistracies, especially the prefecture, of the Byzantines in the age of Justinian and those of earlier times, it is the magistracies of old Rome which are his main subject. Lydus’ De mensibus and De ostentis display similar characteristics and are clearly based on similar works of earlier Roman writers. The former ‘deals especially with the ancient Roman calendar and its feasts’, the latter ‘with the origin and progress of the art of divination’, though the Etruscan and Roman doctrinae were apparently adapted to Byzantine matters.102 As Isager notes, ‘Pliny cites Roman exempla wherever they can be found’ and it is noticeable that when Gellius is outside Rome he does not discuss antiquarian matters.103 There are no Wrm distinctions between what is antiquarian subject-matter and what is not. Any aspect of the Roman past could be written about in an antiquarian manner, though some aspects, such as political and religious institutions, lent themselves more than others (accounts of warfare or political intrigue, for example) to the systematic nature of antiquarian writing. It is worth noting that at some point a conscious decision must have been made to identify and treat such subjects separately (from historiography), and that such a decision must have been in response to, or in anticipation of a need for information on the subject in question. And once such a subject had been treated in this manner, it then became natural for future accounts on the same and similar subjects to be presented in the same manner. It is tempting to suggest that Varro may have made that decision.
5. antiquarianism for pleasure: gellius’ world of antiquarianism Under Augustus, antiquarian writing turned to the justiWcation of monarchy, though there was also still an element of elite selfdeWnition, or rather now self-redeWnition. When we turn to the later periods—the Wrst and second centuries ad, and the age of Gellius—we may still detect an element of self-deWnition, and there is still an element of the justiWcation of the monarchy; but now there is also an element of an interest for interest’s sake. While antiquarian writing on Rome’s Staatsrecht could still provide a 102 103
A. C. Bandy, edn. of Lydus, pp. xxviii, xxix. Cf. Isager, Pliny, 59–60.
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useful written tirocinium fori, and that on private life a useful handbook of etiquette, there appears to be an interest in acquiring knowledge for its own sake. In addition, there were also social pressures behind this, as the Noctes Atticae shows clearly. But antiquarian works were not simply isagogic, to be read, learnt, and then discarded; rather they provided a valuable reference tool, made more accessible by their systematic nature. It is not clear that ancient students of Rome’s past felt quite the same urgent necessity to establish the relevance of their subject as sometimes can modern scholars. One thing is clear: not all antiquarianism was relevant in the second century ad; nor even for that matter was everything in Varro’s works relevant to the Wrst century bc. At least as far as we know. But what should we count as relevant? If we take the Noctes Atticae as a reXection of secondcentury society at Rome—and it was written by a man who wants us to know, or at least to believe, that he was part of learned society at Rome in the second century—then we need look no further for reasons why antiquarian works continued to be produced: there was an appetite among men of learning, and those who pretended to learning, for antiquarian information. These men seem also to have had an appetite for what are apparently trivia, which they used to entertain each other. Antiquarian knowledge and trivia on a wide variety of matters were relevant to the sort of dinner parties which Gellius attended: need we look for any further relevance? They liked it and found it interesting: the popularity of antiquarianism could have been quite superWcial; it need not have had any ulterior motive. Furthermore, there is little indication that the elite of earlier generations at Rome were any less interested in antiquarian scholarship for its own sake. However hard we try to discover the ‘real’ reasons or the ‘true relevance’ of antiquarian subjects, there will always be some miscellaneous, or even bizarre, material left over. Mirabilia for instance were of no practical use to anyone—except perhaps the entertainer or story-teller. Most modern forms of (especially mass) entertainment have little practical use—some indeed owe their success to their uselessness, to the triviality of their pursuits. Varro and the elder Pliny might have regarded games of Trivial Pursuits as beneath their dignity, but Gellius shows us these games in progress at a house-party in Athens during the Saturnalia (NA 18. 2, 18. 13). On one occasion (18. 6. 3) Gellius writes of a work De loquendi proprietate by Aelius Melissus, saying that ei libro titulus est ingentis cuiusdam inlecebrae ad legendum (which is highly applicable to the Noctes Atticae). This is worthy of notice. Gellius could regard a
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work’s title as an enticement to read it and a clever title could attract the reader. If Gellius could see the eYcacy of such a title, then this indicates that he—and others like him—were accustomed to looking through shelves or catalogues of books, and that their attention could be caught by the title of a work which they would then buy or more probably read. Put more simply, they had a choice of what to read, and their decision could be based on nothing more signiWcant than the work’s title. This stray remark by Gellius provides a clear picture of a milieu where books were read at leisure and for pleasure because they were, or at least sounded, interesting. We do not have to extrapolate very far from this to reach the parallel conclusion that at least some authors wrote for such an audience.104 There can be little doubt that antiquarianism could also entertain. (It is, of course, worth noting that entertainment and education can be closely related, and the former can contribute to the eVectiveness of the latter.) There was a social constraint to know about one’s past: both the constraint and the superWcial nature of much of this knowledge are well reXected in the contents of the Noctes Atticae, of Macrobius’ Saturnalia, and also in much surviving epistolography. Kaster notes that the grammarian Pompeius is intent on preparing the reader . . . for situations in which he can expect to be put on his mettle. ‘If anyone asks you’ is a constant refrain, together with the negative counterpart, ‘Take care lest anyone put a question to you in this matter.’ You must anticipate the question, How do you prove this?105
Similarly, the Noctes Atticae provides a preparation for the trials and tribulations of, at least, social, dinner-party chit-chat, if not public life. One’s knowledge was assumed to be broad-based, as indeed it would be following the grammarian’s education. Yet we occasionally encounter the realization that this was not always adequate. In the De re rustica, Varro says nemo enim omnia potest scire (2. 1. 2): Varro’s purpose in his writings could be seen as providing a means by which one could at least Wnd out about virtually anything. If one’s knowledge were indeed so disjointed then it is evident that there would be a need for something (books, lectures, ‘lifelong learning’ of some form) which could provide a ‘unifying relationship’. Gellius’ Noctes Atticae might be seen as a collection of titbits, the result of an education at the hands of one of Kaster’s grammarians, but there is also a deeper insight to be 104
Cf. the book of mera miracula lent to Gellius by a friend who thought he would Wnd it useful for the Noctes Atticae (NA 14. 6) 105 R. A. Kaster, Guardians, 165.
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found in some articles. Gellius’ account of Roman legislation concerning theft, for example, if rather more concise, does not diVer in essentials from that of Gaius in his Institutiones.106 It is surely not unreasonable to suggest that such apparent expertise may have extended to other areas in the works of other antiquarians, if not of Gellius. There is a point at which the interest in a subject becomes an interest for its own sake: the accumulation and deployment of knowledge for pleasure, as a relaxation. This is stressed by Gellius throughout the Noctes Atticae. Similarly the participants in the dialogue of Macrobius’ Saturnalia are supposedly there for their own enjoyment, and such is also—though to a lesser degree—the case for Cicero’s dialogues. The dialogue form is of course an artiWce, a literary device to make the material presented more palatable. But can we deny all verisimilitude? It is worth noting that these are not professional seminars, or dialogues at the Fondation Hardt: the participants are explicitly said to be at leisure. If we deny that this was a way in which the educated elite might like to spend their leisure, then we deny the eVectiveness of the literary device of the dialogue, for the dramatic situation would seem so unreal that it could not serve its purpose. It is worth noting the growing importance in the second century of literature which could entertain: we need compare only one of the major phenomena of the age, the Konzertredner of the Second Sophistic. Possibly there was also some idea that the past should be kept alive because it might become relevant. If antiquarian writing on the magistracies could turn out to be relevant in the second century ad, might not antiquarian writing on, for example, the calendar? How the ancient Latins dealt with dowries might have helped provide a precedent in an intractable lawsuit about a dowry, and so on. These are the arguments which Gellius might—and does—use to justify the inclusion of such material in the Noctes Atticae. Eduard Norden condemned the intellectual world of the second century ad: he saw the people of the century as old men who remembered a happier childhood. Norden was too preoccupied with the idea of the decline of literature in the second century to see that the varied interests of literary society might be a sign of intellectual vitality: there may not have been poetae nouelli, but the popularity of sophistic rhetoric combines with appreciation of Cicero, Vergil, Ennius, and others. Gellius is as eager to listen to 106 NA 11. 18. 6–15; Gaius, Inst. 3. 184–202. Similarly, on the legis actio sacramento in rem cf. NA 20. 10. 7, 9 Gaius Inst. 4. 5, 17 respectively.
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the sophist Favorinus, or the contemporary poet Julius Paulus, as he is the Ennianista at Puteoli.107 If Vergil and Cicero continued as the mainstay of grammatical and rhetorical education, why should Varro’s writings not continue as the reference works which formed the further education for those in public life? What is perhaps more surprising than the dominance of Varronian scholarship, is that we hear of no commentaries on Varro. It is interesting in this connection that Gellius seems to feel little need to explain Varro; for the most part he simply reproduces relevant extracts. This suggests that the systematic presentation of Varro’s works with his unrhetorical language did away with the obscurities, to the explanation of which in Vergil’s works the grammarians devoted so much energy, and so Varro’s works needed little ‘explanation’. In the second century there was a realization of the intellectual, linguistic and historical patrimony of the Roman state: quite probably at least in part a result of, or reaction to, Greek inXuence. This is very clearly represented by Fronto: the study of old orators, which he recommends to Marcus Aurelius, is not to enable one to live, or pretend to live, in the past or to speak in the language of the past (something which Gellius is strongly against). Rather it serves two purposes: Wrst, to make Marcus Aurelius aware of the amplitude of Latin vocabulary available to him, and so to enable him always to use words which convey his meaning precisely (something that exercises Gellius too). Secondly, of course, the study was to extend Marcus’ awareness of his cultural inheritance. And this is more widely applicable. The second century seems to have witnessed a desire for self-identiWcation, to set the present in its historical and cultural context. The impetus for this desire no doubt came largely from Hadrianic and Antonine policies of consolidation and uniWcation. Within the new, uniWed empire which Hadrian sought to create, and at a time of increasing participation of Greeks in the administration of Rome, the need for selfidentiWcation of the old elite of Rome may have been felt more acutely. This is the world in which Aulus Gellius lived and wrote, and he found antiquarian scholarship a useful, if not essential part of that world. 107 E. Norden, Kunstprosa, 345–9. Favorinus: NA passim; cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 98–130 [72–92]. Julius Paulus: NA 1. 22. 9, 5. 4, 16. 10. 9, 19. 7. Ennianista: NA 18. 5.
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II IDEOLOGIES
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6 Genre, Conventions, and Cultural Programme in Gellius’ Noctes Atticae
Am i el V ar di Modern genre theory has taught us how important generic expectations are for the manner in which a literary work is interpreted and evaluated. ‘We identify the genre to interpret the exemplar’, says Alastair Fowler in one of the most inXuential studies in this Weld, and: ‘when we investigate previous states of the type, it is to clarify meaningful departures that the work itself makes’ since ‘literary meaning works by departing from generic forms’.1 It is within this theoretical framework that the present paper aims to highlight and interpret Gellius’ departures from the conventions of contemporary literary kinds with which his work seems to be aYliated. But in order that readers may evoke the right set of generic expectations, they must be provided with a clear indication of the sort of work they are about to read. Our Wrst task is therefore to establish the generic aYliation of Gellius’ composition and the sort of expectations his contemporary readers might have associated with his literary kind.
1. generic indicators To help the reader identify the genre of a work from the outset, generic indications are often embodied in titles and prefaces.2 As I have suggested elsewhere, whether or not it was in Athens that Gellius embarked on the making of his book, the title Noctes Atticae is primarily meant to convey erudition (by evoking Hellenic 1 2
A. Fowler, Kinds, 38, 46; also J. Culler, Structuralist Poetics, 145–8. Fowler, Kinds, 88–105.
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scholarship and nocturnal toil) and possibly also the plurality of self-contained items (by the plural form).3 In his preface Gellius also provides us with a list of representative predecessors of the kind of composition with which he associates himself. This he does by way of explaining the title he chooses for his book and contrasting it with the names of several Greek and Latin works which he feigns to be far more imaginative than his own: 4. Sed quoniam longinquis per hiemem noctibus in agro, sicuti dixi, terrae Atticae commentationes hasce ludere ac facere exorsi sumus, idcirco eas inscripsimus noctium esse Atticarum nihil imitati festiuitates inscriptionum, quas plerique alii utriusque linguae scriptores in id genus libris fecerunt. 5. Nam quia uariam et miscellam et quasi confusaneam doctrinam conquisiuerant, eo titulos quoque ad eam sententiam exquisitissimos indiderunt. 6. Namque alii Musarum inscripserunt, alii siluarum, ille º , hic `ƺŁÆ ŒæÆ, alius ŒÆæØÆ,4 partim ºØH Æ, quidam lectionis suae, alius antiquarum lectionum atque alius I ŁæH et item alius !æø . 7. Sunt etiam, qui º ı inscripserint, sunt item, qui æøÆE, sunt adeo, qui Æ ŒÆ et ¯ºØŒH Æ et æ ºÆÆ et KªØæØÆ et ÆæÆØÆ. 8. Est qui memoriales titulum fecerit, est qui æƪÆØŒ et ææªÆ et Øƌƺ،, est item qui historiae naturalis, est Æ Æ B ƒ æÆ, est praeterea qui pratum, est itidem qui ªŒÆæ , est qui ø scripserit; 9. sunt item multi, qui coniectanea, neque item non sunt, qui indices libris suis fecerint aut epistularum moralium aut epistolicarum quaestionum aut confusarum et quaedam alia inscripta nimis lepida multasque prorsum concinnitates redolentia. (pr. 4–9.)
This extensive list leaves very little doubt as to the aVected nature of Gellius’ modesty. He thus employs a conventional feature of ancient prefaces5 ironically to draw attention to the uniqueness and ingenuity of his title.6 But Gellius’ list of titles also reveals to us the kind of compositions he considers to be similar to his own, or even to belong to the same literary category, as the words in id genus libris suggest. Though the Latin term genus may refer to what we should nowadays call ‘genre’, I hesitate to employ this modern term here since genus was not a strict technical term in antiquity 3
A. D. Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’, 300–1. For the reading, see L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Analecta Gelliana’, 292–3. Cf. Plin. NH pr. 24–5; Clem. Str. 6. 2. 1. For the works listed by Gellius, see P. Faider, ‘Praefatio’, 203–8; Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’, 299–300; for those in Clement’s list, A. Me´hat, E´tudes sur les ‘Stromates’, 99–106. For Gellius’ preface, see also A. Mare´chal, ‘Pre´face’. 6 See L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 27–8 [20–1]; Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’ Note that Pliny, clearly in Gellius’ mind when composing his list of titles, chose a title that really is as sterilis as his material. 4 5
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and could refer to any category of works, whether grouped ad hoc or generally accepted and sanctioned by literary theorists. In fact, unlike the poetic genres, for which we have a fairly standard generic system reiterated in school-books and works of literary theory, we possess no evidence for an ancient attempt to establish a systematic classiWcation of prose works of the sort Gellius writes.7 This, of course, does not mean that Gellius and his contemporaries could not have shared a concept of a literary kind whose deWnition was never formulated and for which they had no standard tag,8 but of which they could have framed a certain set of expectations that would inXuence their reading in the same way as stricto sensu generic conventions would function. Introducing his list of titles Gellius also provides us with the unifying element which makes him group his book with these works: their authors, he says, chose such titles quia uariam et miscellam et quasi confusaneam doctrinam conquisiuerant. Works of this sort thus collect knowledge (doctrina), in a variety of Welds, and in a disorderly manner (or seemingly so). We may note that throughout his preface Gellius repeatedly ascribes such features to his own composition (esp. pr. 2, 3, 13), and that further on in the work we Wnd these key notions evoked again in his descriptions of some of the writings mentioned in his list of titles. He thus describes Sotion’s Cornum copiae ( `ƺŁÆ ŒæÆ, mentioned in pr. 6) as a librum multae uariaeque historiae refertum (1. 8. 1), and provides the following explanation for the title of Tiro’s compilation (—Æ ŒÆØ, mentioned in pr. 7): 2. Is libros compluris de usu atque ratione linguae Latinae, item de uariis atque promiscis quaestionibus composuit. 3. In his esse praecipui uidentur, quos Graeco titulo Æ ŒÆ inscripsit, tamquam omne rerum atque doctrinarum genus continentis. (13. 9. 2–3.)9
Even more telling is Gellius’ account of a book presented to him by an anonymous contemporary who thought it contained material that might suit the Noctes Atticae. The book is said to be grandi uolumine doctrinae omnigenus, the result of multis et uariis et remotis lectionibus (14. 6. 1). Without entering the vexed question of whether the words doctrinae omnigenus hint at Favorinus’ 7 For the difficulty of classifying the Noctes Atticae in ancient generic terms, see N. Horsfall, ‘Generic Composition’, 130; M. L. Astarita, Cultura, 14, 19–23. 8 ‘Miscellany’, under which Gellius’ book normally goes nowadays, is of course not an ancient term, and seems to have been first used as a title by Poliziano; see R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship, ii. 45. 9 Cf. 9. 16. 3 on Pliny’s Libri studiosorum.
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—Æ Æ c Ø æÆ,10 we can take this anecdote to indicate that doctrina and variety constituted two key notions of the expectations Gellius’ contemporaries would have had of the type of work he was writing. What Gellius’ friend did not take into account is a criterion of discrimination by which Gellius wants to dissociates himself from other miscellanists—his collection, he maintains, avoids mere polymathy and includes only what is either useful or entertaining (pr. 11–12, 4. 6. cap., 5).11 Gellius normally refers to his work collectively as commentarii, using the singular for individual chapters.12 The term clearly bears generic overtones, but it is by no means unequivocal. By Gellius’ day it could carry the traditional Latin meanings of ‘oYcial records’, ‘a private journal’, and ‘a collection of notes for private use’ (or a published book posing as such), but also the variety of meanings of the Greek term ! ÆÆ (and occasionally also of I ÆÆ13), with which it has become associated. It could thus denote ‘a scholarly treatise or textbook’, ‘a commentary’, ‘private memoirs or a collection of private notes or excerpta’ and hence also ‘a collection of memorable things’.14 In the NA Gellius uses the term to refer to exegetical commentaries on both Latin15 and Greek works,16 as well as for scholarly treatises dedicated to various speciWc issues. In some of these the word commentarius clearly formed part of the original title of 10 For a summary of this debate, see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 116–18 [82–3]. —Æ Æ c ƒ æÆ features in Gellius’ list of fanciful titles (pr. 8), as also does `ƺŁÆ ŒæÆ (pr. 6) which might be hinted at in the words tamquam . . . copiae cornum further on in the chapter (14. 6. 2). Though at 1. 8. 1–2 he suggests Cornum copiae as a Latin equivalent to Sotion’s `ƺŁÆ ŒæÆ, Gellius need not have had a specific work in mind when referring to this title here or in pr. 6 (cf. Plin. HN pr. 24), since the title might have been an old and common one (see below, n. 26). 11 Cf. 9. 4. 11–12, 10. 12. 4; and see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 36–44 [27–33]; S. M. Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 89–90. 12 Notably five times in the preface (3, 13, 20, 22, 25), but also 1. 23. 2, 1. 24. 1, 9. 4. 5, 13. 7. 6, 18. 4. 11; for the distinction between the finished commentarii or commentationes, and annotationes, the rudimentary notes taken while compiling the material, see R. Marache, edn. i, pp. xv f. 13 See below, n. 18. 14 F. Bo¨mer, ‘Commentarius’, 210–50, Me´hat, E´tudes sur les ‘Stromates’, 106–12. For commentarii as a private collection of excerpta, see Plin. Ep. 3. 5. 10, 17; further J. E. Skydsgaard, Varro the Scholar, 102–15. 15 e.g. Hyginus’ commentary on Vergil, which Gellius often mentions, and Labeo’s on the XII Tables (1. 12. 18). 16 e.g. Taurus’ on Plato’s Gorgias (7. 14. 5 cf. 1. 26. 3), and Plutarch’s on Hesiod (20. 8. 7).
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the work, such as in the case of Nigidius Figulus’ Grammatici commentarii (cited passim) or the liber commentarius de familia Porcia mentioned at 13. 20. 17. But when Gellius says, for instance, [Pompeius] M. Varronem familiarem suum rogauit, uti commentarium faceret NƪøªØŒ —sic enim Varro ipse appellat (14. 7. 2, cf. cap.), it is not quite clear whether the word commentarius is his own manner of indicating the type of this work, or whether it had already served as the substantive qualiWed by the adjective in -Œ in Varro’s original title or in some autoreferential prefatory remark. The same holds for several other instances in which Gellius refers to scholarly works using the term commentarius as a substantive qualiWed by an adjectival form, a genitive, or a de formula, i.e. in the position that the more general liber would occupy.17 More interesting for our case are a number of instances where Gellius uses commentarii to refer to works of miscellaneous character. The term is employed thus in the capitulum of ch. 13. 9 with reference to Tiro’s —Æ ŒÆØ, a book which, as we have seen, is later described as dealing with uariis atque promiscis quaestionibus (§2), and is also mentioned in Gellius’ list of works similar to his own. He also uses commentarii to translate the title of Xenophon’s ` ÆÆ (14. 3. 5),18 and that of Pamphile’s $ ÆÆ (15. 17. 3), a miscellany which might have been one of the major models of the Noctes Atticae.19 It is undoubtedly to works of this type that Gellius’ autoreferential commentarii was meant to refer: works of a primarily Greek literary kind going back to Callimachus, Aristoxenus, and Philodemus of Cyrene, which was probably also familiar to Gellius from the ` ÆÆ of Favorinus, perhaps also from a similarly named work of Plutarch (Lampr. no. 125), and one with which Clement associated his 17 Cf. Gellius’ references to Masurius Sabinus’ commentarii ‘quos de indigenis composuit’ (4. 9. 8; Bremer, Iurisprudentia ii/1, p. 364), Velius Longus’ commentarius ‘quod fecisset de usu antiquae lectionis’ (18. 9. 4), Aelius Stilo’s commentarius de proloquiis (16. 8. 2; Funaioli p. 54. 19), and book 8 of Ateius Capito’s Coniectanea ‘qui inscriptus est de iudiciis publicis’ according to 4. 14. 1, but is cited as commentarius de iudiciis publicis in 10. 6. 4 (Bremer ii/1, p. 283). 18 This form of Xenophon’s title is attested by Ps. DH Rh. 9. 11, but Eustathius on Il. 13. 126 has ! ÆÆ; see R. Hirzel, Dialog 1. 144 n. 3. For the affinity between the forms in ! -and in I -, cf. the title of Persaeus’ doxographic miscellany cited as $ ÆÆ ı ØŒ in DL 7. 1, but (probably) as ` ÆÆ in the list of his works at DL 7. 36. 19 I have no explanation for the fact that only in rendering Pamphile’s title does Gellius use the singular commentarius instead of the plural that is consistent with the Greek forms.
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Stromateis not many years later.20 From what we know of such productions we can characterize this literary kind as consisting of collections of isolated and self-contained pieces of knowledge, in a variety of Welds, and which the author deems worthy of remembrance.21 As we have seen, most of the components of this tentative deWnition Wt in with Gellius’ description of the works with which he classes his own book in pr. 5, and the principle of memoratu digna is also evoked in his preface and serves him as a criterion for what is deemed worthy of inclusion in his collection.22 All this, I believe, brings us closest to an idea of the kind of compositions Gellius himself would have classed his book with, and one that is the least tainted by our modern conceptions of literary typology. For the sake of convenience, I see no reason why we should not tag this type of literary prose ‘miscellanies’. Yet diYculties arise the minute we check this deWnition against the works mentioned in Gellius’ list of writings similar to his own. Indeed, if we look at the manner in which modern scholars deWne the works mentioned in this list, we shall Wnd not only that they class them under a variety of categories of literary prose, such as Xorilegia, miscellanea, hand-books, or encyclopaedias, but also that very often diVerent scholars class particular works under diVerent categories.23 A literary category which comprises works such as the Ps.-Aristotelian —æ ºÆÆ, Accius’ Didascalica, Seneca’s Epistulae morales, Pliny’s Naturalis historia, and Gellius’ own Noctes seems too loose for our modern generic conceptions, and we might well hesitate to ascribe Gellius’ uariam et miscellam et quasi confusaneam to some of the works in his list. Indeed, were we obliged to abstract the 20 e.g. Clem. Str. 1. 182. 3, 3. 110. 3, 5. 141. 4, 6. 1. 1; see further Me´hat, E´tudes sur les ‘Stromates’, 96, 106–12; F. Montanari, DNP s.v. Hypomnema; P. Steinmetz, Untersuchungen, 278–81. 21 For this meaning of the Latin commentarii, see TLL s.v. commentarius I. B: Collectio, congestio rerum locorum uerborum ad memoriam siue scientiam firmandam augendam facta. For the association of commentarius with memory cf. Vitruv. 1. 1. 4, and with the notion of ‘collection’ or ‘piling up’, Quint. Inst. 3. 6. 59. 22 For memoria in Gellius, see S. M. Beall, Civilis Eruditio, 69–72, and below, 215–17. The notion of ‘memory’, etymologically associated with both the Greek and the Latin term, also finds expression in his presentation of the process of excerpting and taking notes as a subsidium memoriae (pr. 2). For this notion of the collection as an aide-me´moire, cf. Clem. Str. 1. 11. 1, 1. 14. 2, 6. 2. 2, and see Marache, edn., i, p. xv; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 31 [23]. 23 See e.g. H. Fuchs, RAC s.v. Enzyklopa¨die; H. Chadwick (tr. J. Engermann), RAC s.v. Florilegium; S. Fornaro and K. Sallmann, DNP s.v. Enzyklopa¨die; H. Krasser, DNP s.v. Buntschriftstellerei.
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distinctive features of such a group we should have probably ended up with not much more than ‘a collection of more or less self-contained items of knowledge’, a deWnition that seems far too wide and would apply to a great part of Imperial prose treatises (think for instance of Vitruvius, Pausanias, or Diogenes Laertius). In fact it would apply to whatever may fall under the title commentarius/-i, be it a treatise dedicated to a speciWc type of knowledge, an exegetical work discussing successive elements of a continuous text, or a miscellaneous collection of things worthy of remembrance. But wide as it may be, it is nevertheless a signiWcant deWnition, since the three notions of collection, selection, and itemization appear to characterize a special class of ancient literature intended, as it often presents itself, for a special class of readers—those deeming themselves too busy to engage in leisurely and voluminous reading. There is, furthermore, very little point in arguing with the long-dead Gellius about the validity of his generic concepts; it would be far more useful to contrast his work with those he lists as belonging to the same kind in order to enhance the special characteristics of the Noctes Atticae within this group. In what follows I shall try to delineate these particular traits of Gellius’ work from four main aspects: the selectivity of the material; the range of Welds discussed; the organization, or rather lack of organization, of this material within the book; and the generic diversity of the individual chapters. Many of these special characteristics of Gellius’ miscellaneous composition have already been pointed out, and have served scholars to form their idea of Gellius’ style and technique, or were regarded as reXecting his personal tastes and intellectual capacities, or the concerns of Roman readers of his day. But, as I shall try to show, we can also consider these traits of Gellius’ miscellany as well-calculated devices deliberately adopted to serve a programme he set for his work and a number of cultural ideas he wanted to promote. At the risk of appearing trendy, I shall maintain they were ideologically motivated.
2. selectivity We can Wrst note that in his list Gellius couples miscellanies together with what in modern terms would be called encyclopaedic works. I call ‘encyclopaedic’ works that purport to oVer a systematic and comprehensive account of the state of knowledge in a
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deWned range of subjects.24 These can be compositions covering a relatively broad range of Welds, such as Varro’s Disciplinae, in nine books, or the more extensive Artes of Cornelius Celsus,25 but also encyclopaedic presentations of particular branches of learning, such as Pliny’s Naturalis historia, which is included in Gellius’ list of titles. Miscellanies like that of Gellius, on the other hand, purport neither comprehensiveness nor systematic arrangement, but rather present their readers with a muddled series of isolated discussions of particular issues belonging to a large variety of Welds. When Gellius published his Noctes Atticae some time around the middle of the second century ce, miscellanies of this type were in their heyday. Indeed, if we examine our repertory of ancient miscellanies, we can note that the great majority of them were produced from the mid-Wrst century ce on. There are, of course, earlier examples, dating back at least to the Wfth century bce.26 Yet since the Wrst century ce works of this sort appear to have enjoyed a remarkable increase of popularity, and from that time on miscellanies of various types continued to be very common in the Graeco-Roman world, for which we have ample secondary evidence as well as a number of extant examples. Modern scholarship tends to regard this Xourishing of miscellaneous collections, together with a similar increase in the production of other types of selective compilations of learned material, such as excerpta, epitomes, and all sorts of compendia, lexicographic, gnomologic, doxographic, or mythographic, as reXecting 24 Note that the attempt to organize the body of knowledge into a series of systematic and comprehensive wholes is taken by E. Rawson (‘Logical Organisation’) as a major development in Roman intellectual history. For a survey of such works, see M. Fuhrmann, Das systematische Lehrbuch. 25 Gellius makes no mention of Celsus, but is familiar with Varro’s Disciplinae. 26 e.g. Hippias’ &ı ƪøª, D–K 86 B 4; R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship, i. 51–4. Note that Clement quotes Hippias (without specifying a work) as an authority on the legitimacy of compilatory miscellanies (Str. 6. 15. 1–2; D–K 86 B6). For the Horae of Prodicus, D–K 84 B 1–2; Pfeiffer, op. cit. i. 30–1. Among the titles of Democritus’ works, Diogenes Laertius lists `ƺŁ ŒæÆ and $ ÆÆ MŁØŒ under ethical works, ` æÆÆ under physical works, and an ` ØÆØ ØŒ Ø (DL 9. 46–7; no fragments are explicitly referred to any of these). In the 4th c.: Alcidamas’ Museion; see J. V. Muir (ed.), Alcidamas: The Works and Fragments (London, 2001), pp. xix f.; L. Radermacher, Artium scriptores (Vienna, 1951), fr. 13 p. 134; Pfeiffer, op. cit. i. 50–1. The earliest works figuring in Gellius’ list are Aristotle’s Peplos, and the Problemata, which probably refers to the Ps.Aristotelian collection which he often cites and takes to be genuine (e.g. 19. 4. 1 Problemata physica, 20. 4. 3 —æ ºÆÆ KªŒŒºØÆ, and passim).
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a cultural moment in which, even among the litterati, mastering all the knowledge accumulated through the ages in the various disciplines of Hellenic research was felt to be beyond the abilities of an average individual. Such a feeling is indeed expressed by authors of the early Empire, who often rely on it to explain the need for the sort of compilatory works they oVer.27 Furthermore, in many such compilations we Wnd the notions of collection, selection, and brevity associated with expediency, and especially with the needs of ‘busy people’.28 Gellius too presents his book as intended for homines aliis iam uitae negotiis occupatos (pr. 12), and in this respect, therefore, we can regard his miscellany as a true representative of the literary production and the view of learning common in his day.
3. range of fields The Noctes Atticae should also be distinguished from another class of works mentioned in Gellius’ list, such as the Epistulae morales of Seneca, the Antiquae lectiones of the grammarian Caeselius Vindex, and the Coniectanea, a title reserved, it seems, to works dealing with law.29 Though such compositions lay no claim to oVer an inclusive and systematic account of a branch of knowledge, they are nevertheless dedicated to a speciWc Weld, be it law, grammar, rhetoric, or philosophy. We also know of similar compilations of uniform material that does not appertain to one of the traditional disciplines, such as collections of mirabilia or stories concerning animal behaviour, as in Aelian’s medley. Sympotic miscellanies, such as those of Plutarch and Athenaeus, often centre around issues which are somehow connected to food and sympotic customs. But since they also purport to illustrate the kind of topics appropriate for dinner-table conversation, they tend to encompass a large variety 27
e.g. Cic. De Or. 1. 81; Val. Max. 1 pr.; Sen. Ep. 88. 37; Tranq. 9. 5; Quint. Inst. 1. 8. 18–21, 10. 1. 37–42; Frontin. Strat. pr. 3; see further D. A. Russell, Plutarch, 42; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 29 [21]; G. Sandy, Apuleius, 73–91. 28 e.g. Vitruv. 1. pr. 1, 5. pr. 2–3, 5; Val. Max. 1. pr., 3. 8. ext. 1, 4. 1. 12, 6. 4. pr.; Plut. Coniug. praec. 138 c; Reg. et imper. apoptheg. 172 e; Frontin. Strat. pr. 1–2; Polyaenus, Strat. 1. pr. 13, 2. pr. See T. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces, 152–5; C. Skidmore, Practical Ethics, 31–4, and for this topos in addresses to the emperor cf. Hor. Epist. 2. 1. 1–4. 29 Possibly connected with the technical term coniectio causae. Gellius is our only source for the title, which he ascribes to books by Ateius Capito and Alfenus Varus.
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of subject-matter.30 And the little we have from Favorinus’ —Æ Æ c ƒ æÆ also represents a rather broad range of Welds including, at least, doxography, chronology, and ethnography.31 Gellius’ miscellany inhabits the opposite extremity of this spectrum. It oVers the widest variety of subjects, covering all the traditional Welds of KªŒŒºØ ÆØÆ, including some that did not normally form part of Roman learning, such as music, geometry, physiology, and other Welds of ‘natural philosophy’, together with the ever popular matters of antiquarianism, mythography, and mirabilia.32 As suggested by Maria Laura Astarita, this broad picture of knowledge goes very well with Gellius’ dislike of the tendency of professional experts to specialize in limited areas and thus to eVectuate a diVraction of knowledge into distinct Welds, which runs against the traditional Roman ideal of a wide general learning.33 This attitude of Gellius’ is particularly notable at several points where he decries the attempts of experts to evade diYcult questions by claiming they do not appertain to their Weld of expertise, as well as in instances where he praises the wide scope of learning of the experts he admires.34 We can thus take the fact that Gellius’ miscellany covers such a wide range of topics from a variety of disciplines to reXect his objection to the specialized type of knowledge upheld by the experts, and of his struggle to maintain the ideal of broad general learning traditionally endorsed by the Roman elite.35 Yet in none of these areas does Gellius provide the reader with more than mere glimpses of knowledge, anecdotes, and short 30 Cf. e.g. Plut. Quaest. conv. 2 pr. (629 c–d); see J. Martin, Symposion, 171, 179–80; A. Lukinovich, ‘Play of Reflections’, 265. 31 For the range of fields covered in this work, see E. Mensching, Favorin, 29–35; L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Favorinus’, 205–6; Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 88–92; M.-L. Lakmann, ‘Favorinus’, 235; cf. his description in the Suda as ºıÆŁc ŒÆa AÆ ÆØÆ . For Gellius’ familiarity with the works of Favorinus, see HolfordStrevens, Aulus Gellius, 115–16 [81–2]. 32 For the range of fields covered in the NA, see H. Nettleship, ‘Noctes Atticae’; T. Vogel, ‘De Noctium Atticarum compositione’; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 157–328 [115–235]; Astarita, Cultura, 35–171. For Gellius and the antiquarian tradition see A. F. Stevenson, above, Ch. 5. 33 Ibid. 31, 203. 34 For experts censured for the narrowness of their specialization, see esp. 4. 1. 13–14, 16. 6. 11, 16. 10. 4, 20. 10. 2; praised for their wide learning, e.g. 4. 1. 18, 13. 10. 1, 20. 1. 20; cf. Ath. 1. 1 c. See further Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 297–8 [221]; Astarita, Cultura, 117, 149–51, 171, 203; A. D. Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 45–7; V. Binder, ‘Vir elegantissimi eloquii’, 111–12. 35 For possible social overtones of this struggle, see R. A. Kaster, Guardians of Language, 50–60; Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 46–50, 53–4.
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discussions of speciWc issues. ‘For what purpose?’ one might ask. Indeed some modern scholars look down on such collections of bits and pieces, regarding them as intended only to give the uncultured some impressive glimpses of learning to talk about in polite society.36 Gellius himself says they should be taken only as ‘Wrst-fruits’ (primitiae) or ‘appetizers’ (libamenta), meant to stimulate the reader to the independent pursuit of further learning (pr. 13). ‘I ask my readers’, he proceeds, ‘to consider these things written not so much for the sake of instruction, as for the sake of suggestion, and so to speak to be contented with a demonstration of a way, that they may afterwards pursue, if they wish, by Wnding either books or teachers’ (pr. 17). His mode of presenting mere glimpses of knowledge thus suits his declared programme since, as he states in his preface, a primary purpose of the Noctes Atticae is to lure people of ordinary education, who are by now engaged in the business of daily life, to devote whatever spare time they have to broadening their learning, and thus to redeem themselves from shameful and boorish ignorance (pr. 12; cf. 18. 10. 8). It is, of course, quite likely that many of his ancient readers never did go beyond the titbits of knowledge he oVered them, but what Gellius attempts to do is to yoke even the selectivity characteristic of ancient miscellanies to his cultural programme.
4. o r d o r e r v m f o r t v i t v s Whereas diversity of subject-matter characterizes ancient miscellanies from a very early date, works of this kind nevertheless tend to gather it into more or less homogeneous thematic groups. Among extant miscellanies we can note this tendency, for instance, in Athenaeus and Macrobius.37 Even in Plutarch’s &ı ØÆŒa æ ºÆÆ, which is not as neatly organized,38 book 9 centres around issues relating to the Muses (9 pr., 736 c) and topics involving, e.g., hunger and thirst are grouped in successive chapters (6. 1–3; cf. 2. 8–9, 6. 4–6, 9. 8–9). Thematic organization may 36
e.g. N. Horsfall, JRS 80 (1990), 217; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 8 [6]. For Athenaeus, see Martin, Symposion, 279–80; J. Wilkins, ‘Dialogue and Comedy’; C. Jacob, ‘Athenaeus the Librarian’, 103–4. Macrobius’ is the most schematically disposed sympotic miscellany we possess, and deliberately so, as is made manifest in his polemic allusion to Gellius’ preface (Sat. 1 pr. 2–3); see E. Tuerk, ‘Macrobe’, 382–3; Astarita, Cultura, 27–8. 38 Plut. Quaes. conv. 2 pr. (629 d) & æ I ƪªæÆ ÆØ ŒÆd P ØÆŒŒæØ ø. See Martin, Symposion, 177–9. 37
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be easily traced even in miscellanies which explicitly proclaim disorderliness, such as those of Clement and Solinus.39 We are, of course, familiar with a similar thematic arrangement in ancient gnomologia, and collections of exempla and mirabilia,40 as well as in some Hellenistic poetry books and anthologies. Even in Meleager’s Stephanos the principle of ØŒØºÆ allows for homogeneous sequences of poems and on the larger scale this anthology too seems to have been arranged in thematically uniWed books.41 Gellius, on the other hand, arranges his discussions of diverse topics in what looks like a random sequence, with no trace of regularity or arrangement by subject, discipline, chronology, or what have you. Indeed, as scholars have often shown, we can detect signs of deliberate disruption in his arrangement.42 This is not entirely surprising in a work that professes diversity since irregular arrangement of the material enhances the impression of a vast range of topics worth knowing. Yet, since many miscellanies nevertheless reveal a degree of regularity in the arrangement of consecutive items, I think we should dwell a little longer on the reasons that led Gellius to insist on a random arrangement. Random arrangement of the kind we Wnd in Gellius seems to have governed one of the most inXuential of ancient miscellanies, the ' æØŒa ! ÆÆ of Pamphile of Epidaurus, composed during Nero’s reign, cited by Gellius and Diogenes Laertius, and possibly evoked by Favorinus and several other miscellanists.43 In her preface, so we learn from Photius’ description of the work, this 39 Clem. Str. 6. 2. 1 E ‰ ı K d KºŁ FØ ŒÆd B § Ø B § æØ ØÆŒŒÆŁÆæ Ø, Ø Ææ Ø b K I Æ, H &æøÆø E ! øØ ºØH Œ ŒØºÆØ; Solin. pr. 3–4 Quorum meminisse ita uisum est, ut inclitos terrarum situs et insignes tractus maris, seruata orbis distinctione, suo quaeque ordine redderemus. Inseruimus et pleraque differenter congruentia, ut si nihil aliud, saltem uarietas ipsa legentium fastidio mederetur. For the organization of Clement’s work, see Me´hat, E´tudes sur les ‘Stromates’, 223–46. 40 Skidmore, Practical Ethics, 35–42. 41 For the arrangement of Meleager’s anthology, see A. Cameron, The Greek Anthology, 26–33; K. J. Gutzwiller, Poetic Garlands, 281–322. We now have even earlier evidence for a thematically homogeneous arrangement of poetry books in the New Posidippus, which is divided into groups of epigrams devoted to a single theme separated by titles such as ºØŁØŒ, Nø Œ ØŒ, ƒ ØŒ, and so on; see Epigrammi, ed. G. Bastianini and C. Gallazzi, 24–7. 42 Mare´chal, ‘pre´face’; Marache, edn. i, pp. xvi f.; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 31–6 [24–7]; G. Bernardi-Perini, edn. i. 14. This is one feature of Gellius’ work that his humanist followers did not appreciate; see A. Grafton below, 326. 43 Gell. 15. 17. 3, 15. 23. 2. See FHG iii 520–2; O. Regenbogen, RE xviii/2 (1949), s.v. Pamphila 1, who considers her influence on Plutarch, Favorinus, Aelian, Athenaeus, and Sopatros (ibid. 318–26).
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well-educated woman explained that her collection consisted of a variety of memorable things she had either heard from others or learned from her own reading (Phot. Bibl. 175, 119b8–27). Of all these, Photius continues, whatever seemed to her worthy of consideration and remembering, she recorded in her ‘varied notes’ (! ÆÆ ıتB) without separating each distinct item into its appropriate subject, but rather recording them casually and in the order that she encountered them ( oø NŒB § ŒÆd ‰ ŒÆ K BºŁ ), and that, so she said, not because she had diYculty in distinguishing them by type, but because she considered intermixture and variety (e I Æت ŒÆd c ØŒØºÆ ) more pleasing and elegant than thematic homogeneity.44 The charm of variety is also evoked by Aelian and Clement,45 who compare their respective collections to trees dispersed in orchards or variegated Xowers in a meadow (ºØ ) or a garland (Æ ), thus recalling both the tradition of giving miscellanies metaphorical titles from the Xoral world,46 and the even longer line of such nomenclature in poetic anthologies. In such collections ØŒØºÆ is considered a purely aesthetic norm.47 By having recourse to this aesthetic standard the authors of our miscellanies reveal that they intend their collections not only to be useful and instructive, but also to provide their readers with pleasure, a double intention which characterizes much of the literary production of the second and third centuries.48 Gellius too embraces both intentions, and in contrast to the elder Pliny, who explicitly rejects any stylistic elements that would render his sterilis materia ‘pleasant to relate or attractive to read’ (NH pr. 12–13), presents his 44 Photius, Bibl. 175, 119b 27–33 TÆFÆ b Æ, ‹Æ ºª ı ŒÆd ÆPB § ¼ØÆ KŒØ, N ! ÆÆ ıتB ŒÆd P æe a NÆ ! ŁØ ØÆŒŒæØ ŒÆ غE , Iºº oø Ø ŒB § ŒÆd ‰ ŒÆ K BºŁ I ƪæłÆØ, ‰ Pd ƺ e ıÆ, , e ŒÆ r ÆPa غE , K Øæ æ b ŒÆd ÆæØæ e I Æت ŒÆd c ØŒØºÆ F Ø F ıÆ. 45 Ael. NA, epil. fiH ØŒºfiø B I ƪ ø e K ºŒe ŁæH ŒÆd c KŒ H › ø ºıªÆ I ØæŒø , Ø d ºØH Ø Æ j Æ ‰æÆE Œ
B ºıæ Æ, ‰ I Łæø H fiø fi Ł E !A Æ ŒÆd ØÆ ºÆØ c ıªªæÆ ; ø H ººH , T Clem. Str. 6. 2. 1 ¯ b s fiH ºØH Ø a ¼ Ł ØŒºø I Ł F Æ ŒI fiH ÆæÆfiø H IŒæ æø ıÆ P ŒÆa r ŒÆ ŒæØÆØ H Iºº ª H (w § ŒÆd ¸ØH Ø ŒÆd ¯ºØŒH Æ ŒÆd ˚æÆ ŒÆd — º ı ı ƪøªa غ ÆŁE ØŒºø KÆ ŁØ Ø ı ªæłÆ ); cf. ibid. 4. 4. 1, 7. 111. 1–3, Me´hat, E´tudes sur les ‘Stromates’, 339–43. 46 Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces, 80–3; Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’, 299. 47 Gutzwiller, Poetic Garlands, 227–36. 48 Steinmetz, Untersuchungen, 239–95, esp. 275–6; Lukinovich, ‘Play of Reflections’, 267–8; L. Romeri, ‘¸ ªØ ’; J. Davidson, ‘Pleasure and Pedantry’; A. D. Vardi, ‘Book of Verse’, 93.
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work as intended ad alendum studium as well as ad oblectandum fouendumque animum, and to oVer his readers only such material that can ‘render men’s minds more vigorous, their memory better supported, their eloquence more resourceful, their diction purer, and the pleasures of their leisure hours more respectable—delectatio in otio atque in ludo liberalior’ (pr. 16). It is noteworthy that in these last words it is not pleasure in itself that Gellius designates among the desired eVects of his work, as is customary in other miscellanies, but rather the habituation of his readers to Wnd pleasure in learning per se and to prefer this cultured manner of enjoying their leisure hours to other, less respectable, joys that otium can provide. Even the conventional appeal to the pleasure miscellanies claim to oVer is thus harnessed by Gellius to serve his cultural programme. Another standard explanation for disarrayed organization is that it maintains the reader’s interest: ‘The variety of my readingmatter’, says Aelian, ‘is intended to attract the reader and avoid the tedium arising from monotony’ (Ael. Nat. An. epil.), and Solinus explains: Inseruimus et pleraque diVerenter congruentia, ut si nihil aliud, saltem uarietas ipsa legentium fastidio mederetur (Solin. pr. 4).49 Though Gellius does not resort to this argument to explain his insistence on random arrangement, his deep concern to keep his readers’ interest is manifest throughout his preface. The closest Gellius himself gets to an explanation of his system of arrangement comes in the mutilated passage which opens his preface: *** iucundiora alia reperiri queunt, ad hoc ut liberis quoque meis partae istiusmodi remissiones essent, quando animus eorum interstitione aliqua negotiorum data laxari indulgerique potuisset. 2. Vsi autem sumus ordine rerum fortuito, quem antea in excerpendo feceramus. Nam proinde ut librum quemque in manus ceperam seu Graecum seu Latinum uel quid memoratu dignum audieram, ita quae libitum erat, cuius generis cumque erant, indistincte atque promisce annotabam . . . 3. Facta igitur est in his quoque commentariis eadem rerum disparilitas, quae fuit in illis annotationibus pristinis, quas breuiter et indigeste et incondite <ex> auditionibus lectionibusque uariis feceramus. (pr. 1–3.)
Gellius’ claim usi autem sumus ordine rerum fortuito, quem antea in excerpendo feceramus (and the explanation that follows) resembles Pamphile’s statement that she arranged her material ‰ ŒÆ 49 Cf. Plin. Ep. 8. 21. 4 (also 2. 5. 7–8, 4. 14. 3, where the argument is that variety ensures every reader may find something he likes). See further Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces, 154; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 31–6 [21–6]; S. M. Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17. 8’, 56.
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K BºŁ . We Wnd the same principle evoked in other miscellanies and collections, as for instance in the programmatic letter of the younger Pliny: Collegi non seruato temporis ordine (neque enim historiam componebam), sed ut quaeque in manus uenerat (Ep. 1. 1. 1).50 We do not have enough of Pamphile to judge the accuracy of her claim, but Pliny’s aYrmation has been proven manifestly false,51 and the details provided by Gellius about the circumstances in which he encountered some of the topics Wguring in his commentarii cannot sustain the assumption that he reproduced them in the actual order in which they occurred to him.52 But there is no need to understand Gellius’ words so strictly. A no less natural rendering of usi sumus . . . ordine would be that the haphazard arrangement adopted in his work is meant to reXect the randomness he experienced in collecting his material rather than to follow it. This, in turn, makes perfectly good sense if we assume Gellius wants his own experience as it is reXected in his book to serve as a model of a life devoted to learning. And I believe this is exactly what he has in mind, since, whatever we make of the beginning of the sentence preceding his explanation of his random arrangement, it clearly states that he composed his book ‘in order that similar recreation might be provided for [his] children, whenever they might have some respite from their aVairs and could relax and gratify themselves’ (pr. 1). As we have already seen, Gellius wants the material contained in his book to serve only as a model of learning, or as ‘a demonstration of a way, that they may afterwards pursue’ as he puts it (pr. 17). We can thus note an analogy between what he says about the subject matter of his book (i.e. that it is meant to be taken as a model of knowledge) and the principle of its arrangement, which is intended to serve as a model of a life of learning.53 Furthermore, because of the haphazard arrangement of the material, anyone who reads Gellius’ book consecutively will experience the same random occurrence of diverse erudite items. 50
Similarly Plut. Quaest. conu. 2 pr. æ I ƪªæÆ ÆØ ŒÆd P ØÆŒŒæØ ø Iºº ‰ ŒÆ N qºŁ (629 d). 51 See A. N. Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny, 21–3, 42–51 (with bibliography). 52 Taken at face value e.g. in Skydsgaard, Varro the Scholar, 103; J. P. Small, Wax Tablets, 179; contrast J. C. Rolfe’s and Marache’s translations with those of F. Cavazza and Bernardi-Perini. 53 See also Astarita, Cultura, 31. Athenaeus too wants his Larensis, the Roman amateur, committed to learning though burdened with imperial responsibilities, to serve as a model for his readers (Ath. 1. 2 b ff.; cf. 9. 398 e–939 a); see D. Braund, ‘Learning, Luxury and Empire’, 5–10; but contra T. Whitmarsh, ‘Parasitism’, 308.
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Gellius thus manages to compel his readers actually to adopt his model of a varied life of learning if only for the duration of their reading.54 But is this the way the work was meant to be read? In 9. 4. 5 Gellius tells us how he read some old collections of mirabilia he purchased from a bouquiniste in Brundisium: omnis duabus proximis noctibus cursim transeo.55 On the other hand, the relatively short and self-contained chapters of Gellius’ collection allow, perhaps even invite, an interrupted reading. Such a reading would, of course be convenient for ‘busy people’ trying to squeeze a moment of reading in the short respites from their daily routine, but it might also obscure the overall impression one might get from a consecutive reading. Yet, like most itemized literature of his day, Gellius’ chapters are short enough for several of them to be read in a single reading session,56 and the impression of a random occurrence of diverse learned items would be maintained from going through either any sequence of his chapters or a haphazard selection from them. More interesting is Gellius’ inclusion of a table of contents at the end of his preface, since this device appears to invite selective reading of chapters dealing with a speciWc issue. Indeed, Pliny introduces his table of contents as a mechanism meant to free his readers from the need to read the entire work through, and to allow them, instead, to look only for the particular point they want: quid singulis contineretur libris, huic epistulae subiunxi summaque cura, ne legendos eos haberes, operam dedi. tu per hoc et aliis praestabis ne perlegant, sed, ut quisque desiderabit aliquid, id tantum quaerat et sciat quo loco inueniat. (Plin. NH pr. 33.)
Pliny’s explanation is particularly relevant here since it is fairly certain that Gellius took the idea of concluding his preface with a list of capita rerum directly from Pliny, who was manifestly very 54
Thus also Astarita, Cultura, 31. Gellius reports to have bought there books by Aristeas of Proconnesus, Isigonus of Nicaea, Ctesias, Onesicritus, Polystephanus (sic!), and Hegesias. This list seems to be adapted from Plin. 7. 9–26 and the list of sources to that book, where Philostephanus’ name is cited properly; see L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Fact and Fiction’, 65–6; Aulus Gellius, 69–71 [50–1]. But the fact that this story is a clear example of Gellius’ fictionality takes nothing from the validity of this evidence, since it is the manner in which he would read a miscellany that concerns us. 56 See Fowler, Kinds, 62–4 for the basic distinction by size of literary kinds which require more than a single reading session, those whose size corresponds more or less to one reading session, and those of which one can read several in one session. 55
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much in his mind when composing the praefatio.57 However, the device was by no means a novel idea of Pliny’s.58 Pliny himself mentions that it was already used in the mysterious ¯ Ø of Valerus Soranus:59 hoc ante me fecit in litteris nostris Valerius Soranus in libris, quos K ø inscripsit (pr. 33). This has led some scholars to see Pliny as the reintroducer of a device that had been out of use for almost two centuries. But the evidence shows otherwise: a table of contents is incorporated at the end of the dedicatory epistle to the medical treatise of Scribonius Largus (Compositiones, epist. dedic. 4), there is explicit evidence that there originally was one at the end of book 11 of Columella’s Res Rustica (11. 3. 65),60 and it has been suggested that though the extant capitula librorum opening Valerius Maximus’ collection are probably not original, the collection did contain some sort of a table of contents.61 Both Valerius Maximus and Columella were known to Pliny,62 and he might well also have been acquainted with his nephew’s friend Frontinus, who oVers a general scheme of his Strategemata in his preface (1. pr. 2) and a detailed table of contents at the beginning of each book. The words ante nos fecit in litteris nostris seem also to indicate that Pliny knew of Greek examples. In this he might have been thinking of the general schemes of distribution of material into books customary in the prefaces of Hellenistic historiographical works,63 or the more detailed tables of contents sometimes added at the beginnings of 57
See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 27 [20]. For ancient ‘tables of contents’, see H. Mutschmann, ‘Inhaltsangabe’; R. Friderici, De librorum divisione, 43–58; P. Petitmengin, ‘Capitula’; Stevenson, above, Ch. 5, §3.2; some interesting ideas also in R. Pearse, ‘Capituli: Some Notes on Summaries, Chapter Divisions and Chapter Titles in Ancient and Medieval Manuscripts’, a ‘work in progress’ offered at . 59 For the title, see Friderici, De librorum divisione, 56–7; K.-E. Henriksson, Bu¨chertitel, 176–7. 60 i.e. in what looks like the original end of the work before he decided to add book 12, which deals with the duties of the bailiff’s wife and the preparation and storage of agricultural products. 61 Schanz–Hosius ii. 589 n. 1. Our MS traditions sometimes have a table of contents at the beginning of books in technical and historical works (e.g. Apicius, Mela, Florus, Josephus AJ; for Latin authors see Petitmengin, ‘Capitula’, 491 n. 3), but the authenticity of these is not certain. 62 Val. Max. is listed in Pliny’s bibl. to books 7, 33; Columella in that to books 8, 11, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, and cited passim. Val. Max. is also known to Gellius (9. 11). 63 e.g. Polyb. 3. 1. 5; Diod. Sic. 1. 4. 6 ff.; DH Ant. Rom. 1. 7–8; Joseph. BJ pr. 7–12 (1. 19–31); App. Praef. 14–15; and the precepts of Lucian, Hist. conscr. 53. See D. Earl, ‘Prologue-form’, 842–4; J. Irigoin, ‘Titres et sommaires’ 130–1. 58
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books64 or at the end of an entire work.65 But lists of ŒºÆØÆ F غ ı are also attested in the preface of a rhetorical treatise (DH Comp. 1) and a little after Pliny’s day also in technical works such as Aelianus’ Strategemata,66 and the Conica of Apollonius of Perga (epist. dedic. ad Wn.). It thus appears that from at least the second century bce on the device was not uncommon in both historiographical and technical Greek and Roman writings. It is also noteworthy how unanimous our sources are on the function of this device: it is meant to facilitate the Wnding of particular issues that might interest the reader, and thus preempt the need to read the entire work through.67 Occasionally, as in Pliny, it is also speciWcally associated with the needs of the ¼ º .68 Indeed, if we think of Pliny for instance, his table of contents is a very convenient tool, with a title stating the general subject of each book, and an enumeration of the individual topics of each chapter listed underneath. Looking for eels? Go quickly through the general titles of the books till you reach aquatilium natura in book 9, and then through the contents of that particular book to Wnd them in chapter 38. But because of Gellius’ random arrangement, this is a facility his table of contents cannot supply.69 And yet he introduces his table of contents with the same standard explanation: Capita rerum, quae cuique commentario insunt, exposuimus hic uniuersa, ut iam statim declaretur, quid quo in libro quaeri inuenirique possit. (pr. 25.)
64 See a discussion of these æ ªæÆÆ in Polyb. 11. 1a, with F. W. Walbank, Commentary, ii. 266. 65 Polyb. 39. 3. 3; see Walbank, Commentary, iii. 743. Polybius is also among Pliny’s sources (bibl. to books 4, 5, 6, 8, 31), but Gellius shows no first-hand knowledge of him (6. 14. 10 probably through Varro; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 247 [182]). 66 The authenticity of this table of contents, which opens the work, is evidenced in pr. 7. Aelianus might have adopted the device directly from Frontinus, whom he knew. 67 Polyb. 11. 1a. 2 æe b Ø A e " ø Ø !æE Øa ı; Scrib. Comp. epist. dedic. 4 quo facilius quod quaeretur inueniatur; Col. 11. 3. 65 ut cum res exegisset, facile reperiri possit, quid in quoque quaerendum; Ael. Strat. pr. 7 Øa Ø a I ºÆ æ ªæÆłÆ a ŒºÆØÆ H I ØŒ ı ø , ¥ Æ æe B I ƪ ø F غ ı e K ªªºÆ F ıªªæÆ Ø Oºªø ŒÆÆ fi ŒÆd Rs i K Øfi I ƪ øŁB ÆØ ı Þfi Æø !æŒø f æ ı c æfi; Prisc. Inst. pr. 5 (GL ii. 3. 3–4) quo facilius, quicquid ex his quaeratur, discretis possit locis inueniri. See Petitmengin, ‘Capitula’, 504–5. 68 Ael. Strat. pr. 7; cf. Vitruv. 5. pr. 5. 69 Pace Small, Wax Tablets, 35; Jacob, ‘Athenaeus the Librarian’, 107–8.
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Quaeri inuenirique is indeed less speciWc than Pliny’s id tantum quaerat et sciat quo loco inueniat, but for once Gellius’ relish for grouping synonyms or near-synonyms together might have led him astray: inueniri had better been left without the quaeri, as anyone who has had the frustrating experience of looking for what Gellius says on a particular issue can testify. For this purpose one would do much better to search the Noctes Atticae by means of the systematic surveys of its material produced by modern scholars. But then it was not for scholars that Gellius intended his book, and the selective manner of reading that a table of contents allows must serve the reader of a disorderly miscellany for purposes completely unlike those of readers wishing to consult a particular point in a systematic exposition of a particular branch of knowledge, which, as we have seen, is the type of work where all other examples of ancient ‘tables of contents’ appear.70 Keeping in mind Gellius’ intended readers and proclaimed programme I believe, therefore, that his table of contents was designed less as a search tool to be consulted by those who know what they are looking for, and more as a general repertory of the topics discussed in his work. It is thus meant to be read through, to exhibit the rich variety of material that learning consists of, and to invite the reader to open the occasional chapter as the fancy takes him.71 Thus, if we want to vindicate Gellius from the charge of negligent adherence to the wording of Pliny, we can maintain that the object to be supplied to his quaeri is not a speciWc issue that the reader is looking for (Pliny’s ut quisque desiderabit aliquid), but simply something interesting to read about. If so, in adopting Pliny’s phraseology, Gellius might have employed an ironic technique similar to the one we have seen him using while introducing his list of ‘fanciful’ titles: The echo of his model’s words is meant to mark the diVerence between what he and Pliny do, or, in terms 70 See Petitmengin, ‘Capitula’, 500, 503–4. It is tempting to assume a connection between these ‘tables of contents’ and the definition of divisions and subdivisions characteristic of the prefaces of systematic and logically organized works; see Rawson, ‘Logical Organisation’, 12 ¼ 324. 71 This might explain another Gellian departure from Pliny: whereas the latter’s table of contents consists of the headings of the issues he discusses, Gellius provides short summaries of the chapters, of the ‹Ø=‰ type found e.g. in Joseph. BJ pr. 7–12 (1. 19–30) and Ael. Strat. (cf. Columella’s use of the term argumenta to introduce his table of contents (11. 3. 65); see Mutschmann, ‘Inhaltsangabe’, 102. For the suggestion that Gellius’ collection was intended for the reading of single chapters at random, see also V. D’Agostino, ‘Aulo Gellio’, 26; cf. Skidmore, Practical Ethics, 48–50; Cavazza, edn. i. 21 n. 11.
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of genre, it serves Gellius to deWne the type of his own composition by dissociating it from a predominant near kin and from the class of systematic treatises in which ancient ‘tables of contents’ normally appear.72 Before going on to examine the variety of forms Gellius gives his individual chapters, it is worth dwelling on one more important aspect of the formal structure of the Noctes Atticae as a whole. Whether intentionally or not, Gellius’ selective collection of a broad range of learned material presented as an disarrayed sequence of self-contained items reXects a view of knowledge which stands in sharp contrast to the perception of the body of knowledge as an organic system that modern science shares with many ancient scholars.73 One might suspect that this fragmented view of the body of knowledge is embodied in miscellany as a genre; indeed, discussing the Deipnosophistae, Christian Jacob maintains that Athenaeus’ manner of handling his material involves a fragmentation of knowledge. But because of Athenaeus’ thematic arrangement of the material, so Jacob continues, he also takes a step towards its reorganization in a diVerent manner.74 It is precisely this further step that Gellius’ ordo rerum fortuitus denies his readers, leaving them with a fragmented and disarrayed view of knowledge. But is this really how Gellius viewed knowledge, or is it just an accidental by-product of his insistence on a haphazard arrangement in presenting his material? On the one hand, it is important to note that Gellius is not incapable of marking relations between some of the issues he discusses and of bringing a number 72 For Gellius’ ambivalent attitude to Pliny the Elder, see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 41, 165–6 [30–1, 121–2]; W. H. Keulen, below, Ch. 9, §3.1. 73 Contrast e.g. Cic. De orat. 1. 187–8 Omnia fere, quae sunt conclusa nunc artibus, dispersa et dissipata quondam fuerunt; ut in musicis numeri et uoces et modi; in geometria lineamenta, formae, interualla, magnitudines; in astrologia caeli conuersio, ortus, obitus motusque siderum; in grammaticis poetarum pertractatio, historiarum cognitio, uerborum interpretatio, pronuntiandi quidam sonus; in hac denique ipsa ratione dicendi excogitare, ornare, disponere, meminisse, agere—ignota quondam omnibus et diffusa late uidebantur. Adhibita est igitur ars quaedam extrinsecus ex alio genere quodam, quod sibi totum philosophi adsumunt, quae rem dissolutam diuulsamque conglutinaret et ratione quadam constringeret. See Rawson, ‘Logical Organisation’. It is characteristic of Gellius that even when he reads Cicero’s De iure ciuili in artem redigendo, a work which seems to have dealt directly with the process of reducing a body of knowledge into a system, what interests him is a special usage of superesse (1. 22. 7). Post-Enlightenment science is nowadays claimed no longer to uphold this view of a systematic body of knowledge, for which see e.g. A. MacIntyre, Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry. 74 Jacob, ‘Athenaeus the Librarian’, 103–4.
