UNLOCKING AENEID 6.

460: PLAUTUS AMPHITRYON, EURIPIDES PROTESILAUS AND THE REFERENTS OF CALLIMACHUS COMA In Memory of Wendell Clausen and Zeph Stewart
Abstract: Why does Virgil have Aeneas in his underworld encounter with Dido quote Catullus translation of Callimachus lighthearted Coma Berenices? Virgil alludes to a long and largely lost tradition of unwilling departure scenes that provided Callimachus with his own models and referents, chief among them, Euripides Protesilaus, in which the title-character returned only for a day from the underworld to visit his wife Laodamia, and thus led her, grief-stricken, to suicide.

he passages difficulties are notorious: Aeneas sees Didos shade in the lugentes campi and addresses her with apparent sincerity (A. 6.45663):
infelix Dido, verus mihi nuntius ergo venerat exstinctam ferroque extrema secutam? funeris heu tibi causa fui? per sidera iuro, per superos et si qua fides tellure sub ima est, invitus, regina, tuo de litore cessi. sed me iussa deum, quae nunc has ire per umbras, per loca senta situ cogunt noctemque profundam, imperiis egere suis; . . . Ill-starred Dido, so it was true, the report that came to me, that you were dead, and sought the end with a sword? Was I, alas, your cause of your death? By the heavenly bodies I swear itby the gods above, and if there is any oath-trust under the deep earth: unwillingly, Queen, did I depart your shore. But the commands of the gods, which even now bid me come through the shades here, through places foul with mould, and bottomless night, drove me then with their imperial dooms; . . .

The main idea of this article was sketched out in a review of Robert Fagles and Stanley Lombardos translations of the Aeneid (New York Review of Books 54.12 (April 12, 2007) 249). I would like to thank Annetta Alexandridis, Charles Brittain, Kathleen Coleman, Michael Fontaine, Michael Haslam, Donald Lateiner, S. Douglas Olson, Verity Platt, Jay Reed, Bob Rust, Jeffrey Rusten, Alexander Sens, Robert Silvers and Richard Thomas for their advice and help. Translations, except where noted, are mine. THE CLASSICAL JOURNAL 106.2 (2010-2011) 149 221

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It is a moment of great pathos, perhaps the emotional highpoint of the epic. But line 460 has been lifted almost straight from Catullus translation of Callimachus Coma Berenices (Catullus 66), an exercise in Hellenistic facetiousness antithetical in spirit to the situation of Aeneas and Dido here. Callimachus poem is spoken by the lock of hair Berenice dedicated upon Ptolemys safe return from war in Syria, and at line 39 of Catullus version the talking hair says invita, o regina, tuo de vertice cessi (unwillingly, O Queen, did I depart your head). An evocation of this passage from A. 6.460 seems to introduce unwanted levity, and so occasions something of a crisis in our theories of allusion. These have been well discussed by Wills; I limit my attention here to one line of attack and refer readers to Wills for discussion of others. 1 Scholars have attempted to mitigate the deflating effect of the allusion by broadening it to include something more serious: Ptolemy and Berenice had descendants; an oblique glimpse of them reminds us of recent Roman visitors to Africa and the Ptolemaic queen who became their mistress. Dido, by way of Berenice, prefigures Cleopatra. 2 This insight seems to me a good one; but does it solve the fundamental problem? Virgil still seems to be paying too high a price for the contemporary reference. Could he not have found some other, more dignified Ptolemy-and-Berenice poem to use? Some recent scholars have suggested that Virgil was referring beyond the Coma to works Callimachus himself had engaged with, and point to Sappho 94 in particular as a sourcea solution the specifics of which are only partially satisfying, for reasons that will become clear. 3
Wills (1998) builds on the work of Thomas (1999 [1986]) ch. 4. Here and in his book (Wills (1996)), Wills retains the term and concept allusion (vs., e.g., intertext, reference), as do I. The late R. O. A. M. Lyne used the relationship between Catul. 66.39 and A. 6.460 as the starting point for a proposal, made on anti-intentionalist grounds, to reject the concept of allusion in favor of intertext (Lyne (1994)); cf. Hinds (1998), esp. ch. 2. On intention, see, e.g., Gibbs (1999). 2 Nadeau (1982); Skulsky (1985). Williams (1968) 2523, 7068, Clausen (1970) 904, and Drew Griffith (1995) seek to solve the problem by arguing that Catullus 66, unlike Callimachus original, is not humorous but informed by the death of the poets brother; this line of interpretation is belied by the consistently facetious tone of Catullus poem. Cf. Tatum (1984) 4423. 3 Sappho 94 is championed by Vox (2000) 178 and Acosta-Hughes (2008), apparently unaware of Vox (but cf. now Acosta-Hughes (2010) 67 n. 17). DAlessio (1996) 535 n. 57 (on Catul. 66.39-40) briefly observes that limitazione [i.e., by Virgil in A. 6.460] rivela, esplicitandoli, i moduli patetici che Callimaco aveva sapientemente distorto applicandoli al paradossale rapporto tra regina e la sua chioma, but gives no references. Vox (2000) 179 follows Hunter (1987) 1389 and Barchiesi (1997) 214 in identifying A. R. 4.101921 as another example of the topos, but the words are not spoken to a lover; cf., however, on A. 12.809 in the final section below.
1

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But the suggestion that Virgil might have used the modified Catullan/Callimachean line (as a window reference) 4 to bring into view its (presumed) non-facetious source-passages is sound and appealing. Besides Sappho 94, might Callimachus have had other predecessors in mind? The shapes of some overlooked possibilities are discernible and consideration of them will, at the very least, enlarge and clarify our understanding of the tradition available to Callimachus to draw upon. We can preface our investigation with a summary account (Fordyces) of the historical circumstances that occasioned Callimachus poem: 5
On his accession to the throne of Egypt in 247 6 B.C. Ptolemy III (Euergetes) married his second cousin Berenice, daughter of the king of Cyrene. Shortly after the marriage he set out on an invasion of Syria and his queen vowed a lock of her hair for his safe return. He returned in triumph; the vow was paid and the lock dedicated, apparently in a Pantheon 7 at Alexandria. From there it disappeared, and the astronomer Conon turned his professional skill to courtly use by finding itin the sky, as a cluster of stars between Virgo and the Bear. Callimachus took up Conons ingenious compliment, enlarged on it and added new conceits of his own; putting his poem into the mouth of the lock itself, he made it tell the story of its translation and proclaim, from its new home in the heavens, its devotion to the queen and its longing to be restored to her head.

The procedure adopted in the next section is to start from some postCallimachean parallels for the invitus line and work backward; these parallels occur in contexts thematically similar to A. 6.460, and in combination they confirm that, as others have noted, a productive theme or topos of unwilling departure/abandonment existed independent of both Virgil and Callimachus; 8

In the terminology of Thomas, as quoted and discussed in n. 145 below. Fordyce (1961) 328. For full details, see Will (1979) 24354; Marinone (1997) 1521. 6 Fordyce, like Kroll, gives the year as 247; current reckoning assigns Euergetes accession to January 27/8, 246 (e.g., Skeat (1954) 11, 31; Koenen (1977) 101; Marinone (1997) 19). 7 There is now a consensus that the dedication was made in the temple of Arsinoe Aphrodite Zephyritis (Hyg. Astr. 2.24 with Coma fr. 110.56; cf. Fraser (1972) II 1023 n. 105; Marinone (1997) 32 n. 2, 1602); for the possible later significance of this detail, see n. 161 below. 8 Puelma (1982) 240 speaks of die characteristischen Zge einer Klage der Verlassenen, Acosta-Hughes (2008) of unwilling farewell; Gutzwiller (1992) 3757 places the Coma in the tradition of womens laments for lost companions, among which she numbers Sappho 16, 94, 96 and Erinnas Lament for Baucis (SH 401). Without reference to the Coma Cairns (1972) analyzes departure speeches in terms of topoi defined by Menander Rhetor; see his index s.v. syntaktikon; in connection with Sappho 94.5, Cairns 545 refers to the departing travellers . . . unwillingness to
5

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examination of these passages will lead us back to the earliest pre-Callimachean evidence, and forward from there finally to Euripides, the author of what I suspect was the realization of the theme that most influenced Hellenistic authors. The theme of unwilling departure (a) A lost Hellenistic poem on Paris and Oenone In Quintus of Smyrnas Posthomerica Book 10, Paris is wounded by Philoctetes; during Paris earlier, pre-Judgment life on Mt. Ida his lover Oenone had often prophesied this event and that she alone would be able to heal him. He now has himself carried to her and appeals to the woman he betrayed in a speech that opens with a Greek version of the invitus-utterance (28491): 9
, , , . , , , , . . . O reverend wife, do not hate me in my affliction because I abandoned you before at home, a widow, though against my will: the ineluctable fates drove me to Helenwould that I had breathed my last and died in your arms before I slept with her! But come, by the gods who live in heaven, by your bed and our married love, gentle your heart and ward off my painful anguish . . .

Oenone rejects his plea; Paris is removed and dies, and Oenone kills herself over his corpse. In his speech, Paris follows up his self-justification with a plea joined to an oath; in Catullus 66 an oath follows the invita line (adiuro teque tuumque caput [I swear by you and your head]), while in Aeneid 6 one precedes it; 10 one of the few surviving fragments of Callimachus Coma (fr. 110.40) is [I swear by your head and your life], which editors place after the line that invita, o regina is assumed to translate. 11
go as one of the two most important syntaktic topoi (though he does not cite other examples); Jacobson (1974) 3848 discusses the departure scene as a recurrent theme of Ovids Heroides. 9 I discuss the possible forms such utterance might have taken in the Appendix. 10 Norden (1957) ad loc. 11 It should be noted that the (etymological) sources for this fragment do not locate it in the Coma but simply identify it as Callimachus. Cf. E. Ph. 4334 /

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Scholars are divided on the question of whether Quintus knew Virgil and borrowed from him. 12 Norden, comparing Paris speech in Posthomerica 10 with Aeneid 6.460, posited a lost Hellenistic Paris and Oenone poem as the model for both.13 The inference will not stand as formulated, since Quintus may have modeled his passage on Virgils. On the other hand, firm evidence that the Oenone-pendant to the death-of-Paris story antedated Virgil is provided by, among others, 14 Lycophrons 12-line summary at Alex. 5768, 15 and Parthenius
(I swear by the gods, I unwillingly raised arms against the kin who willingly [raised arms against me]). On the supplement for the line-beginning, see Appendix; for the instantaneous or tragic use of aorist with present reference, see Lloyd (1999) 303. On the oath particles that introduce the invitus-utterance of Sappho 94.5 (presented and discussed in section (c) below), see n. 27. 12 See Grtner (2005) for an even-handed survey; the case in favor is stated by Keydell (1954) and (1963) and Erbse (1961) (cf. Smith and Lee (2000) 11 and the references there for Q.S.s knowledge of Ovid); for the case against, see Vian (1959) 95101; Campbell (1981) 115 17; Knox (1989) with n. 4 (cf. Knox (1988) on the similar case of Nonnus); Horsfall (2004). My own opinion would incline toward those who allow Virgilian influence on Quintus (a more economical explanation: cf. Horsfall (2004) 76 n. 43), certainly to the degree that the case against is drawn from the dogma Latina non leguntur (refuted by Holford-Strevens (1993) 2037; Rochette (1997), esp. ch. 4; Adams (2003) 1516, 62830; cf. Grtner (2005) 1322 and Horsfall (2004) 76 with n. 42; for an important qualification of the relevance of this point, see Knox (1988) 5501, and from a desire to infer lost Hellenistic models for Virgil. Norden (n. 13) is the only scholar I know of to cite Paris Posthomerica 10 speech in connection with A. 6.460. Grtner, who provides an exhaustive-seeming account of the parallels between Quintus and Virgil, mentions neither 10.284 91 nor 4.38791, dismissing Book 10 in two brief paragraphs (111). Hopkinson (1994) 112 on Q.S. loc. cit. does not note the resemblance to A. 6.460. There is a second parallel in Quintus to the invitus language of A. 6.460, at 4.38791: , / <> (Minos glorious daughter, whom Theseus had once abandoned, though unwillingly, on sea-washed Dia). Quintus application of this phrase to Theseus abandonment of Ariadne, an episode that formed, in Catul. 64, a chief model for the abandoned-spouse theme of A. 4, again raises the possibility that Quintus was alluding directly to Virgil and his (Latin) poetic forbears, though other explanations may be equally compelling. 13 Norden (1957) 2489, not cited in recent discussions. Lightfoot (1999) 392 credits the hypothesis of a lost Hellenistic Paris and Oenone poem to P. E. Knox and others, without citing the Q.S. passage. Knox (1995) 1401 cites Quintus but not Norden, and does not make the connection with A. 6.460; he correctly cites Rohde (1914) 11819 and Keydell (1963) 12846 for the hypothesis of a lost Hellenistic Paris and Oenone poem (but Vian (1969) 612, arguing that Q.S. worked directly from Parthenius, does not belong with them); Norden himself cited Heumann (1904) 33, which I have not seen. See further n. 18 below. 14 For a judicious survey of other pre-Augustan treatments, see Knox (1995) 1401; Knox himself cautiously accepts that Ovid Ep. 5, the poem he is introducing, assumes audience familiarity with an influential literary account of Oenone. Vian (1959) 502, followed by Lightfoot (1999)

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account of Paris and Oenone (Amat. Narr. 4). The latter contains not only an exchange of words between the two former lovers (via messenger) but a suggestive detail: [scil. Paris] , , [] . In Lightfoots translation, he sent her a herald to beg her to come quickly and cure him, to forget about the past since it had all happened through the will of the gods. 16 The underlined phrase bears a close thematic similarity to both Q.S. 10.286b (the ineluctable fates drove me) and A. 6.460 sed me iussa deum . . . egere (the commands of the gods . . . drove me), implying the invitus theme: what happened did not happen through Paris own will, but through that of the gods. 17 It seems on balance likely that at some point, presumably after the Little Iliad (Arg. 1.8 Bernab), where Philoctetes kills Paris in single combat, and the summary of Lycophron, our first exemplar of the new version, a treatment of Paris death featuring a failed appeal to Oenone attained a certain fame; Rohde and Norden suggested that this work was Hellenistic, which is plausible. The new addition comprises a narrative sequence both melodramatic in its substance and bucolic in its associations; instead of succumbing immediately on the battlefield Paris enjoys a death sufficiently protracted to permit communication with his abandoned lover, in whom Medea-like implacability alternates with suicidal devotionan operatic combination that surely delighted Alexandrian sensibilities. Stinton, followed by Gantz and Knox, has warned that the Hellenistic era held a literary monopoly on neither pastoral settings nor extravagant emotions, and that
391, pointed out that the scenes depicted by Parthenius and Quintus could not have derived from the epic cycle, since there Paris died immediately on the battlefield. 15 The date of the Alexandra and the identity of its author are disputed; see, e.g., Schade (1999) 612; Shipley (2000) 247. The earlier dating and identification would make the author a contemporary of Callimachus; the later would place the work shortly after 196 BC. 16 Conon Narr. 23 features the messenger, whom in this version Oenone kills with a rock, (for his outrage), and concludes with the nymph embracing Paris corpse and then hanging herself with her girdle; see Brown (2002) 1669. While the date of Conons work cannot be pinpointed it certainly post-dates Parthenius and may post-date Virgil; see Brown (2001) 16. 17 This is itself a commonplace, especially associated with Paris consort Helen, as notably in E. Andr. 680 (Helen got into trouble not willingly, but through the gods). Cf. E. Tr. 93850 and Gorg. Hel. passim, in both of which the idea is invoked in reference to the question why she left her husband, an event designated with the abandonmentthemes characteristic verb at, e.g., Sapph. 16.9 and E. IA 783: cf. Cavallini (1986) 45.