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of items together under a more or less general rule.75 But on the other hand such interconnections and generalizations are of a very limited scope and do not form anything like a uniWed system.76 Furthermore, as noted by two other contributors to this volume, each of them approaching Gellius from a diVerent angle, he seems much more interested in concrete particular details than in abstract universals or general rules.77 We certainly cannot detect in the Noctes a preference for the universal over the particular of the kind we Wnd, for instance, in Plato’s Symposium and the whole philosophical tradition from Thales to the Platonic Theory of Ideas. And Wnally, Gellius’ objection to specialization in departmentalized disciplines seems also to support the view that he really did not conceive knowledge as a structured system. In contrast to the vectorial and vertical view of specialized knowledge which is inWnite in terms of higher and deeper, his might be better imagined as a two-dimensional continuum, a plane dotted with an inWnite multitude of items, occasionally meeting to form temporary and limited categories.
5. diversity in the form and genre of individual chapters The multiformity of the Noctes Wnds expression not only in its material, but also in the formal traits of the individual chapters or commentarii, and the question of literary kind is thus relevant not only to the book as a whole, but also to the individual chapters of which it is comprised. Some of these can be considered chreiai, others have been tagged hypomnemata and diatribes, many can be classed as varieties of the dialogue or the symposium.78 Occasionally a chapter will even change its formal features mid-way and turn from, say, a representation of a learned discussion to a report of further relevant material the author had hit upon in some book. Only a few chapters have the form of pure excerpta, and the 75 e.g. 5. 12. 10 16. 5. 5–7 (noting relation between items); 9. 9 (a number of items under a general rule). See further Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 33–4 [25–6]; Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 44–5. 76 Cf. Binder, ‘Vir elegantissimi eloquii’, 106–7, 118. 77 T. Morgan, below, 196---7; Beall, below, 213; cf. also Stevenson, above, 124. Contrast Rawson’s ‘pyramidal structure’ of artes (‘Logical Organisation’, passim). 78 R. Marache, ‘Mise en sce`ne’; id. edn. i, pp. xxxi–xxxvi; Steinmetz, Untersuchungen, 281–7; Beall, Civilis Eruditio, 115–33.
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authorial ‘I’ has a dominant presence throughout the book. In many chapters there are further narrative elements such as dramatic setting, characterization of the interlocutors, and occasionally even a miniature plot. This makes the Noctes Atticae unique in ancient literature. A great part of ancient miscellanies have no dramatic setting at all, whereas dialogues and sympotic miscellanies normally have only an overall mise en sce`ne for the entire composition, with the occasional introduction of a new interlocutor, or a change of session or location, which sometimes also entails a turn in the development of the conversation.79 There could, however, have been other miscellanies made up of chapters with distinct formal structures. As Ewen Bowie once pointed out to me, we might conjecture the presence of a degree of variety in the presentation of distinct items in Pamphile’s miscellany. In her preface, so Photius tells us (Bibl. 175, 119b 18–27), she states that her collection consists of what she had learnt from her husband, what she heard from the many distinguished guests who frequented their house, and what she acquired from her own reading. This might imply a combination of hypomnemata, excerpta, and dialogues, some of them perhaps sympotic. But more important is a remark Photius adds further on in his book report: ‘In passages in which she recalls what she remembers from previous authors her style shows more variation’ (ibid. 120a 2–4).80 Let us note that in order to make such an assertion Photius must have been able to distinguish within the miscellany between items that were based on Pamphile’s own reading and what she acquired from others, which might well imply that the latter type of material was put in the mouths of personae loquentes, her husband and his guests for instance.81 For all we know, such a structure might have been present in other ancient miscellanies too, and we must keep in mind that by the very nature of our indirect sources on these compositions they are not likely to preserve information on the formal aspects of such works, but only on their subject-matter.82 79
For mise en sce`ne as a generic feature, see Fowler, Kinds, 68.
¯ r b a H IæÆØ æø I ıÆ ºªØ, ،غæ ÆPB § ŒÆd P ŒÆŁ £ r ªŒØÆØ › ºª . 81 But in that case it is surprising that Photius should detect more stylistic variety in what she says in propria persona than in things she puts in the mouths of her interlocutors. 82 If Gellius were known only from quotations, what should we know about the nature of his work beyond its containing at least one personal reminiscence (19. 1 cited by Augustine, CD 9. 4)? On the basis of its title, E. Bowie (‘Hadrian, 80
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Be that as it may, my purpose is not to establish Gellius’ originality, but to understand why he chose to adopt this particular form of presenting his learned material. Again, giving pleasure and maintaining the interest of his readers is a likely answer. And again we can assume that the narrative elements in Gellius’ chapters are there to serve a programme too. It has long been established that the dramatic setting and characters in Cicero’s dialogues form part of the apparatus he employs to deliver his message, for which we have Cicero’s own explicit evidence.83 The narrative elements of Gellius’ chapters, on the other hand, were for many years taken as actual reports of real incidents or as containing a degree of Wction, yet aiming to achieve verisimilitude and thus allowing us to consider them as reliable reXections of the x Æ i ª Ø in Antonine society.84 But owing, perhaps, to the growing interest in narratology, we have come to understand the dramatic setting, characterization, and plots of Gellius’ chapters also as narrative techniques devised to serve him in delivering his message.85 Trendy as this approach might seem, I think there is strong support for its application to Gellius inasmuch as he was undoubtedly familiar with Cicero’s discussions of the considerations that underlie the choice of characters and dramatic settings of his dialogues.86 A notable characteristic of the dramatic settings of Cicero’s dialogues is that they all take place during public holidays, and as noted by Stephen Beall, otium is the dramatic setting of almost all the chapters of the Noctes.87 Such a setting is, of course, very common in ancient dialogue and sympotic literature and may be regarded simply as a standard element of the Platonic tradition. Favorinus, and Plutarch’, 5–6) assumes that there were some reminiscences of an autobiographical nature in Favorinus’ ` ÆÆ; see also Mensching, Favorin, 56 n. 44. 83 See esp. Amic. 4; Att. 13. 12. 3, 13. 16. 1, 13. 19 .5; Q. fr. 3. 5. 1. For formal aspects of Cicero’s dialogues, R. E. Jones, ‘Characterization’; P. Levine, ‘Cicero and the Literary Dialogue’; G. Zoll, Cicero Platonis aemulus, 73–124. 84 See Holford-Strevens, ‘Fact and Fiction’. 85 For a ‘narratological’ approach to Gellius’ characters and scenes, see, e.g. L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘Portraitist’ (Dr Holford-Strevens kindly permitted me to quote his reaction to the mention of his article in this list: ‘I no more knew that I was being narratological than M. Jourdain knew he was speaking prose!’); Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17. 8’; Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’. For a similar approach to Athenaeus, Braund, ‘Learning, Luxury and Empire’; Wilkins, ‘Dialogue and Comedy’, 24–5. 86 See A. Gaos Schmidt, ‘El plan rector’, esp. 123 ¼ edn. i, p. xxviii. 87 Beall, Civilis Eruditio, 34–9.
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Yet the Greek attitude to leisure was very diVerent from that of the Romans, who had to accommodate it with an ideology that privileges oYcium and hence also negotium (cf. Gell. 11. 16. 7). Therefore the fact that the appropriate use of otium forms part of the conversation in some of Cicero’s dialogues and is addressed in propria persona in his speeches Pro Archia and Pro Sestio,88 makes it clear that his choice of these occasions as a dramatic setting for his dialogues is designed to present learned conversation as a model for the occupation appropriate for a gentleman’s otium.89 The same is certainly also true of Gellius, who declares that a primary aim of his book is to entice homines aliis iam uitae negotiis occupatos to dedicate whatever spare time they have to the pursuit of learning. And again Gellius sets his own life as a model for this, stating he devoted to study every spare hour he could steal from his daily business (pr. 12) and promising to continue doing so for the rest of his life (pr. 23). We can also note how careful Gellius is to represent the activities of an otium litteratum, such as private reading or educated conversation, not only as digniWed and worthwhile, but also as an enjoyable occupation for one’s leisure. Consider, for instance, his setting for a conversation between two philosophers: ‘when we were all with Favorinus at Ostia. And we were walking along the shore in springtime, just as evening was falling’ (18. 1. 2; cf. 1. 2. 2, 19. 7. 2). Even traditional generic settings such as the locus amoenus or the pleasures of the symposium are thus invoked by Gellius to suit one of the professed goals of his book: to make his readers’ spare-time pleasures more suitable for a gentleman. But compared with other dialogue literature and sympotic miscellanies, the independent settings of Gellius’ chapters allow him to present his learned discussions as taking place on a large variety of occasions, at dinners, in public libraries and book-shops, at the bed-side of a sick friend, while waiting for the salutatio in the vestibule of the imperial palace, on board ship, in classrooms and theatres, or simply while taking a stroll. By now we can surmise that these settings are there not only for ornament or to entertain the reader, nor merely to recall the conventions of the Platonic dialogue, but also to illustrate the variety of opportunities that the busy people to whom his book is addressed can nevertheless take advantage of to engage in intellectual pursuits. Furthermore, whereas Cicero sets his dialogues on occasions of otium aVorded 88 89
Sest. 138–9; Arch. 16; cf. Off. 2. 4, 3. 1-4; De orat. 2. 22–4; Hort. fr. 6–7 Grilli. For otium litteratum in Cicero, J.-M. Andre´, L’Otium, 279–334.
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by public holidays, Gellius’ scenes are also set in the intervals of spare time within the daily routine and even on occasions on which one can indulge in a short learned conversation and fulWl one’s social duties simultaneously, as for instance while travelling, waiting for the salutatio, or attending a sick friend. Again this recalls the way he depicts his own experience of acquiring knowledge per omnia semper negotiorum interualla, in quibus furari otium potui (pr. 12), and we can also note how suitable his self-contained items of knowledge presented in short reading-units (his chapters) are for such stolen free moments. Authors living closer to Gellius’ day, particularly the younger Pliny and Fronto, seem to have taken leisure quite seriously and we consequently Wnd in them a relatively large variety of otium opportunities.90 As beWts a gentleman, many of these are devoted to reading, writing, and learned conversation. But whereas Pliny and Fronto are not insensible to the joys of, say, hunting, riding, or grape-picking,91 such divertissements have no place in the Noctes Atticae, which presents intellectual activities as the only respectable occupation for a gentleman’s otium. The same preoccupation with the intellectual world is also manifest in Gellius’ choice of interlocutors, where he is much closer to the Greek tradition of, say, Plutarch, Lucian, or Athenaeus, whose main characters are always the ÆØı Ø, than to the dialogues of Cicero, whose dramatis personae are for the most part members of the senatorial elite distinguished by the authority and prestige won in political activity and the courts of law. Almost all Gellius’ interlocutors are men of letters, students, teachers, or what we might term ‘professional intellectuals’, and the few who are not are represented as having intellectual interests. Indeed if we compare Gellius with, say, the younger Pliny, Juvenal, Fronto, or Apuleius, it is amazing how little he has to say about contemporary politics and military aVairs, about legacies and real-estate business, even about his own experience in court, which is only mentioned as the starting point of intellectual discussions. Similarly Erucius Clarus, the city prefect, is represented merely as a uir morum et litterarum ueterum studiossimus (13. 18. 2) seeking an answer from 90
Esp. Plin. Ep. 1. 3. 3, 1. 9, 2. 2. 3, 9. 32; Fro. Fer. Als. 3 (pp. 227–33 v. d. Hout2 ). See further A.-M. Guillemin, Pline, 14–16; J.-M. Andre´, ‘Le de Otio de Fronton’; J. P. Toner, Leisure, 25–32; Vardi, ‘Book of Verse’, 88–9. 91 e.g. Plin. 5. 6. 46 (with Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny, 330), 5. 18. 2, 9. 10. 1, 9. 15. 3, 9. 36; Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 4. 5. 3, 4. 6. 1–2 (pp. 61–3 v. d. Hout2 ); contrast Gell. 10. 25. 1 (contemplating sedens in reda; cf. 11. 3. 1) and 20. 8. 1 (a jolly celebration of the uindemia, but Gellius tells us only of the learned conversation).
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Sulpicius Apollinaris the grammarian, and a uir consularis and governor of Crete who comes with his father to visit Taurus at 2. 2. 1 is introduced just by virtue of his relations with the eminent intellectual. We can notice the same focusing on aspects of intellectual life in Gellius’ miniature plots. I have recently tried to show this regarding the recurrent scene in which arrogant experts are exposed and put to public ridicule.92 Other Gellian plot structures seem to reXect his ideas concerning, for instance, the right manner of teaching, intellectual authority versus independent critical judgement, the proper degree and suitable occasions for the application of one’s learning in everyday life, the etiquette of learned conversation, and the constraints of hierarchies both within the intellectual circle and between intellectuals and people whose social standing derives from parenthood, rank, or oYce. But to return to the manner in which the formal diversity of Gellius’ individual chapters reXects on the Noctes as a whole, I shall conclude this study with an examination of an important plot we Wnd embedded in the entire work and of the manner he depicts one principal character—himself. As we have seen, Gellius often presents his own experience as a model for a life of learning. But the dominant presence of the author’s ‘I’ in his chapters does more than that. It also provides us with an autobiography, which may be more or less accurate, but is manifestly partial and focused on his intellectual life alone. Furthermore, the details of this intellectual autobiography, which modern scholars are eager to reconstruct, are scattered randomly among his chapters without any consideration of chronology or a sense of development from his early school years to his mature life. It is important to note that Gellius could have presented his self-contained items of knowledge in an ordo rerum fortuitus (for one or more of the reasons adduced above) while still setting these items within a consecutive framework of a diachronic biography. The idea might not have occurred to him, but whether deliberately or not, the result is that his readers are presented with a fragmented and disarrayed autobiography. One key notion of intellectual biographies that such an arrangement obscures is that of progression in learning93 and, though I admit I am getting speculative here, this seems to suit the delineation of Gellius’ view of knowledge ventured on above. If the body of 92
Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’. Admittedly, the notion of progression in learning is not common in ancient bioi, but it finds its place e.g. in Cicero’s self-presentations, and its importance in a career is prominent in authors concerned with education such as Quintilian and Fronto. 93
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knowledge is indeed conceived as an unsystematic amalgam of isolated items, the diachronic order in which these items are acquired becomes irrelevant and there is no room for the notion of progression in learning, only of its accumulation.94 Turning from these abstract conceptions back to social ones, we can note that the absence of the notion of progression in a biography also entails a renunciation of the idea of a career. Since Gellius’ narration does not involve the world of negotium, it is of course not a civic or political career that we are missing. Within the intellectual world we have indeed seen that Gellius’ view of learning also involves the renunciation of specialization and therefore of the career of a professional expert. But with Favorinus and Herodes Atticus around, yet another career-centred manner of life comes to mind, that of the contemporary sophists. Like Gellius, they too seem to privilege the pursuit of general rather than specialized knowledge, but the notion of a career is central to their manner of life, which involves progression in terms of rhetorical and performative technique, of gaining public acclaim, of attracting large retinues of pupils, and of mastering the art of manipulating civic privileges and honours. Philostratus’ Bioi of the sophists are thus dotted with anecdotes marking the pitfalls and climaxes of such a career,95 and Lucian’s Somnium provides an example of yet another traditional constituent of career stories—the turning point.96 Though Gellius too is not devoid of competitiveness and rather likes portraying himself having the upper hand in intellectual confrontations, he does not present any of these incidents as a signiWcant moment in an intellectual career. We might associate this with the fact that from schooldays to maturity Gellius prefers to place himself in the position of a sectator of the great luminaries of his day, never as one of them. But more important is that the renunciation of a career is quintessential to the idea of amateurism, which modern scholars like to associate with Gellius’ ideal of learning whether in the neutral or the pejorative sense of the term. Therefore, though I should hesitate to suggest that Gellius deliberately chose to present his autobiography in a disarrayed and fragmented manner in order to mark his renunciation of an intellectual career, it seems safe to assume that had the notion of career
94
Cf. MacIntyre, Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry, 149–50. See G. Anderson, Philostratus, 44–53. 96 For Lucian’s presentation of paideia as a career, cf. Rhet. praec., Merc. cond.; and see further G. Anderson, Lucian, 165; S. Swain, Hellenism and Empire, 308–12. 95
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formed part of his view of intellectual life he would not have adopted this way of presenting it. To conclude, Gellius’ handling of the generic conventions of ancient miscellanies seems to indicate that his book is about intellectuals and intellectual life no less than it is a source of learned information for those wishing to appear as such. This, in turn, conforms with the interests of at least part of the tradition of ancient miscellanies, as it is represented, for instance, in Plutarch and Athenaeus97 and more generally with the concerns of secondcentury Greek society, in which, as Simon Swain has shown, paideia became the distinctive feature of the elite.98 On the other hand, Gellius’ view of learning and intellectual life preserves some distinctly Roman ideas of the gentleman-scholar, in which he seems much indebted to Cicero. Many of these ideas are also expressly evoked in Gellius’ preface, and though we tend to suspect ancient prefatory propositions because of their conventional nature, it appears that Gellius manages to adapt both the conventional components Wguring in his preface and the conventions of his literary kind to serve his declared goals and cultural programme. 97 98
G. Anderson, ‘Athenaeus’, 2183–4. Swain, Hellenism and Empire, esp. 139–45, 308–29.
7 Educational Values T er es a M o r g a n The idea that the aim of Noctes Atticae is either education or ethics has often been raised and almost as often dismissed. Miscellanists, it has been pointed out, nearly always claim that their works are useful, but in comparison with bona Wde educational writers, Gellius is sketchy and unsystematic, having little or nothing to say about the process or its precise content. As a work of ethics, Noctes Atticae has crippling defects: ‘we miss Wrm guidance on ethical choices likely to confront the reader’, says Holford-Strevens; in the middle of a philosophical discussion, Gellius wanders oV into antiquarianism; he raises questions he cannot answer, and: ‘If we take Gellius’ protestations seriously, we shall be dismayed by the yawning gulf between them and his practice.’1 In the terms in which it has been expressed, this is true enough. Gellius does not oVer a full or systematic discussion of either ethics or education. But in what follows I shall argue that there is room for a broader deWnition of both subjects and that on this deWnition, Noctes Atticae is both an educational and an ethical work. It is safe to assume that most ethics in Gellius’ world was not done in the style of high philosophy: theoretical, systematic, exhaustive, and exact. (Not much of what philosophers wrote can claim all those qualities, either.) People doubtless learnt, as they still learn, ethical precepts, questions, and ways of thinking from family, friends, and acquaintances, from the forum, the theatre, the palace, and the barracks. And from literature, including plays, mimes, epics, histories—anything that could be heard or read in public or private. Like language, ethics could be picked up anyhow 1 L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 1st edn. 31–3 (reconsidered in 2nd edn. 41–6) with useful bibliography at n. 75. R. Marache, Critique litte´raire, argues that Favorinus regarded the liberal arts as adornment of the human spirit (255–7) and practically good, but says he cannot see the moral point of most of the work (261–3, 265); G. Maselli, Lingua, 81 points out the miscellaneous nature of Gellius’ grammar.
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and sorted out later. Like language, it is unlikely that most people felt the need for a theoretical grasp of ethics before practising it, and most people probably never did grasp it as a system, even supposing it was one. Ethics, in most people’s everyday lives, was (and is) an incorrigibly unsystematic aVair. (This is not to say that it has no logic at all: I think most people’s ethics do have some logic to them, and I shall try to show that Gellius’ have.) Teaching ethics was not the main aim of much of the literature which found itself being read that way.2 But some works do clearly have an ethical agenda. Didactic poetry, fables, collections of gnomic quotations, works like the Book of Proverbs, the Sermon on the Mount, and the Instruction of Ankhsheshonq are explicitly ethical. They are also typically unsystematic, anecdotal, and anything but exhaustive, to the point where it seems plausible to suggest that the typical form of ancient Greek, Roman, and Near Eastern ethical literature outside the realms of serious philosophy was miscellaneous. This complements the unsystematic nature of everyday ethical education I sketched above. To those of us who have been educated in ethics as a branch of philosophy it still seems very odd, but in the second half of the chapter I shall come back to why it might in fact be highly functional. For now, we can say that being a miscellany does not debar Noctes Atticae from being a work of ethics. That does not prove it is one, but I shall try to show that its content is also ethical. Since even works of ethical theory by philosophers cannot be divorced from the teaching of ethics themselves,3 ethical works are by deWnition educational works of a kind. Miscellanies, too, usually claim to be educational in the broadest sense that they are useful.4 (Not always, however, which makes it more likely that we can trust Gellius when he does say so.) So it should not be controversial to say that in a broad sense, Gellius is writing educationally. But in that broad a sense, so are many ancient authors. Can we say that Noctes Atticae is meant to be educational in any more precise and interesting sense?5 2 T. Morgan, Literate Education, chs. 3–4; cf. R. Lamberton, Homer, 22–31, S. F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome, 240–4. 3 Attempts to do this have been discredited in recent years (so B. Williams, Ethics, 72–4). 4 Plin. NH. pr. 12–16, Val. Max. 1 pr., Clem. Strom. 6. 2. 2 are among those who claim to be useful; Athenaeus’ Deipnosophists and Plutarch’s miscellanies among those that do not. 5 Given his wealth and devotion to the cultured life, it is surprising how few authors Gellius cites (fewer than Quintilian recommends that children should read
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I think we can. The preface makes a number of programmatic statements. Gellius begins by saying that he is writing for his children, to entertain them when they are relaxing from business (§1). The fact that they are already grown up, or will be when they read this, does not mean that he is not still trying to educate them. This is one of the expanded senses in which a work can be educational, and not a particularly controversial one: we accept that philosophers may be engaged in an educational process with adult pupils, so why not Gellius? Gellius explains that he has selected items quae aut ingenia prompta expeditaque ad honestae eruditionis cupidinem utiliumque artium contemplationem celeri facilique compendio ducerent aut homines aliis iam uitae negotiis occupatos a turpi certe agrestique rerum atque uerborum imperitia uindicarent (pr. 12). He calls these primitias quasdam et quasi libamenta ingenuarum artium (pr. 13), which implies that he hopes readers will go on to learn more by themselves. Not to know this material, he says, is si non inutile, at quidem certe indecorum, a common sentiment in educational texts from elementary writing exercises upwards.6 Short of announcing himself as a teacher, it is hard to see how Gellius could have made it clearer that he regards this as at least partly an educational work. There are good reasons why Gellius does not call himself a teacher. Although education was highly valued in both the Greek and Roman worlds, teachers, on the whole, were not. To deWne oneself as a professional was to segregate oneself from the majority of the educated upper class. On the other hand, it was normal for a wide range of family, friends, and relations to take an informal interest in the education of upper-class children. Pliny and Jerome are among those who have left letters of guidance to parents or children themselves about their education.7 Historically, young men were lent to family friends and connections to learn how to behave in public life. By announcing that his work is for the education of at 1. 8. 5–12, 10. 1. 46–131). At lower social levels, papyrological evidence indicates that the educational reading and copying of authors was highly selective, a few authors and passages recurring widely across place and time (Morgan, Literate Education, 100–19). It would be natural to assume that wealthier children (and adults) read much more widely, and some evidently did. But perhaps fewer than we assume: Gellius, and also Fronto, Apuleius, and Favorinus display reading patterns much closer to those of their provincial cousins. The main diVerence is that they seem to have read more widely in some central authors, notably Vergil. 6 P. Bouriant 1, Papyri from Mons Epiphanius II 615; Hagedorn–Weber, ‘Menandersentenzen’. 7 Plin. Ep. 4. 13; Jerome, Ep. 107, 128; see T. Morgan, ‘Assessment’, 16–17; H.-I. Marrou, Education, pt. 3, ch. 1, sect. ‘Family Education’, 232–4.
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his sons, then publishing it for the ediWcation of a wider public, Gellius positions himself in the ranks of responsible Roman fathers in a line from Cato the Elder. Gellius emphasizes that his miscellany is going to include material on grammar, dialectics, geometry, and law (pr. 13). Grammar and geometry are staples of education above the most basic level; philosophy and law, the classic higher education of wealthy Romans. (It is striking that Gellius does not mention rhetoric here, though he will include some stories about orators. Perhaps, like other late Wrst-and second-century authors, he feels that rhetoric is awkwardly placed in an era where serious deliberative oratory, at least at Rome, is dead and forensic oratory compromised. It is noticeable that even Fronto and Herodes Atticus are praised for their general culture rather than speciWcally for their rhetoric.) Apart from these programmatic statements, Noctes Atticae is scattered with ideas which can be paralleled in educational writings. In particular, though Gellius gives no indication that he knows Quintilian’s recent Institutio Oratoria, the two share a number of concerns. Gellius takes an interest in eugenics. At 12. 1 he has Favorinus tell a woman to breastfeed her own baby, to make sure the baby does not imbibe another woman’s inferior qualities.8 He censures children who eat and sleep too much: they will not develop properly (4. 19). Like Quintilian, he believes that natural talent plays a crucial, if not decisive, role in education, and that having a good memory is particularly important.9 He quotes Philip’s letter to Aristotle, in which Philip says that Alexander is lucky to have been born in Aristotle’s lifetime, presumably because he wants him to have the best possible education (9. 3).10 And like Quintilian, Gellius regards the liberal arts as not just agreeable, but useful, in both public and private life.11 It has been pointed out that if education is Gellius’ aim, a lot of his material looks pretty unimproving.12 Could he not, at least, have come up with a more suitable opening chapter? NA 1. 1 reports how Pythagoras worked out the height of Hercules, by 8
Cf. Ps.-Plut. De lib. educ. 3 c. NA 5. 3; cf. Quint. Inst. 1 pr. 26, 1. 3. 1, Ps.-Plut. De lib. educ. 9 e, and for the importance of memory in the NA S. M. Beall, below, 215---17. 10 At 7. 10 he reports Taurus as complaining, formulaically, that young men are less keen on education than they used to be. 11 By not specifying that he expects his readers to be political rulers, Gellius avoids Quintilian’s problem that he is, in theory, educating an entire class of orators to rule, in a state where only one person rules at a time. 12 Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 40–1 [30]. 9
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taking the length of a foot in the stadium at Olympia, traditionally paced out by the hero, and comparing it with the length of a foot in other stadia. Hercules, he deduced, was taller than other men in the same proportion as the course at Olympia was longer than other courses. Now why is this either good or useful to know? It is curious and erudite, which makes it a neat gobbet for dinnerparty conversation, and as such socially useful. It shows that mathematics has a function beyond counting your revenue and calculating your taxes, a point which Quintilian also makes against the prejudices of other litterati (Inst. 1. 10. 34–49). But beyond that, Gellius appears simply to be telling us that it is educational— it is the kind of thing that is worth knowing. Why? Because it is the kind of thing that people in his circle do know. And that, as I hope to show by the end of the chapter, is not only an educational but an ethical statement. Noctes Atticae is clearly not intended to show systematically how to acquire a conventional literate education. But if we look more closely at the grammatical, mathematical, rhetorical, philosophical, and legal material, we can see Gellius making what one might call a meta-educational argument: he is trying to show us why education is worth having. Four reasons recur: it is enjoyable, social, useful, and moral. And Gellius makes a considerable eVort to show that these qualities (in variable proportions) are true of even the driest technical material. To judge by the zest with which Gellius reports numerous disputes and points of grammar, he regards grammar as intrinsically interesting and entertaining. More surprisingly, perhaps, grammar is a sociable activity: grammatical points are often presented as debates between rivals or put-downs of outsiders by Gellius’ friends. At 2. 26. 1 we Wnd Gellius accompanying Favorinus on a visit to Fronto, who is laid up with the gout. Other learned men are present, and a discussion develops about colours and words for them. Another occasion (4. 1) Wnds Favorinus and friends among a group of scholars and others in the entrance hall of the Palatine palace, waiting to oVer salutatio to the emperor. An ignorant grammarian starts an impromptu lecture on nouns, and Favorinus takes him up, entertaining his friends, leading the topic round to a moralizing conclusion, and making a fool of the grammarian to everyone else’s satisfaction. Another grammarian is the victim of what Gellius reports as a lepidissima altercatio with Favorinus about words with double meanings (8. 14). On a less adversarial note, Gellius remembers Taurus’ philosophical dinners in Athens, when all the guests had to bring an interesting
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topic for discussion. Stories like these show that for Gellius (as nowadays), belonging to a group is one of the prime rewards of education, all the better when the group can have fun at the expense of people less learned, wise, or virtuous than themselves. Grammar teaches other things too. It explains oddities of language, and shows how Latin has changed since the time of the earliest widely read authors—important to know in a culture where to speak and write correctly is so important. Gellius tells several stories about people who made themselves look foolish by misunderstanding or misusing the language.13 But Gellius does not by any means approve of all grammarians and their works. On several occasions he defends favourite authors against critics who accuse them of misusing language.14 This is an unusual attitude to take in an educational context, perhaps because most of what we hear about grammar comes from the pens of professionals. It implies, though, a shrewd observation about the relationship between education and culture. Grammarians were among the chief preservers of the texts and status of canonical authors. But by anatomizing and criticizing them, they must have made them less palatable to many readers, especially children—just as great poetry is made less attractive to schoolchildren nowadays by being treated with literary criticism. Worse, grammarians undermine the authority of great authors by suggesting that they can make mistakes. Highly as he values grammar, Gellius never forgets that it is poets, orators, philosophers, and historians who make his cultural world the rich one that it is, and that enjoying them is the main point of education. Still, grammar has its uses, and even beyond the literary sphere. It can help to elucidate laws (11. 17) and explain religious practices (5. 12). It can rule that to be religiosus is not a ‘great’ or absolute virtue, on the basis of the grammatical formation of the word.15 Last but not least, Gellius is interested in the comparison of Greek and Latin words and the relationships between them. He occasionally records Greek origins for Latin words, and notes that both languages contain barbarisms (8. 2, 13. 6). He talks about the diYculties of translation, and compares Greek and Latin words 13
NA 1. 10, 6. 17, 8. 10, 11. 7. 3–6. Cicero, 1. 7, 12. 2; Ennius, 12. 2; Quadrigarius and Lucilius, 1. 16; Vergil, 2. 6, 2. 16, 7. 6, 9. 10; Catullus, 7. 16. 15 NA 4. 9; Gellius raises the interesting question whether there are any ambiguous words, but in two chapters where he discusses it (11. 12, 12. 9) comes to diVerent conclusions; cf. 5. 12. 9–10, 9. 12, 16. 5. 6–7, 19. 7. 3. 14
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for colours, for instance—and concludes that in some cases, Latin is better equipped (2. 26). This is part of Gellius’ interest in comparing Latin with Greek culture in general, and since this comparison is a point of interest among educational writers, it is worth reviewing brieXy. He begins with what looks like a conventional move (1. 2): he has left Italy for Greece in search of culture. But, and here he departs from convention, apparently not because Greek culture is better. Writing in Greece and no doubt generally speaking Greek, he prefers to write in Latin. He is capable of making conventional statements about the superiority of Greek culture: at 2. 23 he says that Latin comedy is less interesting than its Greek models and at 13. 27 that a line of Vergil less good than one of Homer’s. But at other times, Latin poets compare well with Greek. Ennius rivals Euripides at 11. 4; at 9. 9. 3–4 Vergil is praised as a translator of Homer and other poets, and even improves on Theocritus. More often still, Gellius refers to Greek and Latin literature as if they were a seamless garment. In this, he is close to Quintilian and seems to have made a little progress over writers of the previous two centuries, who found it hard to be unequivocally proud of Latin literature other than oratory. The educational value of philosophy, and sometimes even rhetoric, are as evident in Noctes Atticae as that of grammar. Being a rhetorician, in his view, goes with authority and wisdom, two obviously socially functional, not to mention ethical qualities. Early on he says that a true orator speaks like Odysseus, uirum sapienti facundia praeditum, uocem mittere ait non ex ore, sed ex pectore, quod scilicet non ad sonum magis habitumque uocis quam ad sententiarum penitus conceptarum altitudinem pertineret . . . (1. 15. 3). Elsewhere, he praises the wisdom of Demosthenes (10. 19. 3) and the auctoritas and grauitas of the rhetorician Castricius, whom Hadrian admired for his mores atque litteras (13. 22. 1). When the rhetorician Antonius Julianus analyses a syllogism about debts of money and debts of gratitude in Cicero’s Pro Cn. Plancio, he teaches his audience something not only about language, but also about Roman social and economic relations. Since this is Rome, rhetoric is also a tool of social competition, and among those whom Gellius praises for putting people down with a quick or clever word are Hortensius (1. 5. 3), Demosthenes (1. 8), and Cicero (12. 12). The most important thing about rhetoric is that it should be eVective, to the point that at 6.3 Gellius spends Wfty-Wve sections showing why, despite the criticism of Tullius Tiro that it is not
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technically correct, Cato’s successful speech in defence of the Rhodians is Wrst-class rhetoric. An anecdote about Demosthenes and Philip (2. 27) shows that rhetoric has the power to make people see things they have not realized before. Demosthenes describes how Philip has suVered one injury and mutilation after another in pursuit of conquest and ignores them all, bringing home to the Athenians, as almost nothing else he said was able to do, just how dangerous Philip was. All these stories act protreptically, to show why rhetoric is worth studying—though the diVerence between the opportunities open to Cicero or Demosthenes and those open to Fronto or Herodes are tactfully ignored. If good rhetoric is both morally and socially responsible and eVective, philosophy is far more so. Almost all the philosophical anecdotes Gellius records have some kind of moral point—indeed, as has often been pointed out, other branches of philosophy appear rather rarely, and Gellius is rather dismissive of them. The only time he suggests that philosophy may not be for everyone, and that too much of it may not be a good thing, is when he is recording two philosophical disputes about the nature of vision and whether the voice is corporeal (5. 15–16). The much admired Taurus is known to us as a Platonist who wrote on cosmogony and commentated on the Timaeus, but no hint of this comes through in Gellius, who is interested only in Taurus’ moral ideas. Democritus is defended by Gellius (10. 12), but we hear nothing about his natural philosophy, only that he put out his own eyes in order to sharpen his mind (10. 17).16 About moral philosophy, though, and also the social ideas and behaviour of philosophers, Gellius is enthusiastic. He reports what philosophers have to say about endurance (12. 5), fate and nature (13. 1), and the dangers of public life (13. 28). He admires the way Pythagoreans share their goods and form a societas inseparabilis (1. 9. 12), Aristotle’s shrewdness in ruling the Lyceum (13. 5), the wisdom of Solon as a lawmaker (2. 12), and the care with which philosophers have considered in what circumstances, if any, it is possible to bend or break the law (1. 3. 9). He is interested in diVerent philosophers’ views about crime and punishment (7. 14), anger (1. 26), friendship (8. 6), and obedience (2. 7). He also pictures philosophy as an enjoyable and sociable activity, like grammar, whose practitioners meet not only to talk but to eat, drink, and relax together. At 10. 22. 24 he sums up his view of philosophy: uirtutum omnium disciplina est . . . in publicis simul et 16
But is this a moral or a cautionary tale, or both?
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priuatis oYciis excellit ciuitatesque et rempublicam, si nihil prohibeat, constanter et fortiter et perite administrat . . . Philosophy teaches one how to live; it makes good citizens, in both public and private life. Gellius could hardly make it clearer why he thinks a philosophical education is worth having. A training in the law is a traditional part of Roman education, whether it takes the form of memorizing the Twelve Tables, following an experienced orator in his court appearances, or, increasingly through the Imperial period, studying at some centre of legal expertise. Noctes Atticae, however, is not designed to promote the study of contemporary law, just as it is not concerned—or concerned not—to draw a clear picture of contemporary political life and how a man of culture might Wt into it. Most of Gellius’ stories about the law, as about men and women in public life in general, are historical anecdotes which illustrate the moral role of the law in society. He comments approvingly, for instance, that early Romans were frugal both by law and training (2. 24). We hear how censors punish people for bad manners (4. 20) as well as for neglecting their land or their public horse (6. 22),17 and how the aediles once Wned the daughter of Appius Claudius Caecus for arrogance (10. 6). In the course of a chapter on theft laws, Gellius remarks that he should not pass over quam caste autem ac religiose a prudentissimis uiris quid esset ‘furtum’ deWnitum sit (11. 18. 19). Theft, on this deWnition, includes even thinking about stealing something (§§23–4). It is clear that for Gellius, the moral force of the law is one of its most important aspects. The majority of other laws Gellius cites relate to the family: laws about marriage and dowries (1. 6, 4. 3), pregnancy (3. 16), children (2. 15), adoption (5. 19), adultery (10. 23), and slaves (4. 2, 6. 4). There is nothing very surprising about this, since family law made up an important division of Roman law, but it suggests that he thinks the family is one of the arenas in which a good life is lived. I have suggested that for Gellius, the life and pastimes of an educated Roman are variously enjoyable, social, useful, and moral. By presenting Noctes Atticae as educational, and making a feature of grammar, dialectics, geometry, and law, he shows why a conventional education is worth having: it leads to the kind of life that it is desirable for an upper-class Roman to live. And this brings me to my second claim. In what sense, if any, can this be called an ethical work? 17 Gellius approves of people taking their share of responsibility for the state and cites Solon’s law about it at 2. 12.
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Since Plato attributed it to Socrates in the Republic (352 d), the deWning question of ethical enquiry has been, how should one live? Gellius is obviously not conducting a systematic philosophical enquiry into this question from Wrst principles.18 He never even raises it in so many words. But it is impossible to read his notes, quotes, and anecdotes without stumbling constantly over value judgements: who and what is right and wrong, good and bad, more and less laudable. Good and bad ways to live are implicit in almost every chapter. This might mean no more than that authors commonly have ethical views which tend to inform their works, and we can excavate them if we like. Can we go further and say that Gellius has an ethical project? If he does, what is it? In the absence of a programmatic statement we cannot be sure of the Wrst, but his statement of educational intent in the prologue, coupled with his pervasive moral language, makes a highly suggestive combination. And we can, I think, say that the reasons why Gellius has been thought in the past not to have an ethical project, do not hold. We have seen that being partial, anecdotal, and miscellaneous is no bar to being an ethical text. A number of interesting ideas brought forward by modern moral philosophers may help us understand why it is a positive advantage. In recent years, a number of philosophers have been independently crystallizing their objections to a cluster of ideas inherited from Plato via Kant, which among other things characterized ethical actors as rational agents, making detached choices, on objective grounds, in favour of things which could ideally be defended as universal goods, on the metaphysical basis that there is such a quality as good-in-itself in which good things partake.19 (This is a broad-brush characterization of many subtly diVerent positions, of course, but I hope not unrecognizable.) These scholars do not follow another current trend, which is to downplay the role of individuals in constructing societies: they all want to believe that ethical actors exist. But in comparison with previous writers, they think that people act on rather diVerent principles. Ideas from two philosophers are particularly helpful as we try to understand ancient miscellaneous ethical texts. In Situating the Self, Seyla Benhabib argues that we should see ourselves not as detatched rational intelligences, but as embedded and embodied in our social contexts and individual histories. Our judgements and 18
Cf. A. D. Vardi, above, 179. Williams, Ethics, 197, 201; S. Benhabib, Situating the Self, 3–5; P. Singer, Practical Ethics, 2–4, 314–35. 19
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decisions are aVected by the way we see ourselves and our environment, and becoming an ethical actor is a process of growth based on intuitions interacting with the world around us.20 Benhabib sees women, living mostly outside the mainstream of Western intellectual history, as having a stronger sense of this kind of identity than men. For the same reason, women are more attuned than men to stories and examples as ways of explaining the nature of the world and how we should live.21 ‘How one should live’ is not for women a metaphysical question with an answer which theoretically works for everyone, or even a whole class of people. It is a practical, individual, context-dependent question, with no rules, but with a wealth of stories and examples of how other people have lived, to give us ideas and guidance. I suspect that this way of approaching ethics is not so much distinctive to women as true of most people outside philosophical elites, and it may explain why stories, histories, chreiai, and collections of often mutually contradictory maxims are all widespread forms of ethical text. Most people probably do not look for advice to a system of ideas that coheres in the abstract, and they do not expect detailed instructions for every moment they live. On the other hand, it is certainly not true that every human experience and situation is totally diVerent from anything that ever happened before. A collection of stories of behaviours and attitudes that worked well in particular situations gives a reader a repertoire of ideas to add to other kinds of advice and experience: examples, analogies, and horrible warnings, things to bear in mind, cast aside as irrelevant, adapt to one’s own situation, or take over wholesale. It is as easy to imagine many of Gellius’ stories working like that, as it is hard to imagine them adding up to a philosophical theory. And if it sounds like a recipe for social chaos, it is not, because in practice, in ethics as in most other things, most people are not radical individualists, and tend to follow the example of those around them, modifying it only marginally to suit their own circumstances. A society coheres by being made up of many overlapping ethical communities whose individuals have much, if not everything, in common in the way they interpret precedents and the way they behave. In Natural Goodness, Philippa Foot pursues another idea which may also be helpful here. She argues that moral evil is ‘a kind of natural defect’ and that what makes a human being good, like a plant or an animal, is doing or being what one is meant to do or be; 20
Benhabib, Situating the Self, 5–8.
21
Ibid. 14.
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‘human defects and excellencies are . . . related to what human beings are and what they do.’22 Being good means being good of one’s kind. Justice, for instance, is a virtue because we are social animals and justice is necessary to keep us living together in harmony. As philosophical theories, both Benhabib’s and Foot’s ideas are open to criticism. It is hard to see how Benhabib avoids relativism, or explains how, if the way we think is even partly determined by environment, there are such things as reliable ethical intuitions. Foot also has diYculty avoiding relativism, and seems to assume that it is not too hard to discern what it is natural for human beings to be and do, while many of us would think that from our (or Romans’) position within a highly developed and complex society, what is natural to human beings is a formidably complex, if not irrecoverable question. But what each of them puts forward is an important intuition about the way most people think. Most people think in concrete, situational, biographical terms. For most people, being good probably does mostly mean being good of one’s kind: being a good mother, or farmer, or senator; doing what it makes sense for you to do, and quite likely your neighbour and possibly your patron too, though quite possibly not your emperor or your wife or slave, and certainly not some abstract being in unidentiWed circumstances in a theoretical world. If such common intuitions are an unsatisfactory basis for a philosophical argument, it does not matter, because hardly anyone thinks in terms of arguments, let alone lets them govern everyday life. To identify and understand a sub-philosophical ethical text, what we need are ordinary intuitions. These two intuitions together help us to understand how Gellius’ ethics, and those of other miscellanies, work. What Gellius understands as a good life, I suggest, is one in which he and his friends are able to live in accordance with their birth, education, and interests; one in which they can Xourish in the future in a way which is connected to their past and their sense of potential; in fact, they want to be able to be good of their kind. Gellius does not worry about presenting a complete set of precepts for every social group; on the other hand, he does not exclude the possibility of others’ being good of their kind in diVerent ways— women, for example.23 Gellius has been written oV as an ethicist because reformation of manners is not his aim.24 This too, I think, is a misunderstanding 22 24
P. Foot, Natural Goodness, 5–9, 15. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 43 [34].
23
NA 6. 1, 7. 7, 13. 4.
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of what ethical texts do. Some radical and anti-social texts, and groups, certainly aim to change things (one thinks of the Essenes or some early Christians). More probably aim to teach people to function in the world as it is, and present themselves as uncontroversial. Presenting oneself as uncontroversial might also be a rhetorical ploy, of course, to cover a degree of innovation. Either way, the fact that Gellius does not claim to be saying anything original, and may well not be, does not mean this is not an ethical text. What, then, can we say about Gellius’ ethics? We can tell a good deal about the kind of people with whose good life he is concerned, by the stories he tells. Emperors appear in them only rarely, but aristocrats and the well-to-do down to Gellius’ own relatively modest level are everywhere. Women and slaves make occasional appearances. Educated men from east and west belong to the same group, but there is also a strong sense of the boundary between Romans and foreigners, even if it is mainly expressed through stories of past wars. Male, free, Roman, educated, wealthy, not necessarily high-born but a touch snobbish: this Wts what we know of Gellius’ own background and it would make sense if it were also his target audience. For such people, the good life is not lived in isolation. They belong, principally and simultaneously, to three types of group: the Roman state, friendship groups, and families. In this Gellius diVers, for instance, from Epictetus, who claims the whole world for his context, or early Christians, who are mainly interested in their immediate social context and the Kingdom of Heaven.25 Noctes Atticae abounds in stories which show the importance of the state. A favourite type is the story of great men who sank their political diVerences for the common good, like Aemilius Lepidus and Fulvius Flaccus, when they were elected censors together (12. 8. 5–6), or Ti. Sempronius Gracchus when he had an opportunity to imprison L. Scipio Asiaticus (6. 19), or Gaius Fabricius when Cornelius RuWnus was a candidate for the consulship (4. 8). Then there are the stories of heroic military exploits in the state’s defence: Horatius Cocles and T. Manlius Torquatus are here, along with L. Sicinius Dentatus the ‘Roman Achilles’, Atilius Regulus, Valerius Corvinus, Q. Caedicius, and highlights of the careers of such as P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus and Q. Caecilius Metellus Numidicus. Famous generals like Africanus or C. Fabricius are remembered for embodying Romanitas oV the battleWeld too, as on the occasion when a group of grateful 25
Epict. 1. 9. 1–7, 2. 10. 3–4, 3. 24. 9–10; W. A. Meeks, Origins, ch. 3.
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Samnites oVered Fabricius a large sum of money in return for his many acts of kindness to them. Fabricius, passing his hands over his ears, eyes, nose, mouth, throat, and genitals, replied proudly that as long as he could restrain all these organs, he had no need of money (1. 14). The importance of having friends shines through the work, with its many reminiscences of the times Gellius spent in the circles of Apollinaris, Taurus and Favorinus, Fronto and Herodes Atticus. It is among groups of friends that otium is enjoyed, literature and philosophy discussed, conversation honed, opinions forged, and people improve themselves and show that they are higher than the animals (pr. 16). We may suspect that patronage must have featured as largely as friendship in Gellius’ own life, but he has very little to say about it, evidently not regarding it as one of the deWning features of a good group. When he does mention it, he emphasizes the honour in which patrons and clients should hold each other, rather than contracts, favours, or obligations, putting himself in a distinguished tradition of clients who have presented clientela as far as possible as a form of amicitia. At 5. 13 he records a discussion about the honour in which various groups of people ought to be held. The participants agree that parents hold the highest honour, followed by wards, clients, guests, and other relations by blood and marriage. At 12. 4 he quotes with high approval some verses of Ennius on how one should behave to a higherranking friend, and glosses them by saying that such a man should be tactful, courteous, modest, faithful, restrained and proper in speech, knowledgeable, and trustworthy with secrets: in other words, hardly distinguishable from any good friend. Members of Gellius’ group are expected to have families, but despite addressing his work to his sons, he is not very interested in families as social groups, though he does admire lines like the Scipiones or the Porcii which have many famous members. Several stories about fathers and sons are really about how you behave to another man in public when he happens to be related to you.26 Marriage is a means of improving one’s political or social status (2. 15); in itself it is neither good nor bad (1. 6), but a bad one will teach you endurance, which is useful in life in general (1. 17). Women can contribute to the fame of a family by bearing exceptional children, or by being the objects of conspicuous chivalry like 26
NA 2. 2. At 1. 23, the emphasis is on the fact that father and son share a public life which is closed to the wife and mother; at 2. 7, interestingly, sons are not obliged to obey their fathers just because they are their fathers.
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that of P. Scipio Africanus to an unnamed Spanish woman, or Alexander the Great towards Darius’ wife (7. 8. 3).27 Gellius seems to have some interest here in minimizing conXicts between public and private spheres of life; he does it by indicating that men’s main existence is on the public side of it. Interestingly, he also argues, though perhaps with less than absolute conviction (1. 3. 14–20), that if it comes to a clash between the public interest and one’s friends, friendship comes Wrst. If the state, groups of friends and to a lesser extent one’s family are the spheres within which Gellius imagines people living good lives, he has a much weaker sense of metaphysical context. He includes Chrysippus’ views on Fate and Providence (7. 1–2) and says that Time brings evil deeds to light (12. 11). He shares the view common in wisdom literature that what goes around, comes around: bad advice will somehow eventually ruin the giver (4. 5). He quotes, with approval, Pericles as saying that one ought to help one’s friends, but only as far as the gods allow (1. 3. 20), and Metellus as saying that we should not expect the gods to be more indulgent to us than our parents when we do wrong (1. 6. 8). He observes that to the Romans, oaths are sacred (6. 18. 1), and reports that Valerius Corvinus had divine help when he defeated the leader of the Gauls in 349 bce (9. 11). He is conventionally pious, but that Gellius has any strong personal sense that his ethics are divinely ordained seems unlikely. The real guarantor of ethics for Gellius is the social group itself. The eVect of his carefully selected stories of Roman history is to tell us not just that some Romans have been good generals, good politicians, or good men, but that you can take your moral bearings from looking at the Roman past, which implies that what good Romans do is good. Gellius knows, and his readers know, that there are other stories of Roman history to be told, but because they are suppressed here, being good, being Roman, and being a good Roman are eVectively equated. Within this framework, Gellius uses a wide vocabulary of praise and blame. Among the qualities he praises are friendship, duty, self-control, endurance, modesty, temperance, bravery, frugality, wisdom, masculinity, resilience, good manners, nobility, loyalty, attachment, self-respect, dignity, tact, obedience, anger, reconciliation, pleasure, courtesy, faithfulness, restraint, propriety, keeping 27
Few women, unsurprisingly, appear in their own right: notably Acca Larentia, Gaia Taracia (7. 7), and Artemisia (10. 18); also Roman women as a group (11. 6). Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 308–13.
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conWdences, and ‘virtue’ itself. Among those he censures are theft, adultery, avarice, arrogance, fastidiousness, and neglect of duty. I have set these down in no particular order because it is impossible to establish that they have any order within the work. But there are various ways we can classify them, which do tell us a little more about the ethical landscape of Gellius’ world. For a start, some come up more often than others. The commonest, and presumably the most important to Gellius (they come up three times or more) are frugality, bravery, obedience, and group solidarity.28 We hear, for instance, that early Romans were frugal by both law and training (2. 24), that one who has much needs much (9. 8) and that it is better to lack much and desire less (13. 24), and that repeated bravery made Rome the power she is. Some virtues are described as always good, while others depend on circumstances. Duty, self-control, endurance, modesty, temperance, bravery, civic involvement, group solidarity, frugality, masculinity, resilience, nobility, loyalty, self-respect, dignity, tact, appropriate behaviour, truthfulness, and morality in war are always good. Among the things which are not always good are wealth, friendship, obedience, anger, conciliatoriness, pleasure, courtesy, modesty, faithfulness, restraint, and conWdentiality. Very few of these terms tell us speciWcally what to do or not to do. We should not lie, steal, or commit adultery—and that is about it. A great many, however, tell us how to do things: they are executive virtues, like courage, self-control, courtesy, loyalty, tact, endurance, obedience, resilience, restraint, and so on. It is worth noting that all the virtues which come up most often are in this class: apart from that one should not lie, steal, or adulter, how one behaves is evidently more important to Gellius than precisely what one does. It is also worth noting that apart from obedience, all the virtues which come up most often are ones which are always good. A high proportion of Gellius’ virtues are relational: you have to have someone to practise them on. Tact, courtesy, loyalty, attachment, duty, civic involvement, and obedience are good examples. The perfect poorer friend of 12. 4 needs a richer friend, the chivalrous general of 7. 8 a helpless female, the good Roman Rome. (Self-control, self-respect, endurance, and temperance are examples of those which one could practise equally well in 28
Marache, Critique litte´raire, 273–80 identiWes frugality, loyalty, and dignity as paradigmatic of ancient Romans; dignity is not often praised in so many words (though often implied); bravery is.
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solitude.) There is a high correlation between circumstantial and relational virtues, which suggests that right behaviour often depends on who you are and how you relate to others. We can put these observations together to draw a picture of a world in which a good life is sometimes a matter of individual choice and self-discipline, but where the groups, large and small, that people live in are more important. Within groups, there are a few things which no one should do—lie, steal, or commit adultery—but absolute demands are few, and more common are stronger and weaker norms, which guide rather than dictating behaviour. Most ethics are executive, where what matters is not what you do but how you do it. This makes it possible for people to hold many diVerent positions in the group, but the same principles. The fact that some absolute virtues are not relational, but that group solidarity is one of them, suggests that in Gellius’ moral world individuals and groups exist in some tension, each claiming priority. Philosophers have faced this problem before, but not being a serious philosopher, Gellius does not try to solve the tensions he expresses. Nothing in this world is expressed as a straightforward demand, human or from a higher power, and even Gellius’ few moral absolutes are expressed by stories or put in the mouths of philosophers. Instead of telling his readers outright to take part in public life, Gellius recommends Solon’s law about it (2. 12). He indicates that theft is absolutely condemned by discussing only what the punishment should be (11. 18). The message is not, you must behave like this, but, if you want to belong to this group, this is how we behave (though, as Gellius observes at 6. 12, even our customs change). Such a text might represent the ethical complexities of Gellius’ own life or world-view, but would it work as an educational text? Could any reader take such a jumble of praise and blame, maxims and examples, and work out how to behave from it, or even have his existing ideas meaningfully reinforced or eVectively challenged? The fact that so many ethical texts are as disorganized as this one strongly suggests that there must be a way of using them eVectively. And here the insights of Benhabib and Foot may give us a clue. Clearly these texts do not work by trying to provide exhaustively for the situations of all possible readers: that approach would either produce a rigidly narrow set of commandments or an inWnite quantity of material. They do not explicitly legislate for any particular community. If readers are to make sense of the material, they must be bringing something to it themselves—identifying
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material and imposing an order which makes sense to them. I suggest that we imagine every reader as a key which unlocks the text in a unique way. He brings to it his own history, circumstances, hopes, and expectations; he brings his understanding of himself, his environment and the relationship between them; he brings a willingness to take the ethics of this particular text seriously; he takes from it whatever strikes him as helpful, challenging, reassuring, or improving. There are guidelines implicit in the text—it would be hard to read it and conclude that treason, theft, or self-indulgence are acceptable—but within limits, every reader, on every reading, could take away something diVerent. We now begin to see why ethical miscellanies might be highly socially functional. They are capable of guiding readers to a degree, by deWning the subjects they should be thinking about. By including some ideas and not others, some ideas more often than others, and more diverse judgements on some ideas than others, they create not a system, but as it were a constellation of possibilities by which individuals and groups can navigate. By presenting themselves in the form of stories, exempla, precepts, chreiai, and sayings, they tell us that these values go with the society, or the social group, whose stories, and so on, they are. This creates an eVective tautology: being a good member of the group is the same as being a good member of the group, because goodness means by deWnition being good of one’s kind. Finally, these texts make it possible for any number of people to feel that they belong to the same society, by using the same ethical material, while living any number of diVerent lives. This, Wnally, is why I think it is fair to regard Gellius as having an ethical agenda. As we have seen, he presents not a philosophical theory, but a far from incoherent map of an ethical landscape in which at least people of a certain fairly elastic social stratum can operate as good Romans. Some features of this landscape are more important than others, and there is more than one pathway through it, but that is part of what makes it work. It allows people to live diVerent lives without losing their shared identity, and it provides a handbook of ethics which is certainly of his choosing, but which, he can claim, is drawn from Roman society and GraecoRoman culture themselves. It is notable that nearly all Gellius’ stories about historical heroes are about Romans, with the occasional adopted hero such as Alexander. Committed as he is to the equal status of Greek and Latin literature in the creation of a cultural and ethical community, when it comes to historical exemplars he is much less ready to
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admit foreigners. Is this patriotism, or bending to the prejudice of his likely readership, or an assertion that since Rome is the most powerful state, it must have the most moral leaders? Perhaps something of all these. What is less clear is whether he would expect only Roman readers to accept Roman role-models—how far this is a community-speciWc ethical work—or indeed, who would count as a ‘Roman reader’. Perhaps in a century in which Aelius Aristides could describe the walls of the city as conterminous with the ends of the earth,29 Gellius is deliberately enclosing everyone in the same fold, and making Roman ethics everyone’s ethics. Every surviving miscellany with an ethical dimension is likely to be subtly diVerent in emphasis. Gellius makes more of a feature of the state and loyalty to it than does Epictetus; he is concerned with a good quality of life where fables tend to concentrate on just getting by. Valerius Maximus is more interested in the gods, Seneca and Marcus Aurelius in the role of the emperor, to give just a few examples. But all these, and others, also have areas of overlap which make it easy to imagine readers of them all (some of them the same readers, too) being able to operate, within their diVerent social groups, in the same state. And that trick, of being both speciWc and general, both Xexible and inclusive, is part of what makes this such a successful work. 29
Aelius Aristides, To Rome, 61; cf. Dio, Or. 1. 42.
8 Gellian Humanism Revisited S t e p he n M . B ea ll Scholarship has its seasons: criticism of Aulus Gellius is no exception. Faithfully copied in the Middle Ages and imitated in the Renaissance, Gellius fell on hard times towards the end of the nineteenth century, when he was dismissed as an ‘insipid’ antiquarian, ‘devoid of imaginative power’.1 The mid-twentieth century saw a curious reaction, in which he was portrayed as a kind of Roman Shaftesbury: a miscellanist with a partially concealed, but earnest philosophical agenda.2 More recent scholarship has oVered other, somewhat divergent accounts of his intentions and character. Nevertheless, we still Wnd ourselves asking, what was Aulus Gellius ‘all about’? Can we identify a set of core values or attitudes that motivated and informed his work? What, if any, relevance do these values have today?
1. marache’ s humanisme gellien One of the Wrst scholars to tackle these questions directly was Rene´ Marache, the late editor of the Bude´ Nuits Attiques and the author of several studies on Gellian topics.3 It was Marache who coined the term ‘Gellian humanism’ to designate a complex of judgements 1 H. Nettleship, ‘Noctes Atticae’, 414–15 ¼ 276; cf. R. Ohl, ‘Literateur’, 99 and passim. E. Yoder, ‘Classical Scholar’, 293–4, is somewhat more generous. On Gellius’ more positive reception in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, see L. A. Holford-Strevens, below, Ch. 10, A. Grafton, below, Ch. 12, H. Baron, ‘Aulus Gellius in the Renaissance’, and S. Beall, Civilis eruditio, 209–37. 2 For an overview of this strand of Gellian scholarship, see L. A. HolfordStrevens, Aulus Gellius, 42 n. 75 [33 n. 75]. Its chief exponent, after R. Marache (discussed below), was H. Berthold; see e.g. his ‘Interpretationsprobleme’, esp. 13–14. 3 See the appreciation by M. L. Astarita, ‘Un evoluzione’, 173–5.
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about the ‘good life’ and the kind of learning most conducive to it.4 The key to Gellius’ programme, as Marache described it, is the motto ºıÆŁ P ØŒØ, quoted from Heracleitus in pr. 12.5 This implies a rejection of all so-called knowledge that appeals to one’s curiosity, but has no ‘use’ in the conduct of life. Thus puriWed, Gellian erudition is the very antithesis of pedantry and aVectation of learning; what counts is to know how to live and to live accordingly. Marache added that this equation of ‘true’ knowledge with ‘the wisdom of life’ can be traced, by way of popular philosophy, back to Socrates;6 it resonates as well with the golden age of Roman antiquity, which Gellius so much admired.7 In Wne, Gellius’ ideal is fundamentally ‘humanist’ because man, or human moral agency, is the measure of all things.8 Recent critics, however, have not found Marache’s arguments for the ‘doctrine of limitation’ and the ‘primacy of morality’ altogether convincing. Leofranc Holford-Strevens put the problem most succinctly: if we take Marache’s Gellian loci at face value, ‘we shall be dismayed by the yawning gulf between them and his practice.’9 At times, Gellius himself seems aware of self-contradiction. In one chapter, for example, he introduces a list of miracula with a curious disclaimer: haec inuiti meminimus, quia pertaesum est (10. 12. 1; cf. 9. 4. 12).10 Perhaps we can make allowance for a few such ‘involuntary’ digressions, but the Nights contain many other things that have little to do with the conduct of life. This prompts us to ask, again with Holford-Strevens, whether Gellius’ professions of utility were ‘conventional cliche´s that took away the need to devise a guiding principle, and whose mechanical repetition dulled the perception of conXict or neglect’.11 While this view remains attractive, two elements of Marache’s thesis cannot, in my opinion, be entirely dismissed. The Wrst is the 4
5 Marache, Critique litte´raire, 249. Edn. i, p. xxiv. Ibid., pp. xxvii f., ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 85, Critique litte´raire, 261–2. 7 Edn. i, pp. xxx f., Critique litte´raire, 249, 273–86. 8 Critique litte´raire, 256; edn. i, p. xxiv. Marache’s understanding of ‘humanism’ is somewhat broader than Gellius’ deWnition of humanitas (13. 17), although the latter also has an ethical component; cf. R. Kaster, ‘ ‘‘Humanitas’’ and Roman Education’, esp. 6–7. 9 Aulus Gellius, 1st edn. 32. Marache himself seems to have been conscious of this diYculty: ‘en de´pit de lui-meˆme il [Gellius] reste un e´rudit qui dit du mal de l’e´rudition, et tomberait sous le coup de sa propre the´orie, si la foi en la vertu re´demptrice de l’antiquite´ ne le sauvait’ (edn. i, p. xxxvi, cf. Critique litte´raire, 265–6). 10 I use the corrected OCT text of P. K. Marshall (Oxford, 1990). 11 Aulus Gellius, 42 [32]. 6
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idea that a ‘Socratic’ theme runs through the Attic Nights, investing the entire work, such as it is, with a philosophical quality. The second element—which is related to the Wrst—is the assumption that, for Gellius, certain kinds of learning are more ‘useful’ and valuable than others because they improve one’s quality of life.12 In these two respects, I believe, Marache tapped into the complicated thinking of our author, and so points the way to a modiWed, but still coherent notion of ‘Gellian humanism’.