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a pre-Hellenistic origin should not be ruled out; 18 but Stinton, whose chief object of study was Euripides, could find no trace of the story in that author. 19 (b) Plautus Amphitryon The action of the play begins as the nox longa of Jupiters visit to Alcmene draws to an end. In the third scene (I 3.499550), 20 Jupiter, disguised as Amphitryon, emerges from the house accompanied by the pregnant Alcmene, and takes his leave; Mercury, disguised as Amphitryons slave Sosia, plays the bomolochos to one side. Jupiters excuses for leaving are unimpressive and Alcmene demurs at his departure; the god finally secures her acquiescence by means of a valuable gift (which will serve an important purpose later). But before doing so he protests his own regret at the necessity of departure, uttering a variant of the invitus line (531): Non ego te hic lubens relinquo neque abeo abs te (Not willingly do I depart from you and leave you here). 21 Alcmene sarcastically replies: Sentio, nam qua nocte ad me venisti, eadem abis (I can tell, since you are leaving the same night you came). The gift is then given, Alcmene goes back into the palace
Stinton (1990) 4953; Gantz (1993) 639; Knox (1995) 141. Stinton suggested that the story was pre-Hellenistic and known to Hellanicus (42); but, as Wilamowitz (1971) 101 pointed out, all the manchette to Parthenius Amat. Narr. 34 tells us is that Hellanicus (= F 29 Jacoby/Fowler) related something about Corythus (see too Parthenius Amat. Narr. 34 and Conon Narr. 23). This certainly implies that the union of Paris and Oenone was known in the 5th c., but not their death scene, which is our concern (Bacch. fr. 20D.23 cannot help resolve this question, pace Stinton (1990) 50. Lightfoot (1999) 3913 (cf. 5456) argued that Hegesianax version (early 2nd c.; 45 F 2 Jacoby) was the source of both Conon and Parthenius, and that the former preserves it faithfully, while the latter splits it in two (i.e., Amat. Narr. 4 [= Oenone, including the death scene] and 34 [= Corythus]); but the evidence accomodates the reverse argument, that Conon or his source combined two separate stories (cf. Gantz (1993) 638); Lightfoots sole argument in support is that Oenones refusal to cure Paris is insufficiently motivated without the latters implication in the death of their son, as if Medeas relative valuation of children vs. revenge were not available as precedent and guide. Lyc. Alex. 5768, either earlier than or contemporary with Hegesianax, mentions Corythus (unnamed, however) but not his death, and finds jealousy a sufficient basis for her wrath (60: [(enraged) over sex and the imported nuptials]), as do Ovid Ep. 5 and [Apollod.] 3.12.1545, neither of which mentions the son. 19 Stinton (1990) 48: a feature of the legend ignored by Euripides, perhaps because he wished to emphasize the solitude of Paris. Cf. Rohde (1914) 11718; Welckers inference of a tragic treatment from Suet. Dom. 10 and Christodorus Ecphrasis 21521, reported in Rohde 118 n. 1, is not sustained by that evidence. 20 This passage was drawn to my attention by Michael Fontaine. 21 Christenson (2000) on 531 says Juppiters claim of being reluctant to leave calls to mind Aeneas parting words to Dido (Virg. A. 4.360-1, 6.460).
18

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(545), and Jupiter follows Mercury/Sosia toward the harbor (550). The pertinence of this passage to our inquiry is obvious. On the other hand, nothing suggests that it derives from Callimachus Coma. If it does not, then it is either independent or genetically related at a higher level, i.e., deriving from a common source. This source might be a specific passage or a traditional topos. What is the evidence for either? We now look at the pre-Callimachean material. (c) Archilochus, Sappho, Euripides and Aristophanes The invitus-passages we have examined so far have been been compromised at the level of sincerity: Paris is clearly an opportunistic fraud, and Jupiterdisguised-as-Amphitryon is a fraud of the comic stage. The possibility of insincerity or some other form of / disconnect also besets the interpretation of Aeneas words to Dido in A. 6. The oldest Greek example I can find of an invitus/abandonment utterance, Archilochus 5 W, suggests that the ripeness of the theme for deflating or ironic exploitation was recognized early on:
, , , . ; . Some Saan rejoices in my shield, which, blameless piece of equipment though it was, I left by a bushnot willingly! But I saved myself. What does that shield matter to me? Let it go. I will get another no worse.

This is one of the more famous anti-heroical utterances of the archaic period; 22 it locates Quintus phraseology well before Callimachus, but its claim to reflect an
I am compelled by the nature of the material to infer from ironic or parodic passages the possibility of non-ironic originals. I take some comfort from an observable phenomenon in the reception of Archilochus 5: the latter is incorporated by Alcibiades into his praise of Socrates in Pl. Smp. 220de: , , , (in the battle for which the generals awarded me the prize for valor no one else of mankind saved me but this man; unwilling to leave me behind wounded, he instead preserved my arms and my life) (cf. Phlb. 58b4). Here the anti-heroical parody of the postulated non-ironic theme is here enlisted (with a change in syntax) by a drunken comic hero (cf. his Herculean drinking at 213e14a) to establish the non-ironic battle heroism of the ironist-in-chief, who saves not only the speakers person but his arms. It is significant that here the compound takes a personal object rather than the inanimate one it has in Archilochus.
22

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established theme of unwilling husband-wife abandonment might reasonably be considered underdetermined. 23 More promising is Sappho 94, line 5 of which does not, on the surface, at any rate, look like an ironic or fraudulent instance of an invitus-utterance: 24
[ [], , . , , . . . . It is my straightforward wish to die: with much bewailing she left me bereft, and said in particular this: Ohohwhat a terrible thing is happened to us, Sappho! You I leave all against my will. I answered her, Go in peace and have thought of me; for you know how I cherished you. If you do not, I will remind you . . .

The poem cannot have begun with line 1, the second line of the three-line stanza, 25 so we know that we are missing some of the context, but not how much. We should take note of the speech situation: the speaker recalls, in the dramatic present, a parting that took place in the past. That the temporal contrast is regarded by the poet as significant may be suggested by the resemblance of the ending of line 5 to that of line 2: a feminine nominative participle + (rare)
But note the resemblance of to E. Alc. 1812 (discussed below): [cf. ] , / , (some other woman will take possession of you [cf. some Saan rejoices in], who could not be more right-minded [than I], but might perhaps be luckier). 24 For the relationship of this poem to Callimachus Coma, see Vox (2000) (who detects the influence of other poems of Sappho) and Acosta-Hughes (2008). The resemblance Vox sees between Sapph. 94.810 and Catul. 66.2130 is not apparent to me. 25 The attribution of the first line (Sappho, or the other woman?) is disputed; see Robbins (1990). The case that the other womanthe speaker of 45spoke line 1 as well is unsupportable without a parallel in archaic poetry for the interruption of direct speech by narrator-text (i.e., lines 23 here) without change of subject (Robbins (1990) 115, followed by Stehle (1997) 307).
23

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compound of , the first instance in the imperfect, the second in the present; the present tense appears, as we might put it, by courtesy of directly reported speech. 26 Line 5 begins with an oath-like combination of particles that calls to mind the explicit oaths attending the invitus-utterances of both Locks, of A. 6.460, and Q.S. 10.2856. 27 Euripides either knew and drew upon either Sappho 94 or on a larger and to us mostly invisible tradition to which it belongs: the two alternatives constitute a basic dilemma of our inquiry. 28 In the Andromache (ca. 425 B.C.), 29 Orestes, yet another invitus speaker of dubious moral character, explains his past actions to Hermione prior to taking her away (97981):
, , . Laid low by the misfortunes of my house I grieved, I grieved, but I endured my woes and I departed unwillingly, deprived of marriage to you.

Already in the death-bed scene of the Alcestis (438 B.C.) Euripides parceled out language like Sapphos to the two principal speakers (38591):
. . . , , . . . . , . . , . . , . Cairns (1972) 525 offers a good analysis of the temporal sophistication of the poem. The combination is not absolutely diagnostic of an oath, but it is very common in them (Denniston (1954) 350, says most frequently employed in oaths and pledges, but classifies Sapph. 94 as a non-oath use). 28 Further evidence that this language was associated early on with the theme, again with ironic inversion of especially the romantic component, is provided by the address to Poverty in Thgn. 3514: , / ; (Ah, miserable poverty, why do you refrain from leaving and going to another man? Dont love too long one unwilling [to be loved by you]) [cf. Hom. Od. 5.155 (an unwilling man with a willing woman)]/ (but go) [cf. Sappho 94.7 (go)] , / (and haunt another door, and dont be a constant partner to this wretched life of mine). Cf. Rau (1967) 172, who recognizes that utterances form a tragic theme. 29 Dated on metrical grounds, as presented in, e.g., Lloyd (1994) 1112.
27 26

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. . . ; ; . . . . My darkening eye grows heavyI am destroyed if you leave me, wife You could call me already goneRaise your face, dont leave your childrenCertainly not willingly; but farewell, childrenLook at them, lookI am nothingWhat are you doing? Do you forsake us? FarewellI am miserably destroyed.

159

Most closely resembling Sapphos language is an openly parodic passage in Aristophanes Eq. 124852 (424 B.C.), where the Paphlagonian speaks at the moment of his defeat, when he must surrender his crown to the Sausage-Seller: 30
, . . , , , , . Alas, the gods doom is accomplished. Roll this poor wretch inside. O garland, you, depart in peace, and I unwillingly leave you behind. Some other will take possession of you, who could not be more of a thief [than I], but might perhaps be luckier.

Has the phrase been introduced here specifically to recall Sappho 94.5? One advocate of this view, Cavallini, claims that the joke is based on the ludicrous contrast in social status and general refinement between the plebeian Paphlagonian crook and the aristocratic ambience of the Sapphic thiasos; more recently, Kugelmeier has based a similar claim on the witty inconcinnity of the manifestly elevated diction of the phrase and the shabbiness of the speaker. 31 Both scholars seem to ignore the immediate context, which is
The fragments of Euripides are cited from Kannicht (2004). Reference is made to the testimonia and fragments as follows: title, if the fragment is placed, + T(estimonium) or fr. number + editors name in parentheses in places where there might be doubt: Bellerophon T 1 Kannicht, e.g., or, Bellerophon fr. 311 Kannicht, or, more compendiously when the context permits, fr. 311; when a page reference is needed it is given in the form Kannicht (2004) 634. 31 Quotes from Cavallini (1986) 478 and Kugelmeier (1996) 15960, respectively; neither shows awareness of the wider tradition. Symptomatic of this approach, by which coincidences of conventionalized language are presented as humorous allusions, is Kugelmeiers further suggestion (15960) about lines 78 of Sappho 94, / (Go in
30

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densely paratragic: 32 of the securely assigned borrowings, 1240 from a few lines before = E. Telephus fr. 700 (identified by the ), while 1249 quotes in modified
peace and have thought of me), which he believes are recalled by Hermes words of farewell to Trygaeus at Pax 719, , (Wight, go in peace and have thought of me): the god thus addresses the vintner, comically enough, as if he were his beloved. But the two major constituents of the utterance (and of its alleged model in Sappho) are standard to the Greek language of departurefrom lovers, friends, guest-friends, acquaintances, business associates, people you dislike but treat with formal correctness, etc.: (1) the combination of the participle of + imperative of or compound is extremely common; Mastronarde (1994) ad loc. calls the instance at E. Ph. 921 ironic and dismissive as in Alc. 813, Supp. 248 ... but the phrase can also be used sincerely, as in El. 1340, cf. Med. 756, i.e., the phrase by itself is neutral; a variant of it is indeed used at the final parting of two famous and influential lovers, Abradatas and Pantheia (X. Cyr. 6.4.10), , , (Have courage, Pantheia, and be of good cheer, and depart now), but there is no reason to posit a reference to Sappho 94 or any other such passage: when lovers part they are condemned to use the same set phraseology as everyone else. For (2) , cf. Eq. 12545 (the slave Demosthenes salutation to the triumphant sausage-seller) , / , (O, hail, glorious victor, and have thought that you proved yourself a real man through me; I ask for only a little from you ...), which resembles the messengers parting words to (the triumphant) Alcmene in E. Heracl. 88890, , , / ... / (O, reverend woman, hail, and have thought of what you earlier told me, that you would free me). Requests to remember (with or without specific object) are stereotypical in farewells, so Sapphos combination is not unique; Nausicaas parting words to Odysseus seem to assume, poignantly, an established norm (Od. 8.4612): , , / ... (Fare thee well, stranger, that you might someday in your own land have thought of me ...). In a different vein, another persons moment of triumph forms a proverbially good opportunity for requesting something of him or her; thus, earlier in the Knights, Aristophanes has Demosthenes (again) say (4957) at the departure of the sausage-seller (again), / , , , / (have thought now to bite, to slander, to devour his combs, to come back only after eating up his wattles). It is similarly conventional to see someone off on a mission with the laying down of the conditions of their successful return ( [with it or on it]), and thus amusing to make the demands exaggerated and grotesque, as here; at the very end of E. IA the chorus bid farewell to Agamemnon (16279), , , / , , / (happily arrive at the Phrygian land, son of Atreus, happily return here with choicest booty from Troy for me). The humor of Pax 719 derives not from allusion to Sappho but from the conventional language used in guestfriendship, as illustrated in X. Cyr. 6.4.10, where a pact instituting xenia is concluded with a formulaic (see Pelliccia (1993) 90 with references); Hermes words to Trygaeus imply not that they are lovers, but that they are now guest-friends, which is funny, charming, and apt. 32 Rau (1967) 189 (cf. 170) says that 122949 as a whole is meant to sound like a Sophoclean oracle-revelation (Orakelenthllung) (but he does not accept the scholiasts guess that 1248

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form the same authors Bellerophon fr. 311, 33 (bring this poor wretch inside). 1251b2, on the other hand, are based on Alc. 17782 (where the nurse quotes Alcestis): 34
, , , . , , . O bed in which I lost my maidenly virginity to this man for whom I die, farewell! For I do not hate you, though you have destroyed me alonefor I die out of reluctance to betray you and my husband. Some other woman will take possession of you, who could not be more right-minded [than I], but might perhaps be luckier.