2. sympotic philosophy We may begin, then, with the Wrst of Marache’s intuitions, and follow the ‘Socratic’ thread in the Attic Nights. If Marache himself eventually lost this thread, it is because he focused his later work on popular philosophy or ‘diatribe’ (la diatribe), in which Cynic and Stoic themes predominate.13 The error is understandable; in several chapters, Gellius evinces an interest in Stoic ethics and cosmology (1. 2, 7. 1, 7. 2, 12. 5, 17. 19, 19. 1), and he claims to have paid frequent visits to the famous Cynic Peregrinus ‘Proteus’ (12. 11. 1; cf. 8. 3. cap.). Nevertheless, it stands to reason that his primary allegiance was not to the Stoa, but to the ‘Academy’.14 He was, after all, a pupil of L. Calvenus Taurus, himself a disciple of Plutarch (1. 26. 4). While in Athens, Gellius studied the Platonic dialogues in some detail, and (as H. A. S. Tarrant has shown) sometimes reXects the subtle commentaries of his teacher.15 Gellius also presents himself as a sectator and intimate of the philosopherorator Favorinus of Arles (14. 2. 11). Favorinus evidently regarded himself as an ‘Academic’ in the sceptical tradition of the school (cf. 20. 1. 9),16 and made the life and character of Socrates a particular object of study (2. 1. 3).17 These two Wgures, then, 12
Critique litte´raire, 258–66. Marache’s concept of ‘diatribe’ was inXuenced by A. Oltramare, Les Origines de la diatribe romaine (Lausanne, 1926); see ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 89 n. 20, and edn. i, pp. xxvii–xxx. 14 That is, to the Academici of his day, especially in the line of Plutarch; the school itself had evidently ‘disintegrated’. See D. N. Sedley, OCD3 , s.v. Academy. 15 ‘Platonic Interpretation’, esp. 177–87. 16 See A. M. Ioppolo, ‘The Academic Position of Favorinus’, esp. 188–96, and Holford-Strevens, ‘Favorinus’, 207–17, esp. 213–17 on the disagreements between Academics and Pyrrhonians. 17 Ioppolo, ‘Academic Position of Favorinus’, 212 n. 110; see also J. Opsomer, ‘Favorinus versus Epictetus’, esp. 28–9. 13
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provided Gellius with a double claim to aYliation with the ‘Socratic’ enterprise, as mediated by the Academy. This aYliation is important. For as Marache demonstrated, Gellius owed as much to the ambience and dramatic repertory of philosophy as to its doctrinal content. Not only did he adapt the formal elements of ‘diatribe’ literature (the chreia, memoir, and informal sermon) to the chapters of the Attic Nights,18 but he also appropriated an important vehicle of the Academic tradition: the erudite banquet or symposium.19 Gellius indicates the importance of this genre by giving Taurus himself, on two occasions, the role of symposiarch (7. 13, 17. 8); the topics discussed are, not surprisingly, reminiscent of Plutarch’s Quaestiones sympoticae.20 Gellius, however, seems especially interested in the setting and ‘ground rules’ of the philosophic feast. We learn, for example, that Taurus served a very simple meal, consisting of beans and gourds (17. 8. 2). In 7. 13, Gellius spends nearly half the chapter describing the ‘fee’ for admission to Taurus’ dinners: his young guests had to bring their own ‘sweetmeats’ in the form of intellectual puzzles for discussion (§12). Delicacies of this sort, Gellius notes, represent a healthy alternative to the kind enjoyed at most banquets (§2); they also help to stimulate the mind when it has been mellowed by drinking (§4). Throughout, Gellius seems as much concerned with the ‘how’ of these symposia as with the ‘what’. This double focus, I believe, enables him to adapt the philosophical banquet to his own purposes. If what counts is not so much the content of these conversations as the ‘respectable’ mode of entertainment they represent, all similar banquets become ‘philosophical’. We note, for example, the similarity between Taurus’ pot-luck feasts (7. 13. 2)21 and the Saturnalia that Gellius and his fellow Romans celebrated in Athens (18. 2. 1–6; cf. 18. 13. 1–6). Here, too, the entertainment consisted mainly of brainteasing quaestiunculae. In a list of the topics featured at such gatherings (18. 2. 6), Taurus’ captiones are inserted into a broader 18
Edn. i, pp. xxxi–xxxvi; ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 86–8. Edn. i, xxxii f.; ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 85. See Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17. 8’, 58–9; Marache, ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 85. Gellius himself hints at the connection at 7. 13. cap. with the expression quaestiunculae sympoticae. 21 [Editorial note: This is US English for E I e ı ºH . There seems to be no British equivalent; ‘to take pot luck’ is to have whatever one’s hosts are preparing for themselves. When in 1967 a translation was needed for Ter. Eun. 540 in Eduard Fraenkel’s Oxford seminar, an Australian participant volunteered ‘Dutch shout’. L.A.H.-S.] 19 20
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context, which includes the investigation of ‘rare and unusual words’ and of oddities in verbal syntax. As Iancu Fischer noted, the whole list gives us a fair summary of the Attic Nights.22 It is remarkable, then, that Gellius feels obliged to justify these parties with a bon mot from the venerable Stoic Musonius Rufus: ‘to relax one’s mind is like losing it’ (18. 2. 1). Evidently, he wants to emphasize that these early experiments in ‘good clean fun’ (honestae sermonum inlectationes, 18. 2. 1; cf. honesta alea, 18. 13. 1) had a philosophical foundation. This fusion of philosophy and respectable polymathy also characterizes his post-graduate dinners. On one occasion, we Wnd him reclining with Favorinus, the ‘philosopher’, as he ponders a Latin etymology (3. 19. 1). On another, he is the guest of the ‘poet’ Julius Paulus, who, like Taurus, feeds his tablemates with vegetables and fruit (19. 7. 1).23 At table, distinctions of genre and profession are blurred; what counts, as Musonius would say, is to stimulate the mind while keeping one’s head. Marache’s thesis, then, receives some paradoxical support from Gellius’ banquet scenes. Philosophy does indeed furnish a general model of inquiry in the Attic Nights. It appears most signiWcantly, however, in its convivial, Plutarchan guise, which is expanded to include all the artes ingenuae. This model does not exclude a certain ascetical commitment, symbolized by Taurus’ pot of beans. In the last analysis, however, this discipline more closely resembles the ‘mindfulness diet’ of aZuent Californians than the Stoic method of training for hard times. One episode, perhaps, best illustrates the relationship in Gellius between ‘sympotic’ philosophy and moral diatribe. At an elegant dinner in the home of Herodes Atticus, a young Stoic advertises his learning and moral convictions to the annoyance of all present (1. 2. 3–5). Herodes rebukes him with a bit of authentic diatribe, borrowed from Epictetus (§§8–12). The occasion shows that moral philosophy has its place—provided that it occurs in aid, rather than to the detriment, of a pleasant dinner.
3. the elegant gadfly We should not be too quick, however, to limit Gellius to the status of philosophical ‘couch potato’. For as Marache observed, 22
In D. Popescu’s translation, p. lxix n. 2. Compare also Favorinus’ table discourse on winds (2. 22) and a conversation about oysters hosted by ‘the poet Annianus’ (20. 8). At 19. 9. 9–10, the rhetor Antonius Julianus assumes the veil of Socrates to defend Latin elegy. 23
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Favorinus provides a diVerent link to the Socratic tradition by showing how the homme bien e´leve´ should conduct himself in public.24 Not only his good manners, but also his profession of Academic Ø (20. 1. 9) made Favorinus an ideal dialogue partner (2. 26, 20. 1) and even referee (18. 1. cap.). These qualities also enabled him to challenge, in Socraticum modum, the pretensions of self-inXated ‘experts’ in other Welds, including grammar (4. 1. cap.). As Marache noted, we Wnd Gellius imitating his mentor’s behaviour in a similar encounter, in which he challenged a professor to deWne the word obnoxius (6. 17).25 Gellius maintains that he posed the question non hercle experiundi uel temptandi gratia, sed discendi magis studio et cupidine (§1). The Socratic paradigm, now applied to grammar, is Wrmly in place.26 One wonders, of course, to what extent Favorinus’ scepticism was a convenient rhetorical strategy; he could argue any side of any question, while remaining free of limiting and compromising philosophical commitments. As I have suggested elsewhere,27 Gellius may have adopted a similar strategy in his self-presentation in the Attic Nights. What remains to be seen, however, is whether, as Alain Michel suggested, Gellius adopted a ‘Pyrrhonian’ method in his approach to philosophy and other subjects.28 This would help to explain his handling, or rather non-handling, of controversial questions such as the extent of one’s obligation to help a friend in trouble (1. 3) or to obey an order (1. 13). He also relates that while serving as judge extraordinary, he recused himself from a morally ambiguous case (14. 2. 25)—in spite of contrary advice from Favorinus himself.29 For each of these problems, Gellius sets out alternative opinions and explores their dialectical weaknesses, just as Favorinus, at Ostia, pointed out a Xaw in the Aristotelian critique of Stoicism (18. 1. 12–13). The solution, however, remains ‘up for grabs’. In more speculative contexts, as Tarrant has 24
Critique litte´raire, 253–7. ‘Mise en sce`ne’, 88; cf. NA 16. 6. 1–12. Gellius is somewhat more peevish, but no less ironic at 15. 9. 7. A Socratic persona is also attributed to Sulpicius Apollinaris (18. 4. 1). 26 Compare also the uerecunda mediocritas of an unnamed friend (7. 15. 5) and the placidity of Favorinus towards the irascible Domitius (18. 7. 4). In praise of this virtue, Gellius invokes the authority of Q. Metellus Numidicus (7. 11). 27 Beall, ‘Favorinus’, 101–4. 28 ‘Rhe´torique et philosophie’, 40–3. 29 It is noteworthy that Favorinus, while giving Gellius some direction on the point at issue, incidentally proposed several other questions about which ‘there is disagreement’ (§§12–19). 25
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suggested,30 Gellius seems to adopt the ‘sceptical’ strategy of setting out contradictory opinions and then dismissing them as irrelevant. Thus his commentaries on the nature of voice and vision (5. 15, 5. 16) end with the Ennian line, philosophandum est paucis, nam omnino haud placet.31 Finally, Gellius seems to relish opportunities to defend what appear, at Wrst glance, to be ‘untenable’ positions, namely the absence of any obligation to obey one’s father (2. 7. 6), the reasonableness of Solon’s law against political neutrality (2. 12; cf. 20. 1), and Chrysippus’ stern portrait of justice (14. 4). These passages may reXect Favorinus’ method, so congenial to the orator, of arguing utramque in partem.32 While it is true, as Amiel Vardi points out,33 that Gellius would have disagreed with true Pyrrhonians about the status of grammar and the other liberal arts, we nonetheless Wnd indications of a sceptical attitude in his treatment of these subjects, as well. For example, after summarizing Varro’s case for linguistic anomaly (2. 25), he notes that the great Roman argued just as forcefully for analogy (§§10–11). Another chapter relates an argument between two grammarians about the correct vocative form of egregius (14. 5): is it egregi or egregie? After stating both cases in some detail, Gellius walks away, like a true sceptic, from this ‘pointless’ contest (§4). A number of other chapters in the Nights pit authorities against each other; even Gellius’ heroes come in for occasional contradiction.34 In this way, perhaps, he meant to encourage his readers to ‘question authority’—including his own (6. 3. 55, 7. 2. 2).35 Elsewhere he more or less tactfully indicates mistakes committed by the venerable Nigidius (4. 9), Hyginus (7. 6), and Cornelius Nepos (15. 28. cap.).36 In a few 30
Tarrant, ‘Platonic Interpretation’, 190–1. Likewise, his survey of views on pleasure ends with Taurus’ sharp dismissal of hedonism (9. 5. 8). Leofranc Holford-Strevens (pers. comm.) compares Gell. 15. 9. 7 with S.E. PH 3. 280–1, on sceptics’ deliberate use of weak arguments. 32 This practice is the basis of Galen’s attack on Favorinus in De optima doctrina; see Ioppolo, ‘The Academic Position of Favorinus’, esp. 188. Gellius’ infamis sententia at 2. 7. 6 recalls Favorinus’ infames materiae (17. 12. 1); Favorinus is actually cited at NA 2. 12. 5, and may be the source of the whole passage. 33 A. Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 45. 34 Varro in particular receives this treatment; he is set up against Opilius (1. 25), Soranus (2. 10), Accius (3. 11), Ateius Capito (14. 7), and with Capito against Junius (14. 8). See also Cato against Masurius Sabinus (5. 13), Chrysippus against his various detractors (7. 2), and the extended dialogues in which Favorinus is refuted by Fronto (2. 26) and Sextus Caecilus (20. 1). 35 Gellius explicitly challenges the auctoritas of Verrius Flaccus at 17. 6. 4. 36 Also Valerius Antias (6. 19. 8), Cloatius Verus (16. 12), and Caesellius Vindex (18. 11. 1). Like Favorinus (3. 1. 14), however, he also shows himself willing to give a faltering authority the beneWt of the doubt (1. 18. 6). 31
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places, Wnally, Gellius leaves a question unresolved (7. 14. 9, 16. 3. 9, 17. 3. 5), or explicitly invites his readers to decide for themselves (6. 3. 55, 17. 6. 11). Thus it is plausible that the sceptical and Socratic posture of Favorinus, like the sympotic arrangements of Taurus, became paradigmatic for the Attic Nights. By questioning common and authoritative opinions, and by ‘inquiring rather than deciding’ in a signiWcant number of situations, Gellius can distinguish himself from the dogmatic and self-conWdent ‘experts’ he so frequently derides. He can also draw his readers into a virtual dialogue, with the potential for further inquiry—one of the stated aims of the preface (§§17–18). His only condition is that they too should take the time to ‘weigh’ the evidence (et rationes rerum et auctoritates hominum pensitent, §18). Gellius does not, of course, refrain from judgement in what he considers ‘obvious’ matters—just as Favorinus embraced plausible views on the Plautine canon (3. 3. 6) and Roman etymology (3. 19. 3–5). Nor is he completely averse to taking a moral position. In certain chapters, indeed, there emerge the outlines of a Gellian ‘rule of life’, notably regarding friendship (12. 4), self-reliance (2. 29), good faith (6. 18), and (above all) the evils of drunkenness and gluttony (15. 8. 1; cf. 6. 16. 6, 15. 2, 15. 12, 15. 19, 19. 2). Nevertheless, his moralia lack a dogmatic foundation; they might be described as practical, conventional, and ‘platform-independent’.37 And like the sceptics of his time (whether Pyrrhonian or Academic), he was content ‘to conform to the customs, laws and institutions of his country, and to follow his natural tendencies and dispositions . . . ’.38 Thus the Attic Nights are unimpressive as an example of ‘diatribe’, but they do anticipate the secular conservatism of neo-classical sceptics such as Bacon, Montaigne, and Charron.39
37
See also T. Morgan, above, Ch. 7. P. Hadot, What is Ancient Philosophy?, 145. A Gellian allusion (cf. NA 13. 17), and something of our author’s moral temper, is found in Bacon’s essay ‘Of Goodness, and Goodness of Nature’ (13); see B. Vickers, Oxford World’s Classics edn. 167. On Montaigne’s aYnity with Gellius, see C. Magnien-Simonin, ‘Montaigne et Aulu-Gelle’, esp. 15–18, and M. J. Heath, below, 308–17. For Charron, see De la Sagesse 3. 14. 4, citing with approval Gellius’ (or rather Favorinus’) dissertation on mother’s milk (NA 12. 1); another Gellian echo occurs in 3. 4. 12 (on taking part in public divisions; cf. NA 2. 12). Moral sentiments similar to Gellius’ are also audible in e.g. 3. 39–40 (on food, drink, and clothing); on the other hand, Charron’s estimate of memory (1. 17 ¼ Lennard 1. 15; cf. 1. 15. 6–9, not translated) is rather diVerent from Gellius’ (NA 13. 8). 38 39
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4. h o n es t a e r v d i ti o Taurus and Favorinus, then, indicate two ways in which Gellius could ‘formally’ identify with the Socratic philosophical tradition, as mediated by the Academy. The Plutarchan symposium became a model of relaxed scholarly investigation, while the Socratic irony, questioning, and suspension of judgement exempliWed by Favorinus may have inXuenced his general investigative method. It appears, after all, that the currents of philosophy run deep in Gellius—though not as much, perhaps, from the Cynic and Stoic sources emphasized by Marache. It remains to be seen, however, whether there is also some truth in Marache’s contention that a ‘humanistic’ principle informed the content of the Attic Nights: speciWcally, that the work was designed to be ‘useful’ for the conduct of life. His argument is based mainly on scattered remarks in Gellius about the sort of thing one should not study: ‘amazing’ people, places, and events (14. 6. 3, 9. 4. 7–12), racy historical anecdotes (7. 8. 4), minutiae of the physical sciences (5. 15, 5. 16), and even the Wner points of speculative philosophy (10. 22. 24).40 These incidental remarks resonate with Gellius’ claim in the preface (§12) that he has conWned himself ‘to those (items) which, by furnishing a quick and easy short cut, might lead active and alert minds to a desire for respectable learning (honesta eruditio) and the contemplation of the useful arts (utilium artium contemplatio)’.41 Here Gellius seems indeed to be a polymath with a diVerence. As we have seen, however, critics have been reluctant to accept these statements at face value; they appear both conventional and insincere, given the actual contents of the collection. On the other hand, Gellius insists rather strongly upon the ‘utility’ of his work, to which he adverts at various points throughout the Nights (pr. 2, 11–13; 14. 6. 5; cf. 1. 4. 1, 9. 4. 12). Could his ancient readers have been so hypnotized by these cliche´s that they did not hold him, to some degree, accountable for them? Perhaps we can escape this impasse by shifting our focus from the idea of ‘useless’ knowledge and by looking instead at the things Gellius regards as important. We might also begin with one of our author’s more candid moments, in pr. 16:
40
Marache, Critique litte´raire, 259–62; edn. i, pp. xxiv f. Here, as elsewhere, slightly adapted from the Loeb translation of J. C. Rolfe (Cambridge, Mass., 1946). 41
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Quae porro noua sibi ignotaque oVenderint, aequum esse puto, ut sine uano obtrectatu considerent, an minutae istae admonitiones et pauxillulae nequaquam tamen sint uel ad alendum studium uescae uel ad oblectandum fouendumque animum frigidae, sed eius seminis generisque sint, ex quo facile adolescant aut ingenia hominum uegetiora aut memoria adminiculatior aut oratio sollertior aut sermo incorruptior aut delectatio in otio atque in ludo liberalior.
Here Gellius seems almost to admit that his work does, in many places, resemble other miscellanies in all their ‘frigidity’. Thus he dispenses with Greek tag lines, and oVers a more comprehensive and speciWc statement of his values. This statement has two themes. The Wrst is the ‘cultivation’ of the intellect (ad fouendum animum), later speciWed as the development of one’s ability to think, remember, and communicate (ingenia uegetiora, memoria adminiculatior, oratio sollertior, sermo incorruptior). The second theme is that mental culture should be pleasurable (ad oblectandum animum); among all the diversions available to a well-born Roman, this kind of delectatio is more becoming to a ‘free man’ (delectatio in otio atque in ludo liberalior). As we shall see, these themes can be understood as two sides of the same coin: a man enjoys his own being more honourably and more ‘freely’ to the extent that he takes the trouble to ‘cultivate’ himself, especially in those capacities which deWne him as a man and citizen.
5. memoria adminicvlatior This, then, is the notion of scholarly worth or value to which Gellius commits himself at the outset of his work. But do we Wnd it elsewhere in the Nights? To answer this question, we may concentrate Wrst on the sub-theme of a ‘better-stocked’ or ‘more serviceable’ memory (memoria adminiculatior). This could well be a cliche´, since memory-training was important at all levels of Roman education.42 Gellius, however, represents it as a lifelong occupation, appropriate even for the gentleman at leisure. It can be practised in a solitary carriage ride (10. 25. 1), or after dinner, in friendly company; thus Gellius and his comrade Julius Celsinus Numida would stroll together and rack their brains for ‘rhetorical Wgures or some new, striking use of words’ for ‘future use by ourselves’ (19. 7. 2). Moreover, Gellius insists that the Nights originated as a subsidium memoriae (pr. 2), consisting of things he 42
See T. Morgan, Literate Education, 250–1.
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had read or heard that were ‘worth remembering’ (memoratu digna, ibid.) and ‘useful to remember’ (usui meminisse, pr. 11; cf. 17. 2. 1). In Gellius’ mind, then, there is a clear relationship between the exercise of memory and the ‘utility’ he extols in the preface. But what is the connection? Good memory was clearly a social asset, and could prove handy in a wide range of situations. For example, Gellius once solved a procedural question with his instant recollection of a passage from Varro (13. 13). Likewise, Antonius Julianus could oVer on-thespot advice on Wre-prevention—alas, too late for the inhabitants of a nearby building (15. 1). Memory also had a role in ‘self-help’ and moral improvement. Gellius follows Afranius in making Wisdom the daughter of Experience and Memory (13. 8. 1–3); accordingly, he recommends that we pause occasionally to reXect on the ‘acts and events’ of our lives. When he also urges us to memorize the words of Panaetius on prudence (13. 28. 2), of Ennius on friendship (12. 4. 3), or of another ancient writer on gluttony (15. 8. 1), he reXects the ancient belief that words, deeply planted in the memory, have the power to change attitudes and conduct. Last, but not least, memory plays an important role in Gellius’ career as a writer. In composing the Nights, he often indicates his reliance on memory (1. 3. 10, 6. 16. 4, 7. 2. 2, 10. 3. 9, 14. 1. 2, 17. 2. 2). As we have seen, not only facts and quotables, but also Wgures and words (19. 7. 2) make up his ‘literary storehouse’ (quasi quoddam litterarum penus, pr. 2). It is not surprising, then, that unusual words that constitute the object of study in one Gellian chapter turn up as uerba insperata in others (e.g. penus itself, explained in 4. 1; cf. soloecon, explained in 5. 20, and used at 17. 2. 11). Gellius is not content, however, with a purely ‘instrumental’ approach to memory. He regards it not only as a tool or repository to be employed for ulterior ends, but also as a faculty to be ‘nurtured’ (uegetanda) for its own sake (17. 2. 1). He does so in part because, as he points out in 19. 7, the exercise of memory is a pleasant way to Wll one’s spare time (his nos inter uiam uerborum . . . adnotatiunculis oblectabamus, §12).43 At such moments, in fact, it keeps the mind from slipping into a kind of vacant stupidity. And so, when the trivialities of daily life overwhelm him, Gellius searches his memory for the names of ancient darts, swords, and boats (10. 25. 1).44 In short, his references to the use 43
Cf. M. Pugliarello, ‘Disparilitas e memoria’, 104: ‘Se le annotationes sono state prese ad subsidium memoriae, i commentarii sono memoriarum delectatiunculae.’ 44 Cf. 18. 12. 10, where Gellius produces, again from memory, a list of old deponent verbs.
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and exercise of memory indicate two distinct but, in practice, interrelated notions of value or ‘utility’. On the one hand, a wellstocked memory furnishes the material required for polite conversation and literary projects. On the other, it is almost intrinsically valuable as a source of pleasure and a hedge against the tedium of daily life; it is the mark of a higher sort of intellect.45 As it turns out, this twofold approach to memory replicates the programme outlined in the preface, which combines the cultivation of socially useful faculties with delectatio liberalior. Thus we begin to see a certain consistency in the shape of Gellian culture.
6. oratio sollertior, sermo incorrvptior We may now inquire whether the same approach characterizes a second and larger element of Gellius’ programme: ‘more eVective eloquence’, which includes ‘purer diction’. This, too, was the ordinary object of a Roman liberal education, which involved long years with the grammaticus and rhetor. Another cliche´, perhaps? Gellius’ choice of terms, however, is instructive. Both adjectives, sollers, with its overtones of linguistic pragmatism, and incorruptus, suggesting a moral or aesthetic view of language, anticipate his complicated approach to the entire subject. A typical fault of professional grammarians, according to Gellius, was to be more concerned with the formal categories of language than with meaning. We have seen that he had little time for arguments over the ‘correct’ vocative of egregius (14. 5), just as Favorinus was mystiWed by the ‘expert’ who could state the gender of penus, but could not say what it means (4. 1). Likewise Nigidius, whom Gellius praises for his ‘clever’ theory on the natural origin of pronouns (10. 4. 4), is also condemned for ‘laughable’ attempts to regularize Latin morphology and orthography (13. 26. 2). For Gellius, the bottom line in language is communication. This serves, somewhat paradoxically, as a justiWcation for his researches into pre-classical lexicography and etymology. He is especially interested in the phenomenon of semantic change. Humanitas, for example, had by Gellius’ day lost its associations with intellectual culture (13. 17). A similar shift had occurred in other value-charged words, such as leuitas and nequitia (6. 11) and elegans (11. 2). Elsewhere he notes the gradual confusion of 45 On Gellius’ claim to a kind of moral superiority for himself and other students of the artes liberales, cf. Kaster, ‘ ‘‘Humanitas’’ and Roman Education’, esp. 8–9.
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near-synonyms, such as uanus and stolidus (18. 4), uitium and morbus (4. 2), and mendacium dicere and mentiri (11. 11). Gellius takes a dim view of this kind of change: it is due to the ‘temerity’ of people who use words without understanding them. The result is a specious and faulty system of communication: uidemur magis dicere quod uolumus, quam dicimus (16. 5. 1; cf. 16. 13. 1). The implication is that some of these slips can be corrected. For guidance, we may refer to classical authors, qui proprie atque signate locuti sunt (13. 25. 32, cf. 1. 20. 8, 3. 14. 20, 6. 11. 2, 17. 1. 1). In a pinch, etymology reveals the true and original ratio of a word (6. 17. 1, 16. 5. 4, 16. 14. 3, 16. 17. cap.), and so controls its use.46 Nevertheless, following Favorinus (1. 10), Gellius condemns archaism when it clearly inhibits communication. An example of ‘senseless’ archaism would be the advocate who described his adversary as a bouinator (‘shuZer’), to the mystiWcation of all present (11. 7. 7; cf. 16. 9. 2). Gellius avoids such excesses in his own prose; above all, he wants to be understood. Nevertheless, his pragmatic stance appears, in the end, incapable of sustaining his classicism—as one of his contemporaries was quick to point out (16. 10. 7–8, cf. 5. 21. 7). Another kind of argument is necessary, which makes the study of the ancient language virtually an end in itself. Something of the sort is indicated in Favorinus’ remarks to the incompetent grammarian of 4. 1. Referring to his own interest in grammar, Favorinus says, ‘this information, although I had devoted myself to philosophy, I yet did not neglect to acquire; since for Roman citizens speaking Latin it is no less disgraceful not to designate a thing by the proper term than it is to call a man by the wrong name’ (§18). In other words, a thorough knowledge of Latin is part of the ‘indelible character’ of a Roman citizen, not only at work but also at leisure. This assertion echoes the preface, where Gellius proposes a certain level of knowledge of both ‘things and words’ (cf. pr. 2) as a minimum requirement for the ‘man educated for citizenship’ (uir ciuiliter eruditus, pr. 13).47 The civic metaphor occurs in a diVerent form in a conversation between three notable savants, Fronto, Festus Postumius, and Sulpicius Apollinaris (19. 13). Fronto 46
Elsewhere, Gellius uses the origin of a word to illuminate some part of its current meaning (3. 19, 12. 14, 15. 3, 16. 12). Etymology is especially helpful in distinguishing synonyms (e.g. uestibulum and atrium, 16. 5. 5–10; festinare and properare, 16. 14. 4–5). See too F. Cavazza, above, Ch. 3. 47 The same justiWcation is given for learning medical terminology: existimaui non medico soli, sed omnibus quoque hominibus liberis liberaliterque institutis turpe esse ne ea quidem cognouisse (18. 10. 8).
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wonders whether nani, the current word for ‘pygmies’, is ‘really’ Latin. Apollinaris replies that the word is admittedly (quidem) vulgar, but is not barbarous and is registered (censetur) as Greek. ‘Nevertheless’, he says to Fronto, ‘this word would have been given citizenship by you, or established in a Latin colony, if you had deigned to use it’ (§3). The personiWcation of words, to the extent that they acquire a consular patron, may strike us as bizarre. Nevertheless, it shows how closely Gellius associated Latinitas with Romanitas. This association, as I have indicated elsewhere, helps to explain Gellius’ fascination with the comparison of Greek and Latin vocabulary.48 In one of these essays in comparison, however, we Wnd another signiWcant (and familiar) metaphor. When Favorinus remarks on the relative paucity of words for colours in Latin, Fronto replies, Non proinde inopes sumus, ut tibi uidemur (2. 26. 7).49 He then conjures a host of ancient shades, such as rutilus and spadix (both varieties of red). These words had quite disappeared even from erudite speech, but Fronto and Gellius evidently regarded them as permanent assets of the Latin language—a source of credit when, as in this case, there was insuYcient cash on hand. Indeed, Gellius appears to collect and savour words (e.g. 11. 3. 1) with the same zeal that some of our contemporaries collect Roman coins. In Gellius, however, words have the status of a national treasure, and it is the sacred duty, as well as the diverting pastime, of the uir ciuiliter eruditus to know and to protect his linguistic birthright.
7. the s cholarly life Thus there appears to be something in Marache’s contention that Gellian ‘utility’ goes beyond the usual meaning of the term. We may think of it as one aspect of a complex cultural ideal: through the exercise of memory and the study of language, among other things, Gellius invites his reader to a ‘higher’ and ‘more respectable’ manner of life. His characterization of this life, however, is also rather complex. In pr. 12, as we have seen, Gellius indicates that he has composed the Nights with the hope of leading ‘active and alert minds to a desire for respectable learning (honesta eruditio) and the 48 See Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17. 8’, 62–3; on aemulatio Graecorum in translation, see id., ‘Translation’, esp. 217–19. 49 On the ‘poverty’ of Latin as a literary topos, see T. Fo¨gen, Patrii sermonis egestas, esp. 180–220; cf. S. Swain, above, p. 9.
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contemplation of the useful arts (utilium artium contemplatio)’. Here the themes of ‘utility’ and ‘respectability’ are intertwined with ‘contemplation’ and even ‘desire’ (cupido). The satisfaction of this desire, as we have seen and as Gellius soon makes clear (pr. 19), entails a kind of uoluptas or delectatio, which is nevertheless inseparable from labor. Thus he banishes from his Nights all ‘those who have found neither pleasure nor labour in reading, inquiring, writing and taking notes, who have never spent wakeful nights in such employments, who have never improved themselves by discussion and debate with rival followers of the same Muse’.50 This simultaneous emphasis on pleasure and toil would seem paradoxical, were it not for another group of metaphors whose import is less obvious. For Gellius, a taste for learning is something to be ‘nourished’ or ‘fed’ (ad alendum studium, pr. 16), so that one’s intellectual capacities can ‘mature’ (adolescant, ibid.). These organic metaphors, to which we may add that of cultus (pr. 11, 1. 2. 1, 10. 22. 2, 19 .8. 1, cf. 19. 12. 7–10; litterarum cultu, 14. 6. 1) and uegetus (ingenia uegetiora, pr. 16; memoriae uegetandae gratia, 17. 2. 1; cf. 10. 17. 1),51 add up to the Gellian notion of ‘integral human Xourishing’. For Gellius did not regard amateur scholarship merely as an agreeable diversion and a ‘respectable’ employment of one’s time. For him, it was something like life itself. Thus the preface concludes with the promise, sadly not fulWlled, of a sequel to the Attic Nights: ‘as much longer life as the gods’ will shall grant me, and as much respite as is given me from managing my aVairs and attending to the education of my children, every moment of that remaining and leisure time I shall devote to collecting similar brief and entertaining memoranda’ (pr. 24). Gellius, it seems, attributed fully a third, and perhaps the best third, of his ‘quality of life’ to these studia in otio. He appears to have been a responsible man who performed the oYces of citizen, family man, and friend with care, perhaps even with a certain scrupulosity. Yet we feel he would have appreciated the inscription on a sundial in Herculaneum:52 zæÆØ Ł Ø ƒŒÆ ÆÆØ Æƒ b ÆPa ªæÆØ ØŒ ÆØ ˘H¨I ºª ıØ æ E
50 Cf. Gellius’ emphasis on cura and disciplina in connection with authentic humanitas; see Kaster, ‘ ‘‘Humanitas’’ and Roman Education’, 7. 51 Agricultural metaphors are common in the educational literature of antiquity; see Morgan, Literate Education, 255–9. 52 G. Pfohl, Griechische Inschriften, 161.
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Six hours of toil are quite enough; those that come after spell LIVE!
Gellius ‘lived’ in his scholarly leisure, and so prayed that his body would not outlast the work of ‘writing and note-taking’ he had begun as a young man in Athens (pr. 24). If, then, we are looking for a single formula that captures the ‘humanism’ of the Attic Nights, we probably come closest to the truth with delectatio in otio atque in ludo liberalior. As Gellius saw it, a ‘free man’ is deWned by his pleasures—nil cum Wdibus graculost, nihil cum amaracino sui (pr. 19). In his leisure time, moreover, a man lives and acts for himself, and becomes an end in himself. This, as Irving Babbitt maintained, distinguishes authentic ‘humanism’ from its ‘humanitarian’ counterfeits, both ancient and modern.53 Finally, if Renaissance humanism was predicated upon man’s potential for communion with the divine, Gellius anticipated even this idea in a programmatic quotation from Aristophanes (pr. 21, from Ra. 354–6, 369–71): PE æc ŒIÆŁÆØ E æ ØØ æ EØ ‹Ø Æ Øæ ØH ºªø j ª fi c ŒÆŁÆæØ j ª Æø ZæªØÆ ıH r Kæı . . . !E I ªæ º c ŒÆd Æ ıÆ a æÆ, ÆQ B § æ ıØ " æB § . All evil thought and profane be still; far hence, far hence from our choirs depart, Who knows not well what the Mystics tell, or is not holy and pure of heart; Who ne’er has the noble revelry learned, or danced the dance of the Muses high . . . . . . But ye, my comrades, awake the song, The night-long revels of joy and mirth, which ever of right to our feast belong.54
The motif of nocturnal ‘revels’ seems a bit exotic, given our author’s insistence on order and temperance. But it does express the momentary exaltation we all experience, perhaps during our own solitary lucubrations, when ‘some knotty or troublesome topic’ (pr. 13) is suddenly resolved, and the true shape of antiquity is disclosed. To conclude this assessment of Marache’s humanisme gellien, I shall borrow a page from Isaiah Berlin’s famous essay on Tolstoy, The Hedgehog and the Fox (3–4). A fragment from the work of Archilochus reads, ‘The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog 53 54
I. Babbitt, Literature and the American College, 5–12. B. B. Rogers, edn. 57; cited in J. C. Rolfe’s Loeb edn.
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knows one big thing.’ Berlin observed that among intellectuals there are ‘foxes’, who are captivated by the inWnite variety of things, and ‘hedgehogs’, who relate everything to a single, central vision. Gellius, it is safe to say, was a fox. If Marache sometimes failed to grasp the true bent of Gellius’ mind, it was because he tried to make him a hedgehog, by interpreting the Attic Nights according to master-ideas such as the ‘primacy of morality’ and the ‘doctrine of limitation’. Nevertheless, even a fox might attempt to account for his life and interests; above all, he would try to convey, by example and illustration, the pleasures of being a fox. Gellius may defy our scholarly categories, but he expresses, perhaps better than most ancient writers, the full range of the artes ingenuae and their power to delight, improve, and elevate the mind. In an age in which academic humanists are obliged to justify themselves in increasingly narrow terms, Aulus Gellius, a fox among hedgehogs, is delightful company indeed.
9 Gellius, Apuleius, and Satire on the Intellectual W y t s e K eu len The present study aims to compare Gellius’ and Apuleius’ techniques of characterizing and satirizing certain types of intellectuals in the light of Greek and Roman literary traditions familiar to both authors, and to place this in the context of second century polemics. Both Gellius and Apuleius give literary shape to a theme which is popular in their age: the satire on the (pseudo-)intellectual. Their individual treatment of this theme may seem very diVerent, in line with the diVerent genre and scope of their respective literary works. Still, a comparison of Gellius’ Attic Nights and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses may reveal some common threads that inform us about issues that both authors were concerned with and responded to. Gellius and Apuleius, both admirers of Plutarch, use ‘Socratic’ motifs in their satirical representations of intellectuals. They were both Romans who shared a characteristically Roman sense of satire and wit. They both lived in an age in which satire was thriving, especially satire on the intellectual tendencies of the time. This entails another important question: being representative intellectuals of their age, to what extent did Gellius and Apuleius satirize themselves? How can we use Gellius’ criticism of intellectuals to recognize self-satire in Apuleius, and vice versa?
I thank Dr Stephen M. Beall, Dr Stephen Harrison, Dr Maaike Zimmerman, and the editors of the present volume for their comments, which helped to improve the form and content of this chapter.
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1. gellius , apuleius , and their intellectual world 1.1. Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius Did Apuleius know Gellius and Fronto, just as Gellius and Fronto knew each other from intellectual meetings in Rome? In the works of Fronto and Gellius there is no mention of Apuleius, nor does Apuleius mention either of them. Still, Apuleius probably belonged to the same network of men of culture who dominated literary life and society in Rome, in which Fronto, the emperor’s teacher of rhetoric, played such a prominent role. Fronto and Apuleius, both Africans who became famous in Rome,1 are connected through their acquaintance with the proconsul Lollianus Avitus; Apuleius’ praise of him is reminiscent of Frontonian doctrine.2 Gellius and Apuleius were possibly acquainted through their studies in Athens, where they could have met as Taurus’ pupils. Perhaps Gellius and Apuleius met again in Rome, as guests of Apuleius’ African compatriot Fronto.3 Both Gellius and Apuleius proudly parade their erudition and laborious studies in their literary works,4 which reveal many shared interests. In Noctes Atticae 19. 9, Gellius’ teacher of rhetoric Antonius Julianus recites four early Latin love epigrams by three relatively obscure poets, to prove that Roman erotic poetry can compete with the Greek accomplishments in that Weld; in his Apology (9), Apuleius mentions the same three poets, and in the same order, but without quoting them.5 It is possible that the young man mentioned by Gellius (19. 11) as author of a Latin translation of an epigram of Plato, was Apuleius.6
1 For Apuleius’ claim to a literary reputation in Rome cf. Flor. 17. 4, with V. Hunink, Florida, 173–4 ad loc.; on Apuleius’ ‘Roman period’ see K. Dowden, ‘Apuleius’ Roman Audience’, 424–5; S. J. Harrison, Apuleius, 6 n. 22. 2 Cf. Apul. Apol. 24. 1, 94. 3, 95. 6; see E. Champlin, Fronto, 31–2. 3 L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 22–3 [16–17]; Dowden, ‘Apuleius’ Roman Audience’, 429; G. Sandy, ‘West meets East’. 4 Gell. pr. 12; Apul. Flor. 18, 20; see A. Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’, 301. 5 See Vardi, ‘An Anthology’, on the much-debated issue of the relationship between Gellius’ list and that of Apuleius. 6 See H. Dahlmann, Ein Gedicht des Apuleius?; S. J. Harrison, ‘Apuleius Eroticus’, 88–9; Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 23 n. 59 [17 n. 57]; Vardi, ‘An Anthology’, 148 n. 5.
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1.2. Plutarch and the Erudite Symposium Although we cannot prove that Gellius and Apuleius knew each other, they can obviously be compared as sophisticated and successful Latin authors from the same period, sharing the same intellectual and cultural background. Gellius and Apuleius are both interesting witnesses to the intellectual world of the second century, and can be fruitfully studied in juxtaposition to get a glimpse into this world. Both pay homage to their intellectual pedigree by mentioning Plutarch at the outset of their works of sophisticated entertainment, Gellius’ Attic Nights (1. 1. 1), and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses (1. 2. 1).7 The young aristocrat Lucius, the satirical alter ego of the author Apuleius and both narrator and protagonist of the Metamorphoses, uses his family connection with Plutarch in order to present himself as a distinguished intellectual, participating in the excellent cultural tradition founded by Plutarch.8 As scholars have observed, this was a genuine strategy of intellectuals in Apuleius’ time.9 Plutarch’s standing in Antonine culture is similarly honoured by Gellius, whose interest in him as a source of information and a teacher of morality is obvious throughout his work; notably, Plutarch’s name is the Wrst word of the opening chapter of the Attic Nights.10 For both Gellius and Apuleius, Plutarch was an authority in his own right, as he would be for centuries afterwards.11 The Plutarchan background partly explains the aYnity shared by Gellius and Apuleius with the literary form of the sophisticated 7 Gell. 1. 1. 1 Plutarchus in libro, quem de Herculis, quantum inter homines fuit, animi corporisque ingenio atque uirtutibus conscripsit, scite subtiliterque ratiocinatum Pythagoram philosophum dicit in reperienda modulandaque status longitudinisque eius praestantia. Apul. Met. 1. 2. 1 Thessaliam—nam et illic originis maternae nostrae fundamenta a Plutarcho illo inclito ac mox Sexto philosopho nepote eius prodita gloriam nobis faciunt—eam Thessaliam ex negotio petebam; cf. 2. 3. 3 familia Plutarchi ambae prognatae sumus. 8 For Lucius’ characterization as a man of culture in the Metamorphoses see H. J. Mason, ‘The Distinction’, 137, 141; Harrison, Apuleius, 216–17; W. H. Keulen, ‘Swordplay—Wordplay’, 161–2. For references to Lucius’ doctrina cf. Met. 3. 15. 4, 11. 15. 1 ipsa, qua Xores, . . . doctrina; 11. 30. 4 studiorum meorum laboriosa doctrina. 9 In IG ii2. 3814 the 3rd-c. sophist Nikagoras called himself —º ıæ ı ŒÆd & ı غ ø Œª . See C. P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 11–12; Mason, ‘The Distinction’, 138; W. H. Keulen, ‘Lucius’ Kinship Diplomacy’, 261 n. 3. 10 See further Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 283 [209]. Cf. also 1. 26. 4 (Gellius quotes Taurus) Plutarchus noster, uir doctissimus ac prudentissimus; 4. 11. 11 Plutarchus . . . homo in disciplinis graui auctoritate. 11 See D. A. Russell, Plutarch, especially 6–7, 143–4; L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘The Non-Visual Portraitist’, 104–5.
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symposium, or quaestiones conuiuales, which inspired both authors in their use of dramatic settings and character depiction. Both Gellius’ Attic Nights and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, and especially the programmatic Wrst book of the latter, depict dialogue scenes of vivid intellectual exchange, in which the exposure of impostor Wgures plays a central role.12 Plutarch’s moral writings, including his Table Talk, form an invaluable frame of reference to understand and judge Apuleius’ literary use of the symposium and his technique of portraying immoral character types in the Metamorphoses.13 Both Lucius and other characters from the Metamorphoses, such as Socrates, who appear as dubious storytellers in degraded symposium situations, seem to suVer from the very moral ailments of which Lucius’ pretended ancestor wished to cure his readers, such as curiosity ( ºı æƪ ; cf. Gell. 11. 16) and superstition (ØØÆØ Æ). Moreover, the form of quaestiones conuiuales was not only a viable literary genre, associated with the authority of Plutarch,14 but it also deWned the meetings of the intellectual world of Fronto and Gellius,15 to which Apuleius too may have belonged.
2. socrates and socratic dialogue: exposure and satire 2.1. Sophistic Personae and Sophisticated Views Both Gellius and Apuleius are aware of the venerable Socratic tradition behind the literary form of the sympotic debate and the theme of exposure and irony, and show this awareness by allusions to the Platonic dialogue as a literary model.16 Interestingly, Gellius points out that in a Platonic dialogue the author may introduce 12 On Gellius’ familiarity with Plutarch’s Quaestiones conuiuales (‘Table Talk’) and his use of the form of the ‘erudite symposium’ as a dramatic setting for several scenes in his miscellany Attic Nights see S. M. Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17.8’, 58–9. Apuleius himself wrote a miscellany called Quaestiones conuiuales: see below, n. 56. 13 See Keulen, ‘Lucius’ Kinship Diplomacy’, 263–4. 14 On Plutarch’s use of the symposium as a literary genre see J. Mossman, ‘Plutarch’s Dinner’, 119–27. 15 See Champlin, Fronto, 48–9. 16 For explicit allusions to Platonic (Socratic) dialogue cf. Gell. 4. 1. cap. Sermo quidam Fauorini philosophi cum grammatico iactantiore factus in Socraticum modum; 10. 22; 18. 4. 1 (cited below). Such Platonic allusions also underline the Wctional element of the Gellian scenes; see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 69, 83 [50, 61]. The parody of philosophical dialogue in the Wrst book of the Met. is illustrated by the appearance of a character called Socrates (1. 6–19), and by the comic homage to
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personae who are not to be imitated or taken seriously (persona . . . non grauis neque idonea, 10. 22. 1), or indeed of unsound character (non proba, 10. 22. 24), but still feature as the mouthpiece of authorial ideas and opinions.17 The reader, then, is encouraged to Wnd truths behind the words of sophists or other morally dubious interlocutors featuring in such a written dialogue. This remark by Gellius tells us something about the attitude he expected of the readers of his own ‘erudite dialogues’. Gellius’ educated readership was obviously not only familiar with the literary form of the Socratic dialogue, but also prepared to look actively behind the masks of sophist-like interlocutors to learn truths that originated from the author. Apuleius’ intended reader, not very diVerent in attitudes and judgements, would be able to see through an ambiguous persona like Lucius, who is a morally dubious character, but at the same time alter ego and mouthpiece of the author Apuleius.18 In the Socratic dialogue framing the Wrst inset tale of the Met., both Lucius and his sceptic interlocutor appear as comic Wgures (cf. e.g. 1. 2. 5 exerto cachinno), who voice sophisticated ideas about accepting or rejecting Wction, which are programmatic for the novel, and which a second-century reader would possibly identify with opinions of the author. Moreover, these ideas are phrased in a terminology that would remind the reader of the contemporary scholarly debate about rejecting or approving speech.19 In a similar way, in the Attic Nights, the grammarian Domitius Insanus is apparently exposed—as many grammarians are in Gellius’ Socratic dialogues—as a ridiculous Wgure (18. 7. 1–2, 4), but then, in a kind of role reversal, sharply criticizes word-hunting as a second-rate activity from a moral-philosophical standpoint, attacking both the hero of the Nights, Favorinus, and the very essence of the literary pursuit in which Gellius and his admired teachers are engaged throughout the Nights.20 A contemporary the opening of the Phaedrus, one of the most famous Platonic dialogues in Apuleius’ time (1. 18. 8, 1. 19. 7–8). 17
Similarly D.L. 3. 52; see H. A. S. Tarrant, ‘Platonic Interpretation’, 178–86. For Lucius as an ambiguous Wgure, being both the target of the hidden author’s satire and the mouthpiece for his ideas on Wction, see Keulen, ‘Swordplay—Wordplay’, 169–70. 19 Cf. Met. 1. 2. 5 tam absurda tamque immania; 1. 3. 2 crassis auribus . . . respuis; 1. 20. 1 respuebat. For the rhetorical-stylistic terminology cf. Fronto, Ep. M. Caes. 3. 16. 1 (p. 47. 21–2 v:d:H:2 ); De eloqu. 4. 8 (p. 150. 10–11 v:d:H:2 ); De orat. 14 (p. 159. 15–16 v.d. H:2 ); Gell. 11. 16. 4, 15. 25. 1 (absurdus), 15. 9. 3 (immanis), 13. 21. 12 (respuent . . . aures). 20 For the irony in the reversal of roles in Gell. 18. 7 see S. M. Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 92. 18
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reader would probably not identify Domitius’ criticism with Gellius’ own views, but would still recognize in the words of this comic persona an intelligent criticism that Gellius would be prepared to encounter in discussions with rival intellectuals. Moreover, both Lucius and Domitius Insanus may also embody a certain amount of self-satire on the part of the authors Gellius and Apuleius (see below, §3.2).
2.2. The Figure of Socrates In addition, Gellius and Apuleius share a fascination with the character, appearance, and gestures of the Wgure of Socrates.21 No doubt, Gellius and Apuleius were aware of the signiWcance of Socrates as a paradigm for intellectual self-presentation and roleplaying in their age.22 In both the Attic Nights and in the Metamorphoses we Wnd a visual homage to the historical Socrates by means of his characteristic gesture of covering the head before beginning to speak.23 Both the Gellian and the Apuleian Socrates (the Wctional character from Met. 1) embody satire and irony. Gellius explicitly mentions Socrates’ name as the model of the techniques of exposure and irony followed by Gellius’ revered teachers to unmask sham experts:24 Cum iam adulescentuli Romae praetextam et puerilem togam mutassemus magistrosque tunc nobis nosmet ipsi exploratiores quaereremus, in Sandaliario forte apud librarios fuimus, cum ibi in multorum hominum coetu Apollinaris Sulpicius, uir in memoria nostra praeter alios doctus, 21 Although the Socrates in Apul. Met. 1. 6–19 is a Wctive character, featuring in the novel’s Wrst inserted tale, he still bears many signiWcant traits of the historical Socrates (see W. H. Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 110 n. 5). In Met. 10. 33. 3, the narrator refers to the historical Socrates as diuinae prudentiae senex. 22 See M. W. Gleason, Making Men, 151: ‘those who aspired to the status of philosopher were acutely conscious of the need to harmonize their self-presentation with the great paradigms of the philosophic pantheon.’ On Apuleius’ assimilation of his activities to famous Greek paradigms, especially Plato and Socrates, see G. Sandy, The Greek World of Apuleius, 183–4. 23 Gell. 19. 9. 9 (Gellius quotes his teacher Antonius Iulianus) permittite mihi, quaeso, operire pallio caput, quod in quadam parum pudica oratione Socraten fecisse aiunt; Apul. Met. 1. 6. 4 et cum dicto sutili centunculo faciem suam iam dudum punicantem prae pudore obtexit; 1. 7. 1 capite uelato (cf. Gell. 19. 9. 10 capite conuelato). In Plato’s Phaedrus (237 a), Socrates covers his head before he starts his Wrst speech on eros, using a Socratic technique of concentration (see K. J. Dover on Ar. Nub. 735 KªŒÆºıł ). 24 For the signiWcance of Socrates for the Attic Nights as the archetype of the true philosopher who exposes the false expert see S. M. Beall, above, 208–9; for his inXuence on Favorinus see id., ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 91.
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iactatorem quempiam et uenditatorem Sallustianae lectionis inrisit inlusitque genere illo facetissimae dissimulationis, qua Socrates ad sophistas utebatur.25 (18. 4. 1.)
The Socrates who appears in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses book 1 is also a Wgure who mocks, teases, and jokes (e.g. Met. 1. 7. 4 cauillum . . . dicacitas; 1. 12. 4 inlusit aetatulam; 1. 18. 6 subridens), but he rather behaves like a buVoon on a comic stage, revealing traits of a Cynic philosopher, and becoming an object of ridicule himself.26 In the Attic Nights, Socrates is depicted as an example of temperance and strength (2. 1).27 By contrast, the Socrates in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses 1 appears as a self-indulgent hypochondriac. Just like the Gellian Socrates, the Apuleian Socrates is characterized as completely immobile at the outset. Whereas the Gellian Socrates is standing all the time to train his physical endurance (NA 2. 1. 2), the Apuleian Socrates is sitting on the ground, expressing with his posture his complete lack of endurance and an almost deliberate suVering from bad health (Met. 1. 6. 1). Whereas the Gellian Socrates deliberately stands to strengthen his body against any chance demands upon its endurance (2. 1. 1 fortuitas patientiae uices), the Apuleian Socrates seems too weak to give up his sitting position, and prefers to retain this position to express his submission to fortune (1. 6. 4–1. 7. 1). Whereas the Gellian Socrates has the reputation of abstinence, the Apuleian Socrates indulges in food, wine, sex, and cheap entertainment (Gell. 2. 1. 5 a uoluptatum labe cauisse Apul. Met. 1. 7. 5 dum uoluptatem . . . consector).28 Whereas the Gellian Socrates stands out for his fortitude (Gell. 2. 1. 3 fortitudine), the Apuleian Socrates almost continuously reveals symptoms of weakness and disease (Met. 1. 6. 1 paene alius lurore, ad miseram maciem deformatus; cf. 1. 18. 7, 1. 19. 1). Thus, at Wrst sight, Gellius’ and Apuleius’ representations of the Wgure of Socrates seem diametrically opposed. In the Attic 25 For the terminology of exposure and irony in the dialogue scenes of the Attic Nights cf. also 6. 17. 2, 17. 3. 2, 18. 4. cap., 9, 19. 1. 8 (illudere); 1. 21. 4 (ridere). See also A. D. Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 51 with n. 63, who collects instances of laughter as the response of those present at an exposure, e.g. 16. 6. 12 facetias nebulonis hominis risi; 19. 10. 14 cum id plerique prolixius riderent. 26 For a detailed analysis of the Apuleian Socrates as a satirical Wgure who reXects the comic ambiguity of the Metamorphoses see Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, esp. 114–18. 27 See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 110 [80] with further references. 28 Cf. also Apul. Met. 1. 8. 1 uoluptatem Veneriam; contrast, however 1. 11. 4 insolita uinolentia, which is perhaps a humorous allusion to the historical Socrates’ abstemiousness.
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Nights, Socrates features as the archetype of the philosopher, the role model of Gellius’ admired teachers; in Metamorphoses book 1, he appears as the anti-philosopher. The contrast seems almost deliberate, but at the same time it draws our attention to a topic that was of central interest to both Gellius and Apuleius. This topic is satire on the sham philosopher, which was popular not only with the Greek authors of the Imperial age (especially Lucian), but also with their Latin contemporaries Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius. The Apuleian Socrates appears to be symbolic of such satire, as he resembles the stereotype of the pseudo-philosopher, with ragged cloak and all, a stereotype that we encounter in all three Antonine Roman writers.29 By representing his Socrates with an emaciated body and a pale skin, Apuleius follows a literary tradition of satire on intellectualism, a tradition that goes back to Aristophanes’ Clouds.30 The popularity of the stereotype of the false philosopher symbolized a general concern of his age, a deep concern about the prevalence of teachers who engaged in higher education without displaying any inclinations or qualities considered relevant for those who should be an intellectual and moral example to their pupils.31 SigniWcantly, in his Apology (4. 10; 22), Apuleius even applies to himself the very stock features that deWne the satirical portrayal of Socrates in the Metamorphoses, like pallor, emaciation, and a philosopher’s regulation outWt, in order to characterize himself as a philosopher.32 Thus he is able to turn a well-known instrument of satirical attack into a form of self-parody. 29 Met. 1. 6. 1 scissili palliastro semiamictus; for the stereotype cf. Met. 11. 8. 3 Nec ille deerat, . . . qui pallio baculoque et baxeis et hircino barbitio philosophum Wngeret. In the age of Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius, the pallium was associated with the cloak of the hypocritical philosopher; cf. Apul. Flor. 7. 10; 9. 9; Gell. 9. 2. 4 Video barbam et pallium, philosophum nondum uideo; 13. 8. 5 Nihil . . . Weri posse indignius neque intolerantius . . . quam quod homines ignaui ac desides, operti barba et pallio, mores et emolumenta philosophiae in linguae uerborumque artes conuerterent. See van den Hout, A Commentary, 323 on Fronto, De eloqu. 1. 4 (p. 135. 7 v.d. H:2 ); Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 114 n. 16, 119 n. 26. 30 With his representation of Socrates, Apuleius pays homage to the earliest portrait known to us of the philosopher Socrates, his caricature in Clouds (cf. 103 TæØH Æ); see Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 111. This portrait corresponds to the Greek stereotype of the intellectual, which ridicules his wasted appearance; see P. Zanker, The Mask of Socrates, 32–3. 31 For the great concern about teachers with dishonest motives in Gellius’ time, see Tarrant, ‘Platonic Interpretation’, 173. For the topos of exposing the sham philosopher see Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 43–4 with nn. 14 and 17. Cf. Gell. 13. 24. 2 Graecae istorum praestigiae, philosophari sese dicentium umbrasque uerborum inanes Wngentium. 32 See Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 111 n. 8, 114 n. 16
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2.3. The Satire on Intellectualism Deep feelings of distrust against pseudo-intellectuals were not an exclusive characteristic of the age of Fronto, Gellius, and Apuleius, nor were they merely part of a literary tradition with a Greek origin. They also embody a fundamentally Roman attitude of scepticism towards people who pretend to be philosophers, which the Romans expressed through the genre of satire, a genre they held to be their own. Although the Attic Nights is generically speaking not a work of satire, it nevertheless reveals this Roman characteristic: Gellius’ interest in Varro’s Menippean Satires is not merely focused on Latin idiom, but also embraces Varro’s humour and sympotic wit, which does not exclude a particular sense of self-irony.33 Both Apuleius and Gellius, then, are interested in the theme of exposing the sham philosopher, which was both an actual issue of their age and a literary topos, going back to Aristophanes’ Clouds. Moreover, satirizing and mocking pseudo-philosophers belonged to a characteristically Roman outlook that both Antonine authors, full of reverence for the Roman past, would be likely to share. It is also likely that both authors, who were highly sophisticated and had read Aristophanes, were aware of the Greek literary origins of the literary topos of mocking the sham intellectual. What is more, for Roman Antonine authors such as Apuleius and Gellius, the stock elements of satirical attacks on personae non gratae seemed to have been so familiar and well worn that they could also be used in certain witty forms of self-portrayal (as we see in Apuleius’ Apology), which displayed a self-conscious sense of humour. Apuleius’ and Gellius’ shared interest in the satire of intellectualism and their indebtedness to Aristophanes will now be illustrated in more detail. Just as Strepsiades becomes an initiate in the mysteries of the Socratic æ ØæØ , so the Apuleian Socrates initiates his friend Aristomenes into a secretive dialogue that will turn him from a sceptic into a superstitious believer in the supernatural. Socrates’ language of mystic initiation and his gestures reveal his superstitious fear that others may overhear their conversation about a religious subject that is strictly taboo. His behaviour creates an atmosphere of initiation, calling for a mystic silence that is required for the revealing of things of a higher order: 33 For the traditionally Roman suspicion of pseudo-intellectuals and the links with the Menippean satire see J. C. Relihan, Ancient Menippean Satire, 54–9 on Gellius, esp. 54; see also p. 69, where he quotes Gellius’ anecdote of the braggart scholar who claimed to understand Varro’s Menippeans (Gell. 13. 31. 1–3).
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At ille digitum a pollice proximum ori suo admouens et in stuporem attonitus ‘tace, tace’ inquit et circumspiciens tutamenta sermonis: ‘parce’, inquit, ‘in feminam diuinam, nequam tibi lingua intemperante noxam contrahas.’ (Met. 1. 8. 2.)
The initiation performance of this Socrates, which serves as an introduction to his fantastic stories about the witch Meroe, echoes the care of the Platonic Socrates to take a good look round before starting a philosophical discussion, to make sure no ‘non-initiate’ is listening (Plat. Theaet. 155 e `ŁæØ b æØŒ H Ø H Iıø ! ÆŒ fi ). In the tradition of Clouds, which parodied the Platonic analogy between philosophical-rhetorical instruction and mystic initiation,34 Apuleius’ Metamorphoses introduces a character with the signiWcant name Socrates, a superstitious outcast Wgure who seems to represent the negative aspects of intellectualism such as exclusiveness and arrogance.35 A similar type of behaviour is displayed in the main story by the protagonist Lucius, who shares many interests and inclinations with the Socrates of the Wrst inset tale.36 In his diatribe against scepticism, Lucius uses the invective technique of representing his opponent as an ignorant fool. Confuting the sceptic’s incredulity, Lucius tries to live up to his philosophical credentials (1. 2. 1 a Plutarcho), and strikes a rather pedantic tone, as if he were the superior intellectual. He phrases belief in the incredible in terms of an intellectual process for which not everyone is intelligent enough.37 Contrasting the wrong beliefs of ordinary mortals (1. 3. 3 prauissimis opinionibus) with the genuine perception of the one who uses his senses accurately, and using a singular address (si . . . accuratius exploraris . . . senties), Lucius assumes a didactic-philosophical stance. His attack on those stubborn folk who do not believe the things that lie beyond the grasp of the human mind (1. 3. 2–3) echoes Socrates’ attack on non-intellectuals in Plat. Theaet. 155 e cited above (cf. also Soph. 246 a–b). There Socrates calls ‘non-initiates’ (the Apuleian Socrates behaves similarly, as we have seen above) those who think nothing exists beyond what they can grasp in their two hands (cf. 1. 3. 3 supra captum cogitationis). 34 See Sommerstein on Clouds 140; of Dover on 143 ıæØÆ; P. Green, ‘The Abuses of Intellectualism’. 35 Cf. Socrates’ reference to Aristomenes’ ignorance in 1. 6. 4 Aristomene, . . . ne tu fortunarum lubricas ambages et instabiles incursiones et reciprocas uicissitudines ignoras. 36 See Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 108–9, with further references. 37 Cf. 1. 3. 2 crassis auribus, 1. 3. 3 minus hercule calles; see Keulen, ‘Swordplay— Wordplay’, 162.
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Theaetetus agrees and calls such persons ‘stubborn and obstinate’ (Œºæ . . . ŒÆd I Ø ı; cf. 1. 3. 2 obstinato corde). Lucius’ arrogance and exclusive stance characterize him as a comic Wgure, resembling contemporary targets of satire. Both in his arrogant posing as the superior intellectual and in his stance of superstitious credulity, resembling Stoic philosophers (1. 4. 2, 1. 20. 3, 2. 15. 1), he exposes himself as a pseudo-philosopher.38 His arrogant and exclusive stance of the intellectual resembles Gellius’ portrayal of a young loquacious and self-proclaimed Stoic philosopher, who during an after-dinner conversation immoderately praises his own philosophy and boasts of his own intellect (1. 2. 4).39 Strikingly, Lucius’ behaviour is not unlike that of his spiritual father Apuleius in his Apology, who poses as the superior intellectual throughout the work, while denigrating his opponents as ignorant fools. Just like Apuleius, Gellius employs the topic of exclusion for the comic characterization of persons exposed as would-be intellectuals in the debate-scenes of his Attic Nights. In 19. 10. 14, a grammarian, who is at a loss in a discussion with Fronto about the word praeterpropter, resorts to a mechanism of exclusion in an unsuccessful attempt to save himself from an embarrassing exposure: Et grammaticus sudans multum ac rubens multum, cum id plerique prolixius riderent, exsurgit et abiens: ‘Tibi’, inquit, ‘Fronto, postea uni dicam, ne inscitiores audiant ac discant.’
At the same time, the topic of exclusion as a marker for satire on intellectualism draws our attention to a curious paradox within Gellius’ own work, a paradox that seems also relevant for Apuleius, who strikingly resembles his alter ego Lucius (see above). With a signiWcant remark in his preface (20), Gellius reveals his anxiety to protect his writings from the profestum et profanum uolgus, a ludo musico diuersum (‘the profane and uninitiate throng, 38
For Lucius’ characterization as a pseudo-philosopher and a comparison with Greek contemporary parallels (Lucian) see Keulen, ‘Swordplay—Wordplay’, esp. 162, 165. 39 Cf. 1. 2. cap. quendam iactantem et gloriosum adulescentem, specie tantum philosophiae sectatorem. 1. 2. 4 praeque se uno ceteros omnes . . . rudes esse et agrestes praedicabat. [ . . . ] asseuerabat nulli esse ulli magis ea omnia explorata, comperta meditataque (cf. Apul. Met. 1. 3. 3 Quae si paulo accuratius exploraris, . . . compertu euidentia . . . senties). For the conceited behaviour of the professionals that Gellius puts to shame in the Attic Nights and the connection with the contemporary Greek quarrel between the new sophists and philosophers, see Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 52 with n. 68.