Amid all this tragic quotation, we must wonder what purpose Aristophanes would think served by bringing in Sappho. Contrasts between a speakers shabbiness and his elevated diction are what paratragedy is all about; they are built-in, part of the scenery, and there is little the Sapphic thiasos can add to the mix: if incongruously exalted diction is the aim, tragic quotes will do the trick. The difficult question is thus not if the Paphlagonians invitus-language parodies Sappho 94, but if it parodies anything specific at all: the possibility that Aristophanes put it in as generic paratragic filler between the real quotes is obvious and real. And that observation raises a different and more serious point: the invitus-language on its own is unremarkable, merely part of the formulaic language of parting. What makes the unwilling departure theme distinctive and
is Sophocles, cf. Mervyn-Jones and Wilson (1969) xiii); he has in mind the OT and Tr. in particular, but as his own discussion shows (1703), the language and themes are tragic rather than distinctively Sophoclean. Scholars have suspected that at least two other lines in the Eq. passage are (unidentified) tragic borrowings: 1244 (= Adesp. F 55 TrGF) and 1253 (F 56 TrGF; Rau (1967) 173 n. 10 follows the scholia in connecting the line to an Aeginetan cult of Zeus Hellanios, but the scholia address only the epithet, not the entire line). 33 On the change from to , see Rau (1967) 1712. 34 Alcestis pathetic words are among the most vivid realizations of the unwilling departure theme; the paratragic speech of the Paphlagonian bathetically applies them to the loss of his crown. Virgil alludes to the Alcestis in several crucial places in book 4; Servius (on A. 4.694 and 703) noted the debt for the cutting of the lock; cf. Drew Griffith (1995) 50 (noting the relevance of Alcestis leave-taking to A. 6.460) with n. 7, and Austin (1955) on 4.648 ff., referring to Heinze; on Dido and Alcestis see also Smith (1993).

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traceable is not its phraseology but its phraseology in context. Any quotes lurking in Eq. 12501 do not come with context provided. The Alcestis survives for us to identify 1251b2 from, and the scholia supply the source for 1249 (as they do for 1251b2 as well). But they are silent on 12501a, which are more fragmented than may at first glance appear: certainly did not originally go together with , since the phrases belong to different roles, spoken respectively to and by the one leaving (as in Sappho 94.5 vs. 78). The certainly identifiable quotations in the passage are from Euripides, who is thus the prime suspect against whose DNA any suspected orphan quotes should first be checked. The Alcestis and Andromache passages have already established that Euripides knew and used invitus-language like Sapphos . Can we find in his remains a suitable context for the Paphlagonians version? This question brings us to the point made earlier, which gets us to the heart of the problem posed by A. 6.460: it is not just the invitus language we are looking for, but that language used in a specific context. The general heading is departure scenes. What we would like to know is, on precisely what terms are the parters parting? What is the relationship between them? Before looking at possible contexts for the hypothesized model of Eq. 12501, it will be helpful to examine the collection of invitus-passages gathered so far against a typology of departure-scenes between friends and lovers, broadly defined. (d) A rough typology of departure The terms on which separate are various. Here are three of the main possibilities: (1) if the separation is imposed by fate or other form of force majeure, there may be no alteration in the intentional stances of those being separated; this can be true even if the separation is final, as when caused by death, and is presumed when the separation is supposed to be temporary: the husband or father, e.g., goes off to war with a hope and expectation on both sides that the relationship will resume and continue on his return. Then there are (2) relationships in which the separation is instititionalized, i.e., or longdistance friendship: the meet, and then part with gift-exchanges and affirmations of continued good relations. Finally, there is (3) the separation moral, physical, or boththat results from the deliberate breaking of : an example of this between is provided by Amasis and Polycrates in Hdt. 3.403, where the Egyptian king, fearing that Polycrates excessive good fortune is a prelude to disaster, sends a messenger to announce the dissolution of the

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friendship (3.43 [sending a messenger to him in Samos he said he was renouncing the friendship]). The salient feature of (3) is that it is rare, for a good reason, as pointed out by Herman: breaking a sacred bond incurs disgrace. 35 Clear examples are accordingly difficult to find: people try to disguise it. A romantic dimension complicates this picture. While genuine erotic examples of departure-terms (1) are common in literature and myth (e.g., Alcestis and Admetus, Odysseus and Penelope, Ceyx and Alcyone), the stories that most attracted the attention of the Hellenistic poets and their Roman successors 36 feature bogus claims to (1), in which a departing lover tries to pass off as an honorable and unavoidable departure what is actually a change in intentional stance (3). A straightforward example is provided by Theseus son Demophoon,37 who on his return from Troy married Phyllis, the smitten daughter of a Thracian king, and then pled a filial obligation to visit his family in Athens; claiming that he would return immediately, he neither returned nor gave the poor woman a second thought once Thrace had disappeared over the horizon. In Ovids account, Phyllis, left in ignorance, rang all the changes on the passions of hope, despair, longing and furious vindictiveness, and, like Oenone, ultimately committed suicide. 38 Sometimes a more sceptical abandonee will insist that a lover blandly proposing a non-hostile separation is a wolf in sheeps clothing, a disguised instance of (3): Euripides Medea is the classic example, and the case is interesting, in that Jason tries to persuade Medea (Med. 54767) that the
Herman (1987) 712. The Roman institution of amicitiam renuntiare, on which see Rogers (1959), responds to a specific injury; Brunt (1988) 370 says inimicitiae, open and avowed, were imprudent and surely rare. Badius renunciation in Livy 25.18 is shocking and barbaric, Crispinus fidelity, echoing Il. 6.2269, to be admired. 36 Della Corte (1969) 313 gives a motif-analysis of the four canonical betrayal narratives of Latin love poetry: Jason and Medea, Theseus and Ariadne, Demophoon and Phyllis, and Aeneas and Dido (the last pair being Ovids addition to the canon: see Gibson (2003) on Ars 2.2942). 37 [Apollod.] Epit. 6.1617; Callimachus treated the story in what was apparently a celebrated piece (Knox (1995) 112), of which only a part-line apostrophe of Demophoon (fr. 556) survives. The story likely postdates the expulsion of the Athenians from Amphipolis in 424; see Della Corte (1969). The major surviving literary treatment is Ovid Ep. 2, on which see the commentary in Knox (1995). 38 In addition to Phyllis in Ep. 2, cf. Simaetha in Theoc. 2 and the speaker of the Grenfell Fragment (pp. 17780 Powell): all three pathetically alternate between Medea- and Dido-style declarations of war (the Grenfell in particular abounds with legalese) and hopes for reunion.
35