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averse to the Muses’ play’), which apparently reveals an elitist attitude not unlike that of some characters put to shame in the Attic Nights.40 However, as it is likely that Gellius anticipated possible charges of intellectualism himself, we should not overlook the possibility that he made this remark with a certain sense of irony. It may not be a coincidence that his programmatic statement of excluding the ‘uninitiated’ from his elite audience is tactically backed up by a quotation from Aristophanes, the archetypical satirist of exclusive intellectual movements.41
3. lucius the sophist In the previous part, we have observed that Gellius and Apuleius not only share an interest in ‘Socratic’ motifs in their satirical representations of intellectuals, but also appear to turn the same satire on themselves. The third part of this article focuses on the intriguing Wgure of Lucius in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, investigating further characteristics that correspond to certain personalities from Gellius’ Attic Nights, and thus may reveal in Lucius’ characterization possible dimensions of contemporary satire. It also explores whether this kind of satire implies certain repercussions for Gellius and Apuleius themselves, being intellectuals who represent the typical tastes of their own time. Gellius’ criticism of sophistic rivals not only turns out to reveal a certain self-conscious irony about his position as an author of a miscellany, but also helps us to recognize forms of self-satire in Apuleius through his Wctional alter ego Lucius. The close identiWcation of the narrator Lucius, who also poses as the writer of this text,42 with the concrete author Apuleius, is a much-discussed theme in Apuleian studies,43 although few studies 40 However, the diVerence should be noted that whereas the grammarian of 19. 10 is covering his retreat, having been happy enough to parade his learning while it seemed superior, Gellius himself, in his preface, is warning oV those who are not interested in his kind of learning. 41 The quotation is from the parabasis of Frogs, vv. 354–6, 359–61. 42 Cf. e.g. 1. 1. 1 papyrum . . . calami inscriptam; 10. 2. 1 sed ut uos etiam legatis, ad librum profero; 10. 7. 4 sed quae plane comperi, ad istas litteras proferam. See D. van Mal-Maeder on 2. 12. 5 historiam magnam et incredundam fabulam (edn. 215–16). 43 On the deliberate association between Lucius and the author Apuleius in the Metamorphoses (cf. 11. 27. 9 Madaurensem) see R. Th. van der Paardt, ‘The Unmasked I’; J. L. Penwill, ‘Ambages reciprocae’, 15–16; on various parallels between Lucius and Apuleius see P. Junghanns, Erza¨hlungstechnik, 14; Harrison, Apuleius, 10, 217–18 (with references). See below, n. 75.
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pay attention to its in my view most important aspect, that of humour and satire. Lucius, who notably speaks in the Wrst person, truly appears as the satirical alter ego of Apuleius, who lends traits and concerns of his own to his hero, but nevertheless makes him the object of his satire.44 A recent study of Apuleius calls Lucius the ‘sophistic protagonist’ of the Metamorphoses, whose characterization as a well-educated, ambitious young sophist in the making seems to justify the deWnition of the Metamorphoses as ‘a sophist’s novel’.45 In my view, the satirical dimension in Lucius’ characterization, which we may call ‘sophistic’, can be further explored by comparing him with certain types of intellectuals attacked by Apuleius’ contemporary Gellius. Indeed, Lucius strikingly resembles the declaimer of the type Philostratus identiWes with the Second Sophistic, as he emerges as a bilingual show-orator and a professional sophist who earns money with his rhetoric,46 not unlike some contemporary rhetoricians that Gellius includes as targets of derision in his Nights.47 Again, parallels emerge with Apuleius: Vardi (‘Gellius against the Professors’, 42 n. 5) compares sophista ille I Æı , who makes some embarrassing mistakes concerning the dates of Carneades and Panaetius while publice disserens (17. 21. 1), with the performance of Lucius’ spiritual father Apuleius, whom he calls ‘a contemporary sophist’ engaging in similar public declamations, and making similar mistakes. Just like the guide to the easy road to rhetoric satirized in Lucian’s Teacher of Rhetoric, Lucius personiWes an eVeminate, honey-sweet, and ear-soothing sing-song rhetoric.48 He reveals himself as a sophisticated performer, stunning his audience with 44
See above, n. 18. See Harrison, Apuleius, 215–16. For scepticism about the links between Apuleius and the Greek Second Sophistic see the review of Harrison by S. Swain, ‘Apuleius Sophista’; see also Swain, above, 11–12. 46 For Lucius’ bilingualism cf. Met. 1. 1. 4 linguam Attidem . . . merui . . . mox Quiritium indigenam sermonem . . . excolui. Lucius more than once demonstrates his superb command of the sermo Quiritium; a good example is his performance as a brilliant orator at his mock-trial in 3. 1–12. At the novel’s end, Lucius’ successful rhetorical activities in Rome even become his source of income (11. 28. 6 quaesticulo forensi nutrito per patrocinia sermonis Romani; 11. 30. 2 stipendiis forensibus bellule fotum). 47 Cf. Gell. 17. 5. 3 rhetoricus quidam sophista, utriusque linguae callens, haut sane ignobilis ex istis acutulis et minutis doctoribus qui ØŒ appellantur; 17. 21. 1. 48 1. 1. 1 aures . . . tuas beniuolas lepido susurro permulceam; 1. 1. 3 Hymettos Attica; 1. 1. 6 ipsa uocis immutatio; see W. H. Keulen, comm. 16–19 (‘1.2.2 EVeminate style and ‘‘singing’’ performance’). For the Roman ambivalence towards aures permulcere, cf. Titus Castricius’ warning, quoted by Gellius, that the ear-pleasing 45
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an unrestrained use of archaisms and neologisms, and becoming the embodiment of those qualities that contemporary satire mocked in sophists.49
3.1. Miracula Graecanica: Lucius, Apion, and Pliny the Elder 3.1.1. Polymathy In the prologue and in other metanarrative statements, Lucius poses as an eloquent entertainer in performance, who seduces his audience with his enchanting voice.50 At the same time, he manifests himself as the polymathic writer of a work of Wction of Greek origin, containing a variety of stories designed to startle and entertain the audience (1. 1. 2 ut mireris): At ego tibi sermone isto Milesio uarias fabulas conseram auresque tuas beniuolas lepido susurro permulceam, modo si papyrum Aegyptiam argutia Nilotici calami inscriptam non spreueris inspicere. (1. 1. 1.) Come, let me join various tales for you in this Milesian conversation, and let me beguile your ears into approval with a charming whispering, at least if you will not disdain to take a look at Egyptian pages written with the cleverness of a Nilotic pen. Fabulam Graecanicam incipimus. Lector intende: laetaberis. (1. 1. 6.) We begin a Grecian story. Reader, pay attention: you will be delighted.
The symposium-like context of storytelling and conversation (sermo) evoked by the prologue is connected with allusions to miscellaneous learning and Egyptian lore.51 Lucius’ behaviour as sound of a well-modulated phrase has the danger of confounding our judgement of the sense of the speech (11. 13). For the satire on sophistic bel-canto rhetoric (see Gleason, Making Men, 121–30), cf. Lucian, Rhet. praec. 11–17, possibly reXecting a more general tendency of this period (cf. e.g. Hadrian of Tyre, Philostr. VS 589), which is illustrated by Lucius. 49 Archaisms: cf. e.g. Met. 1. 1. 5 prosapia; 1. 6. 5 aerumnae; 1. 16. 2 exanclasti; see M. Bernhard, Stil, 130–5; Harrison, Apuleius, 17 n. 68 with further references. Neologisms: cf. e.g. 1. 10. 2 coronalibus; 1. 12. 1 (with an archaic ring) naturalitus; Bernhard, Stil, 138–43. For the contemporary satire on over-enthusiastic users of archaic language cf. e.g. Lucian, Lex. 17, 20; Demonax 26; Gell. 1. 10, 11. 7. 50 Cf. also 9. 14. 1 fabulam denique bonam, prae ceteris suaue comptam, ad auris uestras adferre decreui. In my view, we may safely identify the speaking voice in the Prologue with the narrator Lucius, as many scholars nowadays do. For a collection of essays dealing with this much-debated question and other issues related to the Apuleian Prologue, see A. Kahane and A. Laird (eds.), Companion to the Prologue. 51 Notably, the sermo referred to in the Apuleian prologue is a sermo Milesius: according to some scholars, this phrase alludes to the narrative framework of Aristides’ غØÆŒ d ºª Ø as a miscellaneous collection of short stories narrated
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a character in the story often seems to look forward to the collector of miscellaneous stories evoked by the narrating voice of the prologue, as he appears to be a sophisticated and highly curious young man, whose travelling around seems closely connected with his taste for the unusual and the spectacular.52 This inclination of Lucius is aptly illustrated with the passage in which he compares himself to Odysseus, and observes that his adventurous life as an ass has made him multiscius: nam et ipse gratas gratias asino meo memini, quod me suo celatum tegmine uariisque fortunis exercitatum, etsi minus prudentem, multiscium reddidit.53 (Met. 9. 13. 5.)
The keyword for Lucius’ sophistic characterization is multiscius, which is explicitly distinguished from prudens in this passage. The portrayal contains an inversion of a Greek dictum known from Heracleitus, ºıÆŁ P ØŒØ (DK 22 B 40, quoted by Gell. pr. 12; cf. Aeschylus fr. 390 Radt, › æØ N, P › ºº Ng ). The adjective multiscius is almost exclusively Apuleian.54 Apuleius never uses it of himself. However, he signiWcantly uses two of Wve instances in descriptions of Greek sophists from the Wfth century bc with whom he is keen to compare himself.55 Moreover, their shared interest in miscellaneous learning forms one of the many signiWcant links between Lucius and Apuleius. Apuleius not only manifests himself as a polymath throughout his Florida and Apology, but is also known to have written other works of a miscellaneous nature.56 during sympotic conversations; see H. Lucas, ‘Zu den Milesiaca’, 24; B. E. Perry, The Ancient Romances, 95; T. Ha¨gg, The Novel, 188; for a diVerent view see Harrison, ‘The Milesian Tales’, 65. For Gellius’ and Apuleius’ shared interest in the literary form of the erudite symposium, see above, §1.2, and nn. 12, 56. For the connection between polymathy and a sympotic context cf. e.g. Gell. 2. 22. 25–6. 52 Cf. 1. 2. 6 sititor alioquin nouitatis . . . non quidem curiosum; 2. 6. 5 ex uoto diutino poteris fabulis miris explere pectus with van Mal-Maeder ad loc. (edn. 134–5). 53 For an extensive discussion of this passage and its literary sources see E. J. Kenney, ‘In the Mill with Slaves’, 167–70. 54 See B. L. Hijmans et al., edn. of book 9, p. 132. 55 Cf. Flor. 9. 24 (on Hippias) Quis autem non laudauit hominem tam numerosa arte multiscium, totiugi scientia magniWcum, tot utensilium peritia daedalum?; 18. 19 Protagora, qui sophista fuit longe multiscius et cum primis rhetoricae repertoribus perfacundus. The other two instances are used of Apollo (Flor. 3. 9 coma intonsus et genis gratus et corpore glabellus et arte multiscius) and of Homer (Apol. 31. 5 Homerum, poetam multiscium uel potius cunctarum rerum adprime peritum). Cf. Gell. 5. 10. 3 Protagoram, sophistarum acerrimum. 56 For Florida as a title of a miscellany see Vardi, ‘Why Attic Nights?’, 299 n. 7. A lost specimen of the genre of miscellany is Apuleius’ Quaestiones conuiuales;
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Lucius’ characterization as a writer of a miscellaneous book full of marvels, who has learnt many things but not acquired much wisdom, comes very close to Gellius’ portrayals of the polymathic writers Apion and Pliny the Elder. Although Gellius quotes and uses both authors as sources of information, he makes it more or less clear that he considers them as sophistic producers of marvels, who merely wish to impress their audience with their miscellaneous collections of trivia.57 The most striking parallels can be drawn between Lucius and Apion, whom Gellius quotes as the author of an Aegyptiaca, ‘Wonders of Egypt’ (5. 14. 4, 6. 8. 4), a title revealing a similar interest in incredible stories, symbolized by the geographical reference to Egypt, to that in the programmatic statement of the Apuleian Prologue, 1. 1. 1 papyrum Aegyptiam argutia Nilotici calami inscriptam.58 Gellius’ reference to Apion’s miscellaneous learning seems to insinuate that his erudition was multa, but did not amount to multum, and should probably not be taken as a compliment: Apion, qui ‘Plistonices’ appellatus est, litteris homo multis praeditus rerumque Graecarum plurima atque uaria scientia fuit. (5. 14. 1.)
The nearest that Gellius comes to this elsewhere in the Nights is in his comment on Pliny the Elder, who, just like Lucius, combines extensive and miscellaneous learning with the aim of pleasing the ears of the audience: In his libris (sc. Studiosorum) multa uarie ad oblectandas eruditorum hominum aures ponit. (9. 16. 3.)
Notably, in 9. 4. 13 (quoted below), Gellius explicitly puts Pliny’s writings on a par with a collection of Greek wonder-tales, which he found in a number of shabby, remaindered books at Brundisium (§3): Erant autem isti omnes libri Graeci miraculorum fabularumque pleni, res inauditae, incredulae. One of these books could have been a text like Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, or even the Greek Harrison, Apuleius, 30–1. For the contemporary popularity of the genre of miscellany see also A. D. Vardi, above, Ch. 6. 57 For Apion as a boastful sophist who sought employment through selfadvertisementcf. Gell. 5. 14. 3 fortassean uitio studioque ostentationis sit loquacior— est enim sane quam in praedicandis doctrinis sui uenditator; see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 61 [50]. Apion called himself —ºØ Œ, ‘Supreme Champion’ (Gell. 5. 14. 1); Tiberius called him, as Pliny reports (NH pr. 25), cymbalum mundi. For Gellius’ critical views on Apion and Pliny, see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 41, 157, 165–6 [30–1, 115, 121–2]. Another swollen-headed sophist was Varus (Philostr. VS 540). 58 See Keulen, comm. 65–6.
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Æ æØ.59 Against this background, Lucius, Apion, and Pliny the Elder appear as fellow writers of a less respectable genre, that of Unterhaltungsliteratur.60 From the perspective of a Gellius, Lucius is a clearly negative representative of a genre such as pursued by Apion and Pliny, and exempliWed by the collections of trivia and marvels—especially the Greek ones—from which Gellius is at pains to distinguish his own miscellany.61 According to Gellius’ programmatic statement, his own work does not aim at a quantity of learning, but is conWned to ‘useful knowledge’: Ego uero, cum illud Heracliti Ephesii uiri summe nobilis uerbum cordi haberem, quod profecto ita est ºıÆŁ P ØŒØ;62 ipse quidem uoluendis transeundisque multis admodum uoluminibus . . . , exercitus defessusque sum, sed modica ex his eaque sola accepi, quae . . . (pr. 12.)
3.1.2. Autopsy and Fiction Another shared feature revealing the close aYnity between Lucius and Gellius’ portrayals of Apion and Pliny is their use of autopsy to back up their incredible stories. The ancients considered an eyewitness account more credible than hearsay;63 the topic was of interest to both Gellius (5. 14. 4, 6. 8. 4, 9. 4. 13) and Apuleius (Flor. 2. 3; Met. 1. 4. 2). However, such conWrmations of autopsy had become commonplace in paradoxography, and could therefore be interpreted as a marker of Wction. In Gellius’ and Apuleius’ time, resorting to autopsy had become a topic of satire: in the 59 The Greek Æ æØ are preserved only in a summary by Photius (Bibl. cod. 129), who attributes them to Loukios of Patrai, the protagonist of the novel. Scholars now generally agree this work to be the common source of both the extant Greek epitome (the ˇ transmitted amongst Lucian’s works) and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses. See Harrison, Apuleius, 218; Keulen, ‘Comic Invention’, 131 n. 50. 60 See F.-F. Lu¨hr, ‘Res inauditae, incredulae’; G. Schepens and K. Delcroix ‘Ancient Paradoxography’ (on Gellius, 410–25). 61 For Gellius’ criticism of contemporary miscellanies in his programmatic preface see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 27–8 [20–1]; cf. pr. 5 (implicit criticism of heterogeneous nature of works as betrayed by their titles, amongst them Pliny’s Naturalis Historia) Nam quia uariam et miscellam et quasi confusaneam doctrinam conquisiuerant, eo titulos quoque ad eam sententiam exquisitissimos indiderunt; §11 (criticism of writers of miscellany, especially the Greeks) Namque illi omnes et eorum maxime Graeci multa et uaria lectitantes, in quas res cumque inciderant, ‘alba’ ut dicitur ‘linea’ sine cura discriminis solam copiam sectati conuerrebant, quibus in legendis ante animus senio ac taedio languebit, quam unum alterumue reppererit, quod sit aut uoluptati legere aut cultui legisse aut usui meminisse. Contrast, however, the positive view of miscellany in 13. 9. 2–3. 62 For the omission of Heracliti before Ephesii in V see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 36 n. 51 [27 n. 47]. For Heracleitus’ dictum see above, 237. 63 See Russell’s notes on Dio Chrys. Or. 7. 1 and 12. 71 (with references); Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 166 [122].
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prologue to True History (1. 3), Lucian mocks Ctesias of Cnidos’ use of the autopsy topos,64 and emphasizes that he himself did not see the true facts that he is going to recount (VH 1. 4). Explicit references to eyewitness accounts, then, may function to unmask the inventor of untrue stories. In view of Gellius’ portrayals of Apion and Pliny as miracle-mongers, his emphasis on the fact that they claim to be eyewitnesses of the miraculous things they recount should probably be interpreted ironically: hoc autem, quod in libro Aegyptiacorum quinto scripsit, neque audisse neque legisse, sed ipsum sese in urbe Roma uidisse oculis suis conWrmat.65 (5. 14. 4.) Libitum tamen est in loco hoc miraculorum notare id etiam, quod Plinius Secundus, uir in temporibus aetatis suae ingenii dignitatisque gratia auctoritate magna praeditus, non audisse neque legisse, sed scire sese atque uidisse in libro naturalis historiae septimo scripsit. (9. 4. 13.)
In a similar way, Lucius is exposed as a cheap miracle-monger, when he backs up his programmatic anecdote of an amazing performance by a sword-swallower by assuring emphatically that he himself witnessed this miraculous spectacle with his own eyes in Athens at the Stoa Poikile.66 Et tamen Athenis proxime et ante Poecilen porticum isto gemino obtutu circulatorem aspexi equestrem spatham praeacutam mucrone infesto deuorasse . . . (Met. 1. 4. 2.)
On the level of the story, Lucius’ obvious intention with this anecdote is to prove to the sceptic interlocutor that the impossible is possible. However, on a diVerent level, his recourse to the eyewitness account invites the reader to unmask Lucius’ untrustworthy persona, and to take a sceptical position towards his authenticating and autobiographical stance, both in his anecdote and in the narrative as a whole. 64
See P. von Mo¨llendorV, Auf der Suche, 53–4 n. 62. Gell. 6. 8. 4 Verba subscripsi ` ø , eruditi uiri, ex Aegyptiacorum libro quinto, quibus delphini amantis et pueri non abhorrentis consuetudines, lusus, gestationes, aurigationes refert eaque omnia sese ipsum multosque alios uidisse dicit: `Pe Æs r . . . 66 For the programmatic meaning of this episode and the signiWcant use of juggling imagery (circulator, praestrigiator) as a metaliterary reference to ‘sophistic’ rhetoric, see Keulen, ‘Swordplay—Wordplay’, 167–8. Gellius frequently uses such metaphors to expose the ‘sophistic’ qualities of intellectuals and their writings, notably Pliny (10. 12. 6 His portentis atque praestrigiis a Plinio Secundo scriptis non dignum esse cognomen Democriti puto); cf. also the grammaticus praestigiosus (8. 10. cap.); 7. 15. 2 homo in doctrinis quasi in praestigiis miriWcus; 13. 24. 2 Graecae istorum praestigiae (cited fully above, n. 31). 65
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3.2. Lucius, Apuleius, and Gellius: Three of a Kind? In Lucius’ characterization, then, we Wnd an accumulation of elements that Gellius would attribute to intellectuals he is anxious to distinguish himself from: he is a Greek collector of Egyptian marvels, an ambitious polymath, and an ear-pleasing word-juggler. At the same time, Gellius’ pains to distinguish his work from the sort of trivia he found in Brundisium (9. 4), or in Pliny’s or Apion’s work, or in a friend’s rival miscellany (14. 6),67 reveal a certain ironic consciousness of his own position as a miscellanist. The fact that he explicitly professes to have abjured polymathy, and claims for his Nights a status or utility superior to that of his competitors, indicates that he anticipated the charge of being an Apion or a Pliny himself. There is a fundamental paradox in the way Gellius distinguishes himself from the polymaths to whom he owes a great deal for his own work. It cannot be denied that he follows them in his choice of genre, and that his predecessors provided him with a considerable amount of information.68 With his Attic Nights, he too provides us with a literary source of marvels, and this made him vulnerable to contemporary criticism.69 We could perhaps explain this paradox in terms of competition for literary immortality. No doubt, Gellius’ ambition was not to be ranked with an Apion, a Seneca, or a Pliny, whom he credited merely with a temporary fame and a reputation of a transitory nature. With his Attic Nights, Gellius may have aspired to become more than just ‘the most learned man of his age’ (cf. the malicious tone directed at Pliny in 9. 4. 13 in temporibus aetatis suae). He probably preferred to be ranked with a Cato, a Varro, or a Cicero, who were authorities in their own right, and had acquired an undisputed position in the curriculum of Roman education. 67 14. 6. 1 Homo nobis familiaris . . . dat mihi librum grandi uolumine doctrinae omnigenus, ut ipse dicebat, praescatentem, quem sibi elaboratum esse ait ex multis et uariis et remotis lectionibus, ut ex eo sumerem, quantum liberet rerum memoria dignarum. The homo familiaris is often identiWed with Favorinus; on this issue see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 116–18 [82–3]; Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 101–2, who concludes: ‘the coincidence is too obvious to be dismissed entirely; second-century readers would reasonably have counted Favorinus among Gellius’ negative precedents.’ 68 See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 40–1 [30–1]. 69 See Beall, ‘Aulus Gellius 17.8’, 60; id., ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 89–90: ‘By the late second century, to write a miscellany was a risky business. It had become a wellworn genre, to judge from the variety of titles cited by Gellius himself (praef. 5–9).’
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In spite of such legitimate motivations, Gellius may well have been aware of the aforementioned paradox in his work.70 It was a paradox he shared with other intellectuals of the age, notably Apuleius. As we have observed above, both Gellius and Apuleius reveal the paradox of satirizing certain intellectual inclinations in other (Wctional) characters featuring in their works, which nevertheless turn out to resemble their own tendencies. The most telling example of this paradox is Lucius versus Apuleius. Lucius is the mirror of second-century satire on the intellectual: he combines the ambitious bilingual rhetorician, the arrogant philosopher, the polymathic sophist, and the enthusiastic archaist satirized by, among others, Gellius and Lucian. In Lucius, unavoidably, Apuleius not only satirizes the intellectual world he grew up in, but also satirizes himself as a typical exponent of this world. Another typical exponent was Gellius. If we compare Lucius with some Wgures created by Gellius, we Wnd that the kind of satire embodied by Apuleius’ alter ego works for Gellius as well. Gellius also shared a sense of humour and a taste for satire with his contemporary Roman Apuleius, a kind of self-irony that seems to have belonged to the intellectual culture of their age.71 Two instances from the Nights may illustrate this. In a passage discussed earlier, the grammarian Domitius Insanus severely criticizes the philosopher Favorinus for his wordhunting (18. 7. 3), and even cites the venerable Cato to back up his diatribe: ‘Nulla . . . prorsus bonae salutis spes reliqua est, cum uos quoque, philosophorum inlustrissimi, nihil iam aliud quam uerba auctoritatesque uerborum cordi habetis. ( . . . ) Ego enim grammaticus uitae iam atque morum disciplinas quaero, uos philosophi mera estis, ut M. Cato ait, ‘‘mortualia’’; glosaria namque conligitis et lexidia, res taetras et inanes et friuolas, tamquam mulierum uoces praeWcarum.’
Although Gellius probably did not openly share this criticism, directed at the man who embodies the intellectual values of his Attic Nights, he was presumably aware of the fact that some scenes 70 For a diVerent view on the amount of self-awareness we may expect of Romans see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 41 [31]. 71 I am strongly indebted here to the views put forward by Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 102. See also Gleason, Making Men, 151 on Favorinus’ fundamental irony and self-consciousness about the various roles he played while performing as an intellectual.
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in his work asked for such criticism. A second-century reader may also have agreed with Domitius, for as Beall well observes, ‘it strikes us as odd that Gellius should invoke the authority of a philosopher when dealing with a question obviously pertaining to grammar’ (cf. Gell. 2. 26, 3. 19).72 Gellius not only recognized this paradox, but also exploited it to create the ironical role-reversal in 18. 7, featuring the comic Wgure of Domitius Insanus as the mouthpiece of the sharp criticism that Gellius himself anticipated or actually encountered in the lively contemporary intellectual discussions. In another scene from the Nights, Gellius even features himself as a character who forms the target of intellectual attack. In one of his anecdotes about his student life, during a lecture on Plato’s Symposium, his master of philosophy Taurus exposes the young Gellius as a kind of sophist, calling him a rhetoriscus (‘young rhetorician’) in class (17. 20. 4): Haec uerba ubi lecta sunt, atque ibi Taurus mihi: ‘heus’ inquit ‘tu, rhetorisce’,—sic enim me in principio recens in diatribam acceptum appellitabat existimans eloquentiae unius extundendae gratia Athenas uenisse— . . . 73
With this anecdote, Gellius this time gives himself the unexpected role of the young charlatan exposed by the professional, not unlike the arrogant Stoic exposed by Herodes Atticus in 1. 2.74 Taurus’ remarks, like Domitius’ tirade, should not be completely identiWed with Gellius’ own judgements about himself. Nevertheless, these vivid vignettes show that Gellius not only appreciated the negative light in which his own literary activities could be viewed, but even used such views for his own purposes of literary play. Just as Apuleius represents his satirical alter ego Lucius as a young ear-pleasing sophist, who became the writer of his autobiography, Gellius represents his younger self as a rhetoriscus, who seems only interested in rhetoric and language
72
Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 89. Cf. 1. 9. 10–11 ‘Est etiam . . . pro Iuppiter! qui Platonem legere postulet non uitae ornandae, sed linguae orationisque comendae gratia, nec ut modestior Wat, sed ut lepidior.’ Haec Taurus dicere solitus, nouicios philosophorum sectatores cum ueteribus Pythagoricis pensitans. 74 See above, n. 39. 73
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and not in true philosophy.75 For this young sophist Gellius, enticing the ear with well-modulated phrases is more important than penetrating to a philosophical content.76 Satire and irony are essential to this form of self-presentation,77 and also imply that there is some truth in Taurus’ characterization of the young Gellius, who later became the mannerist Gellius, the author of the Attic Nights.78
4. conclusion Gellius and Apuleius lived in an age marked by a lively intellectual debate, in which rival intellectuals, both Greek and Roman, deWned their own superior status by exposing their adversaries as ‘sophists’ as a deprecatory term, in the same vein as ‘impostor’, ‘pseudo-philosopher’, ‘bad linguist’, or ‘shallow expert’. Gellius’ and Apuleius’ literary works seem widely separated by generic boundaries: the Metamorphoses are not a miscellany, and the Attic Nights are not a satirical novel. Yet both works are permeated with similar topics and ideas, and reveal a shared literary and intellectual pedigree. Following the literary tradition of the Socratic dialogue, and paying homage to Plutarch as their shared intellectual ancestor, both Gellius and Apuleius wrote sympotic dialogue scenes with the exposure of fraudulent pretensions and unsound doctrines as an important underlying theme. Their sophisticated Roman audience was prepared to look behind the masks of the literary personae featuring in their works, and to recognize authorial views and allusions to the contemporary intellectual debate. Neither Apuleius nor Gellius considered or called himself a sophist: Apuleius proudly calls himself a philosophus Platonicus; Gellius, being much more modest, manifests himself as a serious Roman scholar whose literary eVorts rise above the 75 There is a striking similarity between Gell. 17. 20. 4 ‘heus . . . tu, rhetorisce’ and Apul. Met. 2. 10. 2, where Photis mockingly calls Lucius a scholasticus: ‘heus tu, scolastice’, ait, ‘dulce et amarum gustulum carpis’. 76 Cf. 17. 20. 7 Haec admonitio Tauri de orationis Platonicae modulis non modo non repressit, sed instrinxit etiam nos ad elegantiam Graecae orationis uerbis Latinis adfeutandam. See too Plut. De aud. 9 (Mor. 42 e). 77 See Beall, ‘Homo fandi dulcissimus’, 104, who mentions the important role of sophistic role-playing, which Gellius may have learned from his teacher Favorinus, and who also points to the programmatic aim of literary entertainment of the Nights: delectatio in otio atque in ludo liberalior (pr. 16). 78 For Gellius as a representative of the 2nd-c. stylistic tendency of mannerism see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 48–64 [35–46] (‘Language and Style’).
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miscellaneous works of rival polymaths. Yet both Roman authors share a taste for satire and paradoxical self-irony, which serves their aim of literary entertainment. Both Apuleius in his Metamorphoses, and, in a much less extreme and more indirect way, Gellius in his Attic Nights, stage literary personae whom their readers are sometimes invited to expose as inventive polymaths, over-enthusiastic archaists, arrogant sophists, or second-rate word-collectors. At the same time, these personae embody characteristics that rival intellectuals could very well use against Gellius and Apuleius themselves, since these characteristics form topics of a Werce contemporary intellectual debate, from which neither Gellius nor Apuleius could have been excluded. Both Gellius and Apuleius, then, gave new literary shapes to the traditional theme of ‘satire on the intellectual’, shapes that both reXect the lively intellectual world of Antonine Rome and reveal undeniable connections with the contemporary Greek Second Sophistic.79 79 Lucius’ Greek identity is essential also in this respect (cf. Harrison, Apuleius, 216); for the links between Gellius and the Greek Second Sophistic see Vardi, ‘Gellius against the Professors’, 42 n. 5; on 52 n. 68, Vardi observes that the exposure of the ambitious Stoic in 1. 2 is signiWcantly staged in Attica. See above, n. 39, and sect. 3, with nn. 45–9.
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III RECEPTION
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10 Recht as een Palmen-Bohm and Other Facets of Gellius’ Medieval and Humanistic Reception L eo f r a n c H o l f o r d -St r ev en s A full reception history of Gellius after the fall of the Western Empire remains to be written; the pages dedicated to the subject by Hertz in his great edition (ii, pp. xxii–li), though they pre-date thorough appreciation of the part played by indirect sources in medieval authors’ knowledge of the classics, have still been rather supplemented than replaced. The following remarks are intended as contributions to that history, in particular to the enhancement of Gellius’ standing as an auctor.
1. the wood of the palm-tree Ancient authors were not always received whole, or even in large part; to take a notorious example, Bede did not know Macrobius’ Saturnalia, beyond the abridgement of 1. 12–15 called the Disputatio Cori [sic] et Praetextati. As a miscellanist Gellius lent himself more than most to excerpting; a striking case is aVorded by an individual chapter that is found transmitted in the most unexpected company. In NA 3. 6 Gellius, following Aristotle and Plutarch, declares that the reason for awarding wreaths of palm to athletic victors was palm-wood’s resistance to pressure; since on the one hand this crown had long been transferred from the agon of sporting contests to the agonia of martyrdom, on the other the palm was the type of the Xourishing righteous and had been strewn before Christ on his entry into Jerusalem, this chapter proved so congenial to churchmen that it was suVered to accompany excepts from Doctors of the Church on the characteristics of the tree. For the sake of moral paraenesis, which occupies a greater place in the practice of
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religious as of philosophical teaching than systematic and original thought,1 Gellius was thus made to serve a faith he had not deigned to notice.
1.1. The Direct Tradition Gellius, Noctes Atticae 3. 6 1. Per hercle rem mirandam Aristoteles in septimo problematorum et Plutarchus in octauo symposiacorum dicit.2 2. ‘Si super palmae’ inquiunt ‘arboris lignum magna pondera inponas, ac tam grauiter urgeas oneresque, ut magnitudo oneris sustineri non queat, non deorsum palma cedit, nec intra Xectitur, sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque.’ 3. ‘Propterea’ inquit Plutarchus ‘in certaminibus palmam signum esse placuit uictoriae, quoniam ingenium ligni eiusmodi est, ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat.’ Codicum in orthographia errores consulto omisi Per om. R spatio relicto rem mirandam CP: remirandam VR ac: at Rac tam Flor. Val-Gell., recc.: tamen VCPR oneris: arboris oneris R intra VCPR: in terra Flor. Val.-Gell. (in terram S)
Such is the text preserved by the twelfth-and thirteenth-century manuscripts of the direct tradition, VCPR, and the ValerioGellian Xorilegium, compiled in the eleventh century; the latter in §2 preserves tam for the tamen of the former but changes intra (‘inwards’, into a concave proWle) to in terra, which in turn was syntactically adjusted in the oldest manuscript (S ¼ Cambridge, Trinity College R 16. 34, c.1100) to in terram.
1.2. The Florilegium Vetus However, there are two older witnesses to this chapter, Trier, Stadtbibliothek 2500 (olim Sammlung Ludwig XII. 3), c.840, fo. 73v , hereafter Tre(virensis),3 which may have originated at Reims, 1
Cf. T. Morgan, above, Ch. 7; S. M. Beall, above, Ch. 8. Arist. fr. 229 Rose ¼ 733 Gigon; Plut. Quaest. conu. 8. 4. 5 (724 e–f) Ø Ø b Ææa ÆFÆ Æ ŒÆd d ıŒe "æfiø e ºº ºªŁÆØ ØŒ ªaæ º i Æ øŁ K ØŁd æ Øfi, P Œø ŁºØ K øØ , Iººa Œıæ FÆØ æe P Æ u æ I ŁØ H† ØÆ fiø F c ŒÆd æd f IŁºØŒ f IªH KØ f b ªaæ ! IŁ Æ ŒÆd ÆºÆŒÆ Ø Œ Æ ÆP E Ø ıØ Œ , ƒ Kææø ø ! c ÆŒØ P E ÆØ Iººa ŒÆd E æ ÆØ K Ææ ÆØ ŒÆd Æh ÆØ (Aristotle is not mentioned). 3 A. Borst, Reichskalender, i. 143–6 (MS c 2), cf. A. von Euw and J. Plotzek, Handschriften der Sammlung Ludwig, iii. 145–53; C. de Hamel and R. Nolden, ‘Die 2
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but at any rate by 876 was at Laon,4 and Valenciennes, Bibliothe`que municipale 174, c.890, fo. 41r , hereafter Val(entianensis), from Saint-Amand (in Hucbald’s hand?).5 In Tre, the chapter is followed by three texts on the palm-tree: Est etiam . . . rursus attollit (Ambrose, Exameron 3. 13. 55. CSEL 32. 97–8) Nec immerito . . succrescit (Gregory, Moralia in Hiob 19. 27. 49, CSEL 143A. 995), together with a few lines adapted from 19. 27. 48 (CSEL 143A. 994–5) Palma dicta . . . conWteantur agnoscant (Isidore, Etym. 17. 7. 1 þ 6. 18. 13–15),6 plus the words s{c}anctumque Ineo .cXrisma conWteantur and some extracts from the Liber glossarum.
Val has only Gellius, one sentence from Ambrose, no Gregory, and Isidore down to 6. 18. 14 infantum [sic etiam Tre] qui at the end of the page; fo. 41v contains an extract from Jordanes’ Historia Romana 85 (p. 9. 30–p. 10. 2 Mommsen). It is evident that both draw on an early Xorilegium on the palmtree that I shall call F(lorilegium)V(etus). Collation of the Gellian text against that of the modern editors shows that FV gave the reference as A. GELLIVS NOCTIV ATTICARV LIBRO IIII ET CAP VI’, to which was attached the book-number of Plutarch, omitted in the text; it summarized the content as res
neuerworbene Beda-Handschrift’. I am grateful to Elizabeth Teviotdale for this last reference, and for help in tracing the MS (no. 121 in Bede, De temporum ratione, ed. C. W. Jones, 160). 4 Where c.870 Martin the Irishman appended to Bede, DTR 5, in Berlin, SBB, MS Lat. 130 ¼ Phillipps 1832 (no. 18 Jones, p. 149) an extract from Gell. 3. 2. 1–6, the book being misnumbered libro IIIIo as in the extracts considered below; see P.Gautier Dalche´, ‘Deux lectures’, 127–30, who postulates as source a commentary by Eriugena. To Laon or its environs, as internal references show, belongs the letter written by one A. to Master E. in the 870s (MGH ep. 6. 186. 3–4, from Leiden UB, MS Voss. O 88, fo. 24r ) et Terentium mittite aut Agellium noctium atticarum aut Philonis Iudei historiam. Another Carolingian scholar, Dunchad of Reims, quotes Agellius in septimo commentario Noctium Atticarium, capitulo xxiiii (NA 6. 14. 10, 1–2) on Mart. Cap. 4. 327, v. 12 ¼ p. 151. 10 Dick (pp. 15–16 Lutz); but the note on 4. 331 ¼ p. 153. 14 (p. 18 Lutz) need not be Gellian. NA 3. 1. 6 is exploited in the Ps.-Byrhtferth gloss on Bede, DTR 8 (PL 90. 326–7; Auxerre, c.900). 5 See Borst, Reichskalender, i. 153–4 (MS c 8); cf. Catalogue ge´ne´ral des manuscrits des bibliothe`ques publiques de France: De´partements, xxv (Paris, 1894), 263–4; Jones 157 (no. 87). 6 At 17. 7. 1 for quia manus uictricis ornatus, nascatur, nucales FV has qua manus uictrix ornata, nascitur, mucales (this with the direct tradition); at 6. 18. 13–14 for dies palmarum, hunc it has palmarum dies, eum (this with T) and omits in eo. After Val drops out, for accederent, §15 hoc, competentibus Tre has accesserint, hac, plebi ‘ bus· .
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admiranda de ligno palmae, and spelt per ercle, aristotiles, and urgueas.7 However, it retained tam, and also the adverb intra.
1.3. The Florilegium At §2 in terram, read by S, also stood in the Xorilegium perhaps created by William of Malmesbury (d. 1143?)8 and certainly exploited by him in his Polyhistor and also by John of Salisbury (c.1115–80); in addition, its contents are divided between two twelfth-century manuscripts both now in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, namely Rawlinson G 139, coventionally called K,9 and Lat. class. d. 39 ¼ L.10 Our chapter is cited by William (in abbreviated form), Polyhistor, p. 66 Ouellette, hereafter Malm(esburiensis), and by John, Policraticus 5. 6 (i. 303 Webb), hereafter Saris(beriensis); it also appears in K fo. 152v . The underlying text may be reconstructed as follows. Per herculem rem mirandam Aristotiles in septimo Problematorum et Plutarcus in octauo Simposiacorum dicunt. ‘si super palme’ inquiunt ‘arboris lignum magna inponas pondera, ac tantum grauiter urgeas oneres, ut magnitudo oneris sustineri non queat, non deorsum cedit, nec in terram Xectitur sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque. ‘Propterea’ inquit Plutarchus ‘in certaminibus palma est signum uictorie, quoniam ligni ingenium eiusmodi est ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat.’ Per herculem om. Saris. admirandam Saris. probleumatum Saris. pultarcus K simposiacorum K: simph Malm.: memorabilium Saris. ac . . . nec] non Malm. in terram] iter K (unde inter cod. Pupiensis) aduersus pondus resurgit et om. Malm. inquit Plutarchus om. Malm. pultarcus inquit K in certaminibus palmam signum esse placuit uictorie K: in certaminibus palma est signum uictorie Malm: placuit palmam signum esse uictoriae in certaminibus Saris. ligni ingenium] lignum Malm. eiusmodi] huiusmodi Saris.
7 In addition Tre explains in the upper margin the hard words Gellius had not used: C$—ˇCIˇ˝ .i. ¯cuiuium ex quo C$M—ˇC'`˚ˇC .i. ¯cuiui(alis) j —ˇ´¸˙` .i. questio ł propositio unde —ˇ´¸˙`+'jˇ˝ .i. questiuncula, misspells symphosiacoru ¯ , adds a sidenote Cur placuerit palmam signum esse uictorie˛, and in Isidore has insigne˛ 17. 7. 1 where Val has rightly insigne. 8 See R. M. Thomson, William of Malmesbury, 189–98. 9 The extracts from K, together with its text of Cicero, De oYciis, were copied into MS Poppi, Bibl. Com. Rilliana 39 (s. xii); see Thomson, William, 195 with n. 31. 10 Olim London, Sion College, Arc. L. 40. 2/L. 21.
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John of Salisbury being a widely read author, his In terram was brought to light by Christopher Coler, Parergorum liber singularis, 74: ‘Sarisberiensis habet in terram pro intra`. nescio qua`m bene`.’ This was cited by J. F. Gronovius in his posthumous edition of 1687, who rightly added ‘Et videtur alterum scitius, nam intra est in sese’; that is to say, as Rolfe renders it, the wood is ‘made concave’. Nevertheless the Russian translator Afanasij Ivanov rendered John’s reading (k zemleˇ ),11 which J. H. Onions, ‘Notes on Gellius’, 78 took for the original text, on the assumption that int˜ra˜ (misprinted intra¯) had lost its tittles en route; he of course did not know that such a corruption would have had to antedate the ninth century.
1.4. The Florilegium Nouum Meanwhile, the texts of FV had been incorporated into a longer catena, which I call F(lorilegium)N(ouum), represented by Troyes, Bibliothe`que municipale 1926, s. xiimed , fo. 97v , hereafter Aug(ustobonensis), and Vatican City, BAV Reg. lat. 223, s. xiiex , fo. 86v , herafter Reg(inensis); Ambrose comes Wrst, then Gregory and Isidore, both much abridged, followed by Gellius; next comes a sentence from elsewhere in Isidore, Splene ridemus. felle irascimur. corde sapimus. iecore amamus. quibus iiii elementis constantibus integrum est animal (Etym. 11. 1. 127), and after that quotations, not all faithful, from Bede, In cantica canticorum 3. 4. 11 (CCSL 119B. 262), Solinus 33, p. 149 Mommsen, and Gregory, Homiliarum in euangelia libri duo 2. 34. 11, 12 (CCSL 141. 309. 258–70, 312, 336–55). Aug here adds a Carolingian text, Bernard the Deacon, Capitularium 6. 77, i. 935 Baluze,12 before joining Reg in citing Augustine, Super Genesim ad litteram 6. 13 (CSEL 28/1. 188. 3–7); various other passages of the same author follow, most but not all common to both manuscripts, including Augustine, De baptismo 4. 1. 1 (CSEL 51. 223). An abridgement of this catena appears in the Excepciones [¼Excerptiones, a common medieval conXation] Roberti de Braci (hereafter Bra) contained in London, British Library, MS Royal 8 D viii (written between the foundation of Lanthony Priory in 1136 and the canonization of Edward the Confessor in 1161) at fo. 119rb , where our chapter follows excerpts from Cassian’s Collationes and precedes Augustine, De baptismo 4. 1. 1. The text runs: 11 12
M. Mignon reads ‘intra’ but translates ‘jusqu’a` terre’. Cf. PL 78. 341: ‘Caroli et Ludouici’.
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Agellius Lignum palme impositis ponderibus renititur ideoque eam signum uictorie esse uoluerunt per ercle mirandam rem aristotiles in septimo problematum et plutarchus in octauo simphoniacorum dicit. Si super palme˛ inquiunt arboris lignum magna pondera imponas, ac tam grauiter urgeas oneresque ut magnitudo oneris sustineri non queat non deorsum palma cadit nec infra Xectitur sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque propterea inquit plutanus in certaminibus palmam signum placuit esse uictorie˛ quoniam ingenium ligni huiusmodi est ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat. eam] eı¯ Aug percle Aug mirandam] iurandam Reg aristotiles] aritotiles Bra problematorum] problematum AugReg: probleumatum Bra) plutarchus] plutr.a‘ r· chus Bra sinphoniacorum] sinphoniachorum Bra non queat Bra: nequeat AugReg queat in rasura Bra plutarchus] ita et in ordine et contra Bra: plutarcus Aug: plutanus Reg ingenium] ‘ i uirtus· Aug: uirtus et ingenium Bra
Here too intra has caused trouble, being corrupted into infra. This latter is also found in MS Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale II. I. 72 (s. xv), and in Erasmus, Adagia 1. 3. 4;13 it was proposed by Daniel Wilhelm Triller of Merseburg in a letter to Christian Falster dated 12 June 1722,14 and adopted by Marache from chimerical ‘edd.’
1.5. Other Quotations The chapter does not appear in the Florilegium Gallicum, which leaps from 2. 29 to 5. 10, nor in the Florilegium Angelicum, which draws only on books 9–20; however, it was excerpted independently of in MS B (no later than 1198) of Radulphus de Diceto’s Abbreuiationes Chronicorum:15 [mg. Agellius lib. iii cap. quinto] Si super palme arboris lignum magna pondera imponas ac tam grauiter urgeas oneresque ut magnitudo oneris sustineri non queat, non deorsum palma cedit nec intra Xectitur sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruatur. Propterea inquit 13 Opera omnia, II i. 316, without comment. F. Weiss renders ‘inwendig (abwa¨rts)’, H. Berthold in his selective translation (194) ‘und sie la¨ßt sich auch nicht niederbeugen’. 14 Copenhagen, Det kongelige Bibliotek, E don. var. 6, 2o , p. 7, rejecting John of Salisbury’s in terram: ‘Nil nos mutandum censemus; si quid tamen, putem: nec infra Xectitur; quod de palma verum.’ Falster himself in his Gellian lexicon ‘Noctes Ripenses’, MS E don. var. 4, 2o , p. 663, s.v. palma, writes ‘lego, introXectitur’, cf. ‘Specimen’, 141. 15 British Library, Cotton Claudius E iii, fo. 13v ; ed. W. Stubbs, i. 51 n. 3. On Radulphus’ excerpts see P. K. Marshall et al., ‘Clare College MS. 26’, 373–4.
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plutarcus in certaminibus palmam signum esse placuit uictorie quoniam ingenium ligni eiusmodi est ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat. tam] sequitur litura duarum litterarum, nimirum en dem perperam Stubbs in editione Radulphi
eiusmodi] ejus-
It was also excerpted in the twelfth-century MS Cambridge, St John’s College 91 (D 16), otherwise known as MS J of Quintilian, which at vol. i, fo. 72v , under the heading De palma mirabile habetur Dictum, reproduces (in a later but still twelfth-century hand) NA 3. 6 with tamen for tam, neris by haplography for oneris, and interXectitur for intra Xectitur,16 but otherwise correctly as far as quoniam, then continues signi [sic] eiusmodi etc. before running without a break into 6. 13. In the Quattrocento 3. 6 is found in the Gellian epitome Venice, BNM lat. XIV. 216 (4630), fo. 6r ;17 BAV, Chigi L VII 248, fo. 184v ,18 Vat. lat. 11189, fo. 87va ;19 Pavia, Biblioteca Universitaria, Aldini 367, fo. 39r .20 ;
16 Also in BL Harley 2768, Naples BN V. B. 6, BAV Urb. lat. 1174 (all s. xv); note too intus Xectitur Pesaro, Bibl. Oliveriana 37 (with sensim for sursum); irata Xectitur Munich, BSB Clm. 5359. 17 It begins: Aristotiles in vij problematum rem per hercle mirandam et Plutarchus in viij symphosiacorum dicit, with the marginal note Nota de uiribus palme, then continues as in standard texts but with the two variants uictorie placuit and ingenium eiusmodi lignum [sic]. 18 Aulus Gelius in iiij [sic] libro Noctium Atticarum. j [mg propterea inquit] Plutarchus in Certaminibus palmam signum esse placuit uictorie˛ quoniam ingenium eiusmodi lignum [cf. n. 17] est ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat. 19 Rem mirandam Aristoteles viio problematum dicit. Si super palme arboris lignum magna pondera ı¯ponas et grauiter urgeas honeresque, ut magnitudo honeris sustineri non queat: non deorsum palma cedit: nec intra Xectitur: sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque. The MS is a commonplace-book bearing the arms of Cardinal Marco Barbo, a magniWcent collection deserving publication. Besides numerous quotations from Gellius and other ancient authors, there are more modern exempla: fo. 35rb---va His [the well-known fable of the bundle of sticks] simile est illud Caroli malatestae principis prudentissimi qui aliquando posita congerie lignorum in igne sese ac fratres habunde calefaciebat, postea ignem per thalamos cuiusque diuidens nemo se calefacere poterat, per hoc docens eos una debere conuiuere; 48ra Blasius Parmensis uir aetate nostra in philosophia et astrologia doctissimus atque acutissimus cum preuidisset se ab equi pondere periturum, equos omnes uelut uite sue hostes fugiebat, adeo ut si quo eum ire oporteret iter pedibus conWceret. Verum nec sic infortunium euitari potuit. Nam apud patriam urbem philosophiam docens cum uisitandi cuiusdam discipuli sui causa in hospitium quoddam publicum cui equus ligneus insigne esset accessisset, cumque prae foribus colloqueretur, equus uetustate nimia consumptus cecidit in caput eius eumque suo pondere ac ruina oppressit. The subject of this tale is Biagio Pelacani, d. 1416, known as doctor diabolicus (Naples, Bibl. Naz. Vittorio Emanuele III, MS VIII G. 74 (paper, s. xiv–xv), Xyleaf, cit. P. O. Kristeller, Iter, i. 428.) 20 Ex A. Gellio de ui et natura Palme arboris. Per hercle rem mirandam Aristoteles in vijo problematum et Plutarchus in viij simphosicorum scribit Si super palmæ inquit arboris lignum magna pondera imponas ac tam grauiter urgeas oneresque ut magnitudo
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1.6. From Wood to Tree The corruptions in terra(m) and infra, which have each had their champions in modern times, seem to indicate not only semantic interference from deorsum, but failure to recognize that the subject is timber, not the living tree.21 This failure, already implicit in the construction of FV and FN, becomes explicit in Guibert of Tournai (below, §3.1), and was frequent in the Renaissance; it recurs in Erasmus’ Parabolae siue similia: Vt palmae arboris ramus, imposito onere non deXectitur in terram caeterarum more, sed renititur et ultro aduersus sarcinae pondus erigit sese, ita uiri fortis animus quo plus negociis premitur. quoque magis seuit fortuna, hoc est erectior.22
whence it passed into Alciato’s Emblemata (Pl. 10. 1) and (despite a false reference to Pliny) Paolo Giovio’s Imprese.23 In consequence, when we Wnd it in Gysbertus Longolius’ translation of Plutarch, Natural Questions 32, from a Greek text now lost: Cur inter omnes arbores sola palma contra impositum onus assurgit? Vtrum quod ignea et spirabilis facultas, qua maxime pollet, quum tentatur et irritatur, sese exercens magis et magis erigit? An quoniam pondus ramos subito urgens, aerem omnem qui in his est, oppressum cedere retro cogat, qui deinde resumptis paulo uiribus, aduersum onus acrius rursus instat? An molles et tenerae uirgae impetum non sustinentes, quum onus quiescit, paulatim se erigunt, et speciem, quasi contra illud assurgant, praebent?24
we may suspect that it is due not to Plutarch, but to the translator’s love of Ciceronian fullness, which compelled the addition of detail not present in the original.25 oneris sustineri non queat: non deorsum palma cedit nec intra Xectitur: sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque Propterea inquit Plutarchus in certaminibus palmam signum esse placuit uictorie˛ quoniam ingenium huiuscemodi ligni est ut urgentibus prementibusque non cedat. The readings are mostly those of Bussi’s ed. pr., which has Symphosicorum and eiuscemodi (Jenson gives eiusmodi). 21
Timber is speciWed (lignum) as at Plut. Mor. 734 e, cf. Strabo 15. 3. 10; careless reading might overlook the fact at Xen. Cyrop. 7. 5. 11, Thphr. HP 5. 6. 1, Plin. NH 16. 223. 22 Opera omnia, I v. 302, no. 3295. 23 See V. Woods Callahan, ‘Andrea Alciato’s Palm Tree Emblem’, who considers the origins, development, and afterlife of this emblem; cf. Paolo Giovio, Dialogo dell’imprese militari e amorose, ed. M. L. Goglio, 89–90; G. de Tervarent, Attributs et symboles, cols. 295–7; A. Henkel and A. Scho¨ne, Emblemata, col. 192. 24 Quoted from ‘Plutarchi de causis naturalibus’, in Opuscula, ed. Henricus Stephanus, iii. 275; cf. F. H. Sandbach in the Loeb Moralia, xi. 214–16. 25 See Sandbach 142 and 214–15 n. 2.
Pl. 10.1. Emblem of the palm-tree, from Omnia Andreae Alciati .V.C. emblemata (Paris, 1608), 231
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Ex. 10.1. Original text and melody of Anke van Tharaw, stt. 6–7, from Heinrich Albert, Fu¨nffter Theil der Arien (Ko¨nigsberg, 1642), no. 21
So far, the burden has still been imposed by human hand; but in the famous seventeenth-century song published by Heinrich Albert,26 ‘Anke van Tharaw’, stt. 6–7 (see Ex. 10. 1), the agency becomes Nature herself:
26 H. Albert, Fu¨nVter Theil der Arien, no. 21, ‘Aria incerti Autoris’ (¼ composer). Nor is the poet named; the 18th-c. tradition that the words were written by Simon Dach for the wedding of Johann Portatius and Anna Neander (a pastor’s daughter from Tharau, now Vladimirovo, whose statue now stands before the Dramos teatras at Klaipe˙da), is denied by W. Ziesemer, edn. of Dach, ii. 393–4, who attributes them to Albert himself, but defended by I. Ljungerud, ‘EhrenRettung’. At pp. 71–6 Ljungerud discusses the palm-tree (a device in the Portatius arms, p. 49), which was also used as a symbol of sexual desire (cf. Plin. NH. 13. 34–5). The text, written in Samland (Zemland) dialect, is nowadays sung in High German to a melody by Friedrich Silcher (1789–1860); whereas in J. G. Herder’s original adaptation v. 11 was rendered word for word ‘Recht als ein Palmenbaum u¨ber sich steigt’, it now begins more idiomatically ‘So wie’, as in the chapterheading of Berthold’s translation, 194.
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Recht as een Palmen-Bohm a¨ver so¨ck sto¨cht/ Je mehr en Hagel on Regen anfo¨cht. So wardt de Lo¨w’ o¨n onß ma¨chtich on groht/ Do¨rch Kryhtz/ do¨rch Lyden/ do¨rch allerley Noht.
Or in Longfellow’s free translation, ‘Annie of Tharaw’: As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall, The more the hail beats, and the more the rains fall,— So love in our hearts shall grow mighty and strong, Through crosses, through sorrows, through manifold wrong.
2. gellius and pseudo-gellius Like other ancient authors, Gellius is sometimes cited without acknowledgement in the Middle Ages and, in the very same text, credited with matter that he did not write; I return below to an instance inadequately treated in a previous article.
2.1. The Palm-Tree in a Franciscan Sermon Some years ago I discussed an echo of NA 3. 6, as refashioned by John of Salisbury, in an Easter Monday sermon on the text ReXoruit caro mea (Ps. 27: 7 Vulg.) attributed to St Bonaventure (c.1217–74) and printed in the ninth and least satisfactory volume of the Quaracchi edition, noting that the true author appeared to be Guibert of Tournai (c.1200–84),27 and expressing some scepticism about the integrity of the editors’ text.28 This scepticism did not go far enough. The text is presented in three parts: ‘Sermo’ (pp. 281–6): an editorial conXation of two sermons for Easter Sunday (not Monday) on the Resurrection (one of them itself conXated from two diVerent reportationes), resulting in a very Wne sermon that unfortunately was never preached; ‘Collatio’ (pp. 286–8): another sermon by Guibert;29 ‘Schema’ (pp. 288–9): said to be of a sermon preached by Bonaventure at Toulouse,30 but matching Guibert’s part in the ‘Sermo’. 27 J. B. Schneyer, Repertorium, i. 607, Bonaventure nos. 215–16; ii. 296, Guibert no. 179. 28 Holford-Strevens, ‘Gellius among the Friars Minor’. 29 Schneyer, Repertorium, no. 180. The editors Wnd it only in Hi (where it appears as a collatio) and Au4 (where it is a new sermon, but much abbreviated); in fact it is present in Tu, but preceding Guibert 179 instead of following. It also appears after 179 in Au1---3 Va, and independently (so ibid. vi. 276, no. 31) in Turin, Bib. Univ. I D 10. 30 ‘Sermo fratris Bonaventurae in Conventu Tolosae’, from Milan, Bibl. Ambrosiana A 11 sup., fo. 117r---v ¼ Fidelis a Fanna, Ratio novae collectionis, 113
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I have now examined the passage that concerns us in eight manuscripts,31 including the four (indicated by asterisks) from which the Quaracchi editors, or Claraquenses, concocted the text of the ‘Sermo’: Au(gustobonensis)1 ¼ Troyes, Bibliothe`que municipale 775, s. xiii–xiv, fos. 74ra ---75vb ; Au(gustobonensis)2 ¼ Troyes, Bibliothe`que municipale 823, s. xiii, fos. 256ra ---258rb ; Au(gustobonensis)3 ¼ Troyes, Bibliothe`que municipale 1778, s. xiii, fos. 133va ---136va ; Au(gustobonensis)4 ¼ Troyes, Bibliothe`que municipale 2052, s. xiv, fos. 109vb ---111vb ;32 Tu(ders) ¼ Todi, Biblioteca comunale L. Leonj 140, s. xiv, fos. 320v ---325r ;33 Va(ticanus) ¼ Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 11444, s. xiv, fos. 107va ---110vb . These manuscripts, of which Au1 and Au3 expressly ascribe their contents to Gilbert, carry essentially the same text (recension A). All four Augustobonenses come from Clairvaux. Hi(lariensis) ¼ Wilhering, Stiftsbibliothek IX 36, s. xiv, fos. 99v ---101v ;34 the same sermon, but in a diVerent reportatio (recension B).35
(under ‘Dominica Resurrectionis’), no. 220, also found without the heading in Paris, BNF lat. 14595, fos. 42r ---43r ; both s. xiv. 31 ˇ eske´ Schneyer, Repertorium, ix. 324, no. 42 also cites Prague, Sta´tnı´ knihovna C republiky I. G. 10 (s. xiv–xv) ¼ J. Truhla´rˇ, Catalogus, i. 120–1, no. 284. Enquiries after this MS made before and after the Xood of August 2002 have not been answered. 32 Catalogue ge´ne´ral des manuscrits des bibliothe`ques publiques des de´partements, ii (Paris, 1855), 320, 342, 744, 885–6, citing a ghostly Parisian edn. of 1518 in consequence of two errors: the Bodleian catalogue of 1684, i. 290, misdated 8o T 34 Th, Guibert’s reprinted Sermones ad omnes status (Paris, 1513), to ‘1518’; the Histoire litte´raire de la France, xix (Paris, 1838), 139, mistook them for the Sermones de dominicis et festis in these MSS. Cf. J. G. Bougerol, Les Manuscrits franciscains, 54, 82, 229, 298, nos. 775bk, 823bo, 1778bm, 2052ap. 33 L. Leo`nij, Inventario, 50, no. 140, ‘Miscellanea . . . Il codice era del convento di Todi, e di frate Andrea di Todi, che lo ebbe da frate Francesco di Todi nel 1419.’ The Quaracchi editors wrongly cite fo. 349v . 34 O. Grillnberger, in Handschriften-Verzeichnisse, ii. 17: ‘Sermones Guillelmi’. The Quaracchi editors wrongly cite fo. 31. Microfilm kindly provided by Hill Museum and Manuscript Library, Saint John’s University, Collegeville, MN. 35 As we have seen, Hi appends Guibert 180 as a collatio to 179; it also reports and expounds in both texts a prothema ‘Cognouerunt Dominum in fractione panis’ (Luke 24: 35).
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Ba(sileensis) ¼ Basel, Universita¨tsbibliothek B X 4, s. xiv (c.1300), fos. 42v (¼ pt: 2, fo: 29v )---44v (31v ).36 A diVerent sermon, in a section ascribed to Bonaventure by a late hand. In the edition, a subdiuisio on the Xowers and trees that the reXowered Xesh resembles ends as follows (ix. 284; italics original): Floruit etiam ut palma per dotem impassibilitatis, quae attribuitur palmae. Unde Aristoteles in septimo libro Problematum dicit: ‘si super palmae arboris lignum magna pondera imponas ac tam graviter urgeas oneresque, ut magnitudo oneris sustineri non queat, non deorsum palma cedit nec intra Xectitur, sed adversus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recurvaturque.’ Et Plutarchus philosophus, magister Traiani imperatoris, in octavo libro Memorabilium: ‘Propterea, inquit, placuit, palmam signum esse victoriae in certaminibus, quoniam ligni huius ingenium est, ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat.’ Et ideo merito Xore impassibilitatis illa caro Xoruit, quae tam nobiliter triumphavit; Psalmus: Iustus ut palma Xorebit, sicut cedrus Libani multiplicabitur. Sicut enim in cedro soliditas partium resistit sectioni aut divisioni, sic habitus gloriae impassibilitatis resistit in corporibus gloriWcatis, ne qualitates elementares agant aut discussionem complexionis aut divisionem partium corporis.
This represents the text of recension A, partly corrected from Gellius: Xoruit etiam ut palma per dotem impassibilitatis, quae attribuitur palme. Vnde Ari. in vij li. probleumatum dicit si super palme arboris lignum magna pondera inponas ac tantum grauiter urgeas honeres ut magnitudo honeris sustineri non queat, non deorsum cedit nec in terram Xectitur sed aduersus pondus resurgit et sursum nititur recuruaturque. et plucarius philosophus, magister Traiani imperatoris, in viij li. Memorabilium propterea inquit placuit palmam signum esse uictorie in certaminibus quoniam ligni huius ingenium est ut urgentibus opprimentibusque non cedat et ideo merito Xore inpassibilitatis illa caro Xoruit que tam nobiliter triumphauit Ps Iustus ut palma Xorebit, sicut cedrus libani multiplicabitur; Sicut enim in cedro soliditas partium resistit sectioni seu diuisioni, sic habitus gloriae inpassibilitatis resistit in corporibus gloriWcatis, ne qualitates elementares agant aut discrasiam complectionis aut diuisionem partium corporis.37 36 G. Meyer and M. Burckhardt, Die mittelalterlichen Handschriften, ii. 466–73 at 466–7. 37 For comparison, Hi reads: Quarto Xoruit ut Xos palme in qua inmarcessibilitas signiWcatur. vnde dicit philosophus in vijo problematum quod palma lignum est et si super lignum arboris palme pondus inponas non cedit nec Xectitur. sed contra resurgit et eleuatur unde in hoc datur intelligi dos inpassibilitatis quia corpus Christus [sic: xp¯¯c] resurrexit sicut palma contra pondus se erigit et extollit; Ba: Quarto Xoruit ut palma propter gloriosi trophei triumphatiuam potestatem/ et hoc propter dotem inpassibilitatis. Bene enim per palmam signiWcatur triumphatiua potestas gloriosi trophei/ nam/ ad
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dotem] dote Va problematum] probleumatum Au14 dicit om. Va inponas] ponas Va tantum om. Va: tam Claraquenses Gellium secuti honeres] honores Auuv 1 Va: oneresque Claraquenses non2 ] aut Gellium secuti non queat] nequeat Au4 Au4 deorsum] þ palma Claraquenses Gellium secuti cedit] tendit Tu in terram] intra Claraquenses Gellium secuti in] ad Va et] etiam Tu plucarius Au23 : lucarius TuVamg : lucarius an philosophus lucanus incertum Au1 : lucanus Au4 : lieteuius Vaordo om. Va Traiani om. Au4 signum esse] esse signum Va: lignum esse cett. urgentibus opprimentibusque] opprimentibus urgentibus que Au4 caro] ½½caro ita male scriptum ut paene caio legas caro Au2 Ps(almus)] sc. 91. 13 Vulg. Xorebit] Xo. Au34 : hucusque Va sicut . . . multiplicabitur] &c Au4 sectioni] sestioni Au1 aut1 ] a˛ (¼ autem) j aut Au3 : seu Au4 diuisioni] diuisions ne]: nec Au4 aut discrasiam . . . corporis om. [dio¯ns] sic Au2 Au4 discrasiam] sc. ıŒæÆÆ : discussionem Claraquenses propter inscitiam aut2 ] a’ (¼ aut) Au1 complectionis Au1 : completionis Au23 : complesionis Tu
That John is the source is indicated by memorabilium instead of symposiacorum, by the word-order of placuit palmam signum [or lignum] esse uictorie in certaminibus, and probably by huius (cf. John’s huiusmodi); it is conWrmed by the description of Plutarch as magister Traiani imperatoris, for the very book of the Policraticus from which the Gellian passage is taken begins with the Institutio Traiani.
2.2. More Falsa Gelliana In the same sermon (p. 285) an anecdote concerning Alexander the Great, based on the Collatio Alexandri et Dindimi, is ascribed to Gellius but in fact taken from John of Salisbury, Policraticus 4. 11 (i. 267 Keats-Rohan),38 attached to one about Plato from Policraticus 4. 4. 55–8 (i. 242–3 Keats-Rohan).39 The Quaracchi text gives: litteram ut dicit ysidorus palma est arbor/ victoria/ et manus victorum seu victoris seu triumphatoris adornatur/ cum ea/ vnde et pueri ebreorum triumphatori mortis cum ramis palmarum obuiauerunt/ clamantes Osanna Wlio dauid benedictus qui venit &c per itaque signiWcatur in Christo dos inpassibilitatis quia palma est arbor/ nobilis et insignis/ sempiterne pulchritudinis/ et uigoris/ conseruans folia sua tempore hyemis et estatis/ truncus etiam eius valde solidus est/ et conpactus et inputribilis Wrmitatis/ vnde corpus illud domini gloriosum/ et gloriWcatum vltra putrescere ledi vulnerari et pati non potest/ Christus enim resurgens ex mortuis vltra non moritur &c. 38 Reused in Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum historiale 4. 66 ¼Speculum maius, iv. 135 (a notoriously dishonest edition). 39 A. S. Riginos, Platonica, 82–3, no. 28, knows no previous source, but cites Rep. 566 b, 567 d; cf. Cic. Tusc. 5. 58. It reappears in Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum doctrinale 5. 7, 7. 30, ed. cit. ii. 407–8, 578.
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Tertio debemus Xorere per iustitiam; unde Canticorum secundo [Cant. 2: 1]: Ego Xos campi et lilium convallium.—Flos campi omnibus accessibilis iustitia est, quae est omnibus communis, ut possint pauperes accedere ad superiores. Non sunt Xores campi quidam pontiWces et praelati, sed verius pompiWces et Pilati, tot habentes circa se cum fustibus et gladiis [Matt. 26: 55]. Aliquod grande Xagitium perpetrasse putandi sunt qui ita diligenter custoditi sunt, sicut refert Historia gentium, Platonem Dionysio tyranno Siciliae dixisse: ‘Quantum Xagitium commisisti, quia cum tanta diligentia custodiris?’ Et isti non sunt Xos campi, non horti. Sed nunquid isti sunt lilia convallium? Non; sed vepres montium ad pauperes impugnandos. Sed utinam quotquot pauperes impugnant recolant illud Auli Gellii, Noctium Atticarum, quod Alexander Magnus ultimum littus Oceani devicerat et venerat expugnare insulam Fragmariae. Qui miserunt ei litteram in haec verba: Divitias non habemus, quarum cupiditate nos debeas expugnare; esca nobis est pro divitiis, pro cultibus et auro vilis et rara vestis; antra nobis duplicem usum praestant: tegumentum in vita, sepulturam in morte. Quem locum habet vindicta, ubi nulla fuit iniuria? his motus Alexander nullam ratus victoriam, si eorum turbaret quietem, eos in pace dimisit. Et utinam ita facerent qui pauperes opprimunt!
This combines, sometimes skilfully, the readings of the two reportationes. Recension A has: De tercio cant. ij ego Xos campi et lilium conuallium. Xos campi omnibus est accessibilis. Iustitia est que est omnibus communis ut possint pauperes accedere ad superiores. non sunt Xores campi quidam pontiWces et prelati sed uerius pompiWces et pylati tot habentes satellites circa se cum fustibus et gladiis ut non uideantur Xores campi sed orti diligentissime custoditi. aliquod grande Xagitium perpetrasse putandi sunt qui ita diligenter custoditi sunt, sicut refert historia gentium platonem dyonisio tyranno sicilie respondisse. non sunt similiter lilia conuallium sed uepres montium ad pauperes inpugnandos. sed utinam quotquot pauperes inpugnant recolant illud agellii noctium atticarum, cum Alexander Magnus ultimum litus Occeani perlustrasset debellare uolebat insulam Bragmanorum. qui miserunt ei epistolam in haec uerba: ‘diuicias non habemus, quarum cupiditate nos debeas expugnare; esca nobis est pro diuiciis, pro cultibus et auro uilis et rara uestis. antra nobis duplicem usum prestant, tegumentum in uita, sepulturam in morte. quem locum habet uindicta, ubi nulla Wt iniusticia?’ hiis motus Alexander nullam ratus uictoriam si eorum turbaret quietem eos in pace dimisit. ij] 7 Va accessibilis1 ] þ etAu4 est] þ virtus Au1-4 omnibus om. Au123 : est Au4 possint om. Va pauperes] pauper Va ad] sicut Va non sunt . . . prelati] sed non quidam pontiWces et prelati sunt Xores campi Au4 sed . . . pylati om. Au3 Va pompiWces] pontiWces Au2 tot om. Au4 habentes] þ tot Va cum fustibus et gladiis] etc. Au4 ut] quod diligentissime] -mi Va: diligenter Va campi om. Au4
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Au4 custoditi1 ]þ sunt Au13 Tu: þ sicut Va aliquod . . . respondisse om. Au4 aliquod] a d Au1 Tu: ad Au2 grande om. Va putandi] ½½perpetrandiputandi Va ita] ˜ı Va hystoria gentium] gencium Au12 : gentilium Au3 : Au13 Tu: ystoria Au2 Va om. Va dyonisio] dionisio Va sicilie respondisse] respondisse scicilie Tu similiter om. Au4 ad . . . dimisit] etc. Au4 inpugnandos] þ{ Au2 agellii] agelli Va noctium] notum Va atticarum cum om. Va in ordine, add. mg cum om. Tu occeani Au2 : octeani Au1 : oceani Au3 Va uolebat] uoluit Tu insulam] per insulam Au2 qui (que Au2 , qui j q. Va) midiuicias] diuitias serunt ei epistolam in haec uerba Au123 Tu Va esca] exca Va diuiciis] diuitis Va rara] þ nobis Tu habet]: habeat Tu uindicta] uicdicta Va Wt] sit Au2 iniusticia] þ{ Au2 hiis] et hiis Au3 uictoriam] uicitoriam Va
In recension B the text runs (underlining as in Hi): Tertio debemus Xorere per iustitiam; unde can. [blank]. ego Xos campi et lilium convallium. Xos campi signiWcat iustitiam quia sicut Xos campi omnibus communiter sic iustitia omnibus communis esse dicitur. et utinam haberent hanc iustitiam prelati et pontiWces. sed multi sunt qui melius possent dici pilati quem prelati. quia causas pauperum ad se admittunt. et isti sunt Xores orti non campi. legimus enim in historiis antiquis de platone qui uidens dyonisium tyrannum cicilie dixit ‘quantum Xagitium commisisti, quia cum tanta diligentia custodiris?’ is ipse timuit eum: et isti non sunt Xores campi non orti. sed numquid sunt ipsi lilia conuallium? non, sed uepres montium quia pauperes uulnerant. legimus in agellio quod alexander ultimum litus occidentale deuicerat et uenerat expugnare insulam fragmariae. qui scripserunt ei: Diuicias non habemus, quarum cupiditate nos debeas expugnare; esca nobis pro diuiciis, pro cultu ½½7 ca tenuis et rara et prope nulla uestis; antra nobis usum duplicem prestant, tegumentum in uita, et in morte sepulturam. quem locum habet uindicta, ubi nulla fuit iniuria?’ et cum ille hoc audisset arbitratus est quod si illos inquietaret non multum tenderet in uictoriam et gloriam eius et recessit. et utinam ita facerent illi qui pauperes opprimunt.
The Quaracchi editors, who had failed to trace the source of either passage, were no more successful with another passage from Hi, also on p. 285: Legitur de quodam philosopho, cui cum irrogarentur convicia, dixit: ‘Didicisti maledicere, et ego, teste conscientia, didici maledicta contemnere.’
This too comes from John, Policraticus 3. 14 (i. 222 Keats-Rohan ¼ i. 224 Webb): Quid Xenofon? Tu, inquit, cuidam didicisti
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maledicere et ego teste conscientia didici maledicta contemnere.40 The chreia was combined by Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum historiale 3. 67,41 with a reference to Gellius 14. 3: Actor. De xenofonte refert agellius quod quidam putauerunt inter ipsum et platonem fuisse rancores et discordias, quia magis assequutus est famam et palmam eloquencie quam omnes alii socratis discipuli post platonem; et inter pares semper uidetur esse quedam emulatio. Huius dicitur esse illa sententia, quam sibi maledicenti respondit: tu, inquit, male dixisti, ego consciencia teste didici maledicta contempnere.
Walter Burley, De vita et moribus philosophorum, c. 32 (‘Xenophon’), having mentioned the rivalry with Plato, by an easy misreading ascribes the anecdote to Gellius: Agellius de Xenophonte sic ait: Cum quidam ei malediceret sic respondit: Tu studium tuum ad maledicendum dedisti, ego uero, consciencia teste, didici maledicta contempnere (p. 150 Knust).
Likewise at c. 30 (‘Socrates’), following a reference to the notorious matrimonial problems mentioned by Gellius in 1. 17. 1–3, Burley writes: Item ut ait Agellius Wlios habebat ex Xantippe Socrates matri similes sibique moribus ualde dissimiles, discolos [sc. ıŒº ı] et inquietos, et tamen cum illis paciWce uixit (p. 118 Knust).42
3. fragmentary manuscripts The rest of this chapter is devoted to sidelights on the manuscript tradition as evidence for Gellius’ diVusion, beginning with scraps of manuscripts salvaged from the wreck of time.
3.1. Fragmentum Egmondanum In Brussels, Koninklijke Bibliotheek van Belgie¨/Bibliothe`que Royale de Belgique (KBR), item 60 in the fragment-collection MS IV 625 comprises a bifolium that alone survives from the 40 Cf. 8. 15 (ii. 346 Webb) and the passages cited by E. Wo¨lZin in his edition of ‘Caecilius Balbus’, pp. 16, 31, 39; on p. 31 a similar tale is ascribed to Aristippus, for which see I A 72–3 Giannantoni, 91 A–C Mannebach. 41 Ed. cit. iv. 108; but I cite from Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 287, fo. 57v , kindly brought to my attention by Professor Nigel Palmer (in which the book is numbered 4). Gellian passages in Vincent are noted by Hertz, ed. mai. ii, pp. xl f., M. Manitius, ‘Gellius bei Vinzenz von Beauvais’. 42 Cf. Sen. Ep. 104. 27 with Arist. Rhet. 2. 15, 1390b 29–31, Plut. Cat. mai. 20. 4
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Gellian portion of a manuscript in which the Noctes Atticae (probably books 9–20) originally followed Cicero’s Tusculanae Disputationes down to 3. 36 nequiter facere; the latter text is preserved in the Bibliotheek der Rijksuniversiteit Leiden as Codex Lipsiensis 30, which bears above the title the words Liber Abbatis Stephani and at the end, in the hand of its Wfteenth-century corrector, the note: Particula prima tercij libri et quartus et quintus libri tusculanarum questionum totidem sunt enim libri hic deWciunt. [Xourished signature and ornament] Sequitur A. Gellius noctium Atticarum sed incompletus. Sunt enim in toto libri decem et nouem.43 It is natural to identify these remnants with the manuscript of Gellius and the Tusculans that along with many other books entered the abbey library of Sint Adalbert at Egmond under its Wfth abbot Stephen or Steppo (r. 1057–1105).44 Although the library stamp and shelf-mark (together with an older marking ‘Mss. divers 3547’) appear on the recto of the smooth side, the text of the manuscript, which I hereby designate E(gmondanus), begins on the recto of the hairy side (Pl. 10. 2) with 14. 2. 19 eodemq(ue) intempore (Marshall ii. 435. 17). It has been trimmed with the loss of up to Wve or six letters at the end of each line on this face, in which the preserved text ends at §25 cognouisset (sic, see below; 436. 6–7) and the beginning of each line on the verso, which resumes at -nasse (436. 7) and ends with 14. 3. 2 sectatorum (437. 3). The conjunct leaf begins with 14. 8. 2 cclviiii (445. 13, where Marshall adopts Strzelecki’s IIII); the last word of chapter and book, plebiscitum, is followed by the heading A GELLII NOCTIVM j ACTICAR(um) LIB(er). without book-number and the capitula of book 15 down to the page-turn 43 For the Gellian fragment see Richard H. Rouse at Marshall et al., ‘Clare College MS. 26’, 378 n. 50; cf. id. in L. D. Reynolds (ed.), Texts and Transmission, 134; it was again brought to my notice by Barbara Haggh-Huglo and Michel Huglo. For the readings of Cod. Lips. 30 see H. Deiter, ‘Ein Tusculanen-codex’. 44 Recorded in a partial catalogue (UB Leiden, B.P.L. 611, fos. 144r ---148r ) compiled in 1530 and Wrst published by H. van Wijn, Huiszittend Leeven, i. 316–33; identiWed with Cod. Lips. 30 by H. G. Kleyn, ‘De catalogus’, 150 n. 10. Cf. W. Lampen, ‘Catalogus’, 31, 56 (no. 62); id., ‘De boekenlijst’, 82. Munk Olsen, L’E´tude, i. 197, C. 205 objects that ‘l’e´criture semble pourtant trop e´volue´e pour que le ms. puisse remonter a` la seconde moitie´ du xie sie`cle’; however, J. P. Gumbert, ‘Wanneer werkte C?’, 188–91, groups it with MSS copied at Egmond in Abbot Stephen’s time. An 11th-c.date is accepted by Rouse (n. 43), whose obit of 1083 for Stephen follows the error of Johannes a Leydis, Chronicon Egmundanum, ed. A. Matthaeus, 15, corrected in Matthaeus’ own note, pp. 188–9. Two other items from Abbot Stephen’s reign survive at Leiden: Lampen no. 56, Angelomus and Williramus on the Song of Songs ¼ B.P.L.130, and no. 73, Lucan ¼ Burm. Q 1. B.
Pl. 10.2. First page in text order of Fragmentum Egmondanum (Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, MS IV 625/60 fo. 2r: Gellius 14. 2. 19–25), with Germanic legal term uadio instead of suadeo in l. 7 (§21). Copyright Royal Library of Belgium
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at 15. 5. cap. insci-jteque (451. 19), after which the text continues to the end of the verso at 15. 14. cap. metellus (460. 24).45 Alas, E contributes no reading both true and new; its chief claim to virtue is the correct coniectatoria at 14. 3. 1 (436. 25–6) as in the Valerio-Gellian Xorilegium (present in 14. 2. 21–5, 14. 3. 1–2). Nevertheless, it is of interest as complicating the stemma of books 9–20, in which Marshall Wnds three families, F, ª (XOPGvN), and (QZ); the alternative view makes F a contamination of ª with proto-.46 E agrees, always in truth, with Fª against at: 14. 2. 21 Turio (435. 25) 14. 2. 23 petit (436. 3) 14. 2. 26 est (436. 19)47 14. 3. 1 mutue˛ (also Q2 ; 436. 25) 14. 8. 2 tribunis (445. 16; FON only) 15. 4. cap. ignobili (450. 11)48 15. 6. cap. erratum (452. 26) 15. 8. cap. cum (454. 18)
Cf. 15. 6 cap. secundum (432. 26), Fª rightly secundo, om. . When E sides with against Fª it is in error at 14. 2. 25 cognouisset (436. 6–7), 14. 8. 2 ad sensum (445. 15, though strictly speaking this is a matter of interpretatio); but at 14. 2. 26 fecissent for fecisset (436. 16), as a lectio diYcilior, is likely to be right.49 At 14. 2. 20 (435. 18) E doubtless agrees in truth with F against ª, for huiuscemodi is far more frequent in Gellius than huiusmodi; at 14. 3. 2 exsenophontis (437. 1 Xenophontis) is based on exenophontis Fac Y.50
45 As in other MSS a new chapter XII is begun at 15. 11. cap. item, the subsequent chapter-numbers being raised in accordance. 46 L. Gamberale, ‘Note’, 49–55; so Bernardi Perini, edn. i. 29; Cavazza, having concurred at edn. i. 46, has doubts at iii, p. ix. On Marshall’s theory (though not always in his practice), the agreement of F with either ª or yields the reading of the hyparchetype (the Xorilegium being in any case independent); on Gamberale’s that of Fª proves nothing, that of F only that the variant is of Carolingian date. (Marache, edn. ii, p. x cannot be right in assigning F to ª simpliciter.) 47 The extent of the trim appears to require est not et. 48 Having in his ed. mai. adopted ’s ignobile, Hertz repented in the ed. min. alt. of 1886. 49 Read by editors before Marshall, it has been reinstated by Bernardi Perini; so too in Cato (fr. 206 Malcovati ¼ 186 Sblendorio Cugusi). See LHSz ii. 433–4. 50 At §1 E preserves Qui de xenophontis, corrupted in some MSS to Quid e(x) xenofontis.
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Finally, E’s peculiar errors apart from the aforementioned secundum:51 14. 2. 21 uadio52 (435. 24 suadeo), utar (24 utare), m¯dii53 (M. ¼ Marci) 14. 2. 23 duos (436. 2 duo; also v) 14. 2. 25 ita om. (9) 14. 2. 26 accipi (also Q1 ; 12 accepi); either res or ges(sissent) omitted by haplography (14);54 [gelliu]s quam tyrius cum tyroni uir melior esset [tyriu]s (16–17 Gellius cum Turio ni uir melior esset Gellius quam Turius)55 14. 3. 1 quosdam motus (quosdam Z; 23–4 motus quosdam) 14. 8. 2 sententia (16 sententiam), uinii (Iunii) 15. 3 cap. quam (449.6 quae), tertia (7 an in), ista eo (8 ista P, ista haec rell.), debent (debeat) 15. 7 cap. diuirausti (22 diui Augusti) 15. 8 cap. cenarium (454.17 cenarum), luxuria (18 luxuriae), obprobatione (also Z; obprobratione) 15. 11 cap. exigujendis (457. 7 exigendis); rethoricam et (9 rhetoricam) 15. 13. cap. ex (459. 2 a).56
3.2. Other Fragments No better than E are the excerpts in the twelfth-century manuscript KBR 10615–729 (Hertz’s ‘Br’),57 fo. 230vb , immediately following Guy d’Amiens’s Carmen de Hastingae proelio,58 and comprising 14. 5 whole, 15. 2. 7 expers . . . compulerit, 15. 4. 3 concurrite factus est. In 14. 5 it agrees in truth with Fª against at §2 egregi (439. 25), us (31), ea (440. 1), quoniam (4), appellabatur (11), §3 tenet (17; tenent ), §4 oppositu (19; -to , -tione PG); in truth with FPX2 Gv against the rest of ª and the Valerio-Gellian Xorilegium at §4 duceretur (440. 25); in error with FONQ at §2 u (440. 8). 51 At 14. 2. 19 (435. 18) Marshall’s uideantur is a misprint inherited from Hosius; E, like the other MSS, reads uideatur. 52 A Germanic legal term meaning ‘I pledge myself’; cf. English ‘wed’, ‘wage’, ‘gage’ respectively from Old English, Norman French, and francien; also e.g. Dutch wedden, German wetten, ‘bet’. 53 For medii (cf. Chassant 54)? But it is abundantly evident that the scribe did not understand this passage. 54 The previous line ends with duo; after the trim the text resumes with sent, ˙ evidently preceded by either [gessis] or [ressis]. 55 The spelling ty-here and in ll. 18, 19 is paralleled in various other MSS including F. 56 The preceding et (7) appears to have been squeezed into the word-space between dn¯r and ex. 57 A collection of various texts in various hands, formerly the property of the Sankt-Nikolaus-Hospital, Kues and hence familiar in Manilian studies as the Codex Cusanus until it was exposed as a copy of L ¼ Leipzig, UB 1456. 58 Partial illustration of extract in F. Barlow, edn., p. xcii.
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At §4 Et (18; Sed) it agrees in error with the Xorilegium against the direct tradition; it also has peculiar errors.59 At 15. 2. 7 the text has been doctored to begin Expers sum si eum forte; at 15. 4. 3 fabricabat for fricabat agrees with the Xorilegium and O1 . Nothing but obvious errors are contributed by two fragmentarily preserved Wfteenth-century copies: British Library, Add. 38651 C, two leaves and a few scraps removed from a binding,60 and Oxford, Bodleian Library, Dep. c. 622, a single leaf containing 13. 14. 6 idcirco (ii. 397. 9)–13. 17. 1 humanitatem ap- (399. 27) from the personal papers of Lucien Pissarro, held on loan from the Pissarro Collection of the Ashmolean Museum.61 But Quattrocento interest in Gellius is well known; twelfth- or even eleventh-century manuscripts and excerpts, however bad their text, increase our awareness of his medieval presence.
4. remembrance of a humanist pope Gasparino Barzizza of Padua arranged for Lazzarino Resta of Milan62 to write him a Gellius from an exemplar borrowed by Daniele Vitturi of Venice oV the great collector Pietro Miani (Emiliani), bishop of Vicenza,63 after 22 November 1410.64 Miani’s manuscript is lost, but the copy survives as Vatican, Ottoboni lat. 2019,65 a ‘complete Gellius’ containing all 59 §2 littera i (440. 1; i littera), litteram (6; littera), §3 Impius inscius (12–13; inscius et impius), qui (15; quae), syllabam om. (16); §4 secrecius (25; sed rectius), ista (28; ista haec v, ista et Xor.), conpugnantes (25–6; conpugnantesque). It corrects its own errors at §2 dicebat>dici (439. 25; before censebat); nomina>omnia (440. 4; Hertz’s informant missed the point beneath the initial n); §4 colligisset > collegisset (20), diWnierat > deWnierat (21), quidam (so Z) > quidem (25); esse added above line (27). 60 Most easily legible are 4. 13. 1 tibicen (Marshall i. 179. 20)–4. 15. 1 facundia (for Wngendi 180. 23) and 5. 1. 6 -mentis (191. 5)–5. 3. 3 proximo (192. 9); there are also snippets from 9. 8, 9. 9. Add. 38651 contains other binding fragments, including music: see M. Bent, ‘New and Little-Known Fragments’, 137–41, 154–5. 61 Italian, 1460s, by scribe of Florence, Bibl. Laur. Med. pl. 65. 22 (Diog. Laert., tr. Traversari: ex-libris of Piero di Cosimo de’ Medici); London, BL Add. 18784 (Petrarch, Canzoniere, TrionW: arms of Gherardesca of Florence?); Harl. 3385 (Petrarch, TrionW: arms of Tedaldi of Florence). 62 On whom see F. Calvi, Famiglie notabili milanesi, ii, Resta, tav. VII ‘Diramazioni staccate’. 63 See D. Girgensohn, ‘Il testamento di Pietro Miani’; Miani’s son Giannino married Vitturi’s sister Margherita (ibid. 25–7). 64 See G. Barzizza, Opera, ed. J. A. Furietti, i. 110, 113; cf. i. 193 Lazarinus Resta singularis amicus meus. 65 ´ . Pellegrin et al., Les Manuscrits classiques latins, i. 748–9: ‘Initiales Cf. E enlumine´es de style lombard. . . . Origine: italienne, probablement milanaise,
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nineteen preserved books followed by the preface,66 after which on fo. 186r in the main scribe’s hand, but a diVerent ink and slightly smaller script, stand the words: Gratias ago tibi semper Alexander V Pontifex maxime cuius ingenij claritas sacri dogmatis abundantia Parisiense studium omnisque uirtutum numerus ab minorum ordine ad Vicariatum Ihesu christi sublimatum illustrarunt et eo graui ac pestilenti tempore quo Petrum de luna et Angelum Corario [sic] dira pertinacia notoriaque heresi de papatu contendentes Pisanum Concilium inueterati Scismatis nutritores damnatos heresis crimine iusto dei iudicio ab ecclesia eiecit. Tua siquidem summa beniuolentia Secretariatus decorem ipsique ac Ione caracterem sacris manibus tuis ¯ıpressisti.67 ego quoque gratia tua exubero. Quibus rebus mihi ocium et Ione studendi facultatem concessisti, digneris itaque quos in hac uita caros habueris tunc etiam in te micabat quaedam celestis species. conWrmatus in acie beatorum usque in Wnem protegere, demum in futuro seculo penes te suscipere quorum Wdelia obsequia in peregrinatione ista beniuolo aspectu recipere dignatus es.
Alexander V was the Cretan humanist Pietro Filargi, elected Pope at the Council of Pisa in 1409 to displace the existing claimants: the Aragonese canonist Pedro de Luna at Avignon, who styled himself Benedict XIII, and the Venetian nobleman Angelo Correr at Rome, otherwise known as Gregory XII. The grief caused by his early death on 3 May 1410, to which this note testiWes, is also manifest in a letter of 29 May from Barzizza to Lazzarino and Giobbe.68
e´criture gothico-humanistique re´gulie`re, assez arrondie et e´paisse, peut-eˆtre de la main de Lazzarino Resta de Milan, secre´taire du pape Alexandre V.’ 66 A later hand, possibly from Pomponio Leto’s circle, has added an index also found in Chicago, Newberry Library f90; London, British Library Burney 176; Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana C 213 inf.; BAV Vat. lat. 1532, 1536. 67 Lazzarino’s brothers Giobbe and Gian Giona; see Calvi (n. 62); R. G. G. Mercer, The Teaching of Gasparino Barzizza, 126; ‘Lettere e orazioni’, ed. R. Sabbadini, passim. 68 Furetti i. 93–4, where Ioanni is mistakenly put for Iob; see e.g. British Library, MS Add. 14786, fo. 58r , ‘Lettere e orazioni’, ed. Sabbadini, 580. The same grief is expressed in the ballata Dime Fortuna, perhaps by Antonio Zacara da Teramo, ll. 6–12: ‘Subito, falsa, tu te recordasti j Videndome gia` star per trarme fuore, j De la promissione facta de cuore, j Se Alessandro a Roma gito fosse. j Fortuna, al tuo despecto uscia de fosse; j Or scia maldicta, tanto mal pensasti’ (see A. Ziino, Il Codice T. III. 2, 47–9). Zacara, later chapel-master to Alexander’s promoter and successor Baldassare Cossa (‘John XXIII’), had switched his allegiance from Benedict in 1409: see G. Di Bacco and J. Na´das, ‘The Papal Chapels’, 57. Miani, in his will, ordered prayers for Alexander (who had bishoped him) along with himself and his family (Girgensohn, ‘Il testamento di Pietro Miani’, 48).
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Barzizza’s manuscript remained in Milanese territory,69 in midcentury it was copied in MS Milan, Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense, AC. XII. 43, olim Phillipps 2252, which bears the arms of the Milanese poet Johannes Stephanus Cotta (d. 1523). At the end (fo. 258v ), after possit and a line-space, the letter is added without change of hand or size; for omnesque uirtutum numeri the copyist writes omnisque uirtutum numerus; the words Iob fratri optimo are incorporated into the text.70
5. lost manuscripts Just as sunt lacrimae rerum has in modern literary usage been disengaged from its location in Carthage, so Terentianus Maurus’ dictum pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli has been transformed by omission of the Wrst three words into a statement about physical books; these fates may indeed be dramatic, as when we read in Naples, Bibl. Naz. Vittorio Emanuele III, V. B. 7 (s. xv), fo. iiv the note A. Iani Parrhasii, et amicorum Genuae emptus ex praeda piratica aureis quatuor.71 I subjoin a summary list of lost or untraced manuscripts known to have existed,72 not only in the interests of reception history, but in case any should reappear, as that used by Johann ScheVer 69 ´ E. Pellegrin, La Bibliothe`que, Supple´ment, 59: ‘Rien ne permet d’aYrmer que le manuscrit ait e´te´ primitivement destine´ au pape Alexandre V. Il dut rester dans la re´gion milanaise puisqu’on distingue au bas du fo. 1 la guivre des Visconti dans un e´cu gratte´; le cardinal Ascanio Sforza Wt ajouter de chaque coˆte´ ses initiales AS. MA. et au<->dessus le chapeau de cardinal nettement visibles malgre´ le grattage.’ 70 The letter does not appear in the kindred manuscript Baltimore, Walters Art Museum, W. 357, included with which is a letter from P. K. Marshall dated 7 Jan. 1963, suggesting that it is related to Ottob. lat. 2019, but not a direct copy; a note from A. C. de la Mare of 19 July 1974 reads ‘deWnitely Milanese, 3/4 of 15th C.’ In notes of 7 Aug. 1991 kept with W. 412 (two initials from a missal) Anna Melograni compares W. 357 with Huntington Library HM 1033 (Aristotle’s Ethics), signed Hieronymus Mediolanensis: ‘writing and initials similar’. 71 See C. Tristano, La biblioteca, 140, no. 164. Parrhasius (1470–85) left the MS to Antonio Seripandi (1485–1531; see fo. 193r ), who gave his collection to his brother Girolamo (1492/3–1563), the future Cardinal and founder of the monastic library at S. Giovanni a Carbonara, where our MS was recorded before 1570: D. Gutie´rrez, ‘La Biblioteca di San Giovanni a Carbonara’, 157, no. 1402, ‘Aulus Gellius manuscriptus in membranis’ (pace Tristano, La biblioteca, 276, no. 552). 72 This list incorporates data in M. Manitius, ‘Philologisches aus alten Bibliothekskatalogen’; K. Manitius, Handschriften antiker Autoren, 147–8. Add the source of F, lent by Einhard to Servatus Lupus and appropriated for copying by Hrabanus Maurus (Marshall, ‘Aulus Gellius’, 178).
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reappeared as Uppsala, Universitetsbiblioteket C 915.73 Those marked * are possibly identical with known manuscripts; those marked { appear to have been destroyed.74
5.1 In Ecclesiastical Libraries *Alcobac¸a In 1441 Poggio Bracciolini was informed, apparently by the consistorial advocate Vasco Rodrigues of Lisbon, of a manuscript in the twelfth-century Cistercian house at Alcobac¸a: Vir clarissimus Valascus tuus, uel noster potius, retulit dudum mihi te reperisse in monasterio Altobassi A. Gellium Noctium Acticarum integrum neque lacerum ut noster est.75 There is no trace of it in the Index Codicum Bibliothecae Alcobatiae (Lisbon, 1775),76 but the third (unnumbered) page of the Praefatio notes that Philip II, having added the crown of Portugal to that of Spain, had taken some Alcobac¸a manuscripts for his new foundation at El Escorial; of the Gellian manuscripts there the only candidate is e. III. 6, olim VII. E. 9–III. F. 16 (parchment: s. xv), with illuminated initials, which was rebound in house.77 Bamberg Michelsberg, 1112 23: a list headed hi sunt libri quod Ruotgerus in librario inuenit sub Wolframmo abbate including (no. 116) liber 73 ´ . Pellegrin, ‘Manuscrits d’auteurs latins’, 16–17; M. Andersson-Schmitt See E et al., Mittelalterliche Handschriften, vii. 344–5; F. Cavazza, ‘Un ‘‘nuovo Gellio’’ ’, 74 n. 20. 74 I excluded, as in all probability printed books, Altzella, ‘Index bibliothecae Veteris Cellae coenobii Cisterciensis in Misnia. MDXIIII’: R 3 Auli Gellii commentariorum libri XX (L. Schmidt, ‘Beitra¨ge’, 258), and Vienna, University, Faculty of Arts, 1470: Sedecima die Iulii . . . fuerunt empti pro facultate Titus Liuius et Aulus Gellius disligati in sexternis [¼ ‘gatherings’ (S. Rizzo, Lessico, 42–7)] pro 23 Xorenis (Th. Gottlieb, Mittelalterliche Bibliothekskataloge, i. 483, no. 1470). The next entry concerns the purchase of Plinius in papiro impressus et Augustinus de ciuit. item in papiro impressus pro 23 Xorenis Hungaricalibus; the two purchases, identical in price, are comparable in bulk. 75 Lettere, ed. H. Harth, ii (Florence, 1984), 373–4, 20 Sept. 1441. Cf. A A. Nascimento, ‘Poggio’; id., ‘La Re´ception’, 50–1. 76 The surviving MSS were transferred to the National Library: see Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Inventa´rio dos Co´dices Alcobacenses. 77 G. Antolı´n, Cata´logo, ii. 71, ‘Iniciales de adorno en oro y colores; capitales azul y rojo, alternando<;>epı´grafes en rojo’; L. Rubio Ferna´ndez, Cata´logo, 76.
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semiscriptus de legibus Agelii (??).78 In the thirteenth century, a ‘Gellius’ is recorded at the Cathedral.79 *Canterbury, Christ Church In the time of Henry de Eastry, prior 1285–1331, the last volume listed amongst the Libri sancte thome is said to contain, following various works by St Ambrose: Prima pars titi liui, Secunda pars titi liui, Agellius Noctium atticarum.80 Since the two parts of Livy, that is to say the Wrst and third decades, were separately bound in 1508,81 the ‘second’ being now Cambridge, Trinity College R. 4. 4,82 it is quite likely that Gellius too was separated, and is now Paris, BNF, ms. lat. 13038 ¼ G, containing books 9–20.83 Cesena Copy left to Convento di S. Francesco by Giovanni Marco da Rimini, 1474, apparently not Bibl. Malatestiana S XVI 4.84 Cluny In list 1158–61: [454] Volumen in quo continetur Agellius noctium atticarum;85 [551] Volumen in quo continetur Iuuenalis, habens in principio categorias Augustini et partem Agellii noctium atticarum.86 In list for Abbot Yves I, 1256–75: [85] Aulus Gelius in libro noctium atticarum.87 Abbot Jean III de Bourbon (reigned 2 Nov. 1456–2 Dec. 1485), bishop of Le Puy (directly subject to the Pope), gave books including Aulus Gellius in libro Noctium Atticarum.88 Corvey s. XII: Reinald of Hildesheim asks Wibald of Corvey and Stablo: mittite igitur nobis Agellium noctium Atticarum et Originem super 78
79 G. H. Becker, Catalogi, 80. J. Petzholdt, ‘Bibliothekskatalog’, 277. BL Cotton Galba E iv, fo. CLXVr ¼ 139r ; see M. R. James, The Ancient Libraries of Canterbury and Dover, 83, no. 817. 81 82 Ibid. 158. Id., Western Manuscripts, ii. 132–3. 83 A. C. de la Mare et al., ‘Pietro da Montagnana’, 223–4. 84 R. Zazzeri, Sui codici e libri a stampa, 389 discounts the possibility that this is the extant MS: ‘ma avendo il presente Codice lo stemma della famiglia Malatesta, siamo d’avviso che il Codice di Giovanni Marco da Rimini venisse, o allora, o in epoca posteriore commutato con altro Volume’. 85 L. V. Delisle, Cabinet, ii. 476; id. Inventaire, 366. 86 Id., Cabinet, ii. 480, Inventaire, 372. 87 88 Id., Inventaire, 382. M. Marrier, Bibliotheca Cluniacensis, col. 1684. 80
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Cantica Canticorum; they reply: misimus tibi pro monimentis librorum uestrorum Originem in Cantica Canticorum et pro Aggellio Noctium Atticarum quem in praesens habere nequaquam potuimus librum quem Grece Strategemmaton uocant, quod militare est.89 Durham Catalogue of 2 February 1391/2: D. Prima pars Agellii Noccium Acticarum, II fo. Vnde ea nos accepimus [pr. 18], with the note Accommodatur J. Whixlay; E. Secunda pars Agellii, cum tabula. II fo. eciam mox barbam [9. 4. 15].90 Clearly item D had the preface in its proper place like our surviving manuscripts of books 1–7; the nature of the tabula in item E is uncertain, since other copies of books 9–20 do not gather the capitula into a single place. The volumes were still present on 15 January 1416/17, when item E was said to be in quaterno albo.91 {Florence, Convento del Santo Spirito The catalogue of 20 September 1451 records Item alius liber mediocris forme qui dicitur agellius Noctium aticharum copertus corio nigro cum suis requisitis cuius principium est Plutarchus in libro. Finis uero Inueniri q3 possit, signatus littera [blank].92 Evidently a complete manuscript, destroyed in the Wre of 22/3 March 1471. Lobbes Acquired 1074 1150: Agelli noctium atmeticarum lib. Vol. I.93 Orle´ans? Both halves used by annotator of Bern, Burgerbibliothek 89 Ph. JaVe´, Bibliotheca rerum Germanicarum, i. 327–8, nos. 207–8; the MS of Frontinus’ Strategemata has not been identiWed. A Gellius at Corvey is suggested by the quotation from NA 11. 11 at i. 258, no. 153 (Hertz, ed. mai. ii, p. xxxvi). 90 J. Raine, Catalogi veteres, 31. Whixlay also had out a volume containing Hildeberti de eVectibus animae [¼ Hildebert de Lavardin, Liber de querimonia et conXictu carnis et spiritus seu anime, PL. 171. 989–1004]. Hugon. de informatione Nouiciorum [¼ Hugh of St Victor, De institutione nouiciorum, PL. 176. 926–51] cum quibusdam uersibus in uno quaterno. II fo. Ostende [PL 171. 993 C]: ibid. 24. 91 Ibid. 109. 92 A. Goldmann, ‘Drei italienische Handschriftenkataloge’, 143 from Bibl. Med. Laur. Ashburnham 1897 (1800), fo. 13v . 93 F. Dolbeau, ‘Un nouveau catalogue’, 32, no. 264, immediately following Anicii M(anlii) S(everini) B(oethii) geometrice et arithmetice artis ab editione [ ¼ Euclide] geometre translatae lib. V; cf. ibid. 225. The last item, no. 347, is Titus Lucretius de natura rerum. Vol. I.
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276;94optimae membranae cited in Carrio’s Castigationes et notae appended to some copies of his edition (Paris, 1585). Paris, Saint-Victor? Catalogue of unidentified library s. XII includes Agellium.95 Sainte-Colombe-les-Sens Manuscript requested by Count Henry the Liberal of Champagne (1152–81) from Becket’s follower Herbert of Bosham, who replied: Sciatis quod liber qui Agellii noctium Atticarum inscribitur, quem a me multoties requisistis, non meus, sed Sanctae Columbae sit;96 apparently the source of P and its gemellus G.97 Saint-Omer Manuscript belonging to canon Jacques de Houchin sold in posthumous auction of his library 17 September 1480 for 22s. to the dean of Dole: Aulugelii noctium atticarum commentarium.98 {Westminster Abbey Plut. 12, nos. 5–6; destroyed in Wre of 1694.99
5.2. In Noble Libraries Bourges, library of Jean duc de Berry Manuscript of books 11–20 (‘Biturigensis’), collated by Cujacius;100 was the Zaluscianus (see below under Krako´w) the other half?101 Manuscript reading eupsones at 8. 14. cap. (Hertz ad loc.). 94
Marshall et al., ‘Clare College MS. 26’, 382, 389–91. Paris, BN lat. 14614, from Saint-Victor, cit. Delisle, Cabinet, ii. 511, no. 4; but there is no Gellius amongst the Saint-Victor MSS now in the BNF (ms. lat. 14232–15175). The Agerius listed between Priscian and Micrologus (Guido of Arezzo rather than Bernold of Konstanz or Ricardus Anglicus) in BNF ms. lat. 5926, s. xiiiin (ibid. iii. 5, no. 21) will be Agroecius, Ars de orthographia (see M. Pugliarello, edn. 16). [See Addendum, p. 281.] 96 Ep. 1, ed. J. A. Giles, ii. 217; see De la Mare et al., ‘Pietro da Montagnana’, 223 n. 22. 97 Ibid. 222 (relation of P to G), 223–4 (Sainte-Colombe MS as source). 98 Bibliothe`que municipale de Saint-Omer, MS 2. g. 473, ex rel. Andrew Kirkman; O. Bled, ‘Une bibliothe`que de chanoine’, 14 (supplied by good offices of Dr Kirkman). 99 J. A. Robinson and M. R. James, The Manuscripts of Westminster Abbey, 21, 30. 100 Hertz, ed. mai. ii, p. cxviii with n.***; add Giphanius’ to Muretus, 28 Jan. 1570 (Muretus, Epist. 1. 78). But cf. S. Scipioni, Codici, 109 on Turin BNU I. II. 6. 101 A division after book 10 is also implied by the Florilegium Gallicum, which contains extracts from bks. 1–10 only, and whose independence is suggested by unique preservation of (fuisset) et 5. 10. 7, deprehendendi 10. 23. 1. 95
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Ferrara, ducal library Manuscript copied in 1438 by Biagio Busoni of Cremona, miniatures by Giacomino of Arezzo, for Leonello d’Este.102 Heidelberg, Palatine Library MS cited in 1618, while the library was still intact, by Janus Gebhardus, Antiquarum lectionum libri duo 1. 2 (pp. 14–16); many of the readings quoted are the normal, or a normal, manuscript, but it alone is cited by Hertz for quampluribus 1. 7. 3, alteri 1. 25. 7, deceret: philosophum irasci 1. 26. 7; dilucior 1. 26. 14; reuincti 7. 2. 13; opimas 9. 4. 8; æ ªÆ I ø. The manuscript is not among the Vatican or Heidelberg Palatini. Krako´w, library of the Counts Załuski The eighteenth-century catalogue includes: CCLXIII. Codex chartaceus, ante annos prope quingentos, characteribus minusculis, initio capitum, auro illitis, concinnatus, habet: A-gellii noctium atticarum libros decem priores cum annotatiunculis, a manu longe recentiori, margini haud infrequenter adscriptis.103 Milan, Sforza library Records from 1491 register a paper Gellius in red leather;104 neither of the known Sforza manuscripts, Burney 175 and Ottoboni lat. 2019, is on paper.105 Pen˜ı´scola, papal library Pedro de Luna, deposed from his papacy, held out here from 1415 till his death in 1423; an ‘Inuentarium librarie maioris Castri Paniscole’ records Item Aggelius noctium atticarum.106 102
Payment records in A. Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara, 189–90, items 428c, f. J. A. A. Janocki, Specimen, 79; cf. Hertz, ed. mai. ii, p. lxxi n. y, who was informed that it was not amongst the Załuski MSS in St Petersburg; these latter, having been removed to Warsaw, were destroyed during the Second World War. 104 E. Fumagalli, ‘Appunti’, 174, no. 42: Libro uno in papiro coperto de corio rosso quale comenza: Plutarchus in libro, and 175, no. 49 Libro uno in papiro de corio rosso Auli Gelii Noctium Atticarum; from Archivio di Stato di Milano, Potenze Sovrane 1606. 105 The former appears to be the Libro uno in carta [¼ parchment!] coperto de ´ . Pellegrin, La corio cosso Auli Gelii Noctium Atticarum listed ibid. 173, no. 21 (cf. E Bibliothe`que, 363); for the latter see above, n. 65. 106 Paris, BNF, ms. lat. 5156a, fo. 136r , ed. M. Faucon, Librairie, ii. 139, item 928. Item 933 (ii. 140) was a collection of excerpts incorporating texts from the Florilegium Angelicum, including Agelius in libro noctium atticalium; cf. M. A. and R. H. Rouse, Authentic Witnesses, 187–8. 103
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5.3. In Academic Libraries Cambridge, University Library Attested in catalogue of 1583 in ‘classis prima ab ostio; a` dextra intranti’; lost by 1697.107 {Leuven, Collegium Trilingue The Codex Buslidianus, so called after Hieronymus Busleiden (d. 1517), contained both parts (though evidently not book 8), in an abnormal order: our book 1 was its book 18, its book 1 was our book 14. The surviving citations alone preserve the beginning of 18. 9, and together with A that of 1. 3; besides good and unique readings they present numerous minor revisions, but often preserve or invent longer versions of the text. Probably destroyed in the Dutch Revolt; otherwise by subsequent neglect.108 Oxford, Duke Humfrey’s Library On St Catherine’s Day, 25 November 1439, Humfrey Duke of Gloucester gave Aulus Gellius noctium Atticarum, secundo folio [blank].109 On 1 July 1441 his requests to Pier Candido Decembrio included Aulumgelium perfectum, but Gellius was not amongst the books given to the library on 25 February 1443/4.110
5.4. In Scholars’ Hands Poggio Bracciolini and circle Poggio asked Niccolo` Niccoli for a Gellius on 14 September 1426 and again on 23 October. On 15 September 1428 he sought Niccoli’s help in getting a copy from Leonardo Bruni, on 2 October he sent a reminder, on the 30th he acknowledged receipt, saying that his copyist would soon begin work on Gellius, but on 13 November complained that the parchment Niccoli had sent him was unsuitable; by the 27th De A. Gellio nescio quid erit, so diYcult the copyists are proving. On 2 April 1429 Poggio contemplated sending him the new manuscript by Lorenzo de’ Medici; on 15 July, when it had reached Niccoli, he asked for it to be illuminated and bound, even though incomplete (see above, 273). In the meantime, Nicholas 107
University Archives, CUR 31.1 (10), fo. 5ra ( E. Leedham-Green and D. McKitterick, ‘A Catalogue’, 204); not in E. Bernard, Catalogi. 108 On the background to its disappearance see L. A. Holford-Strevens, ‘ ‘‘And by the bitter fruit’’ ’, 310. 109 H. Anstey, Munimenta, ii. 765. 110 See M. Borsa, ‘Correspondence’, 524, no. XVIII; Anstey, Munimenta, ii. 776–72.
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Cusanus had told Poggio that he had a complete Gellius and a Q. Curtius containing book 1 (Poggio to Niccoli, 26 February 1429); but he brought to Rome only A. Gellium truncum et mancum, et cui Wnis sit pro principio, namely with the preface in the right place, and an obviously spurious principium Curtii (same to same, 8 May 1430).111 Calderini, Giovanni Canonist (d. 1365); heirs said in 1375 to have totus Agellius.112 Decembrio, Angelo Aulus Gellius cum optimo greco among books stolen at Rodez in May 1465 by agents of Jean V, Count of Armagnac.113 Giphanius, Hubertus (c.1535–1604) Hertz, editio maior, ii, pp. lxxx f. n. {.114 Giselinus, Victor (1539–91) MS (called membranae or scidae) from which Lipsius cites readings in book 9 in Epistolicae quaestiones 3. 6, 4. 2, 5. 8 (pp. 97–8, 132, 199–201); most notably at 9. 4. 6 pueria, repeated in the margin like other hard words. Miani, Pietro See above, §4. Puteanus, Claudius Carrio cites two Puteani; one is G, the other has not been identified.
111 Lettere, ed. Harth, i. 172, 175, 182, 185, 191, 192–3, 207, 212–13, 78, 104. Cf. A. Grafton, below, 321. 112 Coluccio Salutati to Benvenuto da Imola, 22 May 1375 (Epistolario, ed. F. Novati, i. 203). 113 Ch. Samaran, La Maison d’Armagnac, 149–50; C. S. Celenza, ‘Creating Canons in Fifteenth-Century Ferrara’, 55–6 with references. 114 In this note Hertz is puzzled by Muretus’ statement (Variae lectiones 11. 17) that ‘in vetere libro Fulvii Vrsini’ insuper habendam (1. 19. 8) is written as one word, ‘cum id neque ex V neque ex Y neque aliunde enotaverim’; reference to the ‘Fulvianus’ in Muretus and Giphanius are to V, but in both MSS the space is suYciently narrow for one scholar to recognize it and another not. P. de Nolhac’s suggestion, La Bibliothe`que de Fulvio Orsini, 224 n. 2, of Vat. lat. 3453 is reasonable but wrong.
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Richard of Fournival (X. 1246–60) His Biblionomia includes Agellii liber noctium Atticarum uno uolumine cuius signum est littera K.115 Scioppius, Gaspar (1576–1649) Source of readings noted by Jac. Gronovius (Hertz, ed. mai. ii, pp. lxxvii f.) William the Philosopher (X. 1178) Leiden, Bibliotheek der Universiteit, B.P.L. 1925: the conclusion of MS B (fos. 111r ---117r ) is followed in the same section by (fo. 117v ) Isid. Etym. 5. 1. 1–3, 5–6 absol ‘ e· uerunt (sic); 118r (half-page) blank, 119v (half-page) verses on unlucky (‘Egyptian’) days and hours; fo. 119r , details of a Gellian MS, perhaps the source of B: ex ^ [¼ septem] quaternis et 39 foliis habeo 2os quaternos et dimidium. quinto decimo commentario [¼ book 13] insunt xxvi [recte xxxi] capitula ‘ folia vii et dimidium· . xo vio libro [¼14] insunt viii capitula et iiiior folia. xo viio [¼ 15] insunt xxxii capitula [so counted in many MSS] et v folia. xviiio . 18. libro [¼ 16] insunt xx capitula et folia v. xviiii [¼ 17] insunt xxi capitula: folia viii ulti(mum) capł habet i ‘ foł · et plus’ xxo libro [¼ 18] insunt capitula xv folia iiiior fere. in xxo io [19] sunt folia iiiior capitula nulla numerata post sequit xx9 iii9 liber [¼ 20] habens capitula viii8 folia ii et dimidium et fere dimidium dimidii. inter xxu iu et xxu iiiu non possum inuenire xxu iiu tamen dicit incipit xx9 i9 . et in Wne eiusdem explicit x9 ½½ix0 ii9 secundum[?] quod prius dixit explicit xxi9 . incipit xxii9 . similiter dicit de xo iiiio et xvo confuse xxiii9 est ultimus in hoc uolumine si tot sint. anima est corpus subtile atomis insertum sua mobilitate cuilibet corp{er}ori peruium.
After notes alchemical, astronomical, etc. (fos. 119v ---120v ) the section ends at the foot of fo. 120v : anno ab incarnatione domini mo co lxxo viiio iiio Kał. octobris Guilelmus philosophus fuit annorum xxxii dierum x¯ı¯dclxxxviii 11688 festo Sancti Michaelis archangeli. Wouver, Jan, of Hamburg (1574–1611) Source of his annotations in Wolfenbu¨ttel, Herzog-AugustBibliothek 363 Gud. Lat. 8o (edn. printed by Geo. de Caballis, Venice, 1565) and of the Lindenbrogs’ annotations in copies of 115 Delisle, Cabinet, ii. 530, no. 89: this manuscript was exploited in Thomas of Ireland, Manipulus Xorum (a.1306; ed. pr. Piacenza, 1483), see Marshall et al., ‘Clare College MS. 26’, 379–80, 391–2. Richard also owned a Florilegium Angelicum, including extracts Tertio decimo, de libro Agellii noctium Atticarum (Delisle, Cabinet, ii. 529, no. 84).
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Johann Heil’s (Soter’s) second edition (Cologne, 1533) and Tornaesius (Lyon, 1592).116 Excerpts from Gellius, no longer extant, are also attested from Florence, where by 1337 Petrarch owned a volume of ‘Ex(cerpta)’ from Macrobius’ Saturnalia and ‘Agellius’;117 from Pavia, in the Visconti library, as inventoried on 4–8 January 1426: [217] Ieronimi epistole, et quidam Xores Apulegij, Agellij Quintiliani Ciceronis, et multorum aliorum philosophorum, coperte corio rubeo, hirsuto. Incipit in rubrica tabula epistolarum omnium, et Wnitur in ultimo § postquam de freto siculo. sig. DCCCC XX;118 and from York, where the Austin Friars’ catalogue of 8 September 1372 attests excerpta ex libro Agellii noxium Atticarum.119 The late Wfteenth-or early sixteenth-century commentaries by Bernard Andre´ of Toulouse120 and John Claymond of Corpus Christi College, Oxford,121 are lost, as in more recent times is ‘P. Herman, La technique d’Aulu-Gelle, Diss. Louvain 1931–1932’ registered at APh 8 (1933), 46, but preserved at neither Louvain-laNeuve nor Leuven, and absent from the ‘unitaire catalogus / bezit tot 31.12.1970’ in the central library of the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven; it must be presumed to have perished during the Nazi bombardment of May 1940.122 116
Hertz, ed. mai. ii, pp. lxxvii–lxxx. P. de Nolhac, ‘Le Catalogue’, 342. 118 MS BN Braidense AD. XV 18. 4, ed. [G. d’Adda], Indagini, 22; cf. Pellegrin, La Bibliothe`que, no. 217. 119 Trinity College Dublin, MS 359; see K. W. Humphries, The Friars’ Libraries, 105, no. 519, item e. For the spelling noxium cf. Cambridge, St John’s College 97 (D22), fo. 226r Agelli noxium dicta (excerpts from Florilegium Angelicum). Also lost to damp is Paris, Bibliothe`que de l’Institut, in-folio 18 (Florilegium Gallicum, including excerpts from Gellius; Bouteron–Tremblot, Bibliothe`que, p. iii). 120 Item 30 at F. Roth, ‘A History of the English Austin Friars’, 458 ¼The English Austin Friars, i. 505, citing the list of Andre´’s works, including classical commentaries, in Paris, Bibliothe`que de l’Arsenal 360 (418 T.L.; 16 June 1500), fos. T–U: cf. D. Carlson, ‘The Writings of Bernard Andre´’, 248. On the MS see H. Martin, Catalogue, i. 225–6; Kristeller, Iter, iii. 212. 121 A. Wood, Athenae Oxonienses, i. 106. 122 Also destroyed in the same month was Tournai, Bibliothe`que de la Ville 96, dated 14 July 1501, copied from Bussi’s edn. (Scipioni, Codici, 32). 117
Addendum to p. 276 n. 95. A MS of Gellius is recorded as lost in the 1514 Saint-Victor catalogue by Claude de Grandrue: see Gilbert Ouy, Les Manuscrits de l’ Abbaye de Saint-Victor, 2 vols. (Turnhout, 1999), ii. 631.
11 Gellius in the French Renaissance M ic h ae l He a t h It would be rash to pretend that Aulus Gellius played a leading role in the revival of classical scholarship in France from the end of the Wfteenth century, but his presence is undeniable. A large number of increasingly scholarly editions culminated in the critical text produced in 1585 by Louis Carrion and Henri Estienne, while scholars, miscellanists, and satirists plundered Gellius’ philosophical and linguistic hoard. Most distinguished among them was Michel de Montaigne, whose Essais of 1580 owe more than a little, in both substance and style, to the Noctes Atticae.
1. editions and translations It took Gellius nearly forty years to cross the Alps. The Roman editio princeps, a somewhat arbitrary redaction of a late manuscript published by Joannes Andreas de Buxis in 1469, had been improved by Philippus Beroaldus the elder in his Bolognese edition of 1503, and this text supplied what appears to be the earliest French edition, completed in Paris on 22 March 1508: Auli Gellii linguae et graecae et latinae fulgentissimi syderis, noctium atticarum libri xx. The publisher was Jean Petit (Parvus) and the printer Jean Marchand.1 Beroaldus’ name and preface were omitted, however, and the only liminary material, apart from an eight-page Tabula alphabetica, is a sixty-line ode by Aegidius Maseriensis, Ad insignes moratosque Parrisianae uniuersitatis adolescentes carmen. Maseriensis (Gilles de Maizie`res, also and better known as Maserius) was to be associated with a number of the early French editions. His poem identiWes the target audience, undergraduates in need, as always, of 1 Bibliothe`que Nationale de France, Re´s. Z.627. The colophon reads: Commentarii ad unguem leuigati in Bellouisu [the address of Marchand] pro Iohanne Petit Wdelissimo impressore.
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a handy compendium of knowledge; as a marginal note puts it, Au. Gelio duce nil ignoratur. The poet regrets the students’ indolence and lack of polish (Surgite! Barbariem pellite!) and their deplorable taste for more sensational or tragic material than Gellius’ sparkling linguistic scholarship. Sales must have been encouraging, since three years later Parvus commissioned one Joannes Connellus (Jean Conneau) of Chartres to refurbish Beroaldus’ text: Auli Gellii uiri disertissimi Noctium Atticarum libri xx. Summa accuratione Joannis Connelli Carnotensis ad recognitionem Beroaldinam repositi: cum alphabetico indice.2 In this case, Beroaldus’ preface is restored, the index is revised and expanded, and Maserius’ ode is replaced, at the end, by a brief exchange of compliments: a six-line poem, again by Maserius, Ad ingenuum bonaeque indolis adolescentem MC carmen, with a fourline reply from the unidentiWed ‘MC’. The only signed contribution from Connellus is a brief note at the end of the index (sig. a viiiv ) on spelling and abbreviations, in which the editor endorses the practice of his praeceptor, Aleander (who was teaching Greek in Orle´ans at this time), of Aldus Manutius, and of Politianus. Connellus also refers the interested reader to Jacobus Bononiensis’ Adnotationes for an exhaustive discussion (longo verborum curriculo) of Homer’s birthplace, proposing to read Chios rather than Ios in Gell. 3. 11. 6. A valediction in the colophon conWrms the book’s function as a student crib: Io. Connellus lectoribus. Accipite Romanae militiae studiosi adolescentes quam diligentissime Auli Gellii noctes micantissimas. In quibus uigilias somnusque uestrum reponatis pacatissime. Sint uobis manuale enchiridionque (nihil enim Gellio duce in latialis eloquii Xoribus occurret expetendum).
Oddly, this passage, except for Romanae militiae and the Wnal sentence, is copied from the title page of Nicolaus Ferrettus’ 1509 Venetian edition, which contributes, unacknowledged, to Connellus’ revision of the text. It is also possible that Connellus had access to MS Burney 175 (now in the British Library, but in France at the time), which produced further emendations, including the restoration of the play on scriptio/inscriptio in Praefatio 10. Connellus also includes in the text corrections (as had the 1508 edition) to 15. 1. 2 and 20. 8. 6 which Beroaldus had published but omitted from his text, and which Ferrettus had placed in 2 Bodleian C 16.14(1) Linc. Venundantur in edibus Ioannis Parvi sub lilio; the colophon points out that this is the second French edition of the Beroaldus text.
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the margin.3 This edition was reprinted unaltered, but with an additional table of Greek characters, in Lyon by Bartholomaeus Trot in 1512. The students seem to have made the investment, since three more printings appeared in Paris between 1517 and 1519, all the work of the foremost Parisian scholar-printer, professor of letters, and publisher of Siluae morales,4 Jodocus Badius Ascensius (Josse Bade). He knew of the textual problems, having published several pages of Beroaldus’ commentary in his Annotationes,5 which also included eulogies of Gellius by Baptista Egnatius (togatorum eruditissimus, fo. cxviv ) and Baptista Pius (facundissimi eloquii scriptor, fo. cxcviir ) that again reXect the uses to which the book was customarily put. Ascensius’ Wrst two editions6 were very similar to their predecessors. He did provide a new epistle (followed, nonetheless, by Beroaldus’), addressed to the ill-fated Louis de Berquin, destined for the stake in 1529 but at this time a notable patron to whom Ascensius had already dedicated his 1512 edition of Politianus’ Opera. In the epistle Ascensius evokes, clumsily, Gellius’ festiuum leporem & lepidam festiuitatem, while regretting the textual obscurities which have scarcely been resolved by the recent Italian editions. His emendations have had a mixed reception: for instance, in the epistle he draws attention to his reading, at 3. 3. 5, uterus rather than uetus, where modern editors read uenter; but his proposal to emend utile to inutile in pr. 13 has been readily accepted by most modern editors.7 Ascensius added notes on the Greek, and numerous marginal headings, doubtless to assist his idle students in their skimming.
3
See L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 28 n. 7 [20 n. 5, cf. 241 n. 3, 252]. Cf. Gell. pr. 6; on this activity of Ascensius, see Ann Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books, 90–1. The colophon of the 1511 edition of Gellius names Ascensius as printer. 5 Annotationes doctorum uirorum in grammaticos, oratores, poetas, philosophos, theologos ac leges (Paris, J. Paruus and J. Badius, 1511); in particular fos. lxviii f. deal with Atabulus in 2. 22. 25, Cispium in 15. 1. 2, aelurorum in 20. 8. 6, and Aius in 16. 17. 2. In several later passages Beroaldus exploits Gellius to elucidate Roman customs. 6 The title of the 1518 edition reads: Auli Gellii noctium atticarum libri undeuiginti (nam octauus desideratur) una cum haud aspernandis Iodoci Badii Ascensii annotationibus cumque indicio diligentissime collecto atque grecorum explanatione suis locis inserta. It was printed for Ascensius by Bernard Aubri. 7 Cf. Les Nuits attiques, ed. R. Marache, i, 4 n. 2: ‘elle paraıˆt a` peu pre`s certaine, bien que Mommsen ait propose´ uile, Maehly futile, car inutilis a tout naturellement en latin le sens de nuisible.’ 4
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However, in 1519 Ascensius produced a more luxurious edition in a larger format and cleaner type,8 the most elegant since the Venetian edition of 1509. Though shorn of prefatory matter, it was embellished with extensive scholia, many based on the notes of the same Aegidius Maserius who had provided liminary verses for the 1508 and 1511 editions. The scholia, placed at the end of each chapter, oVer grammatical observations, interpretative commentary, and a little textual criticism, in which Ascensius assesses his predecessors. For example, at the end of 1. 1, having demonstrated Gellius’ idiosyncratic formulation of certain adverbs, Ascensius triples the height of Hercules (as calculated by Pythagoras), in rejecting the reading (attributed to Beroaldus) ducentos pedes, and rebukes Petrus Crinitus for pondering but failing to impose the now accepted reading sescentos.9 The scholia, now at the head of their chapters, were expanded for a revised edition of 1524, and again in 1530, when Ascensius made use of the commentary of Petrus Mosellanus (Schade), whose Annotationes appeared, posthumously, at Basel in 1526 and as an appendix to Soter’s Cologne edition of that year. In fact Mosellanus’ commentary has little to oVer on the text, containing a few remarks on manuscripts but consisting mainly of historical information, literary parallels, and occasional linguistic observations. Erudite rather than polemical, Mosellanus rarely takes issue with his predecessors, although he does contend that the ‘last chapter’, numbered 20. 11, is correctly positioned: Sed certe autoris peroratio est. Previous editors had all considered it a prologue, Auctoris tanquam praefationis admonitio in operis totius summa de noctium ordine, though no one had the courage to place it Wrst until Gronovius in 1651.10 Ascensius reprinted Mosellanus’ notes, which appeared in Cologne editions until at least 1563, as a separate monograph in 1528 and again in 1534. When Ascensius died in December 1535 the task of supplying Gellius to Parisian readers was assumed by Michel Vascosan, whose 1536 edition (shared with Jean Petit, Jean Loys, and Jean de Roigny) included both Ascensius’ notes and Mosellanus’ Annotationes, though the latter took the form of unsold copies of the 1534 printing bound in at the back. Demand 8
A.Gellii Noctium Atticarum libri undeuiginti . . . cum indicio . . . et Graecorum explicatione . . . cumque scholiis Ascensianis . . . collectis fere ex annotationibus Aegidii Maserii. 9 The emendation (which in fact follows the manuscripts) had been Wrst proposed by Aldobrandus in an edn. of 1514 (ex. rel. L. A. Holford-Strevens). 10 See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 341–2 [241–2], and above, 271, 275, 279.