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situation is not a (1) but a daringly innovative kind of (2): We wont be living together any more, but we should still be friends, since what I am doing is in your and the familys best interest (Med. 54950 / [a valuable friend to you and my children]): the abandoner offers an opportunity to part as friends, but the abandonee will have nothing of it, and insists that the proposal amounts to a declaration of war. There are several variant cases where a comparable gambit actually works, largely in compliance with what might be suspected to be male fantasies about short-term mistresses: Calypso accepts both that Odysseus prefers Penelope (Od. 5.20910) and (to Hermes) that Zeus orders her to let him go (5.13740); Circe does not object to, much less try to impede his departure (10.4889), and offers helpful guidance. In Apollonius telling, if not Ovids, the pregnant Hypsipyle accepts Jasons departure on the terms in which he presents it and does not declare war on him (1.888909). If we look at our collection of invitus-passages so far, we can say that Paris is an example of a bogus (1) exposed and responded to by Oenone as a (3); Jupiters departure from Alcmene is a bogus (1) that succeeds; and Alcestis is a straightforward case of a bona fide (1) that turns out to be temporary rather than final. The curious revelation comes with Sappho 94: Sappho-schoolmistress interpreters like Wilamowitz saw here a benevolent Sappho consoling a student who was sad about leaving her teacher and Lesbos to go home. 39 A more sexually knowing approach assumed that what was depicted was the end of a love affair. 40 My own heterodox view is that while the other woman may have been Sapphos lover, we should admit the possibility that her departure was brought about not by or not solely by marriage or removal to the mainland, or both, but by her death. 41 That is obviously controversial and may for the moment be left aside;
Wilamowitz (1913) 50. E.g., Snyder (1997) 57. 41 I state the case fully in an in-progress article called The Other Woman in Sappho 94. The main points are these: (1) nothing is known of the addressees location or condition, except that she is departed; Rauk (1989) (cf. Robbins (1990) 11920) argues for a close similarity between Erinnas Lament for Baucis (SH 401) and Sappho 94, with which I concur in general, as I also argue here (following Vox (2000)) that a direct line connects Sapphos poem with the scene between Aeneas and Dido in A. 6; since in Sappho 94 the addressee has the Baucis-role, we should entertain the possibility that she, too, is dead. An obvious objection is that (line 2) ... (she left me bereft) and (lines 78) / (go in peace and have thought of me) seem unsuitable things to say, respectively, of and to someone who is dying. But (2) for the former compare the triple application of the -stem to Alcestis by Admetus in E. Alc. 385 91, quoted above, while for the latter it should be noted that the goal of the bedside consoler of a
40 39

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what is not controversial is that Sapphos speech starts in line 5 with an utterance that unambiguously indicates that the relationship of the two speakers is expected to persist in spite of the separation, of whatever nature it is: that is what means in such contexts. So this is not a break-up along the lines of category (3)that of a Medea and Jason, or a Dido and Aeneas. Sapphos
dying friend is to put him or her in as peaceful state of mind as possible, an object towards which strict observance of makes a major contribution (see Fowler (1999) 16774). Thus, Socrates at the end of the Phaedo chides his friends for weeping and violating (117e). At E. Heracl. 597601 Iolaus speaks to the self-sacrificing daughter of Heracles [Macaria]), on her way to die: , , / , , / . / / , (O, you most conspicuous for courage, know that in life and in death you will be of all women much the most honored. And go in peace; for [i.e., I say that because] I dread to violate with blasphmous utterance the goddess to whom your body is sacrificed, Demeters daughter); cf. E. Hipp. 14379, Artemis parting words to Hippolytus (the last of a series of commands): . But what about ? It is obvious that certain high-powered dead persons can be expected to remember: see A. Ch. 4912; but is it not strange to ask a dying person to do so? Not necessarily; the idea seems to be to make him or her trust that the relationship with the speaker will continue after death; whether this implies actual belief is difficult to ascertain. The key evidence comes (again) from Admetus parting speech to the dying Alcestis (E. Alc. 34854): after promising to have a simulacrum of Alcestis made to comfort his sleep and urging her to visit him in his dreams (3546), he bids his wife to expect him thither and to prepare a home for them both (3634): , , / , (expect me there when I die, and prepare a home to share with me). The consolation lies in the implied continuity of intimacy. (3) The most substantial visible shared feature of Sappho 94 and Erinna SH 401, as far as the latter can be made out, is each speakers extended reminiscence of happier times; this consolatory topic is meant to ease the dying through their demise and the survivors through their loss. But those who believe that Sappho is addressing a former lover, and that 22 explicitly refers to recollected shared sexual enjoyment, object that the sensual implications (if really there) resist inclusion in a ritual threnos (Yatromanolakis (2004) 68, rebutting Rauks suggestion that Sapphos speech exhibits features of lament). This objection derives from a cultural prejudice. We do not talk about sex in such contexts; Greeks apparently did. In Alc. 17584 the slave-woman, reporting Alcestis leave-taking from the house and household, records what the dying woman said to her marriage bed (1757): , / , / (O bed in which I lost my maidenly virginity to this man for whom I die, farewell!). If anyone is in doubt, she is referring to sex. Likewise, Achilles words in Aeschylus Myrmidons fr. 134a6 Radt refer to intercourse with the addressee; this fragment is introduced by Ps.-Luc. (Am. 54) as being spoken when the hero laments the death of Patroclus ( . . . ): / (sacred converse with your thighs). If Sapphos words in 94.1921 do possess sensual implications, the reference could be to sex she and the speaker had together or to the addressees sexual experiences with another, e.g., her husband.

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language represents it as either a (1) or (2), though the state of the remains prevents us from specifying further. We can note some formal differences among our small collection of invituspassages: the two earliest, Archilochus and Sappho, are reports of abandonings that took place in the past; Sappho works in a present tense by way of recollected quotation; her poem is dramatic at a temporal remove. The more recent examples play out in dramatic real-time: in narrative for Virgil and Quintus, onstage for Euripides, Aristophanes and Plautus, and apparently face-to-face for the two Comas. But there is also a tense-divide within this homogeneity. Aristophanes and Plautus show the present tense used by Sapphos departing friend, while the rest use the aorist or perfect, and refer to a departure in the past: the lovers are re-encountering one another after a previous parting, in what I will call an exit-interview. 42 Sappho 94 is a hybrid: it resembles the exit-interview type in recalling a separation that took place in the past, but the recollective direct quotation delivers an invitus-utterance in the present tense. It is unclear how significant the question of tense was for poetic processes of imitation and allusion; the present-tense quoted-from-the-past invitus-verb of Sappho 94 should warn us off simplistic assumptions. The Aeneid, at any rate, offers both temporalities: in Book 4 Aeneas says to Dido (361) Italiam non sponte sequor, which deviates from the unwilling departure type both in speaking of destination rather than place or person left, and in using an adverbial expression that is strikingly non-committal about the speakers subjective state (potentially no more than not on my own initiative). The event and its terrible sequelae belong to the past by the time of the Book 6 exit-interview, in which Aeneas uses cessi (and an emphatic invitus). We will take note of the tense uses as we proceed. (e) The Amphitryon and Euripides Alcmene With these observations in mind, let us return to the inquiry into the hypothetical Euripidean origin for Ar. Eq. 12501. An obvious place to begin is the Plautus passage (also in the present tense): scholars have thought that somewhere in the ancestry of the Amphitryon lies Euripides Alcmene. 43 For the
In the business world an exit-interview is conducted on the way out; in my adaptive use the separation already belongs to the past. The shared significant feature is that both parties to the discussion acknowledge the separation as fact. 43 Apart from (1) the possible identity of subject matter (and paucity of competing versions about which anything substantial is known), the foremost reasons are: (2) Mercury in the prologue (5063) states that a tragedy was the source for the Amphitryon, which he pronounces a tragico42