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for Gellius in Paris was still relatively high, and at the same time production resumed in Lyon, with at least a dozen editions published by the house of Gryphius between 1532 and 1585. In an odd display of parochialism, all these editions reproduce the somewhat outdated text of Ferrettus, without liminary material or list of chapters, but with some rejected readings Xagged in the margins and, to serve the hard-pressed scholar, an enormous index nominum et rerum replacing, says the anonymous editor, the list of chapters, and supplemented by shorter lists of philosophical, ethical, historical, and linguistic topics. Ascensius’ notes and Mosellanus’ commentary continued to appear in later sixteenth-century Paris editions, until Henri Estienne removed them in 1585. In theory they were to be replaced in his edition by the notes of Ludovicus Carrio (Louis Carrion, a scholar of Belgo-Hispanic parentage). However, although Carrio supplied Estienne with what amounts to the Wrst critical text,11 he failed to produce the promised commentary, much to Estienne’s annoyance, and printing began without it. At a late stage some of Carrio’s Castigationes et notae Wltered through to Estienne and were printed as an appendix in perhaps one-quarter of the copies.12 It was probably just as well for Parisian paper supplies that the full version never turned up, since Carrio’s notes break oV at 1. 25. 9, yet still amount to 120 closely printed pages. Unlike his predecessors, Carrio devotes the great majority of his notes to textual questions. We are given interesting glimpses of work in progress as the scholar compares vulgate and manuscript readings, especially from the membranae Buslidianae, an important source now lost and for which Carrio is the main authority.13 He frequently sets out all known variants and chooses from among them for reasons which range from the cogent to the arbitrary. Although Carrio does also adduce Roman grammarians and poets to 11 Cf. Marache, edn. i, p. lix: ‘le texte de Carrion est un vrai texte critique, fonde´ sur la comparaison de plusieurs manuscrits dont le fameux b [Buslidianus], deux Puteani et divers autres qui appartiennent tous a` la classe des recentiores. Il ne s’eVraie pas de s’e´carter de la vulgate des e´ditions pre´ce´dentes, ce qui a choque´. Quant au degre´ de conWance que Carrion me´rite, il est diYcile de le mesurer. Son texte en tous cas devint le mode`le auquel se conforme`rent toutes les e´ditions poste´rieures jusqu’a` Gronove.’ The title of the edition is Auli Gellii Noctes Atticae seu Vigiliae Atticae quas nunc primum a magno mendorum numero magnus ueterum exemplarium numerus repurgauit. It falls into Wve parts, with separate pagination. 12 This unscientiWc estimate is based on the fact that both the British Library and the Bibliothe`que Nationale have four copies of the 1585 edition, of which only one contains the notes by Carrio (BL 1089 e 1, BN Z12554). 13 See Marache, edn. i, p. l.
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illustrate linguistic points, social and historical commentary is much reduced by comparison with Ascensius and Mosellanus, despite the interest shown in these aspects of Gellius by almost all his Renaissance readers. It is as though Carrio were playing the censor: his commentaries, dedicated to the celebrated Burgundian diplomat and man of letters Augier Ghislain de Busbecq, are Wlled with his wonder at the errors of his predecessors and the faults of the manuscripts. We get some hints of a waspish personality almost predestined to clash with the irascible Henri Estienne. For example, where Ascensius had mildly reproved Crinitus for questioning the reading ducentos in 1. 1. 2 but failing to impose the obvious sescentos, Carrio subjects Crinitus to a thrashing: Crinitus, dum aliorum inscientiam ac ineptias, ut ipse loquitur, uult euitare, praebet se ridiculum, et aliud nihil quam risum uidetur consulto uoluisse captare: ait Pythicum stadium pedibus millenis Wniri . . . uides Censorinum aperte aduersus Crinitum litem dare. (12.)
It is not entirely surprising that Carrio’s notes, and indeed his name, were omitted from reprints of Estienne’s edition, such as that of Frankfurt, 1603, where the prefatory epistle to Estienne’s son Paul was Wlleted in order to exclude the irksome details. The rest of Estienne’s paratextual material was retained, however, including a dedicatory epistle, four indexes (scriptorum, legum, rerum et uerborum, and Graecarum uocum), an Apologia aduersus Lud. Viuem (discussed in §2 below), and Estienne’s own Noctes Parisinae, though these are not, as might be expected, Gellian pastiche but yet more textual observations. The epistle, to Henri III’s Grand Almoner Pierre d’Elbene, begins in the customary courtly style of an e´p^ıtre de´dicatoire, but the irrepressible Estienne rapidly transforms it into a philippic against Vives, bristling at the Spaniard’s tam maledica quam maleuola censura . . . O quid maleuolentia, quid uindictae cupiditas non audet! (sig. A iiir ); Vives has turned Estienne’s former love of Spain (quatenus et quantum a uero Gallo amari Hispania potest) into hatred. After this foretaste of the Apologia, Estienne addresses a second epistle to his eldest son Paul and echoes many predecessors in extolling Gellius’ educational value: Est enim alioqui scriptor eiusmodi, ut te in deliciis atque oblectamentis eum habere, paucisque aliis scriptoribus Latinis posthabere uelim (1). The embarrassing paterfamilias chides his son, a boy lacking in fortitude as well as in poetic talent, fearing that the lad (future printer, in fact, of Sophocles and the younger Pliny) may not uphold the family tradition. The remedy for all this lies in Gellius, uir quidem (ut opinor) probus, sed tamen ethnicus, de liberis suis hac
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in parte . . . sollicitus (6). The parallels do not end there: Henri himself has imbibed from Gellius the Stoical indiVerence that must fortify his son, even against such events as the recent earthquake (see Gell. 2. 28); the boy is strong enough physically, thanks to the mother’s breastfeeding (as recommended by Favorinus in 12. 1) that was denied his siblings. This leads Henri to maudlin reXections upon his late wife, including a belated epitaph, and to a delightful portrayal of his own literary childhood in his publisher father’s household, where even grandmother and servants conversed in Latin with the foreign proofreaders.14 Henri concludes with further admonitions based on Gellius: eschew the careers of soldier or athlete (unlike Euripides in 15. 20. 3), and abstain from alcohol to avoid the sorry fate of Gellius’ Greek youth: Crebris et ingentibus poculis omne ingenium ingurgitabat (15. 2. 3; Gellius’ conciseness here even oVers a sample of the style to cultivate). Henri at last abandons parental hectoring to explain the delay in publication, for which he blames Carrio, and to account for his own Noctes Parisinae, a title simply reXecting the sleepless nights imposed by publishing deadlines—and the Frankfurt book fair. The results of Estienne’s midnight oil fall into four sections, eccentrically numbered according to the nights when they were composed. The Apologia against Vives, numbered II and III, ‘commissioned’ by the historian Estienne Pasquier (who made surprisingly little use of Gellius), exploits the conclusions of Noctes IV and V, an Admonitio de titulis. In no fewer than forty-Wve pages Estienne casts justiWable doubt on the relationship between some of the capita and the content of the chapters they introduce; he attributes the discrepancies to an unidentiWed Pseudogellius. Noctes VI to VIII contain a Specimen seu ˜¯'ˆ` emendationum, sixty pages of textual suggestions based both on ueteres libri and Estienne’s own hunches. Less conjectural is the Wnal section, another sixty pages presenting Emendationes coniecturales, but actually derived from some work on one of two Wfteenth-century manuscripts known as Puteani. In a letter to the diplomat Johann Vulcob, preceding the Apologia, Estienne outlines the projected contents of Noctes IX–XX, abandoned because the printer could not be persuaded to include them, nec prece nec pretio (4). As well as further textual emendations, they would have included some thirty (rather random) quaestiones on Gellius and an assessment of Gellius’ translations from Greek, so skilful ut linguae Latinae cum 14
Cf. A. Grafton, below, 330–1.
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Graeca quodammodo certantis spectaculum nobis alicubi exhibeat (11). Finally, Estienne embarks on preliminary discussion of a number of linguistic questions designed to illustrate and excuse Gellius’ verbal idiosyncrasies. Estienne’s Noctes Parisinae certainly reXect their model in their variety and lack of order, but will have been less useful to the earnest scholar (or even to Paul Estienne) than the textual editing of Carrio, the most advanced until the 1651 Amsterdam edition of Gronovius, who had the advantage of consulting the twelfth-century manuscript known as Regius or Parisinus.15 Despite this strenuous textual work, the Noctes Atticae were to be unavailable to the Latinless for nearly two centuries more. The Wrst substantial (and very bad) French translation of Gellius did not appear until 1776, while in the sixteenth century, curiously enough, a single chapter found its way into the vernacular—twice! Favorinus’ discourse on breastfeeding (12. 1), highly regarded by medical professionals,16 was added in 1534 to a translation of Plutarch’s Praecepta gerendae reipublicae17 Wrst published in 1532. It was followed by a brief treatise, based on Aristotle and Cicero, on the ‘Estatz de la chose publique’. The connection between the two political works and Gellius’ medical and moral homily is nowhere explained, but the translation, though sometimes clumsily literal, is extremely accurate and generally readable; for instance, the anonymous translator succumbs only twice to the contemporary mania for unauthorized doublets, and often strives to achieve natural French syntax by reordering complex sentences. He is a good deal more faithful than Laurent Joubert, whose translation of 1578 is discussed in the next section.
2. s c h o l a r s The dearth of translations indicates that Gellius remained largely the property of scholars, and of those fortunate undergraduates to whom the early editions were dedicated. Following Petrarch and Politianus, among others, French scholars prized the Noctes 15
Cf. Marache, edn. i, pp. lviii f., ii, p. viii, and Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 341–2 [241–2]. 16 Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 114 n. 79 [79 n. 37], including another French translation of 1797, in which it was compared favourably with book 1 of Rousseau’s E´mile. 17 Politiques, ou civiles institutions pour bien regir la chose publique, tr. GeoVroy Tory (Lyon: Guillaume Boulle) (Bodleian, Bywater R. 6. 18), fos. 95r ---99v .
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Atticae as both encyclopaedia and lexicon. Their approval was not unqualiWed. In 1513 Nicolas Be´rault, the foremost humanities lecturer in Paris, gave a course on Politianus’ Rusticus. His inaugural praelectio reveals the tastes of the discriminating humanist: ‘dans l’he´ritage ancien lui-meˆme il choisit et hie´rarchise, se mettant en de´Wance d’Aulu-Gelle ou d’Apule´e, exaltant sur tous Cice´ron et Virgile.’18 But if Gellius represented a less distinguished strand of the tradition, contemporary scholars were suY ciently broad-minded to recognize his role in the recovery of Roman civilization, acknowledged, for example, in Connellus’ dedication of his edition to students of the Roman military. Foremost among these scholars was Guillaume Bude´, prince of French humanists and a colleague of Gellius’ editor Ascensius, who in 1514 published Bude´’s unique study of ancient economics, De asse et partibus eius. While Pliny is Bude´’s principal source, Gellius is quoted frequently and Bude´ even proposes textual emendations. His liking for a good story leads him to paraphrase the petulant outburst of Caecus’ daughter (Gell. 10. 6. 2) in order, ostensibly, to discuss the principle of mulcta contumaciae (fo. cxxxir ); Bude´ Wnds Gellius particularly informative on the language of Wnes. Bude´ also calculates, with the help of Gell. 11. 1. 2, that the Wne of 25,000 lb. of bronze was the equivalent of 250 oxen (ibid.). But selective quotation is not all: association of ideas leads Bude´ immediately to Wllet Gellius’ chapter on sumptuary laws (2. 24) and to propose an emendation. Where the printed texts have sestertii millies as the limit prescribed for banquet expenditure under the lex Iulia (§14), Bude´ argues that such absurd exaggeration compels us to read mille (fo. cxxxiv ); the emendation appeared in the Ascensius edition of 1519 and is accepted by modern editors. In another case, Pliny is emended by way of Gellius. Pondering the price of Alexander’s steed Bucephalus, Bude´ sets the 13 talents quoted in Gell. 5. 2. 1 against the 16 mentioned by Pliny. In this case, given Plutarch’s support for the Gellian version, it is Pliny (8. 154) who requires correction (fo. lxiv ). This again reminds Bude´ of a crucial piece of evidence (testimonium locupletissimum) for which Gellius is the sole authority, namely that the drachma weighed the same as the denarius in the time of Hadrian. However, Bude´ claims that the sum of money mentioned, 10,000 denarii, was worth a mere 40 sestertia, not 100, and that the allusion must be to minae. This digniWed technical discussion is only slightly under18
M.-M. de La Garanderie, Christianisme et lettres profanes, 57.
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mined by the context: the sum is that demanded of an appalled Demosthenes by the toothsome Lais in Gell. 1. 8. 5. Gellius has a knack of providing light relief alongside hard facts. Similar features appear in Bude´’s supplement (altera editio) to his monumental legal treatise Annotationes in Pandectas.19 Gellius provides linguistic clariWcation, such as the validity of the form mulctam dicere (16, based on Gell. 11. 1. 6) and the range of meaning of rogatio (51, based on 10. 20. 7–9); Gellius’ own legal career (14. 2. 1) informs a discussion of iudicia priuata (112). Bude´ considers Gellius a most reliable guide to the Laws of the Twelve Tables, and quotes him extensively on the right to kill a thief in the night (40, quoting 11. 18. 7) and on the power of the plebs over the comitia (51, based on 15. 27). But a picturesque anecdote enlivens a discussion of defendants’ dress (7), with Gellius’ description of the haughty Scipio refusing, when treacherously arraigned, to put oV his white garments or even, as was customary, to stop shaving (3. 4. 1). In this important book, Bude´ again turns to Gellius as both artist and magpie. This dual function is further illustrated by Julius Caesar Scaliger, the pugnacious physician-scholar of Agen. In his inXuential Poetices libri septem,20 Scaliger enthuses over the Anacreontic verses preserved by Gellius (19. 9. 6): extant apud Gellium suauissima, et sparsa per aliorum libros quaedam plenissima mellitae simplicitas (60). However, he enlists Gellius’ support (19. 9. 10–14) for his controversial thesis that Latin is more than capable of equalling Greek achievements in light lyrical poetry.21 Scaliger devoted nearly half book 5 to a notoriously tendentious comparison between Homer and Vergil which owes most to Macrobius but something also to Gellius (e.g. 9. 9 and 13. 27). Gellius’ literary criticism played a still greater role in Scaliger’s celebrated contribution to the Ciceronian debate, the Oratio pro M. Tullio Cicerone contra Des. Erasmum,22 which so stung the great Dutchman’s admirers that they bought and destroyed almost the entire print run. Despite their eVorts, this resounding polemic survived and was occasionally republished over the next century, on the last occasion accompanied by Scaliger’s Problemata Gelliana,23 a 19
References are to Michel Vascosan’s edition (Paris, 1542). Published posthumously at Lyon by A. Vincent in 1561. Page references are to this edition. 21 See M. Magnien, ‘Anacre´on, Ronsard et J.-C. Scaliger’, 408–9. 22 Paris: P. Vidoue, 1531; a second oration appeared in 1537. References are to the modern edition by Michel Magnien, Orationes duae contra Erasmum. 23 Problemata Gelliana ex Iul. Caesar Scaligeri familiarum exercitationum libris (Toulouse, 1620). The two works were reissued the next year, together with the 20
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curious compendium found among his papers and published by an admirer despite being lacerata, hiulca & inemendata (52). The 111 problems are not observations on textual diYculties but questions on historical and linguistic topics, with bibliography, apparently designed as school exercises, though one may question the propriety of Problem 9, Quaere quae de Laı¨de dicuntur (cf. Gell. 1. 8). In the Oratio, a furious reply to Erasmus’ satirical Ciceronianus (1528), Scaliger enlists as many of Cicero’s devotees as he can Wnd and improves his case by extravagant praise of them; hence a series of tributes to Gellius. This doctissimus uir, he declares (118), not only exposed the fatuity of Seneca’s attacks on Cicero (NA 12. 2, a chapter that was to incur the wrath of Juan Luis Vives), but also preserved for the enjoyment of posterity the ignorance and impudence of Cicero’s critics Asinius Gallus and Larcius Licinus (17. 1). Gellius, magnus iudex (122), rightly esteemed Cicero above even Gaius Gracchus, that summus uir, for eloquence and breuiloquium (10. 3). It is noticeable that Scaliger assumes his reader’s familiarity with whole chapters of Gellius. The eulogy reaches a climax on the question of Greek inXuence, quam rem, quoniam a politissimo autore Gellio luculenter tractatur, diVusius non occupabo (125). Would that Erasmus were as scrupulous as Gellius, that uir bonus ac doctus, in expounding both sides of a question (the reference is to Gell. 1. 7. 16–20)! Stung by Erasmus’ exploitation of Cicero’s confusion of Ajax and Hector (pointed out in Gell. 15. 6), Scaliger (126) riXed his copy of the Noctes Atticae for evidence that even the most distinguished were liable to such slips, including Plato (13. 19. 1–2) and Gaius Gracchus (11. 10), not to mention mere historians (3. 7. 21 and 3. 8. 5); further proof of Gellius’ impartiality. Scaliger’s arguments descend to the trivial, however, when he asserts (131) that mere chronology equipped Gellius better than Erasmus to correct errors in classical texts. In addition to these appeals to Gellius’ judgement, Scaliger did not neglect his customary role as supplier of exempla,24 citing for example (102) three instances of Roman moral rigour, RuWnus and Fabricius (4. 8), Manlius Torquatus (9. 13. 20), and a famous joke punished by a humourless censor (4. 20. 1–6).25 Similarly, Gellius’ preservation second oration of 1537 and an edition of the Ciceronianus itself; this package also reappeared in 1623. The Problemata alone were reprinted in 1643, added to an Amsterdam edition of Aristotle’s Problemata. 24 On this topic in general during the Renaissance, see J. D. Lyons, Exemplum, 12–34. 25 Erasmus had enjoyed retelling this gag in the Institutio Christiani matrimonii: Collected Works, lxix. 223.
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of fragments of lost authors and of obscure lexical and grammatical quirks frequently serves Scaliger’s rhetoric; a passage of Ennius (12. 4. 4–5) exposes Erasmus’ self-satisfaction (114), Laberius’ inventive verve (16. 7. 2) illustrates the inconsistency of the Dutchman’s lexical prescriptions (117), and two Gellian chapters (10. 14, 21) are cited in succession to mock Erasmus’ arrogance in matters grammatical (127–8). Inheriting his father’s interest, Joseph Justus Scaliger, perhaps the target of the Problemata Gelliana, appears to have contemplated publishing an edition. He annotated a copy of the 1521 Strasburg text,26 expanding and revising the translations of the Greek, adding marginal headings and identifying further sources. He adds names and topics to the already substantial index. Most interestingly, he includes a number of textual emendations and commentaries, citing Beroaldus, Crinitus, and Mosellanus in particular. He notes for example the insistence of the Wrst two upon ducentos in 1. 1. 2, proposes an implausible legentium for legendum in 1. 4. 4, and a more likely possit for posset in 1.4.5 (though modern editors accept the palimpsest reading postulat). Joseph even embellishes the title page with a verse eulogy already published by Nicolas Bourbon, which he seems prepared to pass oV as his own: Attica nox haec est, nulli cessura diei; Quod dedit egregiae Gellius artis opus. Sermonis Veneres hic sunt omnesque Latinae Delitiae; uulgo non patet ista penus.27
It seems likely that the appearance of the Estienne edition in 1585 halted this enterprise, since the entry under Gellius in Joseph’s anthology of Scaligerana includes, alongside judgements that echo his father’s, an unexpectedly generous review: Gellii octauus liber periit: habet stylum antiquum: est optimus Autor, inWnita fragmenta habet, & propterea bonus. Caput illud de Legibus duodecim tabularum est optimum . . . Gellii editio Parisiensis est satis correcta: multa uocabula sunt Barbara in Gellio, non integer reperitur.28
Lexicographers, of course, greatly appreciated this preservation of unconventional Latin. Robert Estienne’s remarkable Thesaurus Linguae Latinae naturally ransacked him for examples of usage from abdicare sese to zona. Gellius also appears in the prefatory 26
British Library C. 45. b. 13. Bourbon, Nugae (Paris, 1533), quoted in Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, p. vi [viiii]. 28 Edition of Cologne: G. Scagen, 1667, 93. 27
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discussion of linguistic principles, Epistola Adriani Cardinalis de sermone latino, as an authority on semantic change (cf. Gell. 6. 11) and on neologism. As well as contributing many deWnitions and even anecdotes (Androdus . . . historia lectu dignissima), Gellius is acknowledged as the principal or only source for certain legal and technical terms (arrogatio, 5. 19; deiurium, 6. 18. 8; chiridota, 6. 12). By contrast, a few terms discussed by Gellius are omitted, perhaps for their exceptional rarity: imparilitas (5. 20. 1), rumpia (10. 25. 4), and sympoticus (7. 13). In at least one instance, Gellius receives as much as he gives: on ueiouis the reader is referred to Gell. 5. 12, to which, unexpectedly, Estienne proposes an emendation, plausibly suggesting that Auerruncus (¼ Auruncus: Varro, LL 7. 102) be substituted for the incomprehensible Arungus. Gellius’ role in the recreation of ancient civilization went beyond the legal and linguistic, extending into both the spiritual and the physiological domains: by the end of the sixteenth century he was appearing in the most diverse contexts—and in French. The royal historiographer Nicolas Vignier’s Fastes des anciens Hebreux, Grecs et Romains,29 for example, is a comparative study of the ancient calendars. Vignier was best informed on the Roman version, centring his study, naturally, on Ovid and Macrobius. However, he had read Gellius attentively, and frequently resorted to him for conWrmation of details like the date of Cicero’s birth (8r ; Gell. 15. 28. 3). Gellius’ chapters on Roman religious ceremonial, such as the highly circumstantial account of the Xamen Dialis (10. 15), were particularly pertinent. Vignier extracted dozens of procedural details, from the sacriWces performed by the priest (15v ) to such minutiae as the condition of the Xaminica’s hair during solemn processions (41v ). The historian also cites Gellius on what might be termed doctrinal issues, from the prohibition of sacriWce on certain days (97v , based on Gell. 5. 17) to the distinction between beneWcent and maleWcent deities, dioues and uedioues, compared to Plato’s daemones (38r , based on Gell. 5. 12). At the other extreme, Laurent Joubert, academic physician of Montpellier and me´decin ordinaire du roi, was attracted by Gellius’ physiological material. Joubert’s most inXuential vernacular treatises, Erreurs populaires (1578) and Traite´ du ris (1579), draw on familiar parts of Gellius. In the Erreurs populaires, Joubert impugned the lower ranks of the medical profession, barbers,
29 Paris: Abel l’Angelier, 1588. Vignier’s historiographical masterpiece, La Bibliothe`que historiale, was published in 1587.
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apothecaries, and midwives. His assertion of the rights of the academic professional was naturally underpinned by much humanist learning, and an important chapter against midwives is built on Favorinus’ celebrated eulogy of maternal breastfeeding (Gell. 12. 1). In addition to the 1534 translation, this chapter had already inspired the polymath Pierre Boaistuau to include a surprisingly extensive passage on breastfeeding, ‘Cruaute´ des meres qui ne daignent nourrir leurs enfans’, in a book on the miseries of life from the cradle to the grave.30 Joubert’s ‘Exhortation a` toutes meres, de nourrir leurs enfans’31 begins with a translation of Gellius, ‘une si belle remonstrance . . . que j’ay pense´ de la representer icy, pour un preambulle.’ The translation is less faithful than that of 1534, as Joubert abbreviates what he considers superXuous detail and makes additions to strengthen his case from time to time: the uecordia (‘laschete´’ in 1534) of reluctant mothers becomes ‘folie et forcenerie’ and, satirically, their concern for their aequor uentris (‘rondeur’ in 1534) develops into a narcissistic ‘lizeur [sc. lissure, sleekness] et polie planure’ (404). Most strikingly, Joubert inserts into the passage on the identity of blood and breast-milk (Gell. 12. 1. 11–12) a commentary on the obsession with caste in contemporary matchmaking: ‘Et toutefois on regarde fort aux conditions de l’homme et de la femme, a` leur race, au sang, aux meurs, pour avoir lignee de la meilleure qu’on peut’ (405); no such care is taken over the nursing of the infant. Joubert oVers no commentary at the end of Favorinus’ speech, perhaps because none is required beyond these satirical embellishments. The rest of the chapter is based on Antonio de Guevara’s Libro aureo de Marco Aurelio (published in French as the Horloge des princes), from which Joubert draws a mixed bag of arguments, ranging from the humanist (Scipio, Nero, and Antipater all treated their nurses more humanely than they did their blood-relatives) to the social (the carnality of husbands) and the hygienic (the danger of contracting syphilis from a nurse). The lucidity of Favorinus’ oration, translated as a unit, contrasts strikingly with the somewhat indiscriminate adaptation of Guevara, in which Joubert’s polemical bent often gets the better of him.
30 P. Boaistuau, Theatre du monde, fos. 24v ---27v . A particularly Gellian echo can be heard in this denigration of wetnurses: ‘La nourrice est louche, subjete a` ebriete´ ou maladie, ou autrement de mœurs corrompues’ (26r ; cf. Gell. 12. 1. 17). 31 Erreurs populaires, 5. 1. 401–35. References are to the Wrst edition, Avignon, 1578. An English translation by Gregory de Rocher was published in 1989.
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Joubert’s ‘Exhortation’ was closely echoed by a colleague, Jacques Guillemeau, in the preface to his book on paedology,32 ‘Epistre liminaire aux Dames, aWn de les exhorter de nourrir leurs enfans’. Gellius is in fact given pride of place, since these are the opening words: J’estime qu’Aule Gelle avoit raison, lorsqu’il ne faisoit point de diVerence de la femme qui de´daigne de nourrir son enfant, avec celle qui le faict mourir soudain qu’elle l’a conceu, craignant de recevoir l’incommodite´ de le porter neuf mois dedans son ventre. (sig. a iiiir .)
This echo of Gell. 12. 1. 8 is supported with further wisdom from Favorinus. Although subsequent examples are lifted from Guevara, the moral impetus of the epistle is unquestionably provided by Gellius. But it must be said that he was considered the less colourful; a chapter on the same topic by the Amiens schoolmaster Jean des Caurres is derived entirely from Guevara.33 Gellius performs his more usual role of supplying exempla in Joubert’s chapter on multiple births, where Aristotle and Augustus Caesar, by limiting the ancient experience to quintuplets (Gell. 10. 2), prove that in this respect at least the new world has surpassed the old.34 Joubert treated Gellius as on authority on death as well as on birth. In his intriguing Traite´ du ris the question of death from joy is examined, naturally enough (alongside such gems as ‘six problems concerning tickling’).35 Joubert’s rather heartless conclusion is that to die laughing is not unexpected, ‘puisqu’on void tous les jours d’une asse´s petite liesse evanouı¨r jans [gens] for[t] delicas’ (80). Joubert’s Wrst examples of this phenomenon are a close but unattributed paraphrase of Gell. 3. 15. After Polycrita, Philippides, and the mother of Cannae, Gellius inspires what may be the debut of a neologism,36 though admittedly one of limited use: 32 De la Nourriture et gouvernement des enfans, de`s le commencement de leur naissance (Paris, 1609). Gellius also supplies material on the composition of breastmilk (3). 33 Œuvres morales (Paris, 1584), 198–9. Des Caurres cites Gellius quite frequently elsewhere, most extensively on Archelaus’ tower (637; Gell. 15. 1. 6–7); he also questions his medical lore (197; Gell. 10. 10. 2). 34 Erreurs populaires, 3. 1. 254. 35 Traite´ du ris, 201–9. In this treatise, as can be seen, Joubert adopts an eccentric form of phonetic spelling. An English translation was published by Gregory de Rocher in 1980. 36 Pancratiaste: the Grand Robert dates this to 1579, while the Tre´sor de la langue franc¸aise cites a work of Guillaume du Choul Wrst published in 1555, but refers to the edition of 1581.
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Aulu Gelle raconte qu’un nomme´ Diagore randit l’ame devant les yeus et e´s mains de ses Wls, ayant trois jouvenceaus, l’un pugil, l’autre pancratiaste, et le dernier luycteur, les voyant tous trois victorieus, et etre couronne´s un maime jour Olympique. (79.)
The list is completed by similarly well-known examples from Val. Max. 9. 12. Equally predictably, the laughing philosopher Democritus Wgures prominently in Joubert’s discussion. He concurs with Gellius’ view (10. 17. 1) that the philosopher put out his eyes ‘pour mieus s’adonner a` la contemplacion, comme dit Aule Gelle’ (9), preferring this to Tertullian’s claim that it was to avoid carnal temptation. Given the widespread acknowledgement by scholars of Gellius’ utility and intelligence, it is a shock to come upon Juan Luis Vives’s brief but remarkably pungent attack on him, to which Henri Estienne replied vigorously in the edition of 1585. In his encyclopedic survey of intellectual history, De tradendis disciplinis (1531; 3. 8), Vives includes Gellius among the philologi, in such distinguished company as the Augustine of the Ciuitas Dei and the Erasmus of the Adagia. However, whereas they and such lesser lights as Macrobius and Caelius Rhodiginus are treated with respect (as Estienne points out, Vives is normally generous, paucorum uituperator, multorum laudator), Gellius is subjected to a vivid attack: Aulus Gellius, homo rhapsodus plane, congestor potius quam digestor, et ostentator, quam peritus; loquaculus sine eruditione, in uerbis ac sententiis putidulus; quae de signiWcatu uocum disserit, sunt friuola et plerumque imperita ac falsa; legendus est quidem, sed ita ut rem leuem scias inspicere; sanior est aemulus ejus Petrus Crinitus.37
This is not all. Turning to style, Vives contends that Cicero and Quintilian are without equal, that Quintus Curtius and Justinus have merit, but that post hinc periculosa sunt omnia: Gellius durissimarum elegantiarum aVectator; Apuleius in Asino plane rudit . . . Macrobius melius est his, atque explanatior (340). The pugnacious Henri Estienne gave this judgement more publicity than it perhaps deserved by including in the liminary material of his edition a 31-page Auli Gelli Apologia (id est, pro Aulo Gellio) aduersus Lud. Viuem. As a captatio beneuolentiae, Estienne himself admits that breaking the silence surrounding Vives’s judgement may do Gellius a disservice. But the hesitation is 37 Opera omnia, vi. 337; see Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 329 n. 2 [237 n. 2] for some less disparaging remarks by Vives elsewhere.
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momentary. First, Estienne seeks to understand Vives’s motives, ut Gellium, uirum de literaria republica tam bene meritum, non aliquo dicterio perstringeret, sed ejus famam . . . grauiter sauciaret (3). Tentatively, Estienne suggests some instinctive dislike, or some distemper on Vives’s part, before proceeding to a point-by-point refutation in which, unlike his opponent, he will cite book and chapter. How can rhapsodus be a term of reproach, since it was originally applied to Homer and Hesiod? Is Gellius a mere consarcinator or consutor? For Estienne, he did in fact exercise his judgement, in choosing the most suitable material for our pleasure and ediWcation, but to expect him to act as digestor is to misunderstand the genre of the commentarius, as practised by Gellius, Aelian, and their many followers. A passage in the Praefatio (§2) reveals deliberate negligentia rather than imperitia in Gellius, who aims to challenge the reader rather than bore him to sleep. Where is Vives’s evidence of Gellius as ostentator? Is it his (remarkably indulgent) criticism of Caesellius (6. 2), or of Vergil (2. 6), which is in truth a defence of the poet against earlier detractors? Any apparent arrogance here stems from the capita, which, as Estienne also argues in the contemporary Admonitio de titulis, are by another hand. The same applies to 2. 9, 10. 22, and 17. 20. Such is Gellius’ humility, indeed, that he unfailingly acknowledges his sources and regularly distributes praise: frequenter liberaliterque ac propemodum prodige laudat (12). As for peritus: in a Wne display of pedantry Estienne exposes the vagueness of Vives’s charge, concluding that the category peritus litterarum exists only in the Spaniard’s lexicon of abuse. Estienne is on surer ground with loquaculus: for him, Gellius observes a mean between the silence of the night and the copiousness of his material; has Vives so much as read his remarkable chapters (1. 2, 15) denouncing futilis loquacitas with the support of Epictetus, Homer, Cicero, and Cato? As for erudition, Estienne can scarcely enumerate the Welds, from semantics to philosophy, in which Gellius has enlightened posterity. Estienne’s indignation grows: the gratuitously insulting putidulus can only be answered in kind: Immo tu ipse putidissime ac uanissime hoc de uiro loqueris (22). An tu, Ludouice, putidulum rancidulumque his in uerbis Aulum Gellium esse, dicere audebis? (28, on the stylistic felicity of 1. 2). Vives stands convicted of pure malice, his Spanish nose sniYng faults undetectable to all devotees of Gellius’ stylish sententiae; Estienne conjectures, on slender evidence, that Gellius actually polished the rough-hewn utterances of contemporaries such as Macedo (13. 8. 4).
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Vives’s Wnal shaft moves Estienne to spluttering indignation: Proh, deuˆm atque hominum Wdem, quid est aperte mentiri, quid est improbe impudenterque calumniari, si hoc non est? Rage (and lack of space?) overwhelms him: quum ea prae stomacho nunc eloqui non possim, alii cogor tempori reseruare (30). But what, Wnally, of Vives’s motives? There have been sporadic references to his nationality, and now Estienne delivers the coup de graˆce: Vicit te amor patriae! (30). All this bile because Gellius noster attacked Vives’s compatriot Seneca on similar grounds in 12. 2, with the backing of the worthy Quintilian and the somewhat less worthy Caligula. Ironically, Estienne concludes this entertaining rant by recommending moderation—on grounds proposed, appropriately, by Favorinus: Eum qui maledicit et uituperat, quanto id acerbius facit, tam maxime pro inimico duci, et plerumque propterea Wdem non impetrare (19. 3. 2). Estienne’s defence is worth reading, since from the bluster and invective there emerges an estimation of the Gellian qualities most valued by Renaissance scholars: the historical interest of his material, the originality of his style, the objectivity of his judgements, and the modesty of his character.
3. miscellanists It was the Wrst of these that impressed compilers of exempla. Gellius himself commented on the fashion in his own time for the learned anthology, uariam et miscellam et quasi confusaneam doctrinam, and on the exquisitissimos titulos these works were given (pr. 5–6). Renaissance humanists enthusiastically revived the genre of commentarii or commentationes. Some used the very titles mentioned by Gellius, such as Siluae (Ascensius, Mexia) and Antiquae lectiones (Caelius Rhodiginus).38 Appropriately, Gellius provided material as well as titles and (lack of) form: the anthologist was thoroughly anthologized. In his attack on Gellius, Vives called the Florentine Petrus Crinitus his aemulus sanior, and the De honesta disciplina libri xxv do indeed echo Gellius’ formlessness. Though Wrst published at Florence in 1504, the book quickly became more familiar in Paris, where Ascensius published at least four editions between 1508 and 1525, adding a copious index.39 Crinitus considers Gellius a uir 38
See Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books, 17 and 24, also distinguishing between these miscellanies and commonplace-books proper; on Rhodiginus, see 98–9. 39 References are to Ascensius’ edition of 1525. There was an additional Paris edition of 1518 by Nicolas Crispin; a series of editions appeared from the Lyon press of Gryphius from 1543 onwards.
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graui consilio in rebus humanis (9. 4, fo. 27r ) and quotes him regularly on Roman customs, such as the wearing of togas (3. 7, fo. 10r ) and Servius Tullius’ ‘three ages of life’ (5. 19, fo. 17r ), though one of the longest borrowings from Gellius, Favorinus’ diatribe against the Chaldaeans or astrologers (14. 1), is not attributed to him (8. 9, fo. 26). Crinitus also proposes several emendations to the text. In a passage derided by Carrio, he attempts to resolve the controversy over the size of stadia (Gell. 1. 1. 2) quo inscitiam quorundam atque ineptias deuitemus (21. 10, fos. 61v ---62r ). Also rejected by later editors was his attempt to emend scirpus to scrupus in 12. 6. 1, reproaching nostri fere omnes grammatici for accepting Gellius’ word alone for this sense of the term (9. 13, fo. 29v ). Crinitus oVers a new Latin version of the Anacreontic ode (19. 9. 6) whose Greek text, he claims, has been deprauatum by Gellius (9. 4, fo. 27v ). Crinitus’ observations were well enough known to be picked over by most French editors of Gellius. However, the most inXuential early humanist miscellany of French origin was the OYcina of Joannes Ravisius Textor (Jean Tixier de Ravisy) of Nevers,40 professor of rhetoric at the colle`ge de Navarre and rector of the university of Paris, for whose fortunate students he provided another short cut to erudition. Though heavily dependent on Raphael Volaterranus’ Commentarii and Caelius Rhodiginus’ Antiquae lectiones, Ravisius also consulted the original sources and most frequently cites Gellius in catalogues of disaster and disease. Among the strange deaths lifted almost verbatim from Gellius are those of the Milesian virgins who committed mass suicide (viiiv ; Gell. 15. 10), of the treasonous Alban Mettus Fufetius, torn apart by chariots (xixv ; 20. 1. 54), of Euripides, dismembered by dogs (xxiv ; 15. 20. 9), and of Milo of Croton, trapped in an oak and devoured by wild beasts (xxiv ; 15. 16. 4). Ravisius’ chapter on death from joy (XXIX), pillaged by Rabelais in chapter 17 of the Quart Livre, makes much of the famous quartet in Gell. 3. 15. Among the merely mutilati appear Croesus’ son, mute until his father stood in mortal danger (xlvr ; 5. 9. 1–4), the blind Democritus celebrated by Laberius (xlvir ; 10. 17), and the deluded Psylli who took up arms against the South Wind (xlixv ; 16. 11. 4–7). Compiler rather than commentator, Ravisius was content to register these and other mirabilia scattered through Gellius’ work, and doubtless fostered the perception that Gellius dealt extensively in lurid anecdote. 40 First edition 1520; references are to the revised edition of 1532; on Textor, see Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books, 114–15.
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A less successful miscellany, though it did provide material for one of the worst tragedies ever written, appeared in Paris in the following year, 1521, the work of the Berrichon humanist Guy de Fontenay.41 His rubric De morte uiolenta ac subitanea (1104–7) included all four of Gellius’ deaths from joy, alongside Milo, though Fufetius is omitted and the Milesian virgins appear under the heading De crudelitate (1127). Less commonplace are the classiWcation of the abstemious Roman matrons (10. 23. 1) under De gulonibus (1122) and of the ambitious Cornelius RuWnus (4. 8. 2–8) under De muniWcis et auaris (1136). While most of these allusions are relatively brief, in three cases Fontenay virtually transcribed whole chapters of Gellius, two of them under the rubric De fortunatis (1139, 1141), the edifying tale of Ventidius Bassus (15. 4) and the epic adventures of Sicinius Dentatus (2.11). As a counterweight, Fontenay could not resist including, under De pudicis et impudicis (1173), the entire comic tale of Demosthenes and Lais (1. 8. 5–6). A roster of favourite chapters was emerging. Neither Textor nor Fontenay was translated into French, but many of Gellius’ more intriguing anecdotes were relayed to the Francophone public by Claude Gruget’s translation of Pedro Mexia’s Silva de varia lecion, which had the unusual distinction of being published at Lyon in 1556 in the original Spanish and in Italian. Les Diverses Lec¸ons had Wrst appeared in Paris in 1552 and was republished many times in the sixteenth century, from 1592 with a supplement compiled by the bibliographer Antoine du Verdier. It included such familiar episodes as Democritus’ blindness (1. 36), Androcles and the lion (2. 2), and the chastity of Alexander and Scipio (2. 29); the book’s ubiquity complicates questions of transmission.42 However, it popularized the genre of the miscellany in the vernacular, and the most successful native version was soon launched by the proliWc Pierre Boaistuau, seigneur de Launay, translator of Bandello and best known as the compiler of Histoires tragiques (1559). He admitted a voracity characteristic of his type: ‘Je n’ay pardonne´ a` autheur quelconque, 41 De rebus humanis uariorum exemplorum liber; references are to the reprint in Johann Heroldt, Exempla uirtutum et uitiorum (Basel, 1555), 1102–76. The tragedy is Gabriel Bounin’s La Soltane, published in 1561 and re-edited by M. Heath (Textes Litte´raires; Exeter, 1977); entire limping tirades are based on enumerations in Fontenay. 42 Cf. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, p. xv [x] on this problem in general: ‘It would be no easy task to collect even the admitted borrowings, to segregate the false citations, to recognize unacknowledged and often distorted echoes, to distinguish direct from indirect quotations.’
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sacre´ ou prophane, Grec, Latin, ou vulgaire, duquel je n’aye tire´ cuisse ou aesle.’43 He indulged the contemporary passion for monsters and portents with his Histoires prodigieuses (1560), whose single illustrated volume had grown to six, by various hands, before the end of the century.44 These volumes indicate a trend in the evolution of the genre away from humanist compilation, with Gellius a revered predecessor, towards a more sensational or polemical agenda, in which he had no part to play. Gellius is most obviously present in the original volume of 1560, though even here his material is wrenched into odd contexts. In a chapter on disWgurement (6: 17r ), Gellius supplies details of the perfection required of Vestal Virgins (1. 12. 3), while a remarkable tale of a man who washed in molten lead naturally brought to mind Gell. 15. 1. 6–7 on the comparable incombustibility of alum. Boaistuau abridges and dramatizes Sulla’s frustration by Archelaos: Silla . . . ne sc¸eut oncques endommager une tour de bois, encores qu’il l’eust environne´e de tous costez des Xammes ardantes: par ce qu’elle estoit frote´e de certain alum par dedans: ce qui engendra grand espouventement a` Silla. (9: 30r .)
The longest adaptation of a Gellian tale occurs in a chapter on the strange behaviour of dogs, into which Androcles and the lion are inserted with only the barest of apologies (30. 147r ---50v ). Though attributed to Gellius, there is no attempt to moralize, and the tale borrows romantic features and dialogue from the Letters of Antonio de Guevara.45 At least Boaistuau omits the courtly paraphernalia concerning Gonsalvo de Cordoba with which Guevara further bastardizes the story. The second volume of Histoires prodigieuses, compiled by Claude de Tesserant and published in 1567, has less to oVer. The compiler’s eye had been caught, unsurprisingly, by the title of Gell. 9. 4, De barbararum gentium prodigiosis miraculis, and, although the bulk of his Wrst chapter, on the monstrous diversity of humankind, is derived (like Gellius’) from book 7 of Pliny, he cites 43
Boaistuau, Theatre du monde, sig. [a5]r . Montaigne used the same metaphor of Plutarch: ‘Je ne le puis si peu racointer que je n’en tire cuisse ou aile’ (Essais, 3. 5. 875). 44 References are to the complete six-tome Paris edition, dated 1598 (i, vi) and 1597 (ii–v). 45 Recently published in France as Les Epistres dorees (Lyon, 1558), i. 97–104 (letter dated 25 Aug. 1529).
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Gellius for the description of the monocular Arimaspians (9. 4. 6) and his examples of sudden sex-change (9. 4. 15).46 Otherwise Gellius contributed little, and in 1571 the polymath Franc¸ois de Belleforest added a third book of prodigies for which Gellius did not qualify at all, since, for example, his remarks on quintuplets (10. 2), and his philosophical treatment of earthquake (2. 28) and shipwreck (19. 1), could not compete with the extravagant multiple births and lurid natural disasters meticulously recorded from contemporary sources by Belleforest. The taste for more sensational matter than Gellius could supply was combined with sectarian polemic in the fourth and Wfth volumes to remove the collection still further from mere miscellanea. The short fourth book simply listed recent portents of divine anger against schismatic Christians, while in the Wfth Belleforest translated a Tractatus de monstris by the Wery bishop Arnaud Sorbin de Sainte-Foy. In this Traicte´ des monstres naiz et produicts de`s le temps de Constantin le Grand jusque a` nostre siecle, Gellius’ fellow anthologist Valerius Maximus is exploited polemically: the patriotism and altruism of Cimon of Athens, dutiful son and citizen, are contrasted with the treachery and self-interest of the Reformers, while Aemilius Lepidus’ abandonment of his private quarrel becomes a lesson for contemporary rebels and narcissists.47 Less controversially, Jean de Marconville completed the long history of the Histoires prodigieuses with a recital of monsters from 1581 to 1596, a supplement to his own Recueil memorable d’aucuns cas merveilleux advenus de noz ans of 1564. The shift from classiWed moral exempla to contemporary sensation and polemic reached a peak when the Calvinist apologist and historian Simon Goulart, a great collector of tales, came to compile his own Histoires admirables et memorables de nostre temps, recueillies de plusieurs autheurs, memoires, et avis de divers endroicts (1600). His favoured sources were the increasingly numerous and melodramatic news pamphlets, whose classical forerunners, including Gellius, seemed insipid by comparison.
4. r a b e l a i s a n d t h e cymbalvm mvndi One of the anthologists’ best customers was Franc¸ois Rabelais. For an encyclopaedic writer who used taxonomies as both comic and philosophical ballast, they were a godsend. However, identifying 46
Histoires prodigieuses, ii. 24; some of the same examples in Montaigne, Essais, 1. 21. 98–9. 47 Histoires prodigieuses, v. 120 and 133; Val. Max. 5. 3. ext. 3 and 3. 1. 1.
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borrowings from Gellius in an imaginative work exacerbates the usual problems concerning transmission and attribution. Helpfully, Rabelais names Gellius half a dozen times—more than Montaigne, who used Gellius more—and there are a few other sightings about which we may be tolerably sure, just as we know that, for example, the list of deaths from joy in Gargantua, 10. 33,48 featuring ‘A. Gellius li. III, XV’ among the references, is culled from Ravisius Textor; it includes Gellius’ four victims, but in a diVerent order and without details. When Rabelais returns to the topic of bizarre deaths in chapter 17 of the Quart Livre, Gellius is not even among the half-dozen authorities cited. In Gargantua, 40. 110, the monkish cowl is said to attract obloquy ‘tout ainsi comme le vent dict Cecias attire les nues’, but the direct source of this incongruous simile is much more likely to be Erasmus (Adagia 1. 5. 62) than Gellius (2. 22. 24). Similarly, a comic comparison between the axewielding Panurge (demonstrating his possession of the cardinal virtue of Fortitude) and Milo of Croton probably derives from humanist commonplace rather than either Gellius (15. 16) or Valerius Maximus (9. 12. ext. 9). However, a few direct allusions to Gellius are undeniable. In Pantagruel, 24. 300, Panurge the humanist code-breaker includes in his futile recital of erudition ‘la Wnesse que mect Aulle Gelle’, a reference to the Spartan communication system described in Gell. 17. 9; sadly, the messenger here lacks the necessary baston (one suspects a mild obscenity). It is interesting that the audience is assumed to recognize the allusion. In the Cinquiesme livre, 2. 731, an elaborate play on Siticines (trumpeters) and Sicinnistes (dancers) is clearly derived from their juxtaposition in Gell. 20. 2–3, though other encyclopaedists are mentioned in a characteristically overstocked bibliography. Rabelais’s mockery of sumptuous humanist erudition often features Gellius. Another booklist, this one borrowed from Rabelais’s lawyer friend Andre´ Tiraqueau, includes ‘Gellius li. III ca. XVI’ as an authority on lengthy pregnancies, among other ‘anciens Pantagruelistes’. Tiraqueau had himself plundered Gellius’ bibliography in 3. 16.49 Thus Gellius’ contribution to the chapter on Gargamelle’s eleven-month pregnancy is already considerable, but he is given a moment in the spotlight when Rabelais attributes to him the glossing of a Homeric myth: 48 All references are to the Ple´iade Œuvres comple`tes, ed. Mireille Huchon (Paris, 1994), in the form book, chapter, page. 49 See Rabelais, Œuvres comple`tes, 1071 n. 4 and 1072 n. 10.
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Comme dict Homere que l’enfant (duquel Neptune engroissa la nymphe) nasquit l’an apre´s revolu: ce fut le douziesme mois. Car (comme dict A. Gelle lib. III.) ce long temps convenoit a` la majeste´ de Neptune, aYn qu’en icelluy l’enfant feust forme´ a` perfection. (Gargantua, 3. 15)
The fact that Gellius dismisses this and other readings of Odyssey 11. 248 as nugalia (Favorinus provides a plausible explanation at 3. 16. 17), and that the whole chapter is a discussion rather than a resolution of the question, obviously did not trouble Tiraqueau, still less Rabelais’s narrator, who is keen to prove that all this erudition authorizes recent widows to make merry, preferably with him, and ‘franchement jouer du serrecropiere [closebuttock, translates Sir Thomas Urquhart] a` tous enviz et toutes restes, deux moys apre´s le trespas de leurs maris.’ Even this Rabelaisian sally may have been suggested by Gellius’ Wrst-hand account of a widow whose paternity case was personally decided by Hadrian (3. 16. 12).50 Another episode to which Gellius contributed much is the aftermath of the consultation with the superannuated judge Bridoye. Bridoye’s bizarre methods of deciding cases remind the sage Pantagruel of Gellius’ story of the murderous widow (12. 7). Pantagruel’s version (Le Tiers Livre, 44. 488–9) expands the tale of the judgment of Dolabella and the Areopagites on this casus perplexus. Pantagruel rearranges the opening narrative, restoring chronology but, surprisingly, cushioning the impact of Gellius’ shockingly direct exposition (mulier uirum et Wlium eodem tempore . . . interfecerat). The giant adds psychological depth by exploring the motives of the murderous stepfather and his son (‘comme vous sc¸avez que rare est l’aVection des peratres, vitrices, noverces, et meratres envers les enfans des defuncts premiers peres et meres’), and damns them further by expanding Gellius’ simple insidiis into the triplet ‘occultement, en trahison, de guet a` pens’. Furthermore, the widow avenges their ‘trahison et meschansete´’ by unspeciWed means, losing Gellius’ suggestion of reciprocal perWdy, uenenis clam datis (§2). Pantagruel’s more sympathetic presentation of the woman’s case continues in the trial before Dolabella, rhetorically balanced in Gellius, but weighted in Rabelais not only by repetition of their treachery ‘en trahison, de guet a` pens’, but also by his invention of another dastardly motive: ‘non par luy [the victim] oultragez ne injuriez, seulement par avarice de occuper le total heritage.’ The Areopagites in Rabelais give a little more 50 For further comments on this chapter see the edition of Gargantua by M. A. Screech (Geneva, 1970), 32–5.
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colour to their hundred-year adjournment by claiming to need more information; thus their refusal to judge looks less like mere evasion of responsibility. This was not the Wrst time that the tale had been ampliWed,51 but it does present an unusual apologia for the widow which further illustrates the humane pro-feminist character of Rabelais’s giant. A Wnal Rabelaisian allusion to Gellius suggests a certain satirical empathy. Gellius is named once more, to round oV the episode of the jargon-spouting Escolier Limousin. The latter’s discomWture by Pantagruel and death from thirst produce, unusually for Rabelais, a concluding moralization: ce faisant la vengeance divine, et nous demonstrant ce que dit le Philosophe et Aule Gelle, qu’il nous convient parler selon le langaige usite´. Et comme disoit Octavian Auguste qu’il faut eviter les motz espaves en pareille diligence que les patrons des navires evitent les rochiers de mer. (Pantagruel, 6. 235.)
This conclusion is adapted from Gell. 1. 10. 4. Rabelais’s ‘langaige usite´’ represents Gellius’ uerbis praesentibus and thus conveys the diVerence between the Limousin scholar’s theatrically inspired contamination of French with Latin (the escumeur de Latin was a familiar Wgure in French farce who survived into Molie`re) and Favorinus’ injunction to avoid archaism (Quibus uerbis compellauerit Fauorinus philosophus adulescentem casce nimis et prisce loquentem, 1. 10. cap.). The idea had been presented more literally by Scaliger in the previous year.52 A second textual change perhaps indicates a closer correlation of thought between Gellius and Rabelais. Originally, Rabelais had translated Gellius’ inauditum atque insolens uerbum as ‘motz absurdes’, a rendering that does convey much of the sense of Gellius’ doublet and was possibly inspired by John of Salisbury. In his Wnal revision Rabelais substituted ‘motz espaves’. The semantic Weld of ‘espaves’ did not yet include its modern association with Xotsam, and thus a tempting connection with Caesar’s nautical simile is ruled out. Rather, ‘espaves’ suggests words that are out of control and irrevocable, as described in parallel passages in Plutarch’s De garrulitate (9, Moralia 507 a) and Erasmus’ Lingua. The contemporary discussion of proprietas in language becomes, punningly, a matter of ownership. Finally, the 51 See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 79–80 [57] and nn., and his article ‘Getting Away with Murder’; [also D. Campanile, ‘Cornelio Dolabella’ for the historical background. L. A. H.-S.]. 52 Orationes duae, 117 and nn. 219, 227. This demonstrates the actuality of this debate.
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suggestion of distance between the words and their speaker, the absence of sincerity, recalls an adjacent chapter of Gellius, 1. 15. 1 (orationem . . . in ore nasci, non in pectore), helping to transform this episode from a mere comic turn of the contemporary stage into a darker portrayal of hypocrisy.53 In this case Gellius may be considered more an engine of satire than a mere source of anecdote. Another satire to refer to the same chapter is the enigmatic Cymbalum mundi, a quartet of Lucianic dialogues published in 1537 and usually attributed to Bonaventure Des Pe´riers. In the Wnal section the dog Hylactor recounts his nocturnal escapades in the streets of Athens, where the scene is set: Puis, quant j’ay bien faict toutes les follies de mes nuictz attiques, jusques au chapitre: Qui sunt leues et importuni loquutores, pour mieulx passer le demourant de mes phantasies, ung peu devant que le jour vienne, je me transporte au parc de noz ouailles faire le loup en la paille . . . 54
The reference to Gell. 1. 15. 1 (one of few humanist allusions in the Cymbalum mundi) is apt, since Hylactor’s pranks consist in exploiting his unexpected capacity for speech and his unquenchable loquacity: ‘c’est une grand peine de se taire, mesmement [surtout] a` ceulx qui ont beaucoup de choses a` dire, comme moy!’ The impenetrable Cymbalum mundi has been interpreted as advocating everything from orthodox Catholicism to libertinism, and there is no agreement on the identity of the characters.55 However, there is little disagreement that one of the work’s targets is the incurable garrulity of humankind, as condemned by Gellius in the chapter cited. Ironically, the turbulence of Hylactor’s ‘Attic nights’ could hardly be further from Gellius’ own use of the term to denote retreat into scholarly contemplation. Moreover, the title Cymbalum mundi clearly recalls Tiberius’ description of Apion, as noted by Pliny in the Preface to the Naturalis historia (§25). Readers of Gellius would recall his ambivalence towards a philosopher who awarded himself the title Plistonices and delighted to boast of his learning: est enim sane quam in praedicandis doctrinis sui uenditator (5. 14. 3)—but who provided the most celebrated 53 For the full working of this hypothesis, see Christophe Clavel, ‘Sens et architexture: l’e´colier et le ge´ant’, Actes du Colloque de Cerisy-la-Salle, forthcoming. I am very grateful to M. Clavel for a copy of his paper. 54 Cymbalum mundi, 90–1. 55 A pertinent example: Malcolm Smith identiWed Hylactor as the free-thinking Estienne Dolet, partly on the grounds that ‘attique’ here recalls Cicero’s famous friend, and might allude to Dolet’s much-mocked claim to be the new Cicero: ‘A Sixteenth-Century Anti-Theist’, 603.
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Gellian anecdote, Androcles and the lion. Such learned ironies expand the appeal of this most mysterious of satires.
5. montaigne Scattered allusions to Gellius show him playing a minor role in the revival of learning and letters in the French Renaissance. With Montaigne something more complex emerges. In the penultimate chapter of Les Essais, Montaigne is characteristically ironical about the fashion for anthologies, which belies the humanist enthusiasm for recourse ad fontes: Tel allegue Platon et Homere, qui ne les veid onques. Et moy ay prins des lieux assez ailleurs qu’en leur source. Sans peine et sans suYsance . . . j’emprunteray presentement s’il me plaist d’une douzaine de tels ravaudeurs . . . Il ne faut que l’espitre liminaire d’un alemand pour me farcir d’allegations, et nous allons quester par la` une friande gloire, a` piper le sot monde. Ces pastissages de lieux communs, dequoy tant de gents mesnagent leur estude, ne servent guere qu’a` subjects communs; et servent a` nous montrer non a` nous conduire. (3. 12. 1056.)56
Despite this apparently damaging admission of his own indolent enslavement to the ‘botchers’ (ravaudeurs), in the next and Wnal chapter Montaigne paradoxically claims emancipation from the unthinking subservience to classical authority that characterizes the moral philosophy of his age: Mais moy, qui ne mescrois non plus la bouche que la main des hommes, et qui sc¸ay qu’on escript autant indiscretement qu’on parle, et qui estime ce siecle comme un autre passe´, j’allegue aussi volontiers un mien amy que Aulugele et que Macrobe, et ce que j’ay veu que ce qu’ils ont escrit. (3. 13. 1081.)
This is one of only three references57 to Gellius by name in the Essais. He and Macrobius doubtless represent the pedlars of second-hand erudition indispensable to the unscrupulous Renaissance humanist. While it is true that Montaigne increasingly 56 References to Montaigne are to the one-volume Villey–Saulnier PUF edition of Les Essais (1965), in the form book, chapter, page. 57 A second is cited in my conclusion. The third was excised from the 1595 edition and thus from modern editions; it occurred in the Apologie de Raymond Sebond (2. 12. 505 n. 13) and associated Gellius’ judgement on Pyrrho (see 11. 5. 4) with the similar opinions of Diogenes Laertius and Lucian.
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invokes his personal experience and opinions,58 and that he borrows from Macrobius only twice, at most, he is less than just to Gellius here.59 Pierre Villey identiWed more than twenty probable or possible borrowings from Gellius and, although the majority appear in the Wrst edition of 1580, he concluded that ‘Aulu-Gelle est donc un auteur qui reste constamment sous la main de notre philosophe et dont il fait cas.’ Catherine Magnien-Simonin has added to the list recently.60 It is certain that Montaigne possessed a copy of the Noctes Atticae, though, unlike a good many of his books, it has failed to survive. It was not the Estienne edition of 1585, since Gellius appears in some of the earliest chapters of the Essais, composed in about 1572. The only direct quotations are four lines of verse preserved by Gellius, two by Publilius Syrus, one by Pacuvius, and a proverb derived from Hesiod.61 Of course, Montaigne may have found these in some other anthology and, as is certainly the case with Macrobius and Athenaeus, most allusions in the Essais to Gellius may be indirect. It is clear, for example, that on the hackneyed topic of death from joy—characteristically included in the chapter De la tristesse (1. 2. 14)—Montaigne turned to the wellthumbed chapter in Ravisius Textor, since only the mother of Cannae survives from Gellius’ quartet in 3. 15. 4. Similarly, Gellius’ circumstantial chapter on Mithridates inuring himself to poison (17. 16) is reduced to a single anonymous line (‘ce Roy’) in De la coustume (1. 23. 109), whose source is probably Pedro Mexia.62 An important example of Gellian inXuence via a third party occurs at the end of De la constance (1. 12. 46–7), a passage added in the last redaction of the Essais and which considerably 58
A pertinent example occurs in De l’aVection des peres aux enfans (2. 8. 399), where a lengthy passage on breastfeeding ignores the almost mandatory Gell. 12. 1, and evokes instead the local custom of employing goats as wetnurses! 59 His two allusions to Favorinus are also somewhat hostile. In De l’incommodite´ de la grandeur (3. 7. 920), an anecdote from the life of Hadrian in the Historia Augusta, 15 (probably via Crinitus, 12. 2), shows the philosopher pusillanimously yielding to Hadrian in debate, while in De l’experience (3. 13. 1099) Montaigne denounces an opinion found in Gell. 15. 8, wrongly attributing it to Favorinus rather than to his opponents (though the reference to Gellius’ mentor is now thoroughly discredited). 60 P. Villey, Les Sources, i. 76–7 (quotation i. 77; on Macrobius i. 191), C. Magnien-Simonin, ‘Montaigne et Aulu-Gelle’. 61 Respectively Essais, 1. 38. 234 ¼ Gell. 17. 14. 4. 7; 2. 1. 332 ¼ 17. 14. 4. 1; 1. 25. 135 ¼ 13. 8. 4; 2. 5. 367 ¼ 4. 5. 5. 62 Les Diverses Lec¸ons, 1. 26; this episode is closely paraphrased in Boaistuau’s Theatre du monde, fo. 120r , in a chapter on human eccentricity.
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alters the chapter’s conclusion. This account of the psychology of fear, modifying the earlier portrayal of Stoic impassivity, is apparently based on the celebrated storm in Gell. 19. 1.63 Some phrases even suggest direct translation, but, as Villey proved, Montaigne was in fact following Augustine’s distillation of the Gellian chapter (City of God 9. 4). The clinching argument is that only Augustine cites the highly pertinent line of Vergil (Aeneid 4. 449) with which Montaigne closes his chapter. By contrast, Montaigne seems to have distilled a number of Gellian chapters for himself. His essay on warhorses includes the essence of Gell. 5. 2, but surprisingly omits the account of Bucephalus’ epic death. Interestingly, Montaigne suggests the wide diVusion of Gellius’ information: Car chacun sc¸ait du cheval d’Alexandre, Bucefal, qu’il avoit la teste retirant a` celle d’un toreau, qu’il ne se souVroit monter a` personne qu’a` son maistre, ne peut estre dresse´ que par luy mesme, fut honore´ apre`s sa mort, et une ville bastie en son nom. (Des destries, 1. 48. 288–9.)
Similarly, he adapts from Gell. 10. 28. 1 a conclusion that suits his thesis in De l’aage: ‘Servius Tullius dispensa les chevaliers qui avoient passe´ quarante sept ans, des courve´es de la guerre’ (1. 57. 327) and, in Que nostre desir s’accroit par la malaisance (2. 15. 615), transforms a historical observation (that no one at Rome took advantage of the right to divorce for more than Wve hundred years: Gell. 4. 3. 1) into a satirical comment on the contemporary prohibition on divorce—which merely increases marital discontent. In Des boyteux (3. 11. 1030) the famous case of Martin Guerre, whose condemnation Montaigne apparently considered a miscarriage of justice, inspires him to wish for a third verdict, baZement, or ‘La court n’y entend rien’—a more honest admission than that of the Areopagites who told the parties to return in 100 years (Gell. 12. 7. 6). In all these adaptations Montaigne fulWls his pledge not simply to quote his sources, but to make them his own. Sometimes Montaigne will tinker more directly with Gellius’ text to make his point. He puts a diVerent spin on the ferum . . . gladiatorem qui, cum uulnera eius a medicis exsecabantur, ridere solitus fuit (12. 5. 13). Gellius denied the gladiator true courage, since his apparent fortitude arose either from stupidity or from inescapable necessity. In Montaigne’s stoical chapter, Que le goust 63
Tellingly exploited by Erasmus in a discussion of Christ’s kenosis: De taedio Jesu, Collected Works, lxx. 29 and nn. 62–3; Erasmus retains much of Gellius’ colourful description, whereas Montaigne’s account is largely abstract.
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des biens et des maux depend en bonne partie de l’opinion que nous en avons, the gladiator reappears in a heterogeneous list of those who fortify themselves against pain, including women in labour, Spartan schoolboys, Mucius Scaevola, and the Senecan philosopher who laughed at his torturers. ‘Mais c’estoit un philosophe. Quoy? un gladiateur de Cæsar endura tousjours riant qu’on luy sondat et detaillat ses playes’ (1. 14. 59). Montaigne has dropped the adjective ferus and added the excruciating sonder (‘to probe’) to illustrate his contention that even the humblest and least cerebral are capable of detachment and self-control—quite the opposite of Gellius’ point. In Coustume de l’isle de Cea (2. 3. 354), Montaigne abridges the wordy tale of the suicide of the Milesian virgins but retains its essential narrative shape; however, to suit his theme of lethal collective madness (‘humeurs fantastiques’), Montaigne attributes their behaviour to a ‘conspiration furieuse’, where Gellius, like Plutarch (De mul. uir. 11, 249 b), had confessed himself baZed: repente sine ulla euidenti causa (15. 10. 1). Elsewhere, Montaigne’s taste for the epigrammatic also leads him to abridge Gellius. In De la praesumption (2. 17. 652) he strips Gell. 5. 3 to its barest elements, omitting the names and circumstances of Democritus and Protagoras to produce a crude generalization: ‘On conjectura anciennement a` Athenes une aptitude a` la mathematique en celuy a` qui on voioit ingenieusement agencer et fagotter une charge de brossailles.’ He has cleared the way for a neat antithesis, comically deprecating his own lack of practical skills: ‘Vrayement on tireroit de moy une bien contraire conclusion: car, qu’on me donne tout l’apprest d’une cuisine, me voila` a` la faim.’ In De l’experience (3. 13. 1106) Montaigne reduces Gell. 13. 11 to a tidy formula: ‘Varro demande cecy au convive: l’assemble´e de personnes belles de presence et agreables de conversation, qui ne soyent ny muets ny bavards, nettete´ et delicatesse aux vivres et au lieu, et le temps serain.’ Montaigne resists the lure of the clumsy puns, such as si belli homunculi conlecti sunt, si electus locus, si tempus lectum, si apparatus non neglectus (13. 11. 3). More of Varro’s prescriptions for the ideal dinner party are in fact scattered over the next page or two in Montaigne, but, in this most personal of all his essays, the Frenchman has largely assimilated his source. A number of more extensive borrowings from Gellius again show Montaigne conscientiously adapting his source in a number of ways: modifying his conclusions, embellishing his dialogue, or exploiting his portraits of the mighty for satire. Montaigne learned much about Scipio from Gellius, but tempered the latter’s heroworship. De la conscience originally concluded with three anecdotes
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concerning the upright but embattled Africanus (2. 5. 368). The Wrst, little more than an epigram, is from Plutarch (De se ips. laud. 4, 540 f). The others, providing a substantial conclusion, are adapted from Gell. 4. 18 and illustrate Montaigne’s manipulation of Gellian narrative. Scipio’s arraignment by Marcus Naevius is abridged by omission of the tribune’s name and some details of the charges, but retains the dramatic speech with which Scipio sweeps from the presence of his accuser, while reducing its air of selfsatisfaction.64 Most interestingly, however, Montaigne rehabilitates the accuser by omitting the insulting nebulo and, unlike Gellius (relicto tribuno), including him among the awe-struck crowd hastening to follow the hero to the Capitol. Thus Montaigne’s version, with its hint of repentance and reconciliation, is less triumphalist and more edifying than its source. The second story, attributable by its details to Gellius (4. 18. 7–12) rather than to Livy (38. 52), is virtually translated by Montaigne,65 except that here he turns direct speech into oratio obliqua. However, Montaigne tones down Gellius’ gloriWcation of Scipio as the salus imperii (and thus above suspicion), preferring a moral conclusion that better Wts his championing of conscience in public life: ‘Je ne croy pas qu’une ame cauterize´e [coupable] sc¸eut contrefaire une telle asseurance.’ Another transposition, equally indicative of Montaigne’s less respectful view of authority, occurs at the climax of Un traict de quelques ambassadeurs (1. 17. 74), with the story of Crassus and the Greek engineer (Gell. 1. 13. 9–13). Montaigne strips out superXuous geographical detail and quickens the climax, but otherwise transcribes fairly closely. The diVerence, again, lies in the moralization of the tale. Gellius concludes this conXict between obedi64
‘Allons, dit-il, mes citoyens, allons rendre graces aux Dieux de la victoire qu’ils me donnarent contre les Carthaginois en pareil jour que cettuy-cy’ (2. 5. 368); Memoria, inquit, Quirites, repeto, diem esse hodiernum quo Hannibalem Poenum imperio uestro inimicissimum magno proelio uici in terra Africa pacemque et uictoriam uobis peperi inspectabilem. Non igitur simus aduersum deos ingrati et, censeo, relinquamus nebulonem hunc, eamus hinc protinus Ioui optimo maximo gratulatum (4. 18. 3). 65 Compare: Ibi Scipio exurgit et, prolato e sinu togae libro, rationes in eo scriptas esse dixit omnis pecuniae omnisque praedae; illatum, ut palam recitaretur et ad aerarium deferretur. ‘Sed enim id iam non faciam, inquit, nec me ipse aYciam contumelia,’ eumque librum statim coram discidit suis manibus et concerpsit (4. 18. 9–12); ‘Scipion, estant venu au Senat pour cet eVect, produisit le livre des raisons [comptes] qu’il avoit dessoubs sa robbe, et dit que ce livre en contenoit au vray la recepte et la mise; mais comme on le luy demanda pour le mettre au greVe, il le refusa, disant ne se vouloir pas faire cette honte a` soy mesme; et, de ses mains, en la presence du senat, le deschira et mit en pieces’ (2. 5. 368).
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ence and initiative with Crassus’ conviction that even reasoned disobedience will weaken authority: Corrumpi atque dissolui oYcium omne imperantis ratus, si quis ad id quod facere iussus est non obsequio debito, sed consilio non desiderato respondeat. Though Montaigne abridges this very faithfully: ‘On corrompt l’oYce du commander, quand on y obeit par discretion, non par subjection’, he makes it the introduction not the conclusion to the anecdote. His own conclusion qualiWes the authoritarianism of the original: ‘Et Crassus, escrivant a` un homme du mestier, et luy donnant advis de l’usage auquel il destinoit ce mas, sembloit-il pas entrer en conference de sa deliberation et le convier a` interposer son decret?’ Gellius had suggested pragmatically (1. 13. 7) that successful disobedience would depend on the moral weakness of the superior; Montaigne’s equally subversive suggestion hints more subtly at his incompetence! The (comic) foibles of the mighty are again exposed in another close adaptation of a Gellian anecdote, in De l’incertitude de nostre jugement. The famous tale of Hannibal’s ironical reply to Antiochus (NA 5. 5) is retold by Montaigne with great panache: ‘Antiochus, montrant a` Hannibal l’arme´e qu’il preparoit contr’eux, pompeuse et magniWque en toute sorte d’equipage, et luy demandant: Les Romains se contenteront-ils de cette armee?—S’ils s’en contenteront? respondit-il; vrayement, c’est mon, pour avares qu’ils soyent’ (1. 47. 283). Montaigne hastens the punchline by omitting the details of the army’s accoutrements, comically humanizes Hannibal with the demotic ‘c’est mon [sc. avis]’, and avoids Gellius’ clumsy explanations of the joke, both within the anecdote (Tum Poenus, eludens ignauiam imbelliamque militum eius pretiose armatorum . . . ) and afterwards (rex de numero . . . quaesiuerat, respondit Hannibal de praeda). It may be said in defence of Gellius that the context in Montaigne makes interpretation simpler. Montaigne often develops the comic potential of a Gellian anecdote. In the story of the drubbing of Plutarch’s slave (1. 26. 5–9), retold in De la colere (2. 31. 716–7),66 Montaigne enjoyed the lively tale enough to expand the dialogue, having the slave reproach his master ironically ‘qu’il n’estoit pas philosophe, comme il s’en vantoit’ (ut philosophum deceret), and making Plutarch’s verbal pursuit of the hapless slave all the more comical by extending the 66 This follows another possible Gellian reminiscence, concerning the Spartan ephors (Gell. 18. 3. 6), though the source is more likely Plut. De recta rat. aud. 7 (41 b).
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use of the interrogative: ‘Rougis-je? escume-je? m’eschappe-il de dire chose de quoy j’aye a` me repentir? tressaux-je? fremis-je de courroux?’ (neque in spumam ruboremue eVeruesco neque pudenda dico aut paenitenda neque omnino trepido ira et gestio). One can almost hear the rhythm of the accompanying lashes. While Montaigne does make use in the chapter of Gellius’ technical discussion of anger, this expert development of the dialogue suggests that his interest was caught mainly by the portrayal of the philosopher’s private life.67 In many of these exempla Montaigne adapts and abridges Gellius in the interests of irony as well as of brevity, but in one remarkable case it is clear that Gellius’ account coincided exactly with Montaigne’s requirements, and he translated almost verbatim. The story of Androcles (Androdus) and the lion, Gellius’ most famous bequest to us (5. 14), found a natural home in the sceptical Apologie de Raimond Sebond (2. 12. 477–8), in which Montaigne provocatively exalted the animal kingdom at the expense of humankind. This illustration of gratitude even in the most savage of beasts had of course been recounted many times, most recently and circumstantially by Antonio de Guevara,68 from whom Montaigne may have gleaned a few details, such as Androcles’ Dacian origin. But otherwise Montaigne, having jettisoned the opening discussion of Apion’s reliability as irrelevant, devoted his considerable narrative skills to a faithful rendering of Gellius’ original tale. Clearly he found the style congenial, including as it does many of the doublets of which Montaigne was fond: sensim atque placide ‘d’une fac¸on molle et paisible’, rem miriWcam atque admirandam ‘une histoire nouvelle et admirable.’ Montaigne occasionally introduces doublets of his own, such as ‘tout transi d’eVroy et hors de soy’ (exanimati) and ‘alege´ de son mal et soulage´ de cette douleur’ (medela leuatus), but it is remarkable how little he alters this consummate piece of storytelling.69 Moreover, apart from a brief introductory remark on gratitude, he follows Gellius in making no attempt to draw a moral from the tale, unlike most predecessors.70 Thus Montaigne the self-conscious anthologist makes conventional use of Gellius as a source of sententiae and exempla,71 though more willing than most to adapt and abridge: 67
See also the passage quoted below in the conclusion to this chapter. See above, 302. For further comments on Montaigne’s adaptation, see Magnien-Simonin, ‘Montaigne et Aulu-Gelle’, 10. 70 See Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 52 n. 75 [33–4 n. 75]. 71 On Montaigne’s practice in general, see Lyons, Exemplum, ch. 3. 68 69
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Comme quelqu’un pourroit dire de moy que j’ay seulement faict icy un amas de Xeurs estrangeres, n’ayant fourny du mien que le Wlet a` les lier. Certes j’ay donne´ a` l’opinion publique que ces parements empruntez m’accompaignent. Mais je n’entends pas qu’ils me couvrent, et qu’ils me cachent. (3. 12. 1055.)
As the qualiWcation here suggests, Montaigne was also deliberately weakening the fashionable hold of classical authority by thorough assimilation: ‘Je ne dis les autres, sinon pour d’autant plus me dire’ (1. 26. 148). He further undermined the conventions of moral philosophy by his apparently arbitrary choice and organization of topics, and it can be argued that here again Gellius oVered a model.72 Two of Montaigne’s earliest chapters suggest such a debt to Gellius. In Des menteurs, the central section of the short original text73 revolves around a linguistic crux: ‘Je sc¸ay bien que les grammairiens font diVerence entre dire mensonge, et mentir’ (1. 9. 35). The grammarians in question are of course Publius Nigidius and Aulus Gellius. The title of Gell. 11. 11 reads: Verba P. Nigidii, quibus diVerre dicit ‘mentiri’ et ‘mendacium dicere’. In the body of the chapter, Montaigne’s reasoning is similar to Gellius’, though not textually identical; if anything, Gellius is the more subtle. The label grammairien is more likely to apply to Gellius74 than to Mexia, another regular source of Montaigne who also quotes this passage (Les Diverses Lec¸ons, 5. 18). Similarly, it appears that Montaigne had Gellius in mind, or even before his eyes, when composing an important passage in his early chapter De l’amitie´. Most of the chapter is based, naturally, on Cicero and Plutarch, but the attribution of a crucial sententia to ‘Chilon’ rather than (as in Aristotle and Cicero) to Bias, conWrms that Montaigne had read Gell. 1. 3 with some attention: ‘‘‘Ayme´s le (disoit Chilon) comme ayant quelque jour a` le haı¨r; haı¨ssez le, comme ayant a` l’aymer’’’ (1. 28. 190; cf. Gell. 1. 3. 30). There are also echoes of Gellius’ contention, in response to Cicero and Theophrastus, that each case should be considered on its merits, when Montaigne makes an exception of his own friendship with Estienne de La Boe¨tie. In these early chapters, Montaigne was consciously constructing a patchwork from classical sources, and in these cases 72
Cf. T. Morgan, above, Ch. 7; A. D. Vardi, above, 169–79. As usual, the 1580 text was much expanded in the editions of 1588 and 1595. This is probably how Montaigne categorized Gellius—not entirely a compliment. Cf. Montaigne’s disbelief in the opening line of Des destries: ‘Me voicy devenu Grammairien, moy qui n’appris jamais langue que par routine et qui ne sc¸ay encore que c’est d’adjectif, conjunctif et d’ablatif’ (1. 48. 287). 73 74
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Gellius’ contribution is clear. Still more intriguing is his potential role in inspiring, much later, one of Montaigne’s most controversial chapters, Sur des vers de Virgile. This inoVensive title conceals an extraordinarily frank discussion of sexuality, whose starting point and title were probably suggested by Gellius. In 9. 10 Gellius reports on the controversy over the passionate depiction in Aeneid 8. 404–6 of the nuptial bed of Vulcan and Venus. Since this debate is principally known through Gellius, he seems to have provided the impetus for Montaigne’s initial analysis of sex in Latin verse, centring on these very lines (3. 5. 849), which sets in motion a remarkably carnal chapter.75 Besides indicating textual parallels and common attitudes as diverse as scorn for pedantry and veneration for Cato, both Pierre Villey and Catherine Magnien-Simonin have proposed generic similarities between Gellius and Montaigne which, given the formal originality of Montaigne’s enterprise, suggest a more farreaching role for Gellius than anything so far discussed. For Villey, the similarity lies in Montaigne’s earliest mode, as a compiler and commentator on the most diverse, not to say random, moral questions: ‘Ce livre [the Noctes Atticae] est un des mode`les du genre des Lec¸ons auquel les Essais se rattachent par leur origine.’76 Magnien-Simonin goes further in detecting a ‘ge´mellite´ troublante’ between the two: ‘L’attitude d’Aulu-Gelle lorsqu’il utilise les œuvres d’autrui, sa re´Xexion sur l’autorite´ et sa pratique de l’e´criture ressortissent a` une poe´tique qui annonce celle de Montaigne.’77 There are indeed striking parallels between Gellius’ Praefatio and Montaigne’s Au Lecteur (and other reXections on writing), in respect of their claims to originality, their idiosyncratic choice of topics, their sublime neglect of order, and their chosen audience of family and friends. They share an ambition to provoke the reader into participation and the exercise of judgement; their joint disdain for compositional norms was perhaps symbolized for Montaigne by the fact that Gellius’ preface, his reXections on his craft, was positioned, unprecedentedly, as a postscript in contemporary editions. Thus encouraged, Montaigne scattered his own reXections on writing far and wide. At various points Montaigne asserts that ‘nous allons conforme´ment et tout d’un trein, mon livre et moy’ (3. 2. 806), that he will go on ‘sans cesse et sans travail’ as long as there are paper and ink in the world (3. 9. 945), and that ‘de ma mort seulement, si je la rencontrois babillarde 75 76
Cf. M. A. Screech, Montaigne and Melancholy (London, 1983), 55. 77 Les Sources, i. 76. ‘Montaigne et Aulu-Gelle’, 17, 15.
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. . . donnrois je encores volontiers advis au peuple en deslogeant’ (3. 12. 1057). The reader is reminded irresistibly of the conclusion to Gellius’ Praefatio (§§23–4), and this in particular: Progredietur ergo numerus librorum, diis bene iuuantibus, cum ipsius uitae quantuli quique fuerint progressibus, neque longiora mihi dari spatia uiuendi uolo quam dum ero ad hanc quoque facultatem scribendi commentandique idoneus.
In his introduction to the tale of Plutarch’s slave, Montaigne named Aulus Gellius, for only the third time. But in this case we get a glimpse of the sixteenth-century Frenchman’s attitude towards Gellius, and of the value he placed on his writings. Les escrits de Plutarque, a` les bien savourer, nous le descouvrent assez, et je pense le connoistre jusques dans l’ame; si voudrois-je que nous eussions quelques memoires de sa vie; et me suis jette´ en ce discours a` quartier a` propos du bon gre´ que je sens a` Aul. Gellius de nous avoir laisse´ par escrit ce conte de ses meurs qui revient a` mon subjet de la cholere. (2. 31. 716)
Gellius is not Plutarch, and Montaigne has no wish, apparently, to know the details of his existence, but he feels no small gratitude towards a secondary writer who performed the signal service to posterity of preserving the life and manners of the late Roman world. If Gellius has here, as so often, inspired a digression (‘discours a` quartier’), it neatly summarizes his status in the French Renaissance as a provider of fruitful diversion on almost any topic.
12 ConXict and Harmony in the Collegium Gellianum A nt h on y G ra ft o n The strongest emotion academics normally feel is neither love nor hate, but Schadenfreude. And no Renaissance text describes the inXiction of pain in an academic setting—or evokes the ways that bystanders enjoy the spectacle—more vividly than the De politia literaria of the Milanese humanist Angelo Decembrio. Decembrio set his massive series of dialogues at the Ferrarese court of Leonello d’Este, who ruled during the 1440s. A pupil of Guarino da Verona, Leonello ranked with the most learned rulers of the brief moment when Cosimo de’ Medici amused himself by reading Gregory the Great’s Moralia in Job and Federigo da Montefeltre corresponded in Latin with the scholars and oYcials of the states that hired him to Wght on their behalf. Decembrio portrays Leonello’s Ferrarese Politia literaria as a court that fosters true learning by exposing and denouncing its opposite. Again and again, Leonello and his courtiers humiliate humanists whose pedantry and lack of taste belie their pretensions to learning.1 In one exemplary chapter, the poet Tito Vespasiano Strozzi describes an encounter with an old schoolmaster, one who had become senile ‘uti plerunque solent paedagogi assidua puerorum infestatione’. The schoolmaster boasted that he knew his Vergil by heart. Meeting Tito and his friends ‘in triuiis’, he regularly made them an oVer: if they quoted any verse, he would supply the next two. ‘Then’, says Tito, ‘I turned up and said: Vrbem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putaui: now give me the other two.’ Drawing himself to his full height, the schoolmaster began, as he had to: Stultus ego . . . ‘So’, answered Tito exultantly, ‘it wasn’t enough for you to be a fool unless you could make it clear to others as well. 1 On the Ferrarese literary world and Decembrio’s portrayal of it see in general M. Baxandall, ‘A Dialogue on Art’, and A. Biondi, ‘Angelo Decembrio e la cultura del principe’.
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Now, since you have openly confessed that you are a fool, why don’t you give up the study of letters and join your shepherds and their Xocks, and bring up the oVspring of their sheep and cows?’2 Elsewhere, the singer Ugolino Pisani, known in elegant circles as ‘cercopithicus literatus’, turns up with an elegantly bound copy of his dialogue De coquinaria confabulatione, in which pots, pans, and foodstuVs discuss their own use. Tito and his friends make short work of this premature convert to foodie culture. When Ugolino praises ‘the very pretty hand of the scriptor’ whom he commissioned to produce the presentation copy of his work, Tito interrupts, gleefully scoring a point about usage: ‘Veh tibi, your Latin has been corrupted by the vernacular. You said scriptor when you should have said librarius.’ More important, in the course of a ruthless interrogation he forces Ugolino to admit that what matters in a book is not its script, the material it is written on, or its binding, but its content. At the end of the dialogue, even Ugolino admits that his dialogue does not belong in Leonello’s select library in the company of Homer and Seneca. ‘And so’, Decembrio happily concludes, ‘we passed that day joking.’3 Readers of Gellius will recognize at once that Decembrio took the Noctes Atticae as his model for these scenes. For Gellius too was a connoisseur of Schadenfreude, and no subject was dearer to his large heart than the humiliation of incompetent grammarians.4 2 Decembrio, De politia literaria 5. 58. 1–2, pp. 394–5 Witten: ut Palamedem praeceptorem, qui bucolica pueris legens—erat enim is ludi magister ludibundus ea tempestate Ferrariae, ridiculus senex, uti plerunque solent paedagogi assidua puerorum infestatione desipere—saepe gloriari soleret id opus totum mente sola percurrere, quod alii forte et quidem doctissimi uiri nescirent. At Leonellus: Quid deinde? Titus: Id cum saepe in triuiis interque aequales meos scire iactaret diceretque rei fore testimonium, si uersum unum ei praedicerent undecunque uellent, duos et plures se protinus insequentes additurum: idque a nemine Weri posse, nisi qui totum opus memoria retineret. Tum ego forte superueniens: Ecce unum: Vrbem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putaui; redde tu caeteros! At ille confestim in pedes erectus adiecit: Stultus ego . . . At ego rursus: Non igitur te stultum esse satis fuerit, nisi te etiam stultum esse sciat alter. Ita cum te stultum esse plane professus sis, cur non omissis potius litterarum studiis ad pastores ac uestros greges acceditis, cum quibus ouium foetus et boues educatis? Digna res omnibus cachinnatione uisa. Witten’s immensely learned edition puts a usable text and a vast amount of source material at the reader’s disposal. His analysis of the textual tradition does not quite seem to agree, however, with those put forward in B. Curran and A. Grafton, ‘A Fifteenth-Century Site Report on the Vatican Obelisk’; and, with a far richer base of evidence, Daniela Frigge`, ‘Redazioni e tradizione’. 3 Decembrio, Politia 5. 60, pp. 397–400 Witten; J. P. Perry, ‘A FifteenthCentury Dialogue on Literary Taste’. 4 For this side of Gellius see above all R. A. Kaster, Guardians of Language, 50–1, 53, 57–60, 65. My debt to Kaster and to the classic work of L. A. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius, will be evident throughout.
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We will come back to Decembrio and his ways of using Gellius later on. More important, for the moment, is a slightly larger point: that Gellius played a central role in the Wfteenth- and sixteenthcentury revival of learning. The humanists who carried out this movement found in him a pedagogical, literary, and technical model—a writer who gave them fundamental help in understanding and describing their own social and literary situation, and in dealing with what some of them viewed as an intellectual and scholarly crisis. By returning to the decades in which the full text of the Noctes Atticae came back into circulation, we can grasp the Wahlverwandtschaft that the humanists felt for their ancient colleague—and understand why they could, in some ways, appreciate his work better than some of their more professional successors in later centuries. Heinz Berthold, the German scholar whose excellent short articles on Gellius’ afterlife give a vivid sense of his wide readership and lasting impact, identiWes Gellius above all as a ‘Vermittler’— one whose work oVered a stock of materials to be plundered at will by later writers in need of high cultural plums to sweeten what would otherwise have been plain, dull prose.5 Even in Antiquity, many readers treated Gellius just this way. In the City of God— itself a massive work of compilation—Augustine abridged Noctes Atticae 19. 1, on the emotions. He described his source as uir elegantissimi eloquii et multae undecunque scientiae (9. 4). Two years later, quoting the same passage from memory, he cited the author’s name, and instructed to his secretary to look up the original: sed considerandum est quemadmodum hoc dicat A. Gellius et diligenter inserendum (Quaestiones in Heptateuchum, 1. 30). Evidently Augustine saw the Noctes Atticae rather as some modern undergraduates see the World Wide Web—as a splendid source of colourful information, nicely captured in bite-size pieces that one can simply plug into one’s own work. Through the Middle Ages, during which the Noctes Atticae circulated in two large sections (books 1–7 and 9–20 respectively), writer after writer acknowledged Gellius’ erudition.6 Though Isidore and Bede did not know the Noctes Atticae, Einhart did, and had copies of it made for libraries and learned friends. One of them, Lupus of Ferrie`res, himself an able textual critic, read the text with special interest. 5 See generally H. Berthold, ‘Aulus Gellius. Seine Bedeutung als Vermittler’; id., ‘Interpretationsprobleme’. 6 See generally P. K. Marshall, ‘Aulus Gellius’, and, for the wider context, H. Baron, ‘Aulus Gellius in the Renaissance’ (Baron’s ascription of the Newberry MS to Guarino is to be treated with reserve).
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Twelfth-century scholars also read, excerpted, and sometimes cleverly corrected the Noctes Atticae. Petrarch, accordingly, did not stand out from his predecessors when he made extensive use of Gellius in annotating his manuscripts of the Roman historians. In the early Wfteenth century, however, the humanists transformed Gellius’ text. They did so, moreover, in a highly particular context, one that ensured that the Noctes Atticae came to be seen as a methodogical model that created considerable excitement. During the 1420s and 1430s, the scholars who dominated the Wrst great stage of modern classical scholarship—what anthropologists of an older generation would have called the gathering, hunting, and collecting stage—regularly exchanged rumours that someone—the heirs of Giovanni Calderini in Bologna, perhaps, or Alfonso, bishop of Burgos—had totus Agellius. By 1429, Nicholas of Cusa had found what he took to be a complete text—evidently one that had the fragmentary preface not at the end of book 20, where it usually appeared, but at the start of book 1. Poggio made fun of what he thought Cusanus’ exaggerated excitement: ‘His Agellius is mutilated, and has its end at the beginning.’ In fact, however, Nicholas was right about the nature and true position of the preface, which he copied out, and by the early 1430s friends were asking him for copies.7 At much the same time, Guarino, the great schoolmaster who settled in Ferrara in 1429, was at work emending the text. He and others—we are not sure who—brought the two halves of the text together and put them into circulation as a whole. Giovanni Lamola—who corrected Caesar with Guarino at Ferrara in 1432—Wnished his copy of Gellius’ text, now Vat. Lat. 3453, on 31 October of the same year.8 The manuscript shows the results of systematic correction—correction based not only on collation of other texts of the Noctes Atticae, but also on comparison between the Greek passages quoted in the text and their sources in Plutarch and Herodotus. Guarino, who had studied Greek in Constantinople, belonged to the handful of Italians capable of making such corrections in the 1430s. It seems certain, as Sabbadini argued, that he played a central role in creating the vulgate version of the complete text that circulated very widely for the next century. 7 R. Sabbadini, Le scoperte, ii. 24–5. Poggio wrote: Agellium scilicet truncum et mancum et cui Wnis sit pro principio. Cf. L. A. Holford-Strevens, above, 279. 8 Vat. lat. 3453, fo. iv : Iste liber est mei Iohannis Lamolae: quem propria manu tamen scripsi; fo. 159r : Auli Gellii Noctium Atticarum liber uigesimus et ultimus feliciter explicit. M o CCCCXXXII. pridie Kalendas Nouembrias. See R. Sabbadini at Guarino da Verona, Epistolario, iii. 307; id., La scuola, 118–19.
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The more than 100 surviving Wfteenth-century manuscripts indicate the great popularity that the text achieved. It was not only the intrinsic merits of the Noctes Atticae, however, that explained the eager reception it met with in its new, more complete and correct form. The humanists of the early Wfteenth century, as Ernst Gombrich explained long ago, were engaged in nothing less than a revolution in taste. Eager aesthetes like Niccolo` Niccoli and Poggio Bracciolini hoped to see a new style transform every aspect of the literary economy.9 In place of the spiky, perpendicular Gothic scripts that they found repellent, they devised a new bookhand based on Caroline minuscule and a new, more rapid italic hand. In place of the non-classical orthography that had deformed ancient texts in the Middle Ages, they elaborated a new one based on the ancient grammarians. In place of the nonclassical syntax and usage that had deWled the letters and dialogues written in the Middle Ages, they insisted on following classical models down the line. Some historians have thought that long polemics about the need to write nihil, rather than nichil, amounted to much ado about nothing. But as Gombrich showed, they could not have been further oV the mark. Niccoli—who rejected the Latin writings of his contemporaries as Wt only for use in the outhouse, not for reading; lived in a small house crammed with manuscripts written in his own neat hand, and fragments of classical sculpture; wore ancient robes and ate his meals oV crystal plates—was as pure and original a votary of life lived as a form of art as Oscar Wilde centuries later, and his ideal of antiquity was almost Winckelmannian in its spurious and obsessive chastity. The pursuit of classicism enchanted intellectual leaders across Italy, from Leon Battista Alberti, who reared Roman-looking churches and palaces for his patrons, to Pope Nicholas V, who equipped the papacy with Europe’s best secular library, stuVed with classical texts.10 The problem, of course, was how to attain the formidable level of stylistic purity and correctness that Niccoli and other critics called for. How could modern young men, brought up like Ugolino Pisani, speaking Italian, immersed in the liturgical Latin of the 9
Not surprisingly, the great bibliophile Niccoli produced his own copy of books 9–20, which he emended and supplemented, and in which he (not Ambrogio Traversari) entered the Greek passages, early in the 1430s: Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, MS Conv. soppr. J IV. 26, olim San Marco 329. See Marshall, edn. i, pp. xv f. (MS N). [Gellius’ editors wrongly assign this MS to the Fondo Magliabecchiano, which even the current shelf-mark refutes. L.A.H.-S.] 10 E. H. Gombrich, ‘From the Revival of Letters to the Reform of the Arts’.
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church, and ignorant of ancient history and myth, ever produce Latin works that seemed satisfyingly classical? Anyone who failed risked just the sort of humiliation that Gellius enjoyed describing—the sort that Poggio, for example, experienced when Lorenzo Valla wrote a dialogue in which Guarino’s German cook and stable-boy read one of Poggio’s works aloud and dissect its errors, solecism by solecism.11 The humanist teachers of the early Wfteenth century met this challenge in one simple, eVective way: by instructing their pupils to compile systematic notebooks of everything they read. Guarino, for example, told his most eminent disciple, Leonello, to compile notebooks as he read—or, if he found himself too busy to do so, to employ a bright but poor young man to do the compiling for him. The teacher’s son Battista made clear what this discipline implied. Every word or turn of phrase, every fact or anecdote of interest, must be recorded in systematic collections: ‘But they should hold fast to the practice of always making excerpts of what they read, and they should convince themselves of the truth of Pliny’s dictum, that ‘‘there is no book so bad that it is totally useless’’.’12 Then, as Guarino reassuringly told Leonello, whenever one found oneself at a loss for the classical word or ancient story, ‘the notebook will be at hand like a diligent and attentive servant to provide what you need.’13 From this point onwards—as Ann Moss, Ann Blair, and others have shown—the making of notebooks became a central preoccupation of humanist scholarship.14 Reading became hard to distinguish from writing: both activities were carried out with strenuous attentiveness, pen in hand, and with the aid of elaborate equipment, and both served the same end: recycling a stock of appropriate phrases, quotations, and factoids from ancient to modern texts. Early humanist writers not only used this system when they read, but referred to and highlighted it in the compositions in which they displayed their hard-won classical knowledge. Alberti, for example, regularly introduced into his literary works discussions of the loci or headings used in his preparatory notebooks. In one of his dialogues, a dead man reappears at his own funeral and 11
See R. PfeiVer, ‘Ku¨chenlatein’. Battista Guarino, De ordine dicendi et studendi 31, p. 294 Kallendorf: Sed omnino illud teneant, ut semper ex iis quae legunt conentur excerpere, sibique persuadeant, quod Plinius dictitare solebat, ‘nullum esse librum tam malum ut non in aliqua parte prosit’ [cit. Plin. Ep. 3. 5. 10]; translation ibid. 295. 13 Guarino, Epistolario, ep. 679. 129–30, ii. 270 Sabbadini: praesto codicillus erit qui sicuti minister strenuus et assiduus petita subiciat. 14 A. Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books; A. Blair, The Theater of Nature. 12
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complains that the preacher has failed to use the proper loci in preparing his eulogy. The passion for good method in notebookmaking never waned: Rudolf Agricola and Erasmus both wrote inXuential sets of instructions for the art, and hundreds practised what they preached. As late as the end of the sixteenth century, Sir Philip Sidney still saw the making of accurate, systematic notebooks as the key to the kingdom of good letters: but that I wish herein, is this [he told his younger brother], that when yow reade any such thing, yow straite bring it to his heade. not only of what art, but by your logicall subdivisions, to the next member and parcell of that art. And so as in a table be it wittie word of which Tacitus is full, sentences, of which Livy, or similitudes wherof Plutarch, straite to lay it upp in the right place of his storehouse, as either militarie, or more spetiallie defensive militarie, or more perticularlie, defensive by fortiWcation and so lay it upp. So likewise in politick matters . . . 15
Through the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, engineers and craftsmen competed to make magniWcent contraptions designed to facilitate this sort of systematic, comparative notebook-making (Pl. 12. 1). Modern historians have searched far and wide for the origins of these textual practices. Robert Bolgar noted that Byzantine scholars had combined systematic compilation with the composition of classical prose, and suggested that Guarino might have brought his mastery of notebook-making, like his Greek, home to Italy from Constantinople.16 But another connection may be more plausible, and is certainly more direct. The preface to the Noctes Atticae, as we have seen, came back into circulation and became the object of discussion, with the complete texts of the work, in the late 1420s and early 1430s—just when the notebook method established itself in humanist education. And Gellius exhaustively described his own practices as a note-taker in the preface: ‘For whenever I had taken in hand any Greek or Latin book, or had heard anything worth remembering, I used to jot down whatever took my fancy, of any and every kind, without any deWnite plan or order; and such notes I would lay away as an aid to my memory, like a kind of literary storehouse, so that when the need arose of a word or a subject which I chanced for the moment to have forgotten, and the books from which I had taken it were not at 15 Sidney, letter of 15 Oct. 1580 OS, Complete Works, iii. 131–2 Feuillerat. On this text see E. S. Donno, ‘Old Mouse-Eaten Records’, 284–7, esp. 286–7. 16 See R. R. Bolgar, The Classical Heritage and its BeneWciaries from the Carolingian Age to the End of the Renaissance (Cambridge, 1954), 87–8, 268–70.
Pl. 12.1. Design for a bookwheel, from Agostino Ramelli, Le diverse et artificiose machine (Paris, 1588), fig. 188. Photograph used by permission of Princeton University Library
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hand, I could readily Wnd and produce it’ (NA pr. 2).17 Gellius made clear that notebooks could reinforce the normal scholar’s fallible memory. He even dramatized the literary value of his notes, since he stated that his Wnished commentarii, the Noctes Atticae themselves, followed the order of his original notes. Here he exaggerated, to be sure, but he also struck the imaginations of his Wfteenth-century readers. Sicco Polenton, whose pioneering history of Latin literature reached completion in the late 1430s, revealed exactly how central a role the preface played in his enthusiastic assessment of the Noctes Atticae: A. Gellius made 20 books full of examples and many good things worth knowing. He had much grace in speaking, and his prowess was such that thanks to his memory, he either excelled all others, or had few peers, in this sort of study. His language is polished and smooth, rich in content and decorous. But unlike others, he did not adopt a Wxed order, but used an arbitrary one. Unlike Valerius Maximus and Frontinus, he does not place anything under a Wxed leader and standard, but Wghts on his own. As he picked up any Greek or Latin book or heard anything worth remembering, he noted it down, without any deWnite plan or order.18
Polenton thus neatly managed both to praise Gellius’ skills at compilation and to emulate them at one and the same time. At a moment when notebook-making had assumed a new and powerful cultural value, Gellius providentially reappeared in complete form, as the classical master practitioner of a literary technology that suddenly mattered a good deal. Pliny, everyone knew, had made systematic notes: but Gellius showed how the thing was done. No wonder that Guarino seized upon his work and edited 17 Vsi autem sumus ordine rerum fortuito, quem antea in excerpendo feceramus. Nam proinde ut librum quemque in manus ceperam seu Graecum seu Latinum uel quid memoratu dignum audieram, ita quae libitum erat, cuius generis cumque erant, indistincte atque promisce annotabam eaque mihi ad subsidium memoriae quasi quoddam litterarum penus recondebam, ut quando usus uenisset aut rei aut uerbi, cuius me repens forte obliuio tenuisset, et libri ex quibus ea sumpseram non adessent, facile inde nobis inuentu atque depromptu foret. 18 Sicco Polenton, Scriptorum illustrium latinae linguae libri xviii, bk. 8, pp. 221–2 Ullman: Libros uero A. Gellius exemplis ac rebus plurimis scitu bonis plenos XX fecit. In dicendo quidem multum gratiae habuit atque tantum ualuit quod memoria sua hoc in genere studii aut omnes excelleret aut paucos sibi adaequandos haberet. Dictio nanque sua perpolita est atque suauis, rebus grauis et commoda; ordine uero haudquaquam certo, ut solent caeteri, sed fortuito pro eius arbitrio ac iure usus est. Nihil enim, ut est apud Valerium Maximum atque Frontinum, certo sub duce ac signis locat sed uagus militat, quod, perinde ac librum quemquam seu Grecum seu Latinum in manus caperet aut quid memoratu dignum audiret, indistincte ac promiscue annotaret.
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it, or that his son Battista, just before he told his pupils who were advanced enough to read on their own to make notebooks, urged that ‘they should make an eVort to read miscellaneous works like Gellius, Macrobius’ Saturnalia, and Pliny’s Natural History’.19 Erasmus, the author of such best-selling collections of ancient lore and sayings as the Adagia and the De copia, praised Gellius’ ‘commentarii’—a carefully chosen term, and Gellius’ own—in the former work as exemplary encyclopaedic texts, ‘quibus nihil Weri potest neque tersius, neque eruditius’.20 At the very least, the Noctes Atticae provided an ancient model for the new practices of classical learning. More likely, Gellius served as the chief source from which Guarino and his contemporaries derived their central pedagogical technique. Giovanni Andrea Bussi expressed something of the esteem Gellius enjoyed among the humanists in his preface to the Wrst printed edition, which appeared in 1469. Bussi described the Noctes Atticae as uniquely useful: at once encyclopaedic in coverage (‘scarcely anything worth knowing can be found that Gellius does not deal with to some extent’) and uniquely pure in style (‘others used styles that were their own and idiosyncratic, but Aulus oVered the perfect model of elegant, pure writing’).21 Bussi also followed earlier humanists when he recommended that readers work through the preface, which Gellius had curiously put all the way at the end of his book, with special care, in order to gain some understanding of his intentions and methods as a writer.22 But Gellius oVered even more than a particularly eVective device for torturing schoolboys and enabling their elders to escape. The humanists usually looked backwards in their search for cultural ideals—backwards to Greece and Rome, but also to ancient Etruria and to the Trecento world of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. Gellius—the friend of Fronto and Herodes Atticus—often did the same. And Gellius oVered devices that made it far easier for the humanists to envisage themselves as engaged in a powerful, even fashionable, pursuit of an ideal past. In the Wrst place, Gellius 19
Battista Guarino, loc. cit. (n. 12): Vbi primum per se studere incipient, operam dabunt ut eos uideant qui uariis ex rebus compositi sunt, quo in genere est Gellius, Macrobius Saturnalium, Plinii Naturalis historia . . . 20 Erasmus, Adagia 1. 4. 37, ‘Nihil graculo cum Wdibus’, Adagiorum chilias prima, Opera omnia, II 1. 437. 21 Bussi, Prefazioni, ed. M. Miglio, 19. Bussi claimed that he printed 275 copies of Gellius, as many as he did of Caesar, Livy, or Apuleius (ibid. 83). 22 Ibid. 26: Quisquis igitur A. Gelium lecturus es, uir studiose, nostro arbitratu recte feceris si ante omnia uiri illius Prooemium lectitaris, quod in librorum calce ab eo est reiectum, ut et tituli rationem discas et scriptionis causam modumque pertingas et quibus scribendi laborem desumpserit uir clarissimus atque elegantissimus non ignores.
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oVered for imitation and adaptation a new form of learned dialogue, a genre that most humanists preferred to the straightforward treatise: one far, far shorter, and perhaps even more varied in tone and content, than the Ciceronian dialogues which they already knew.23 As we have already seen, Ferrara became the locus classicus for Gellian studies in the Wrst half of the Wfteenth century. Decembrio made clear that he modelled his Politia literaria on the Noctes Atticae—though in characteristic humanist fashion, he combined his central formal inspiration with another, quite diVerent text to create a new, mixed genre: ‘To help you understand the sequence of the work that you are about to encounter,’ he told the reader, ‘note that it is modelled on Gellius’ Noctes Atticae or rather on Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria, maintaining the same order of parts and books.’24 In fact, the Politia also draws heavily on the grammatical works of Priscian and others, sources perhaps too humble and familiar to be mentioned in the preface, but vital for a book that devoted long chapters to the use of diphthongs and other questions of orthography. But Decembrio did owe Gellius a primary debt. Gellius showed him, as he explained, how to form a cast of Wgures whose conversations would frame the issues he wished to cover: ‘Gellius, above all—and it is his image, and that of Quintilian, that I promised to imitate in these books—decided to choose Favorinus and a few others as the masters to whom he would appeal with the greatest frequency. I too chose Leonello, the prince, Guarino of Verona, and a few of their more prominent partners in disputation as the masters in this politia.’25 Gellius oVered a model for the elegiac reconstruction of a learned circle that now lay somewhere in the past—an important consideration for Decembrio, who wrote after Leonello had died, his courtiers had scattered, and Decembrio himself had moved to the court of Alfonso of Aragon in Naples. Above all, Gellius showed Decembrio how to stage a learned conversation, and how to add the sort of details about books that could give it special appeal. Like Gellius, Decembrio liked to set 23
D. Marsh, The Quattrocento Dialogue. Decembrio 1. 1. 5, p. 146 Witten: Cuius futuram seriem ut breuibus intelligas, seu ad opus A. Gellii noctium Atticarum seu potius ad Quintiliani institutionem oratoriam formatus est partium et librorum opportunitate eadem fere seruata. 25 Ibid. 1. 3. 1, p. 148 Witten: Placuit in primis A. Gellio, cuius imaginem et Quintiliani pariter pollicitus sum his libris imitari, Fauorinum et quosdam paucos ueluti frequentiores sibi magistros eligere. Mihi quoque in hac politia Leonellum principem Guarinumque Veronensem et qui cum eis clariores facti disputare consueuerant, deligendos institui. 24
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his scenes before vividly evoked backdrops—for example, the library of Giovanni Gualenghi, set in his garden, where Leonello and his court repaired early in the morning, the dew still on the Xowers, to enjoy a stirrup-cup among the books, themselves strewn with spring Xowers, or the great oak at Belriguardo, the Este country house, which made a nice counterpart to the country villa of Herodes Atticus, Cephisia.26 Like Gellius, as we have already seen, Decembrio particularly enjoyed staging scenes of humiliation; scenes in which the learned and polished members of Leonello’s entourage humiliated inept outsiders showed that they could not reach the Ferrarese standard of civility. Like Gellius, who represented Fronto discussing the question whether a given word had been used by somone e cohorte illa dumtaxat antiquiore uel oratorum aliquis uel poetarum, id est classicus adsiduusque aliquis scriptor, non proletarius (19. 8. 15), Decembrio devoted much time to sorting out the writers who deserved inclusion in the material embodiment of the canon—the ideal library that he represented Leonello and his friends as creating.27 Like Gellius above all, Decembrio inserted a good many details into his work about the books he and his protagonists most prized. If Gellius boasted of his success in Wnding fasces librorum uenalium at Brundisium on his way home from Greece to Italy and then at buying the accounts of wonders in these bundles very cheaply (9. 4. 1–5), Decembrio had Gualenghi give a speech about the pretty copies of ancient works, their texts supposedly corrected by the Wnest Florentine humanists, that all Italians bought, if they could aVord them, from the Florentine bookseller Vespasiano da Bisticci (7. 75. 7).28 Outside Ferrara as well as inside the city, humanists found this model powerfully attractive. Poggio probably had Gellius in mind when he started his dialogue on the unhappiness of princes—a work in scale and content more Ciceronian than Gellian—with a description of how he encountered Cosimo de’ Medici and Niccoli examining a splendid copy of Ptolemy’s Geography.29 Bussi wrote no dialogues in the Gellian vein. But he made clear in his preface to the Wrst edition of Gellius that he constructed his own relation to patrons in Gellian terms. As Gellius praised Favorinus the Gaul, a man of great learning and beloved of Hadrian, so Bussi praised the 26
See A. Grafton, Commerce with the Classics, 32–3. On this point see Grafton, Commerce, ch. 1, and C. S. Celenza, ‘Creating Canons in Fifteenth-Century Ferrara’. 28 Decembrio, p. 459 Witten. 29 Poggio Bracciolini, De infelicitate principum. 27
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Cardinal of Rouen, a Frenchman of great wisdom and generosity and beloved of the pope—and did so in an elegantly oblique way, bringing Gellius, who praised Favorinus so eloquently, back to light.30 Later in the Wfteenth century, even the austere Poliziano devoted a couple of chapters of his Miscellanea to evoking his hours of work in various libraries with Pico della Mirandola. His pupil Pietro Crinito pursued the subject far more systematically in his De honesta disciplina of 1502, in which he described, in awkward but eVective emulation of Gellius, the conversations that Pico held with Poliziano at home and with Savonarola and others in the library of San Marco, the tears into which Pico and Poliziano burst when they heard that their friend Barbaro was ill at Rome (not to mention the packet of scorpion’s oil and asp’s tongues that Pico sent oV to heal his friend, sadly too late), and the discussions of history and antiquities that Xowered in the gardens of the Rucellai family—the same place where Machiavelli, some years later, would deliver the lectures that became his discourses on Livy.31 And the genre persisted. In the spring of 1585, Henri Estienne— the great Stephanus of the Wrst modern Greek Thesaurus—prepared a new edition of Gellius in Geneva. HorriWed by the suVerings of his fellow Protestants in the French religious wars, bankrupted by the expense of his great Greek dictionary, and haunted by the memory of his youth, in which he had explored the libraries of Europe, Estienne accompanied his edition with a Gellian evocation of his youth in the Paris of the 1530s and 1540s. Challenging Gellius’ standards of social class, if not erudition, he described the learned circle that had assembled in his father Robert’s printing house. Robert had employed ten correctors, many of them very learned, and no two of them from the same country. They spoke Latin at table, Estienne recalled, and so the servants and the female members of Robert’s family had also learnt Latin, ‘as the French learn French and the Italians learn Italian’, by immersion. Henri’s mother had understood Latin almost as well as French, and his sister Catherine could read and understand 30
Bussi, Prefazioni, p. 21 Miglio: sciens elegantissimum scriptorum Gelium supra omnis homines Fauorinum in Galliis ortum merito praedicare, quippe qui sua aetate princeps in omni excellentiae genere uirorum summorum fuerit et Hadriano imperatori illi doctissimo et gloriossimo acceptissimus, statui dignissimo etiam cardinali Rotomagensi praestare ut Fauorinus suus, uir tantus, ab omnibus facilius quodammodo Gelio laudatore nosceretur. 31 Pietro Crinito, De honesta disciplina, 2. 2, 3. 2, 1. 7, 8. 5, 10. 10, 21. 4, 2. 14.
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the language with no help, and ‘can say a good deal in that language herself, and well enough that everyone understands her, even if she sometimes stumbles.’32 The text vividly evoked this lost, Latin-speaking Utopia—a forgotten country of international understanding and exact scholarship, inspiring to remember if impossible to recreate in a Europe torn by religious and civil war. Half a century later, the Gellian model found a diVerent, more optimistic employment in another war-torn land. Beginning at Advent in 1641, a group of scholars in Leipzig emulated the Roman expatriates in Gellius who met on the Saturnalia to discuss a wide range of festive questions. Every week, these men met after services on Sunday and discussed ‘matters connected with philology’. They called themselves the Collegium Gellianum. Later still, the Hamburg humanists in the circle of J. A. Fabricius learnt from Gellius and Macrobius how to carry on conversation that was learned and morally instructive, but not pedantic, in their ‘Teutsch-u¨bende Gesellschaft’.33 The Noctes Atticae, in other words, not only gave the humanists a way to describe the social worlds they created, but actually helped to shape these. These connections make clear that the form—as well as the varied and erudite content—of the Noctes Atticae played a considerable role in its appeal. They are also a little sobering. The most vivid recreations we have of humanist literary life—so it seems—appear in works Wtted to an existing, classical last. It is all too possible, then, that they are at least partly Wctional—that they can be used, like Gellius’ own work, to describe what could have been discussed in Wfteenth-century Ferrara or Florence, but not what actually was discussed. Even as notebook-making became commonplace and modern compilations began to appear next to the Noctes Atticae on humanist bookshelves, Gellius continued to stimulate new forms of literary and philological writing. The numerous testimonia and fragments that he cited from older Latin literature soon attracted attention. Sicco Polenton was no master of the critical method. Having decided that one Seneca had written the rhetorical and philosophical works, another the tragedies, he found himself confronted with a problem. Seneca mentioned in the rhetorical works 32 Henri Estienne, letter to Paul Estienne, 12–13. Cf. R. Colie, The Resources of Kind, and M. J. Heath, above, 288. 33 See R. Ha¨fner, ‘Philologische Festkultur’, for a rich study of both the uses of Gellius in these erudite late humanist circles and the larger intellectual context within which Fabricius and his colleagues worked.
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that he could have heard Cicero speak, had the civil wars not intervened. Hence he must have been at least 14 years old when the great orator died in 43 bc. Yet chronicles unanimously set the death of Seneca the philosopher in ad 65. Unperturbed, Polenton explained that Seneca must have lived to the modest age of 118. Yet this same scholar, reading Gellius, saw that he could compile a new kind of notebook—a historical one—as he did so. On Plautus, for example, he wrote: Comoedias tres ipso etiam in pistrino esse ab eo et scriptas et uenditas M. Terentius Varro, nominis sui cultor, scribit. Annos denique nec multos ante bellum quod tertium ac ultimum populus Romanus cum Poenis gessit mortuus est Romae Plautus, P. Claudio et L. Porcio consulibus. Censor tum erat Cato superior. Epigramma uero sibi hoc Plautus lapidi incidendum fecit: ‘Postquam est morte captus Plautus, Comoedia luget . . . (53.)34
Here Polenton assembled, like the pieces of a smashed mosaic, fragments of Varro preserved by Gellius in 3. 3. 14 and 1. 24. 3. Much of what he said about Ennius came from the same source. Half a century later, Poliziano and others went much further in the same direction. Using the Greek text of Euripides’ Medea, Poliziano identiWed a fragment of Ennius’ version of the text in one of Cicero’s letters. The study of Gellius—who preserved so many testimonia and fragments, and compared Latin texts with the Greek originals they adapted—led his modern readers to devise forms of collection and commentary that would enable them, over time, to reconstruct substantial portions of Rome’s lost early literature. Gellius also helped to spread other tastes. In the 1520s, when enemies were gathering around Erasmus and criticizing him for the arrogance of the motto on his seal, ‘Concedo nulli’, he referred his choice back to what he saw as another sort of Gellian scholarship—the riddling form of Platonic pedagogy so brilliantly expounded by Edgar Wind in Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance. A pupil, Alexander Stewart, had given Erasmus an ancient gem while he was in Italy in 1509. ‘A certain Italian antiquary’ pointed out that the Wgure on the stone was Terminus. Thanks to Poliziano, every scholar in Erasmus’ generation knew what Terminus said. For Gellius cited, as an example of an enigma, three iambic trimeters that he thought very old, and which Varro had discussed:
34
Sicco Polenton, bk. 2, p. 53 Ullman.
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Semel minusne an bis minus sit, nescio: An utrumque eorum, ut quondam audiui dicier, Ioui ipsi regi noluit concedere. I know not if he’s minus once or twice, Or both of these, who would not yield his place, As I once heard it said, to Jove himself. (12. 6. 2, tr. J. C. Rolfe.)
Poliziano, in the Miscellanea that he modelled on the Noctes Atticae, solved the riddle handily: Terminum signiWcare uidetur, qui deus concedere Ioui noluit, cum capitolium exaugurabatur. Ouidius fastorum secundo (36), and even his critics, like Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, accepted his solution: Angelus Politianus, cuius immaturo obitu multum nuper amisimus, primus (quod sciam) scrupeas aenigmatis huius ambages explicauit. Erasmus explained that he had taken the gift of the stone as an omen of his approaching death (he was, after all, already 40 years old).35 When he had ‘concedo nulli’ engraved on his seal, accordingly, he meant only to suggest that Mors enim uere Terminus est, qui nulli cedere nouit. Even if, as Edgar Wind argued in a classic article, Erasmus used the chapter from the Noctes Atticae for protective coloration, Gellius and the scholars who imitated him certainly became a fashionable source for similar puzzles.36 In fact, the Noctes Atticae became so synonymous with riddles that some of his Renaissance readers, like Ludovico Ricchieri (who styled himself Caelius Rhodiginus), found them where they did not exist. In 2. 3, his chapter on the letter h, Gellius noted that the inhabitants of Attica had pronounced NŁ as ƒŁ (§2). Ricchieri devoted a whole chapter of his Lectiones antiquae to arguing, on the basis of an immense range of sources, that Gellius had referred to a ƒŁf ƒæ, a holy Wsh.37 Petrus Mosellanus, whose commentary on the Noctes Atticae Wrst appeared in 1526, expressed pity and contempt for his predecessor, ‘who tortures himself in the most extraordinary way on the sacred Wsh, and compiles a great deal of foreign material about the name of the sacred Wsh, so that he shows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has no idea what Gellius is talking about. I take the passage as a 35 Poliziano, Miscellanea I 36, in Opera, 256; Giraldi, Aenigmata, ‘Aenigma Termini’, in Opera, ii. 457. 47–9; Erasmus, Ep. 2018. 55, vii. 432 Allen. 36 E. Wind, ‘ ‘‘Aenigma Termini’’ ’, citing all three authors. Erasmus clearly prized Gellius for his ability, like Erasmus’ own, to Wnd extended and curious senses in proverbial sayings: see Adagia 1. 4. 37 (Opera omnia, II i. 436): A. Gellius Noctium Atticarum extrema lucubratione sane quam eleganter hoc adagium [‘Nihil cum Wdibus graculo’] torquet in quosdam pinguiore ingenio homines stolidaque loquacitate praeditos . . . 37 Caelius Rhodiginus, Lectionum antiquarum libri 7. 12 (in later edns. 12. 7).
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simple discussion of aspirated words.’38 In fact, however, Ricchieri’s interpretative misstep reveals much. He assumed that any passage in Gellius, however simple it appeared, might oVer riddles like that of Terminus, riddles whose solution required a parade of classical erudition. No wonder, then, that Gellius became such a favoured source for the aphorisms, mottoes, and emblems that Wfteenth- and sixteenth-century scholars loved to devise, and that became a staple of conversation in the Italian academies of the sixteenth century. And even this was only one particularly attractive feature of the Noctes Atticae. Guarino’s friend and disciple Giovanni Lamola, for example, took a special interest in the role of history in Gellius. He commented on the chapter in which Gellius discussed the distinction between historia and annales and ransacked Greek texts for parallel accounts of the events Gellius described—not all of which seemed to agree with him.39 One feature of Gellius’ specialized interests, however, proved far more inXuential than the rest—and this story has its paradoxes. Gellius made clear, from early on in the Noctes Atticae, that he saw himself as living in an age of textual corruption, a time when ignorant grammarians changed perfectly correct forms in the works of Cicero and Vergil. He set himself to repel these ignorant and impudent boarders, these men who—as he put it in the title of 1. 7—bonos libros uiolant—for example, by replacing correct but unusual forms, like the genitive uestrum (rather than uestri) in Sallust (Cat. 33. 2; NA 20. 6. 14). To defend the classical writers against such inept eVorts at emendation, Gellius scrutinized a good many real manuscripts and, perhaps, a few Wctional ones as well. Often, he claimed, he followed copies that had belonged to the authors themselves, or members of their familiae. Thus he found what he took as the correct text of a passage in Cicero’s Wfth oration against Verres in libro spectatae Wdei, Tironiania cura atque disciplina facto (1. 7. 1, cf. 13. 21. 16). He also noted an interesting correction entered in a copy of book 2 of the Aeneid, which he 38 Mosellanus, Annotationes on 2. 3: Ludouicus Caelius libro septimo cap. xii. torquet se in pisce sacro miris modis, atque peregrina multa conuerrit de piscis sacri appellatione, ut satis indicet se quid Gellius uelit non intellegere. nos simpliciter accipimus locum de uocibus aspiratis . . . 39 Vat. lat. 3453, fo. 46r on the discussion of history in 5. 18. 1: Cicero tamen ita diYnit: Historia est res gesta sed ab aetatis nostrae memoria remota; fo. 75r on Democritus’ self–blinding, 10. 17. 2: De Democriti occaecatione aliter sentit Plutarchus in eo libello: qui est æd ºı æƪ inscriptus; fo. 116v on 15. 17. 2–3: Et apud plutarchum in uita alcibiadis initio fere; ibid. on 15. 18. 2–3: Plutarchus in uita caesaris hoc aYrmat.
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described as mirandae uetustatis, emptum in Sigilariis uiginti aureis, quem ipsius Vergilii fuisse credebatur (2. 3. 5) Most interestingly, Gellius scrutinized even the oldest manuscripts to which he had access for evidence that they too might have undergone a process of revision and emendation. Unsure whether Claudius Quadrigarius had used facies as a genitive form in place of faciei, he noted that he had found corruptos . . . quosdam libros . . . in quibus faciei scriptum est, illo quod ante scriptum erat oblitterato (9. 14. 2). In the library at Tibur, by contrast, he had found a copy in which facies appeared in the text, facii in the margin, and he admitted that the form with the double i could also be genuinely archaic (§§3–4). The grinding hatred of scholarly incompetence that characterized Gellius’ book was inspired, to a considerable extent, by what he portrayed as a wave of textual emendations that threatened the stability of the canonical Latin texts. In the last decades of the Wfteenth century, as scholars like Domizio Calderini and Poliziano set to work correcting more and more diYcult texts and collecting more and more recondite information, they began to devote the lion’s share of their miscellanies to questions of textual philology. Some decades before, in the Naples of Alfonso of Aragon, humanists had fought and torn one another’s emendations in the ore del libro that the king—himself no doubt a reader of Gellius—had liked to stage. Now, they did the same in print—and used the form devised by Gellius to move from one passage on which they had something to say to another, rather than trying to comment on whole texts and risking boredom in their readers.40 Like Gellius, Poliziano saw himself as living in a time of textual crisis, when semidocta sedulitas threatened the stability of texts. Curiously Bussi, the eager editor of Gellius, helped to precipitate this atmosphere of crisis. His edition of Pliny’s Natural History provoked not cries of admiration, but demands for formal censorship of the press. Niccolo` Perotti denounced him for adding specimens of his own composition—notably his prefaces—to the ancient texts he edited, and for altering them arbitrarily. Bussi’s edition of the Noctes Atticae was a striking case in point. It included, as he had to admit in his preface, actual additions to the original text— the Latin translations by Theodore Gaza, prefaced by id est, that followed the dozens of Greek quotations in the text.41 Bussi See now M. Campanelli, Polemiche e Wlologia. Bussi, Prefazioni, p. 25 Miglio: Erat mihi mens eadem, quoniam ardui operis munus fore perspiciebam, ut uel mediocri excusatione possent nostra Gelianis interseri: uerum impressoribus erat paenitus nostris impossibile quicquam in marginibus eYngere et 40 41
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admitted that he disliked intervening directly in the body of the Noctes Atticae. But his printers claimed that they could not reproduce Gaza’s translations as marginal glosses. Accordingly, he had had to make the Noctes Atticae—the ancient Latin world’s strongest plaidoyer for conservatism in the defence of canonical texts—as well as Macrobius and Apuleius into an example of the practices its author hated most. His profession, in the preface, that ‘I tried to understand Gellius, and if I did not manage to understand everything without a blot or an error, I still opened the way for better men to attain some sort of understanding’, was not calculated to assuage Poliziano’s feelings.42 Poliziano responded to this edition—as well as to the writings of his critics—in his Centuria prima. Here he made clear, over and over again, that the vulgate texts of the greatest Latin authors were pocked, and even honeycombed, with mistakes. He denounced the editors and printers who, working quickly in order to nail down their proWts, forced the pace of textual work and froze textual traditions in print without establishing the genealogical relation of their sources—much less working from the manuscripts that represented the oldest identiWable stage in their transmission. And he made clear—just as Gellius had—that the only way to improve the texts in circulation was to ransack libraries—the Florentine ones in the Wrst instance—for relevant materials, line by line and word for word. Again and again, Poliziano drew corrections not from his mother wit but from the manuscripts he had collated in the library of San Marco and elsewhere. Again and again, he localized the manuscripts he used, naming their owners and locations. He too carefully examined individual manuscripts, looking for evidence of their origins—like the transposed gatherings that in commentariolo separatim nulla poterant uia seponi quae ad intelligendi operis necessitatem pertinebant. Ne tamen non foret ex nobis etiam testata distinctio . . . rubrica ego meorum laborum additamenta descripsi semperque uerbum id est anteposui ut et qui castigatiore ingenio ac auribus in iudicando tersioribus forent et qui eadem trutina non possent expendere, omnes tamen adiuncta discernerent . . . For the details of Bussi’s critical work see ibid., pp. xxxviii–xliii. Battista Egnazio described how he later set the text to rights in the Aldine edition of 1515, sig. R1r , at the start of a section devoted to Latin translations of Gellius’ Greek quotations: Quoniam in hisce Atticis noctibus graecae dictiones multae, et uersus, ac loci complures graeci erant: ea omnia latine seorsum hic subnectenda curauimus: quando Gellius ipse graece tantum citarat: nec latina fecerat. Consuluimus autem cum ipsi Gellio, quem integrum, impollutumque esse uoluimus: tum etiam studiosis omnibus: quando et emendati complures loci sunt: qui uitiati admodum erant. 42 Bussi, Prefazioni, p. 23 Miglio: Si omnia non recte pureque intelleximus ad aliquam tamen intellectionem patefecimus melioribus uiam.