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suggestion to be plausible: (1) the overall plot of the Alcmene should resemble that of the Amphitryon, i.e., the claim that the older play served, at some remove, as the model for the younger must be credible, and (2), the Alcmene should contain a departure scene. So what is known of the plot of Alcmene? 44 P. Hamb. 118 and 119 comprise fragments of a single papyrus roll containing a selection of Euripidean prologues. 45 The legible remains of column III of 119 (= Alcmene fr. 87b) contain the names Thebes, Taphians (2x) and Amphitryon, and appear to foretell a vow made by a female in connection with her brothers. In the earlier known versions of the Amphitryon story, Alcmene, having fled to Thebes with the hero, says she will marry him, i.e., admit him to her bed, only when and if he avenges the deaths of her brothers at the hands of the Taphians or Teleboians (in the Scutum, both); 46 that the papyrus fragment has to do with the Amphitryon and Alcmene story is thus certain; that it preserves part of the Alcmene prologue specifically is probable. 47
moedia (see n. 71 below), and (3) Rudens 838 show that there was a Latin translation of Euripides play and that audience familiarity with it could be assumed (see n. 51). Stewart (1958), esp. 3614, and Reinhardt (1974) are excellent discussions of Euripidean influence on the Amphitryon (cf. Webster (1953) 94 and Pace (1998) 98); Lefvre (1982) (supplemented in Lefvre (1999)) and Strk (1982) are dogmatic in insisting that the Alcmene was the Amphitryons only literary source; Christenson (2000) 4555 is an intelligent and balanced survey; cf. E. Schmidt (2003). Oniga (2002) 205 denies influence from the Alcmene on the ground that there is no trace of its most famous scene, the thunderstorm, in the Amphitryon. But this is over-precise: the thunderstorm was probably not represented onstage in Euripides play either but reported by messenger speech, which Plautus has replaced with Bromias narrative of a different set of miracles serving the same end, i.e., revelation of the Jovian paternity of Heracles; the clear trace that remains of the Euripidean version is the thunderbolt that strikes Amphitryon after 1052 (the vase paintings cited in n. 50 imply that the thunderbolts that deterred Amphitryon were part of the same storm that extinguished the fire with which he had been threatening Alcmene). It also seems unreasonable to take a hard line in interpreting (i.e., so as to dismiss) the internal evidence for the Alcmenes influence, when the Rudens 83-8 (cf. Am. 912) gives striking external evidence for its Latin versions presence in the poets mind, whatever the chronological relationship of the plays. 44 For the reconstruction, see van Looy in Jouan and van Looy (1998) 11735; Kannicht (2004) 21927; Collard and Cropp (2008) vol. vii 10013. 45 Harder (1985) 13943. The contextual information should have been given explicitly in the source apparatus to Alcmene fr. 87b Kannicht (i.e., in addition to the bare reference vid. ad F 228 a). 46 [Hes.] Sc. 1419 and Pherecyd. F 13b Jacoby/Fowler (= Od. 11.266) and 13c (= D Il. 14.323 van Thiel); cf. [Apollod.] 2.4.5461. 47 But not certain: the future tense in fr. 87b11 is more problematic than is suggested by Kannichts brief note ad loc. ex 13 [ pendens? (cf. van Looy in Jouan and van

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A fragment unambiguously attributed to the Alcmene (fr. 90: ; ) indicates that the (unidentified) addressee has hold of a torch (Where did you find that pine-pitch torch to take hold of?). This has been reasonably connected with the scene depicted on a number of 4th c. South Italian vases on which Alcmene is shown seated either on a pyre or on an altar (as suppliant) next to which a pyre has been built. 48 In three of these, Amphitryon is igniting the pyre with torches; 49 his efforts are thwarted by Zeus thunderbolt and a sudden deluge which douses the fire. 50 The storm is attested for Euripides play by a reference in Plautus Rudens 867. 51 The Amphitryon has a similarly spectacular climax, but most of the spectacle takes place off-stage and is related to the audience (and the dazed Amphitryon) by the slave Bromia in a messenger-speech. What the spectators actually see is only Amphitryons attempt, prior to Bromias appearance, to rush into the palace to punish Alcmene for what he believes to be her infidelity, and his own discomfiting by a thunderbolt; Bromias narrative of the miracles that occurred within the palace (Alcmenes twin birth, Hercules killing the snakes) follows this intervention and is itself succeeded by the concluding appearance of Jupiter ex machina. We may infer from the vase paintings that the Alcmene culminated in a comparably thrilling pyre and thunderbolt scene, with the spectacular effects similarly taking place off-stage and being related by messenger-speech; 52 a
Looy (1998) 125). While it is unexceptionable for a prologue to reveal in advance the main action of the play, recalling a prophecy that foretells an event deep in the (presumed) actions prehistory implies a very roundabout approach on the prologuists part. But such it must be, unless either all our other inferences about the plays action are wrong and it in fact dealt with events preceding Amphitryons expedition against the Teleboians, or the fragment comes from the prologue of a different play. 48 The connection was first made by Engelmann (1900) 52-63; cf. Schan (1926) 2428; Webster (1967) 924; Taplin (2007) 1704; on the proposal of E. A. Schmidt (2003) see n. 73 below. For a survey of the scholarly discussion, see van Looy in Jouan and van Looy (1998) 1214. 49 Trendall, Alcmene, cat. nos. 4, 5, 7. 50 Thunderbolt: Trendall, Amphitryon, cat. nos. 1, 2; rain: ibid. nos. 2, 3, and Alkmene, no. 6. 51 Non ventus fuit, verum Alcumena Euripidi, / ita omnis de tecto deturbavit tegulas (It was not a wind, but the Alcumena of Euripides, so much did it blow the tiles off the roof). Cf. n. 43. 52 It seems to me unlikely that such a scene was enacted on the 5th-century Attic stage, so I incline to the view (cf. van Looy in Jouan and van Looy (1998) 127 with n. 31, and Taplin (2007) 171) that it was reported through a messenger speech. The vase paintings representing the scene make visible precisely what the theatrical production put off-stage, as often (Green (1994) 589). When Collard and Cropp (2008) vol. vii 102 suggest (cf. Taplin (1977) 119) that the flames and

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spouse-reconciling intervention from a god on high, with suitable pronouncements about Heracles future greatness, would conform to Euripidean practice. If we can have some confidence that the Alcmene ended with such a sequence (i.e., similar to that which concludes the Amphitryon), we must still concede that we have virtually no direct evidence for what came before it. We can only fall back on inference, and appeal to generic assumptions such as that all the action took place on a single day and in the same basic locale. There is little more to go by: other accounts of the story (i.e., besides Plautus) 53 mostly have Amphitryon return immediately after Zeus has impregnated Alcmene and impregnate her himself (so that the birth of the mortal son will be synchronized with that of the divine). There is nothing preventing Euripides play from starting just as Plautus does, i.e., with Amphitryons homecoming on the (delayed) morning of the night of Zeus visit. We can conjecture that, if it did, the play proceeded to its climax along similar lines: a welcome home from Alcmene that fell short of the triumphant heros expectations, the consequent emergence of suspicions, the transformation of hopeful love to vindictive hate, and a final determination upon revenge, thwarted in the end by miraculous intervention. This is all guess-work, providing a plausible set-up for the final scene which probably formed the plays climax. 54 For the sake of the argument, however, it will
the storm . . . could have been simulated or imagined, it is worth pondering the likely actual effect (Wecklein cited in Schan (1926) 248 thought it would be comical): the audience is asked to pretend that the visibly unignited pyre before them is in fact first going up in flames, then doused with torrential rains. Would not a good messenger speech be more likely to stir the imagination? Cf. Taplins sensible remarks on the end of [A.] Pr. (e.g., [w]hen there is such extravagant verbal evocation a half-measure seems worse than nothing) at (1977) 2725, and cf. Green (1994) 58: the audience . . . was not without a taste for violence, but it indulged that taste by listening to description of violenceand the description could be far more chilling than any actuality it was possible to present on stage. See also E. Schmidt (2003) 678. 53 See n. 46. The drinking cup so conspicuous in Plautus is already attested on the Chest of Cypselus (Paus. 5.18.3 = Trendall, Alkmene cat. no. 1; Charon of Lampsacus F 2 Jacoby [not in Fowler], with Strk (1982) 2801) and in Pherecyd. F 13b Jacoby/Fowler.Pace (1998) 92 points out that although the account in [Hes.] Sc. does not explicitly say that Zeus came to Alcmene disguised as Amphitryon, it does include the sex-embargo (1418), which implies that she must have recognized him as her husband and questioned him about his success with the Teleboians; this argument may assume that the backstory was more rigorously worked out than it actually was. 54 It is one of the entertaining perversities of the Amphitryon that it blithely ignores the resultant implausibilities and combines multiple plot-premises: Alcmene is already long pregnant by both her husband and Jupiter; this entails that Alcmenes sex-embargo, which according to the Hesiodic Scutum was to remain in effect until the Teleboians were defeated, has been eliminated (or modified); it also should have meant that the night of Jupiters visit did not immediately