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enabled him to identify one manuscript of Cicero’s Familiares as the source of the rest. Optimistically, he even looked for the working manuscripts of the ancients—and believed he had found one in the Florentine codex of the Digest, though in fact he leapt to a wrong conclusion in that case. Most important, Poliziano based his proud, deWant manifesto on how to reverse the mass degeneration of the canon more directly on Gellius than on any other ancient author—to the point that he, like his ancient model, devoted part of a chapter title to denouncing his unidentiWed enemies as men ‘who violate good books’.43 Gellius, in other words, presided like a dead but eVective midwife over the birth of modern philology from the spirit of the Second Sophistic, and the Gellian literature that followed in the wake of Poliziano’s Miscellanea amounted, in eVect, to the Wrst real body of technical literature on philology to be produced in the modern world.44 Historians of classical scholarship have often denounced these works as trivial—especially since the great Joseph Scaliger noted in his autobiography that ‘I have made many notes on authors both Greek and Latin, from which there might spring a vast progeny of Various Readings, Old Readings, Miscellanies, and other things of this sort, the sport of the self-advertising philologians of today.’ Instead of doing philology in a minor key, he had dedicated himself to ‘the expounding and textual correction of entire authors. For we rightly judged that we could do this without any suspicion of selfadvertisement.’45 But Scaliger, in his Gascon way, was exaggerating—he had in fact produced a miscellany of his own, under a pseudonym, a few years before he wrote the words in question. And his passing remark misled most readers, until Carlo Dionisotti explained the true state of aVairs.46 Scaliger—like Pier Vettori and many others—owed more to Poliziano’s Miscellanea than to any other work by a contemporary or near-contemporary scholar. Through Poliziano and his rivals and readers, Gellius shaped the origins of modern classical scholarship, infecting generations with his besetting interests in textual criticism and the comparison of Latin texts with their Greek counterparts. Even in the seventeenth century, Gellius retained his fascination—and proved that he could stimulate the well-trained 43 Poliziano, Miscellanea I 69 (Opera, 282): Oarion synceriter esse apud Catullum, quod Aorion isti legunt, qui bonos uiolant libros. 44 Later, in his second Miscellanea, Poliziano ceased to adhere so closely to the Gellian model. See V. Branca, Poliziano, 230. 45 J. J. Scaliger, Autobiography, tr. G. Robinson, 32. 46 C. Dionisotti, ‘Calderini, Poliziano e altri’.
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humanists who attacked the reign of philology just as much as he had stimulated the philologists. His work was, after all, the source from which Pietro Aretino and others drew the aphorism Veritas Wlia Temporis. When Francis Bacon made this phrase the basis of his radical calls for change and progress in the sciences, he was drawing on the most respectable of ancient writers, even though he suppressed the author he drew on to make his call for change seem more novel than it was, as his rhetoric forced him to: ‘Reverence for antiquity has impeded men’s progress in knowledge and almost enchanted them . . . So far as authors are concerned, it is the deepest cowardice to attribute everything to them, but to deny to the author of all authors, and thus of all authority, time itself, its rights. For truth is rightly called the daughter of Time, not Authority.’47 And Bacon’s colleagues and followers did the same. Gellius, in fact, oVered them not only a motto, but a central story, which served more than once as a piece of evidence to clinch the case for man’s powers of invention.48 The learned magi of the Renaissance—and the critics who identiWed them with witches—were haunted by the passage in which Apuleius, as they thought, described how the Egyptian priests had conjured daemons down into their statues, to make them talk and move.49 Early in the sixteenth century, the scholar and architect Francesco Giorgi suggested a way to explain these phenomena without accepting that their creators had invoked devils. Perhaps, he said, what looked like diabolical creations were actually the result of man’s tireless eVorts to ape the Creator, using natural means—as Archytas of Tarentum had done when (according to the printer) he created a Wery Xying dove.50 Giorgi, of course, was quoting the passage where Gellius described—and evaluated with 47 Bacon, Nouum organum 1. 84 (Works, i. 190–1): Rursus uero homines a progressu in scientiis detinuit et fere incantauit reuerentia antiquitatis . . . Authores uero quod attinet, summae pusillanimitatis est authoribus inWnita tribuere, authori autem authorum atque adeo omnis authoritatis, Tempori, ius suum denegare. Recte enim Veritas Temporis Wlia dicitur, non Authoritatis. 48 See esp. F. Saxl, ‘Veritas Wlia Temporis’. 49 The classic study of F. Yates, Giordano, remains the best analysis of this side of Renaissance Egyptomania. 50 Francesco Giorgi, De harmonia mundi, canticum III, tonus IV, cap. IX, sig. [f7]rv : Et quamuis solius Dei sit miracula facere, nihilominus humanum genus audacissimae (ut Zoroastres inquit) naturae opus, et audax omnia perpetrare, fauente maxime antiquo et ualido serpente, qui se simiam summi OpiWcis semper conatus est exhibere, multa aggressum est, in quibus homo Dei, et naturae aemulator apparuit. Archyta Tarentinus (ut fertur) columbam < l >igneam fecit uolitantem per aerem. Quod et aliqui nostri temporis facere gloriantur.
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some ambivalence—Favorinus’ report of the wooden, rather than Wery, dove that Archytas had made, ratione quadam disciplinaque mechanica, and that a combination of weights and cunningly concealed currents of air caused to Xy (10. 12. 9–10).51 Archytas, at once a political Wgure and a mathematician, made a natural hero for moderns dreaming that philosophy could give men power.52 According to Diogenes Laertius, after all, Archytas had been the Wrst ‘to make mechanics into a system by applying mathematical principles to them’ (8. 83).53 He soon became a canonical and heroic Wgure. Henry Cornelius Agrippa quoted the same passage, to the same eVect, in his De occulta philosophia of 1533, the Renaissance magician’s desk reference. So did Petrus Ramus, who took Archytas’ ability to make a Xying automaton as proof that mathematics could and should serve practical purposes.54 A number of modern engineers supposedly emulated Archytas’ achievement—from Regiomontanus, who devised both an iron Xy and a model eagle that Xew out from the walls of Nuremberg to greet the Holy Roman Emperor, to Turrianus, who crafted moving models of men and horses that marched up and down the imperial dinner table and mechanical passerculi that Xew above them. By the middle of the seventeenth century, when Descartes asserted that men could forge automata that emulated human or animal movements in every way and envisaged animals as automata of this kind, he was for once not making a bold and individual claim but stating a view that many others held. Athanasius Kircher and Gaspar Schott also saw animals, and even humans, as organic machines—from the vomiting lobster that illustrated the principle of the siphon to the professional regurgitators who amused them in 51 Cf. Lamola’s comment on Archytas’ dove, Vat. lat. 3453, fo. 73v on 10. 12. 9: Mirum de columba. Lamola probably classed this report with those sceptically recounted by Gellius, drawing on books of wonders, in 9. 4. On these Lamola remarks, fo. 64r on §6: Mirabilia quaedam. 52 On Archytas’ political career see K. von Fritz, Pythagorean Politics in South Italy, 97, and the recent summary of his life by C. Riedweg, ‘Archytas’, with references to the literature. 53 See the brief but helpful discussion in W. K. C. Guthrie, History, i. 335. For a more detailed discussion and a full bibliography, see M. Pugliara, ‘La colomba di Archita’. 54 Henry Cornelius Agrippa, De occulta philosophia libri tres, bk. 2, ch. 1, pp. 249–50: Leguntur etiam statuae Mercurii quae loquebantur et columba Architae quae lignea uolabat . . . On the importance of these stories in the 16th c. see O. Mayr, ‘Automatenlegenden in der Spa¨trenaissance’; J. P. Zetterberg, ‘The Mistaking’; P. Zambelli, ‘Cornelius Agrippa’; Minsoo Kang, ‘Wonders of Mathematical Magic’.
Pl. 12.2. Design for a model of Archytas and his dove, from Athanasius Kircher, Magnes: siue de arte mechanica opus tripartitum, 3rd edn. (Rome, 1654), p. 264, fig. 23. Photograph used by permission of Princeton University Library
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the Piazza Navona. They Wlled Kircher’s museum in the Collegio Romano of the Jesuits with ingenious machines and automata of every kind, most of them based on the hydraulic and pneumatic devices of Hero of Alexandria.55 Both men took a deep interest in Archytas’ Xying automaton. But all Kircher could devise, when he tried to imagine how the device had worked, was a miniature version that avowedly did nothing more than imitate the motions of the original. He began with a tiny model of a bird, into which he inserted a metal strip. A magnet, Wxed above the top of the vessel in which the bird moved, held it up in the air. When turned, the magnet made the bird look as if it were Xying in circles. The line that connected it to the hand of a tiny model of Archytas, set to pivot on a needle, made the human Wgure revolve in its turn, as if it watched the progress of its bird. It was an ingenious fake, but a fake none the less—rather like Kircher’s more celebrated sunXower clock, which also used the power of magnetism to simulate what Kircher saw as the genuine principles of cosmic sympathy in action.56 In the end, Schott had to confess that he could not see how to make a bird like this. Both air and moving parts might help make it Xy (Pl. 12. 2); but neither could impart suYcient power on its own (after all, Schott noted, footballs rise both because of the air they contain and because of the violent motion men impart to them). ‘Something more is needed, then,’ he wrote, ‘and as many complain, up to now authors have left this unexplained.’57 At the height of the ScientiWc Revolution, Gellius still mattered. He not only supplied a vital slogan, Veritas Wlia Temporis, but also provided an ideal case in point: the automaton of Archytas, which could be seen either as an ancient achievement that no known modern technique could replicate or as a problem like Fermat’s Last Theorem. In either event, it served—as things in Gellius so 55 For a general introduction to the world of Kircher and Schott, see I. Rowland, Ecstatic Journey, and D. Stolzenberg (ed.), The Great Art of Knowing. For their mechanical principles and devices see Gaspar Schott, Technica curiosa. 56 For the dove see Kircher, Magnes, bk. 2, pt. 4, ch. 1, probl. 10, pp. 263–5. On Kircher’s sunXower clock see T. Hankins and R. Silverman, Instruments and the Imagination. 57 G. Schott, Mechanica hydraulico-pneumatica, pars II, classis I, caput III, machina X, p. 243: Duo tam prodigiosi uolatus principia indicat Gellius: inclusum aerem, et partium libramentum. Vt tamen utrumque conferre, ita neutrum suYcere, optime obseruarunt Mechanici; neque enim sola aeris densatione, sed impulsu ualido folles lusorii agitantur in sublime: nec ullum partium aequilibrium innatae contranititur grauitati, ne quod pondere praeualet, deprimatur deorsum, nedum ut sursum eleuetur. Aliquid igitur ulterius requiritur, quod hactenus inexplicatum ab Authoribus fuisse plerique dolent et conqueruntur.
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often did—to stretch the minds of yet another generation of readers. The Noctes Atticae, in other words, served as a great quarry— rather like the city of Rome itself. But like Rome, it also played many other roles. It inspired readers to devise new forms of scholarly play and work. It helped to deWne the new antiquarianism and philology of the Wfteenth and sixteenth centuries, for which Gellius provided indispensable stylistic and methodological models. It suggested that classical scholarship, rightly understood, was still vital in the age of the New Philosophy—as much for those who carried out radical experiments as for those who wrote manifestos. Above all, however, the case of Gellius underlines a rather diVerent and more signiWcant point. The creators of modern classical scholarship found not just the objects of their study, but most of the tools they applied to them, in the same body of ancient texts. Even their most original and innovative scholarly practices were often formed by inference, emulation, or imagination from the examples of ancient scholarship that they knew best. The history of early modern philology could thus be seen as a sort of extended Collegium Gellianum. And even Gellius, that master of false modesty well and truly expressed, would surely have found satisfaction in his modern fate.
Bibliography PRIMARY SOURCES
The texts and translations listed below are those cited by at least one contributor; they are not necessarily the best, latest, or standard resources. (i) Aulus Gellius Untitled editio princeps by Jo. Andreas de Buxis (Rome, 1469). Auli Gellii Noctium Atticarum commentarii, ed. Ph. Beroaldus (Bologna, 1503). Auli Gellii linguae et graecae et latinae fulgentissimi syderis, noctium atticarum libri xx, ed. Jod. Bad. Ascensius (Paris, 1508). Accipite studiosi omnes Auli Gellii noctes micantissimas, ed. Nicolaus Ferrettus (Venice, 1509). Auli Gellii uiri disertissimi Noctium Atticarum libri XX, ed. Joannes Connellus (Paris, 1511; repr. Lyon, 1512). Auli Gellii noctes redditae nuper omni discussa caligine micantissimae, ed. Carolus Aldobrandus (Florence, 1514 [1513 stil. Flor.]). Auli Gellii Noctium Atticarum libri undeuiginti, ed. J. B. Egnatius (Venice, 1515). Auli Gellii Noctium Atticarum libri undeuiginti, ed. Jod. Badius Ascensius (Paris, 1517, and subsequent revisions, the last by Michael Vascosanus, 1536). A. Gellii luculentissimi scriptoris Noctes Atticae, ed. Joannes Soter (Cologne, 1526, 2 1533). Auli Gellii luculentissimi scriptoris Noctes Atticae, pr. Sebastianus Gryphius (Lyon, 1532 and subsequent edns.). Auli Gellii Noctes Aticae, pr. Georgius de Caballis (Venice, 1565). Auli Gellii Noctes Atticae, seu Vigiliae Atticae, ed. Ludovicus Carrio (Paris, 1585). Auli Gellii Noctes Atticae, ed. Joannes Tornaesius (Lyon, 1592). Auli Gellii Noctes Atticae, ed. J. Fr. Gronovius (Amsterdam, 1651). Auli Gellii Noctes Atticae, ed. J. Fr. Gronovius (Leiden, 1687). Les Nuits Attiques d’Aulugelle, trans. F. J. I. (Donze´-)Verteuil, 3 vols. (Paris, 1776–7). Avla Gellija AWnskix nocˇej zapiski, trans. Afanasij Ivanov (Moscow, 1787). Aulus Gellius: Die attischen Na¨chte, trans. Fritz Weiss, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1875–6; repr. Darmstadt, 1992).
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A. Gellii Noctium Atticarum libri XX, ed. M. J. Hertz, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1883–5). A. Gellii Noctium Atticarum libri XX, ed. C. Hosius, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1903). Aulu-Gelle: Les Nuits attiques, trans. Maurice Mignon, 3 vols. (Paris, 1934). The Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius, ed. and trans. John C. Rolfe, 3 vols. (Loeb Classical Library; New York and London, 1927; rev. Cambridge, MA, and London, 1946). Aulus Gellius: Nopt, ile atice, trans. David Popescu (Bucharest, 1965), with ‘Introducere’ by Iancu Fischer, pp. vii–lxxx. Aulu-Gelle: Les Nuits attiques, ed. Rene´ Marache (vols. i–iii), Yvette Julien (vol. iv), 4 vols. (Bude´; Paris, 1967–98). A. Gellii Noctes Atticae, ed. P. K. Marshall, 2 vols. (Oxford Classical Texts; Oxford, 1968, rev. 1990). Aulo Gellio: Le notti attiche, ed. Franco Cavazza, 8 vols. so far (Bologna, 1985– ). Aulus Gellius: Attische Na¨chte. Aus einem Lesebuch des Kaisers Marc Aurel, trans. Heinz Berthold (Leipzig, 1987). Le notti attiche di Aulo Gellio, ed. Giorgio Bernardi Perini, 2 vols. (Turin, 1992, rev. 1996). Aulo Gelio: Noches a´ticas, trans. Amparo Gaos Schmidt, 2 vols. so far (Mexico City, 2000– ). (ii) Other authors (ancient, medieval, modern)
A few editions not conveniently cited under an author appear under Secondary Sources. Aeschylus: Tragicorum Graecorum fragmenta, 3: Aeschylus, ed. Stefan Radt (Go¨ttingen, 1985). Agrippa, Henry Cornelius, De occulta philosophia libri tres, ed. Vittoria Perrone Compagni (Leiden, 1992). Agroecius, Ars de orthographia, ed. Mariarosaria Pugliarello (Milan, 1978). Albert, Heinrich, Fu¨nVter Theil der Arien (Ko¨nigsberg, 1642 and reprs.). Anonymus Bobiensis: La Grammatica dell’Anonymus Bobiensis (GL I 533–565 Keil), ed. Mario De Nonno (Rome, 1982). Apuleius: Apuleius of Madauros, Florida, ed. Vincent Hunink (Amsterdam, 2001). —— Apuleius Madaurensis, Metamorphoses, Book I, 1–20: Introduction, Text, Commentary, ed. W. H. Keulen (Diss. Groningen, 2003). —— Apuleius Madaurensis: Metamorphoses, Livre II. Texte, introduction et commentaire, ed. Danielle van Mal-Maeder (Groningen, 2001). —— Apuleius Madaurensis, Metamorphoses, Book IX: Text, Introduction and Commentary, ed. B. L. Hijmans, Jr., R. Th. van der Paardt, V. Schmidt, Berber Wesseling, and Maaike Zimmerman (Groningen, 1995).
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—— Metamorphoses, ed. and trans. J. Arthur Hanson, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA, and London, 1989). —— Rhetorical Works, trans. S. J. Harrison, J. L. Hilton, and V. J. C. Hunink (Oxford, 2001). Aristippus: in Gabriele Giannantoni, I cirenaici: raccolta delle fonte antiche (Florence, 1958), —— Aristippi et Cyrenaicorum fragmenta, ed. Erich Mannebach (Leiden, 1961). Aristophanes: `æØ ı ´æÆ Ø: The Frogs of Aristophanes, ed. and trans. B. B. Rogers (London, 1902). Aristotle: Aristote: La Poe´tique ed. Roselyne Dupont-Roc and Jean Lallot (Paris, 1980). —— Aristotelis qui ferebantur librorum fragmenta, ed. Valentin Rose (Leipzig, 1886; repr. Stuttgart, 1966). —— Librorum deperditorum fragmenta, ed. Olof Gigon ¼ vol. iii of Aristotelis opera, ed. Immanuel Bekker, 5 vols. (Berlin, 2 1960---87; replacing Latin translations in 1st edn.). Bacon, Francis, The Essays, or Counsels Civil and Moral, ed. Brian Vickers (Oxford, 1999). —— Works, ed. James Spedding, Robert Ellis, and Douglas Heath, 7 vols. (London, 1857–9). Barzizza, Gasparino: Gasparini Barzizii Bergomatis et Guiniforti Wlii opera, ed. J. A. Furietti (Rome, 1723). —— ‘Lettere e orazioni edite e inedite di Gasparino Barzizza’, ed. Remigio Sabbadini, Archivio storico lombardo, 13 (2 3) (1886), 363–78, 563–83, 825–36. Bede: Bedae opera de temporibus, ed. Charles W. Jones (Cambridge, MA, 1943). ` il est faict un ample discours Boaistuau, Pierre, Le Theatre du Monde, ou des miseres humaines (Paris, 1561). —— et al., Histoires prodigieuses divisees en six tomes (Paris, 1597–8). Bonaventure: Doctoris seraphici s. Bonaventurae S. R. E. Cardinalis opera omnia, 10 vols. (Quaracchi, 1882–1902). Bounin, Gabriel, La Soltane, ed. Michael Heath (Textes litte´raires; Exeter, 1977). Bracciolini, Poggio, De infelicitate principum, ed. Davide Canfora (Rome, 1998). —— Lettere, ed. Helene Harth, 3 vols. (Florence, 1984–7). Bude´, Guillaume, Altera editio annotationum in Pandectas (Paris, 1542). —— De asse et partibus eius (Paris, 1514). Burley, Walter: Gualteri Burlaei liber de vita et moribus philosophorum: ¨ bersetzung der Eskurialbibliothek, ed. Hermann Mit einer altspanischen U Knust (Bibliothek des litterarischen Vereins in Stuttgart, 177; Tu¨bingen, 1886). Bussi, Giovanni Andrea, Prefazioni alle edizioni di Sweynheym e Pannartz, prototipograW romani, ed. Massimo Miglio (Milan, 1978).
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Index Locorum Potiorum loci gelliani pr. (at large): 29, 316 pr. 1–3: 172–3, 225–6 pr. 1: 172–3, 189–90 pr. 2: 136, 215–17, 298, 324, 326 pr. 4–9: 126, 160–1 pr. 4: 125–6 pr. 5: 164, 239, 299 pr. 11–12: 162 pr. 11: 216 pr. 12: 167, 169, 182, 189, 207, 214, 216, 219, 237, 239, 284 pr. 13: 169, 189, 190, 218, 221 pr. 16: 34, 172, 200, 215, 216, 220 pr. 17–18: 213 pr. 17: 169, 173 pr. 19: 220, 221 pr. 20: 233 pr. 21: 221 pr. 23–4: 317 pr. 23: 182, 184 pr. 24: 220, 221 pr. 25: 127, 176 1. 1: 190–1 1. 1. 1: 225 1. 1. 2: 285, 287, 293, 300 1. 2: 37, 113–14, 193, 210, 298 1. 2. 4: 233 1. 7: 292, 334 1. 8: 106, 291, 292, 301 1. 10. 4: 306 1. 12: 302 1. 15. 3: 193 1. 15: 298, 307 1. 18. 5: 69–72 1. 19: 107–8 1. 23: 107 1. 26. 5–9: 313–14, 317
2. 2. 1: 184 2. 3: 333, 335 2. 20: 72–4 2. 21. 8–9: 141 2. 22: 32 2. 25: 212 2. 26: 32 2. 26. 1: 191, 192–3 2. 27: 194 2. 28: 147, 288, 303 2. 29: 113 3. 4: 291 3. 6: 249–58 3. 12: 54–5 3. 15: 296, 300, 301, 304, 309 3. 16: 304–5 3. 16. 11: 68, 74–6 4. 1: 32–3, 191, 218 4. 9: 55 n. 38, 76–7 5. 2: 290, 310 5. 3: 311 5. 5: 313 5. 12: 294 5. 13: 200 5. 14: 112–13, 238, 240, 294, 301, 302, 307, 314 5. 15–16: 194, 212 6. 1: 301 6. 3: 193–4 6. 5: 107 6. 7. 12: 78–9 6. 8: 107 6. 11. 8: 79–80 6. 12: 106
376
Index Locorum Potiorum
6. 17: 80–2, 211 6. 18: 106 7. 4: 106 7. 8: 106 7. 12: 82–5 7. 13: 209 8. 2: 85 8. 13: 85–7 8. 14: 191 9. 2: 115 9. 4: 302–3, 329, 339 n. 51 9. 4. 3: 126 9. 4. 5: 174 9. 4. 13: 138, 238, 240, 241 9. 10: 316 9. 14: 335 9. 16. 3: 238 10. 2: 296, 303 10. 2. 9–10: 338–41 10. 5: 87–8 10. 12. 1: 207 10. 17: 297, 300, 301 10. 17. 2: 52–5 10. 19. 3: 193 10. 22: 227 10. 22. 3: 38 10. 22. 24: 194–5 11. 1. 6: 291 11. 7. 3: 43 11. 15: 55, 88–90 11. 18: 154, 195, 203 12. 1: 34, 190, 288, 289, 295–6, 309 n. 58 12. 2: 292, 299 12. 3: 90–1 12. 4: 200 12. 6: 300, 333 12. 7: 305–6, 310 13. 8. 1–3: 216 13. 9: 91–3
13. 9. 2–3: 161 13. 11: 311 13. 18. 2: 183–4 13. 22. 1: 193 13. 25: 33 13. 29: 33 14. 1: 34 14. 2: 34 14. 2. 25: 139–40 14. 5: 114, 212 14. 6. 1: 161–2 14. 7: 137 15. 1. 6–7: 302 15. 3: 93–5 15. 4: 112–13, 301 15. 10: 300, 301, 311 15. 16: 292, 300, 304 16. 5. 1: 218 16. 7: 55–63, 293 16. 7. 1–3: 55–7 16. 7. 4–9: 57–61 16. 7. 10–12: 52, 61–2 16. 7. 13–14: 62–3 16. 7. 13: 96–7 16. 19: 108–12 17. 2. 4: 97–8 17. 2. 5–6: 98–9 17. 10: 34 17. 20. 4: 243 18. 1. 2: 182 18. 4. 1: 228 18. 6. 1–3: 39 18. 6. 3: 152–3 18. 7: 227, 242–3 19. 1: 303, 310, 320 19. 7. 2: 215 19. 7. 3: 99–100 19. 7. 4–5: 100–1 19. 7. 12: 206 19. 8. 2: 35 19. 8. 6: 140
Index Locorum Potiorum 19. 8. 15: 329 19. 9: 36, 224 19. 9. 6: 300 19. 9. 10–14: 291 19. 10. 14: 233 19. 11: 38, 224 19. 13: 35–6, 41–52, 63–4, 218–19 20. 1: 31–2 20. 1. 9: 140 20. 1. 54: 300 20. 6: 334
loci alieni Aelian Nat. anim. 7. 48: 112–13 Apuleius Apologia 9: 224 Metamorphoses 1. 1: 14–16 1. 1. 1–6: 236–8 1. 2. 1: 225, 232 1. 3. 2–3: 232 1. 4. 2: 240 1. 8. 2: 231–2 9. 13. 5: 237 Aristophanes Ranae 354–6, 369–71: 221, 233–4 Bonaventure (Ps.-) Sermo, Quaracchi edn. ix. 281–9: 259–62 Cicero De oratore 3. 93–5: 4 Epistulae ad Atticum 6. 4. 3: 26 6. 5. 1–2: 26
377
Epistulae ad familiares 7. 25. 1: 57–8 Orator 160: 44 Rep. 1. 38: 124 ‘Dio of Prusa’ Oratio 37 [really Favorinus]: 30–1 Fronto Ad amicos 1. 2: 22 Additamentum epistularum 4–5: 23–5 7: 21 8: 20 Arion: 108–11 De eloquentia 4. 4: 42 Epistulae ad M. Caesarem et invicem 1. 3: 19 1. 6: 26 2. 1: 26 2. 2: 22 2. 3: 22–3 2. 5. 1: 19–20 2. 10. 3: 21 2. 15: 23 3. 2: 25 3. 3: 25 3. 4: 25 3. 9. 2: 20 4. 3. 2–3: 43 Epistulae ad Antoninum Imperatorem et invicem 1. 4. 2: 21 8: 21–2 Epistulae ad Verum imperatorem et invicem 1. 12. 3: 26 Heracleitus DK 22 B 40: 207, 237 Herodotus 1. 23–4: 108–12
378 John of Salisbury Policraticus 4. 11: 262–5 5. 6: 252–3 Lucian Dialogi maritimi 5 Macleod: 112 Vera Historia 1. 3–4: 240 Macrobius Saturnalia 1. pr. 2–3, 10: 127 3. 4. 3: 141 Philostratus Vitae Sophistarum 481: 11 507: 11 578: 115 Pliny the Elder Natural History pr. 10: 127 pr. 12–13: 171 pr. 17: 137 pr. 18: 126 pr. 24: 126, 160 pr. 25: 307 pr. 26: 126 pr. 33: 127, 174–5 35. 89: 61 Pliny the Younger Epistulae 1. 1. 1: 173 4. 3. 5: 8
Index Locorum Potiorum 4. 11. 1–3: 8 4. 22: 8 5. 20. 4: 8 7. 4. 9: 9 8. 24: 7–8 9. 33: 107 Plutarch Quaestiones conuiuales 8. 5. 4: 249, 250 Quaestiones naturales 32: 256 Septem sapientium conuiuium 18: 112 Quintilian Institutio Oratoria 1. 1. 12–14: 14–15 12. 10: 7 Seneca the Elder Controversiae 1. pr. 6: 6 9. 1. 13–14: 6 10. 4. 21, 23: 6 10. 5: 107 Suasoriae 4. 5: 6 7. 12–13: 6 Seneca the Younger Epistulae morales 108. 30–1: 124 Vergil Aeneid 8. 404–6: 316
Index Verborum de quibus A. Gellius disputat abluuium 56, 63 admodum 78–9 adprime 79, 98 adulterio, -ritas 56, 63 apiarium 72–4 au- 93–6, 102 n. 102 auarus 87–8 autumo 93–6 botulus 61, 62, 63 -bundus 55, 89–90 Calidonia 58–9 camella 58, 60, 63 capitium 58, 60–1, 63 catomum 57–8, 63 cippus 58, 59–60, 63 cocio 61, 62, 63 cumprime 98–9 cupso 85–7 depudicare 56, 63 diurnare 98–9 elutriare 58, 63 emplastrum 62, 63, 96–7 foedifragus 100–1 frunisci 98–9 fullonica 58–9, 63 fur 69–72 gubernius 61, 63 gurdus 46 n. 13, 58–9, 63 lauandaria 58, 63 -lentus (-o/ulentus) 89–90 leporarium 72–4 leuenna 61, 62, 63
lictor 90–1 malaxare 58, 59, 63 manuari, -arius 56–7, 63 mendicimonium 56, 63 -mentum 68 n. 9, 82–5 moechimonium 56, 63 Morta 68, 74–6 nanus 35, 41–52, 61, 63, 64, 96, 219 nequitia 79–80 obba 58, 60, 63 obesus 99–100 obnoxius 80–2 -osus 54–5 and n. 38, 68–9, 76–8 perennare 98–9 piscina 72–3 pittacium 58, 60–1, 63 planus 61–2, 63 praemodum 78–9 pumilio 41–2, 44, 61 see also nanus roborarium 72–4 sacellum 83–5 somnus 91–3 subnixus 97–8 subulcus 91–2 suculae 91–3 super 91–2 supinus 91–2 talabarrio, -unculus 58–9, 63 testamentum 82–4 uiuarium 72–4
Index Rerum et Nominum abbreviations, ancient lists of 134–5 Academic philosophy, see under Gellius; philosophy; scepticism accentuation 47, 78–9 Accius 42, 43 Aelian 40, 111–12, 167, 171, 172, 298 Aelius Melissus 152 Aelius Stilo, L. 45, 68, 69, 119 Aeolic dialect 45–6 Agricola, Rudolf 324 Agrippa, Henry Cornelius 339 Albert, Heinrich, see ‘Anke van Tharaw’ Alberti, Leon Battista 322, 323 Alciato, Andrea 256–7 Aleander, Hieronymus 283 Alexander III, king of Macedon 190, 204, 262–3, 301, 310 chastity of 106, 201, 301 Alexander V (Pietro Filargi), Pope 271 Alfonso, bishop of Burgos 321 Alfonso V, king of Aragon (I of Naples) 328, 335 alternative views, presentation of 139–41, 211–12 amateurism 185 Androcles (Androclus, ‘Androdus’) 112–13, 294, 301, 302, 308, 314 ‘Anke van Tharaw’, song 258–9 Annianus 78 Antiochus III 313 antiquarianism 106, 107, 113, 114, 118–55 passim, 168, 342
see also under Cicero; etymology; genre; institutions; law; Pliny, elder; Romanocentrism; Varro antiquities, physical 123, 144 Apion 107, 112, 238–41 passim, 307, 314 I ÆÆ, see commentarii; Favorinus; Plutarch Appian 23–5 Apuleius 183, 223–45, 290, 297, 336, 338 acquaintance with G. 224 archaism in 17–18 bilingualism in 12–17 not a sophist 12 reading 189 n. 5 sympotic dialogue 244 Arcadian origin of Rome 46 Arcado-Cypriot dialect 45 archaism 12, 17–18, 43, 111, 218, 236, 242, 245 Archelaos, condottiero 302 Archytas, his mechanical dove 338–42 Areopagites, see Dolabella Aretino, Pietro 338 Arion and the dolphin 108–12 Aristarchus 48 Aristophanes 44, 63, 234 Clouds 230, 231 Frogs 221, 233–4 Aristotle 194, 249, 250, 289, 296, 315 etymological studies 66 Philip’s letter to 190 Problems 141, 249 Ascensius, Jodocus Badius (Josse Bade) 284–7, 290, 299 Asinius Gallus 292
Index Rerum et Nominum Ateius Capito, C. 67 n. 7, 121 Athenaeus 167, 169, 178, 183, 186, 309 Attic, Atticism: culture 13–14 language 16, 17–18, 23, 26, 40, and see hyper-Atticism style 7 Atticists, Greek, outstripped by Roman 8, 21 auctoritas, linguistic 50–3 audience, target, see readers, intended Augustine 50, 86, 129, 145–6, 297 adapts G. 310, 320 Augustus 120, 138, 296 by error for Julius Caesar 306 authorial ‘I’ 179–80, 184 see also self-presentation automata 339, 341, and see Archytas autopsy 112–13, 138, 239–40 Bacon, Francis 213 n. 39, 338 barbarism (barbarolexis, barbarus): in Greek 13, 22, 85, 192 in Latin 41, 43–50, 54, 101, 192, and see Index Verborum s.v. nanus see also opicus barytonesis 45 Barzizza, Gasparino 270–2 Bassus, Ventidius 301 Bede 249, 253, 320 Belriguardo, Este country house 329 Benedict XIII, antipope, see Luna, Pedro de Benhabib, Seyla 196–8, 203 Be´rault, Nicolas 290 Bernard the Deacon 253 Beroaldus, Philippus, the elder 282–5, 293 Berquin, Louis de 284 bibliographical references, in ancient works 125–7
381
bilingualism 5–9, 13, 16–17, 18, 21, 30, 32, 35 see also code-swiching birth, multiple 296, 303 Boaistuau, Pierre 295, 301–2 Bonaventure, St 259, 261 Bononiensis, Jacobus (Giacomo Cristiani) 283 booksellers 329 Bourbon, Nicolas 293 Bracciolini, Poggio 273, 278–9, 321, 322–3, 329 breastfeeding 34, 190, 288, 289, 295–6 Brundisium 174, 238, 241, 329 Bruni, Leonardo 278 Bucephalus 290, 310 Bude´, Guillaume 290–1 Burley, Walter 265 Busbecq, Augier Ghislain de 287 Busleiden, Hieronymus 278 ‘busy people’ 165, 167, 169, 174, 176 see also readers, G’s intended Buxis, Joannes Andreas de (Giovanni Andrea Bussi) 256 n. 20, 282, 327, 329–30, 335–6 Caecilius Statius 43, 75 Caesar, C. Julius 5, 31, 35 n. 111, 135 n. 48, 327 n. 21 compliments Cicero 3 confused with Augustus 306 Caesellius Vindex 55, 67 n. 7, 93–4, 212 n. 36, 298 Calderini, Domizio 335 Calderini, Giovanni 279, 321 calendar 143, 145, 147–9, 151, 154, 294 Cannae, survivor’s mother 296, 309 canonical texts 329, 335–6, 337, 339 career 185–6
382
Index Rerum et Nominum
Carrio, Ludovicus (Luis Carrio´n, Lodewijk/Louis Carrion) 276, 282, 286–9, 300 Cassiodorus Senator 47 Cato, elder 33, 34, 241, 298, 332 and antiquarianism 119 cited for etymology 67 n. 7 as father 190 language 38, 76, 97, 242, 268 n. 49 style 42 works: De agri cultura 128; Pro Rodiensibus 194 Cato, younger 58 Cephisia 329 Cestius Pius, L. 6 Chaldaean (¼ Aramaic) 47–8 chapters, G.’s, see commentarii; variety characters, see dialogues, dramatis personae Charron, Pierre 213 chreiai 106, 114, 179, 265 Cicero 132, 194, 241, 289, 298, 315 antiquarianism in 118 n. 1, 119, 124, 150 in Antonine era 154–5 dates of birth and death 294, 332 dialogues 154, 181–2, 183, 186, 328, 329 as etymologist 67 n. 7, 80, 81, 93–6 Familiares, manuscript tradition of 337 and Greek 3–6, 17, 18, 26 note-taking 135 repartee 193 style 42, as model for imitation (Ciceronianism) 290, 291–2, 297 usage not recognized by ignorant grammarians 116, 334 Cinna, C. Helvius 51, 52, 54, 63 ciuilis eruditio 218–19 classicus 35, 329 Clement of Alexandria 160 n. 5, 163–4, 166 n. 26, 170, 171
code-switching 3–40 passim and borrowing 26–8 defined 5–6 in expressions of love and affection 19–21 in G. 36–7 as mark of inferiority 23, 24–5 as mark of superiority 24–5 metalinguistic 22, 27 in technical terms 37 Collegium Gellianum 331 Columella, L. Junius 127–8, 175, 177 n. 71 commentarii (I ÆÆ, ! ÆÆ) 162–5, 179–80, 299–303, 327 compositio (morphological) 78, 80, 83, 97–9, 101, 103 comprehensiveness 135, 165–6, 187–8 see also encyclopaedic works Connellus, Joannes (Jean Conneau) 283, 290 contents, table of 125, 127–30, 174–8 Corinth 31 Correr, Angelo, see Gregory XII, Pope Crassus Dives Mucianus, P. Licinius 312–13 Crates of Mallos 48 Crinitus, Petrus (Piero Del Riccio Baldi, Pietro Crinito) 285, 287, 293 as imitator of G. 297, 299–300, 330 Ctesias of Cnidos 240 cultivation of intellect 215 Cymbalum mundi 307–8 Cynicism, see under Gellius; philosophy death from joy 296, 300, 301, 304, 309 Decembrio, Angelo 279, 318–19, 328–9 Decembrio, Pier Candido 278
Index Rerum et Nominum declinatio 73, 83, 89, 101 Democritus’ self-blinding 52, 297, 300, 301, 311, 334 n. 39 Demosthenes 7, 9, 106, 193, 194, 291, 301 denarius, rate against drachma 290 Descartes, Rene´ 339 Des Pe´riers, Bonaventure 307 dialogues 154, 180–4, 302, 328–31 dramatis personae 180, 183–4, 225–6, 328, 330–1 mise en sce`ne 180, 181–3, 225–6, 329 Platonic/Socratic 181, 182, 226–7, 244 sympotic 180, 181, 226, 244 see also Athenaeus; Cicero; Macrobius; Plutarch diatribe 179, 208–10, 213, 232, 242, 300 Didymus, Claudius 45 digamma 45 diminutives 74 n. 35, 83–5 Diomedes, grammarian 47 diversity, formal, of G.’s chapters 179–80, and see ordo rerum fortuitus see also variety Dolabella, Cn. (immo P.) Cornelius, judgment of 305–6, 310 dolphin stories 107 see also Arion Domitius Insanus 33 n. 102, 211 n. 26, 227–8, 242–3 Donatus, Aelius 49 dove, mechanical, see Archytas dramatic setting, see dialogues, mise en sce`ne education 187–205, 287 as sociable activity 191, 194, 195 value of: in grammar 191–3; in law 194; in philosophy 193, 194–5; in rhetoric 190, 193–5
383
Egnatius, Baptista (Giovanni Battista Cipelli) 284, 336 n. 41 Egyptian priests 338 Einhart 320 Elbene, Pierre d’ 287 eloquence, betterment of 217–19 emblems 256–7 encyclopaedic works 119–20, 135, 138, 164–5, 303–4, 327 see also comprehensiveness Ennius 32, 42–3, 81–2, 154, 332 on friendship 200, 216 rivals Euripides 193 Erasmus, Desiderius 256, 291–3, 306, 324 Adagia 254, 297, 304, 327 motto 332–3 Este, Leonello d’ 277, 318–19, 323, 328, 329 Estienne, Henri 282, 286–9, 293–4, 309, 315, 330–1 Auli Gelli Apologia 297–9 Noctes Parisinae 287–8 Estienne, Paul 287–8, 289 Estienne, Robert 293–4, 330–1 Estouteville, Guillaume d’, Cardinal of Rouen 330 ethics 39, 195–205, 208, 213 see also miscellanies; moral virtues etymology 62, 65–104, 218 in antiquarian tradition 124–5, 142, 150 philosophical theories of 65 see also compositio; declinatio; ŒÆ I æÆØ ; Favorinus; Fronto; Nigidius Figulus; Stoic philosophy; Sulpicius Apollinaris; Varro Euripides 288, 300, 332 excerpta 132–8, 162, 166–7, 179–80, 323–7 exclusiveness, intellectuals’ 232–4 exempla 30, 106, 151, 170, 204, 303 Fronto’s Arion not so used 108 taken from G. 292, 296, 299, 314 as title 126
384
Index Rerum et Nominum
experts 184, 185 G.’s objection to 168, 212–13, 217 exposure scenes 116, 168–9, 184, 226, 227, 228, 243 in humanist writings 318–19, 323, 329 Fabricius, J. A. 331 family 199, 200–1 Favorinus 30–1, 185 as etymologist 67, 68, 73, 85–6 quoted from G. 299, 300, 306, 339 philosopher 30, 187 n. 1, 208–9, 210, 242 as prototype 328–30 reading 189 n. 5 as represented in G. 31–4, 140, 155, 191, 208–10, 217, 305; condemning incomprehensible archaism 218; discussing Latin 32, 218–19, 242–3 as sceptic 140, 208–9, 211–14 sophist 155, 185, 227 works: ` ÆÆ 163, 180–1 n. 82; ˚ æØ ŁØÆŒ 30–1; —Æ Æ c ƒ æÆ 161–2, 168, 241 n. 67 see also breastfeeding Federigo da Montefeltre 318 Ferrara 277, 318–19, 328, 331 Ferrettus, Nicolaus 283, 286 fiction 37, 116, 181, 331 Filargi, Pietro, see Alexander V florilegia 164, 249–55, 268 Fontenay, Guy de 301 Foot, Philippa 197–8, 203 friendship 200 Frontinus 128, 175, 176 n. 66, 326 Fronto 42–3, 56, 64, 155, 183, 224, 226, 327 authority in Latin 218–19 code-switching in 18–28 correspondence 18–28 as etymologist 67
as linguistic nationalist 17, 35 and Marcus 18–28, passim note-taking 135 reading 189 n. 5 as represented in G. 50–2, 56, 140, 190, 191, 329, and see Index Verborum s.v. nanus as rhetorician 194 on sham philosophers 230 theory of style 42–3 see also love Fronto, Ps.-, Differentiae 84 n. 59, 87 Fufetius, Mettius 300, 301 Gaius, Institutiones 154 games, Roman 147 Gaulish 75 Gavius Bassus 53, 67 n. 7 Gellius, A.: Academic philosophy in 208–13 acquaintance with Apuleius 224 African origin 85–6 alternative views in 139–41 antiquarianism in 118–55 bibliographical lists in 125 Cynic philosophy in 208, 214 as etymologist, 65–104 Greek in 37–9, 44, 52, 53, 62; in etymologies 69–71, 91–7, 101, 103 humanisme gellien, see Marache independent thinker 52, 63–4, 66–8, 70–97 passim manuscripts of: fragmentary 265–70; lost 272–81 as model 289, 315, 316–17, 322–31, and see Crinitus narrative manner 105–17 oral sources 67–8, 73, 78, 89, 96 plots 180, 184 reading 189 n. 5 repertoire of tales 105–8 as rhetoriscus 243–4 scene-setting 182, and see dialogues, mise en sce`ne
Index Rerum et Nominum scepticism in 211–13 as source 94, 169, 249–342 passim as stimulus 331–42 Stoicism in 208, 210, 214 see also Augustine; authorial ‘I’; bilingualism; code-switching; commentarii; contents, table of; dialogues; diversity; exempla; experts; exposure scenes; Favorinus; Fronto; headings; Herodes Atticus; knowledge; Macrobius; ordo rerum fortuitus; otium; palm-tree; philosophy; Pliny, elder; Politianus; question-andanswer process; Quintilian; range of fields; readers; Romanocentrism; selfpresentation; sexuality; Socrates; translation; Tucker; utility; variety; Verrius Flaccus genre 159–86, 298, 299–303, 316–17 antiquarianism as 118 departures from 165–86 diversity of, see diversity; variety expectations of 126–7, 159, 165–86 generic indicators 159–65 of individual chapters 179–86 see also dialogues; miscellany; symposium Giorgi, Francesco 338–9 Giovio, Paolo 256 Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio 333 gladiator, imperial 311 gnomologia 166, 170 Gracchanus, M. Junius 119 Gracchus, C. Sempronius 42, 53, 292 Graecisms 44–50, 56, 59, 61–2, 63, 96–7, 101 grammar 39, 66, 138, 142, 167, 190, 191–3 see also education
385
Greek 3–40 passim as source of Latin 44–5, 69–73, 85–6, 91–3, 94–9 see also Aeolic; Gellius, Greek in Gregory XII (Angelo Correr), Pope 271 Gronovius, Johannes Fredericus 253, 280, 285, 289 Gruget, Claude 301 Gryphius (Greif), printing family 286, 289 n. 39 Gualenghi, Giovanni 329 Guarino, Battista 323, 327 Guarino da Verona 318, 321–2, 323, 326–7, 328, 334 Guerre, Martin 310 Guevara, Antonio de 295, 296, 302, 314 Guibert of Tournai 256, 259–62 Guillemeau, Jacques 296 Hadrian 9–10, 31, 74–5, 155, 290, 305, 329 Hannibal 106, 313 headings (capitula; lemmata) 125, 130–3, 177 n. 71, 298 G.’s ascribed to ‘Pseudogellius’ by Stephanus 288 see also contents, table of hedgehog and fox 221–2 Hercules 190–1, 285 Hero of Alexandria 341 Herodes Atticus 25–6, 185, 327, 329 as represented in G. 113–15, 190, 210, 243 Herodotus 108–12, 321 Hesiod 298, 309 Hittite 74, 78, 90 Homer 283, 291, 297, 298, 305 homoptota 68 humanisme gellien, see Marache humanitas 31, 207 n. 8, 217, 220 n. 50 humiliation scenes, see exposure scenes Hyginus (fabulist) 128, 131
386
Index Rerum et Nominum
Hyginus, C. Julius (grammarian) 67 n. 7, 162 n. 15, 212 hyper-Atticism 114 inscriptions, use of 138 institutions: as antiquarian theme 142–51 of daily life 123, 149 military 123, 148–9 political 123, 143–5, 148–9 religious 107–8, 123, 144, 145–7 intellectuals and intellectual life 183–6, 223–45, esp. 223, 230–4 irony 160, 177, 228, 240, 242–3 directed at oneself 231, 234, 242–4, 245 Socratic (Næø Æ) 214 see also modesty, false; satire Isidore of Seville 81, 87, 121, 251–3, 320 itemization 124, 137–9, 163–4, 165, 177–8, 184–5 Jerome 189 John of Salisbury 252–3, 259, 262, 264–5, 306 Joubert, Laurent 289, 294–7 Julianus, Antonius 30–6, 37, 193, 210 n. 23, 216, 224 Julius Celsinus 67, 99, 100, 215 Julius Paulus 67, 99, 100, 210 Juvenal 183 ŒÆ I æÆØ 99, 101 Kircher, Athanasius 339–41 knowledge 161–2 G.’s view of 178–9, 184–5 Laberius, D. 35–6, 41–64 passim, 96, 300 La Boe¨tie, Estienne de 315 Lachmann’s Law 91 nn. 79, 80 Laevius 36, 99–100 Lais 106, 291, 292, 301 Lamola, Giovanni 321, 334, 339 n. 51
Larcius Licinus 292 lark and her young 113 Latin, supposed poverty of 7, 9 Latinus, Latina uerba 44–50 law 167, 195 legal matters, as antiquarian theme 123, 149–50 see also education libraries 182, 329, 330, 335 public 132, 137 link-vowel 101 Livy 135, 274, 312, 324, 330 Lollianus Avitus 27, 28, 224 Longolius, Gysbertus 256 love: expressions of 19–21, 28 sexual and non-sexual 20–1 see also sexuality Lucian 112, 115, 116, 183, 230, 242 Somnium 185 Teacher of Rhetoric 235 True History 240 Lucius, fictional protagonist of Apuleius’ Met. 223–45 passim, esp. 234–40 Lucretius 9, 42–3 Luna, Pedro de (‘Benedict XIII’) 271, 277 Lupus of Ferrie`res 320 Lydus, John 121, 151 Macedo, philosopher 298 Machiavelli, Niccolo` 330 Macrobius 99, 137, 249, 281, 291, 294, 336 alternative views in 139–41 antiquarianism in 121, 153 commended in Renaissance 297, 327 dialogue form in 127, 154 as model 331 in Montaigne 308–9 structure of Saturnalia 133, 169 uses G. 94 magi, Renaissance 338–9
Index Rerum et Nominum manner of life 172–4, 182, 185–6, 219–22 see also intellectuals and intellectual life Manutius, Aldus 283 Marache, Rene´ vii, 206–22 passim Marcus Aurelius 205 as correspondent of Fronto, see Fronto marvels, see mirabilia Maseriensis/Maserius, Aegidius (Gilles de Maizie`res) 282–3, 285 Masurius Sabinus 70, 76–7 Medici, Cosimo de’ 270 n. 61, 279, 318, 329 Meleager of Gadara 170 memory 164–5, 215–16 Menander 38 n. 127, 75 Mexia (Mejı´a), Pedro 299, 301, 309, 315 Miani, Pietro 270, 271 n. 68, 279 Miletus, maidens of 300, 301, 311 Milo of Croton 300, 301, 304 mirabilia (marvels, miracula) 152, 168, 207, 214, 238–41, 300 collections of 167, 170, 174, 302–3 miscellany 159–86 passim, 215, 239 and n. 61, 241, 299–303, 327, 335, 337 ethics in 189–90, 196, 198, 204–5 as genre 160–2, 237, 238 sympotic 167, 180, 181–2, 226 as title 161, 330 mise en sce`ne, see under dialogues Mithridates VI of Pontus 309 modesty, false 160, 177–8, 342 see also irony Montaigne, Michel de 213, 282, 304, 308–17 moral virtues 201–3 executive virtues 202 relational virtues 202–3 see also ethics morphology 47, 52, 63, 78 morphophonemics 47
387
Mosellanus, Petrus (Peter Schade) 285–6, 293, 333, 334 n. 38 Musonius Rufus 210 nationalism, Roman 199–200, 219 linguistic 17 wards off Greek attacks 32, 33, 35–7 see also Roman culture comparable with Greek; Romanocentrism neologisms 55–7, 293–4, 296 Nepos, Cornelius 212 Niccoli, Niccolo` 278–9, 322, 329 Nicholas V, Pope 322 Nicholas of Cusa 279, 321 Nigidius Figulus, P. 54–5, 163, 212, 217, 315 on etymology 67, 76–7, 87–8, 93–5, 101 Nonius Marcellus 60, 72, 74, 97, 122, 129, 135–6 notebooks 323–7, 331–2 opicus 22, 38–9 ordo rerum fortuitus 122, 161, 165–6, 169–79, 288, 315–16, 326 ore del libro 335 organization: alphabetical 131, 136 systematic/logical 130, 165, 176–8, 304, 323, 326–7; of philosophy 187–8, 196 thematic 169–70 see also ordo rerum fortuitus Oscan 72, 74 otium 172, 200, 215, 216, 218, 220–1 Roman view of 125–6 as setting for dialogues 154, 181–3 see also ‘busy people’ Ovid 294
388
Index Rerum et Nominum
Pacuvius 309 palm-tree, wood of 249–59 Pamphile 163, 170–1, 172–3, 180 Parvus, Joannes (Jean Petit) 282–3, 285 Pasquier, Estienne 288 past, reconstructed 294, 328, 331 patronage 19–20, 23, 24–5, 199–200 Pelacani, Biagio, doctor diabolicus 255 n. 19 peregrina uerba 46, 50 Perotti, Niccolo` di 335 Pertinax, P. Helvius 41 Petrarch 121, 281, 289, 321, 327 Petronius 58, 60, 61–2, 63 Philip II, king of Macedon 38 n. 126, 190, 194 philology, critical 334–7, 341–2 philosophy 30, 33, 167, 308, 315, 339 Academic, see under scepticism Cynic 208, 214 and etymology 65, 69, 83 in G. 168, 214, 298; his approach to 187–8, 190–1, 194–5, 200; and see under Gellius New 337–42 popular 207, and see diatribe Pyrrhonian, see under scepticism Pythagorean 194 sham 233, and see sham philosophers Stoic 28, 208, 210, 211, 214; and etymology 69, 83; in Renaissance 288, 310, 311 sympotic 208–10 see also education; Favorinus philostorgia 27–8 Philostratus 11, 115, 116, 185, 285 Philoxenus, grammarian 45 phonographematics 47 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni 330 Pisani, Ugolino 319, 322 Pius, Baptista 284
Plato 42 n. 1, 44 n. 4, 65, 102 Platonic pedagogy 332 see also dialogues, Platonic/ Socratic Plautus 19, 43, 44, 75, 80–2, 213, 332 his language 20, 33, 35, 53, 56, 57, 116 pleasure 182, 191–2, 195, 217, 291 in learning 151–4, 172, 190, 215, 216–17, 220–1 in philosophy 194 in variety 171–2, 181 see also otium Pliny, elder 137, 171, 302, 307, 323, 326–7, 335 alternative views in 139–41 and the antiquarian tradition 121, 124–7 autopsy in 137–8, 239–40 bibliographical lists in 125 comprehensiveness 135 emended from G. 290 G. on 238–41 and n. 61 genre of NH 164, 166 mirabilia in 238–9, 241, 302 note-rolls 136 systematic organization 130–3 table of contents 127–30, 174–7 uses inscriptions 138 vocabulary 42, 58, 61, 73 see also encylopaedic works Pliny, younger 6–10, 116, 150, 173, 183, 189, 287 narrative in 107 plots, G.’s, see under Gellius Plutarch 135, 141, 183, 186, 210, 290, 321, 324 alternative views in 139, 141 headings/rubrics in 131 in Antonine culture 223, 225–6, 244 in Montaigne 311, 312, 315, 317 notebooks 136 on Romans and Roman culture 24–5, 26 his slave 313–14, 317
Index Rerum et Nominum sympotic dialogues 167, 169, 183, 209, 210, 214, 225–6 as Trajan’s tutor 261–2 uses inscriptions 138 works: ` ÆÆ 163; De garrulitate 306; De uitioso pudore 24–5; Praecepta gerendae reipublicae 289; Quaestiones conuiuales 167, 169, 209, 226; Quaestiones Graecae 131; Quaestiones Romanae 131, 139; (spurious) Institutio Traiani 262 see also palm-tree, wood of Polenton, Sicco 326, 331–2 Politianus, Angelus (Agnolo degli Ambrogini da Montepulciano, Angelo Poliziano) 283, 284, 290, 330, 331 and G. 289, 333, 335–7 Miscellanea 330, 333, 337 polymathy 162, 236–40 Postumius Festus, M. 41–2, 50–1, 64 pregnancy, duration of 304–5 principles, general/ universal 178–9, 196–7, 198 Priscian 45, 47, 70 n. 17, 99, 130, 328 Probus, M. Valerius 33 n. 102, 34 n. 110, 134–5 as etymologist 67, 70, 75, 77–8, 79, 81, 91, 98 professionals, see experts Protagoras 311 Pseudogellius, see under headings Ptolemy, his Geography 329 Publilius Syrus 309 Punic 47, 85–6 Pythagoras 190, 285 Quadrigarius, Q. Claudius 53, 54, 79, 97–8, 335 question-and-answer process 125, 132–4
389
Quintilian 10–11, 14–15, 46, 49, 51, 59, 65 on comparability of Greek and Latin 6–7, 9 and G., resemblances in outlook 190–1, 193 as model in Renaissance 297, 328 Rabelais, Franc¸ois 300, 303–8 Radulphus de Diceto 254 Ramus, Petrus 339 range of fields 165–6, 167–9 readers, G.’s intended 29–30, 39, 165, 177, 198–9, 204–5 and Montaigne’s 316 see also ‘busy people’ Regiomontanus (Johann Mu¨ller) 339 Resta, Lazzarino 270, 271 brothers of 271 rhetoric 11, 115, 167, 190–1, 193–4 Atticist 7, 8 bilingual, at Rome 6, 8, 242 and the Second Sophistic 11, 111, 154–5, 235, 242 teaching in Latin forbidden 4 see also education rhetoriscus, see under Gellius Rhodiginus, Caelius (Ludovico Ricchieri) 297, 299, 300, 333–4 riddles 56–7, 332–4 Roman culture comparable with Greek 37–8 Romanocentrism: of antiquarian tradition 150–1 in G. 204–5 Rouen, Cardinal of, see Estouteville Rufinus, P. Cornelius 301 Sallust 5, 42, 43, 81, 334 Sardinian, ancient 49 satire 223–45 self-satire 223, 228, 230, 231, 242–3 see also irony
390
Index Rerum et Nominum
Savonarola, Girolamo 330 Scaliger, Joseph Justus 293, 337 Scaliger, Julius Caesar 291–3, 306 scepticism 32, 211–13, 227, 231, 232 Academic 32, 140 n. 66, 208–9, 213 Pyrrhonian 211, 213 see also under Gellius Schott, Gaspar 339, 341 Scientific Revolution 341 Scipio, elder 311–12 chastity of 201, 301, denied 106 Scipio, younger 72–3, 124, 291 Scribonius Largus 128, 175 Second Sophistic 11–12, 154, 234–6, 244–5, 337 see also sophists selectivity 165–7 self-presentation 116, 184–6, 211–12, 228, 231, 240–3 see also authorial ‘I’ Seneca, elder 6, 60, 107, 115 Seneca, younger 28, 121, 124, 164, 167, 292, 299 Senecas, Sicco Polenton’s distribution of authorship between 331–2 service aristocracy 28–9 sexuality, Montaigne’s treatment inspired by G. 316 sham philosophers 115, 230–3, 244 Sidney, Sir Philip 324 slaves 195, 199 see also under Plutarch Socrates, fictional character in Apuleius’ Met. 226, 228–30, 231–2 Socrates, son of Sophroniscus: in G. 228–30 Socratic themes 208–13 see also under dialogues; irony Solinus 170, 172, 253 sophists 11–12, 116, 154, 185, 234–6, 237, 243–4 see also Second Sophistic Sophocles 287
sordida uerba, see vulgarism Soter, Joannes (Johann Heil) 285 Sotion 106, 161 Sprachanschluß (language annexation) 5, 9, 40 Stewart, Alexander 332 Stoicism, see under philosophy in G., see under Gellius Strozzi, Tito Vespasiano 318–19 Suetonius 10–11, 52, 57, 121, 126, 128, 134–5 alternative views in 139–40 emphasis on detail 138–9 interest in institutions 144–8 passim systematic organization in 133–4 Suetonius, Ps.- 57 suffixes: -alis (-aris) 57 n. 47 -aneus 54 n. 35 -arius, -arium 54 n. 35, 57 n. 47, 58, 74 -monium 56 see also Index Verborum Sulla 302 Sulpicius Apollinaris, C. 35, 41–2, 43–4, 50–2, 53, 55, 184, 229 and etymology 67, 75, 81, 89, 96 as source for Probus’ opinions 70, 75, 81, 91, 98 Sulpicius Rufus, Ser. 77, 81, 82–4 suspension of judgement 213–14 see also alternative views; scepticism symposium 167, 179, 182, 225–6, 231, 236 see also Apuleius; Athenaeus; dialogues, sympotic; miscellany, sympotic; philosophy, sympotic; Plutarch Tacitus 15, 144, 150, 324 tales, G.’s repertoire of, see under Gellius
Index Rerum et Nominum Taurus, L. Calvenus 184, 191, 194, 208–10, 213, 214, 224, 243–4 Terentius Scaurus 38–9, 55 Terminus 332–4 Tertullian 12, 39–40, 297 Tesserant, Claude de 302–3 Textor, Joannes Ravisius (Jean Tixier de Ravisy) 300, 304, 309 theft, thieves 154, 195, 202–4, 291 Theodore Gaza 335–6 thieves, see theft Tiraqueau, Andre´ 304–5 Tiro, M. Tullius 90–2, 161, 163 titles, of ancient works 125–6, 152–3, 159–64 passim translation 4, 6–7, 34, 37–8, 108, 192–3, 310 from G. 289, 295; by Montaigne 312, 314; by Rabelais 306 Trebatius, C. 83–4 Trot, Bartholomaeus 284 Tucker, Abraham, G. in vi Turrianus (Gianello Turriano) 339 Twelve Tables 31, 195, 291 Ulpian 40 utility 33, 162, 171–2, 207, 214–22, 239, 241 in antiquarianism 130, 155 educational 188, 190–1, 195 ! ÆÆ, see commentarii Valerius Antias 106 Valerius Maximus 106, 117, 205, 297, 303, 304, 326 contents, table of 175 not source for etymology 70 n. 18 Valerius Soranus 127–8, 175 Valgius Rufus 90–1 Valla, Lorenzo 323 variety 161–3, 289, 316, and see diversity; ordo rerum fortuitus
391
see also under pleasure Varro 311, 332–3 alternative views in 139–41 and the antiquarian tradition (IæÆØ º ªÆ) 65, 102, 116–55 passim bibliographical lists in 125 emphasis on detail 139 etymology in (general) 45, 65, 67, 85; (specific) 44, 46, 47, 48, 53, 59, 60, 69, 72–3, 74, 79–80, 83–4, 91 interest in institutions 143–51 method of writing 136 systematic organization in 130–2 table of contents in 125, 128–9 uses inscriptions 138 works: Aetia 131; Antiquitates 119–20, 121–2, 132, 139, 143–8, 150, epitomated 132, recycled 136, structure of 129, unindexed 128; De lingua Latina 66, 119, 143, 145, 146, 150, epitomated 132, structure of 129, 133, 136; De re rustica 125; De uita populi Romani 129, 139, 143–4, 147; Disciplinae 166; ¯NƪøªØŒ 137, 162–3; Epistolicae quaestiones 137, 143–7; Logistorici 129; Menippean Satires 231 Vascosan, Michel 285 Velius Longus 94–5 Vergil 17, 155, 290, 298, 310, 316, 318, 334–5 compared with Greek authors 32, 34, 38, 193, 291 Veritas filia temporis 338, 341 Verrius Flaccus 132, 135, 136, 138, 139, 148, 150 alphabetical order in 131–2 alternative views in 140 etymology in 67, 73, 79, 87, 92 not G.’s source 81, 84, 90–1 rubrics in 133 Vespasiano da Bisticci 329
392
Index Rerum et Nominum
Vestal Virgins 146, 302 Vignier, Nicolas 294 Vincent of Beauvais 262 nn. 38, 39, 265 Vitturi, Daniele 270 Vives, Juan Luis 287, 288, 292, 297–9 Volaterranus, Raphael 300 Vulcob, Johann 288 vulgarism 49, 50–2, 54, 55, 57–63, 96
William of Malmesbury 252 Wind, Edgar 332, 333 women 37 n. 122, 197, 199, 200–1, 311 their language 21, 23, 43 names for their garments 60 see also breastfeeding Xenophon 163