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be useful to explore this hypothetical reconstruction further. We want a model for Amphitryon I 3 in which Jupiter takes his leave from Alcmene and utters a version of the invitus line; our hypothesis is that the Alcmene began and ended with essentially the same events as the Amphitryon. Can we posit a departure scene for the Alcmene to parallel Amphitryon I 3? Asking that question may raise a point of difference between tragedy and comedy. As Mastronarde observes, in tragedy, as in epic, the gods who directly communicate with mankind are minor deities or Olympians other than Zeus, while Zeus sits remote, acting through agents. 55 Even if, as is widely assumed, Zeus served as a character in comic burlesque (which I myself doubt), 56 there is no parallel for even a disguised Zeus appearing on stage in the main action of a tragedy. 57 Euripides was a dramatic innovator, so it is not inconceivable that he introduced such an anomaly. But the alternative possibility, i.e., that the Alcmene contained no departure scene, cannot be ruled out. That would mean the Amphitryon introduced a significant (and, in Plautus rendering, memorable) scene absent from its presumed model. But what is the obstacle to believing that? No one believes that Euripides Zeus reappeared and got up to the mischief Jupiter does in the second half of Plautus play, so the fact of innovation by Plautus (or his intermediary source) is already universally accepted. The real question about the departure scene is, Why would a dramatist want it at all? The story-line seems to invite two treatments: (1) arrange that Zeus and
precede the day of Amphitryons return and Hercules birth (pace Prescott (1913) 1518). Some have reconstructed for Euripides a plot that featured both the sex-embargo and Alcmene in an advanced state of pregnancy (Robert (19206) 614, Schan (1926) 246; Webster (1953) 87): it will have been the latter that (emphatically) made it clear to Amphitryon that his bride was no longer a virgin. It is impossible to prove that this was not the version Euripides followed (cf. Reinhardt (1974) 100 n. 28, 101 n. 33 and 113; Strk (1982) 28891). Since a play in which Zeus visit took place many months previous is even less likely to have contained a departure scene between him and Alcmene, I have limited my discussion to the reconstruction in which such a scene is at least possible. A weakness of the pregnancy-scenario is that no ancient account besides Plautus gives evidence for it, and that it would be unusual in terms of dramatic conventions. 55 Mastronarde (2005) 327. 56 See my article Zeus on stage (in preparation) for an examination of the evidence. 57 The only possible exception is Aeschylus Psychostasia, the staging of which is hotly disputed: see Taplin (1977) 4313 and Mastronarde (1998) 288 and (2005) 327. Among those who, unlike Taplin, think Zeus did make an appearance in the play, there is consensus that it occurred in the prologue (divine appearances being generally confined to prologue and exodos). Amphitryon I 3, starting at line 499, is of course situated not in the prologue but well into the plays action.

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Amphitryon exchange places during the night without Alcmenes noticing, 58 and let the truth emerge later, or (2) have Zeus slip out without Alcmenes noticing (or at least without finding his behavior significant: he goes off on a trivial errand, e.g.), 59 and then have the real Amphitryon arrive expecting a heros welcome that is not forthcoming. 60 Adjust (2) to include a formal leave-taking by Zeus, however, and Alcmenes response to the real Amphitryons subsequent (re-)appearance will be not indifference but puzzled astonishment What? Back so soon? 61 The success of the departure scene in Plautus play shows why a comic poet might think this awkwardness worth the price. 62 But what would make a tragedian prefer it? 63
As in the Scutum and Pherecydes (n. 46). The play could have begun with Hermes announcing that his father had just left the side of the sleeping Alcmene and that the real Amphitryon would soon arrive, as per [Apollodorus] and Hyginus (quoted in n. 60). A prologue spoken by Hermes need not imply that Zeus still dallied within, as he does in the Amphitryon. Apollo in the Alcestis prologue and Hermes in the Ion are simply placed on the scene, for no good real-life reasonthe latter playing the role of an inquisitive servant (Lesky (1983) 317, as if thinking of the Amphitryon). On Hermes as a Euripidean prologue-speaker (only in Ion among the surviving plays), see E. Schmidt (2003) 101. 60 As in [Apollod.] 2.4.601 (he did not observe affection in his wifes behavior towards him) and Hyg. Fab. 29 postea cum nuntiaretur ei coniugem adesse, minime curavit, quod iam putabat se coniugem suum vidisse (when her husbands presence was announced to her she took no notice since she thought she had already seen him). 61 So in Am. II 2 Plautus first has Alcmene guess, in asides, that her husband must be testing her (6603), and then challenge him directly: Why do you greet me this way, as if I hadnt just seen you? (6825). In other words, what is a natural reaction in the version of [Apollod.] and Hyg. (coolly taking his presence for granted) must now, because of the departure scene, be artificially motivated. 62 Lefvre (1982), the most outspoken recent advocate of the view that Plautus source was the Alcmene, argued that, like the Jupiter scenes of the third and fourth acts, the departure scene I 3 was Plautus invention, i.e., was not part of the Euripidean original. This conclusion followed from Lefvres previous argument that Plautus chief device for turning the hypothesized tragic original into a tragicomoedia was the comic slave Sosia, a figure alien to tragic drama, and one whose scenes contain most of the plays humor. Jupiters departure is one of the funniest scenes of the play, and Sosia/Mercurys asides contribute much of the amusement. But both he and Amphitryon/Jupiter, Lefvre observes, are playing stock comic roles, the latter that of sycophanta (506), the former his wisecraking parasite (515, 521): Mercury in I 3 is cut from the same cloth as other Plautine slaves; he is a duplicate of Sosia as he appears in II 2 (Lefvre (1982) 267). Lefvres arguments have been severely criticized: see Braun (1991) and, in response to Lefvre (1999), Kruschwitz (2002). 63 If it is correct, as Jouan and van Looy and Kannicht (and I), e.g., believe, that the vow referred to in fr. 87b.1112 (see above) states the condition under which Alcmene will admit
59 58

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Although these points are unprovable, they provide grounds for wondering if the departure scene of the Amphitryon is a foreign intruder into the Alcmene plot line. Our working hypothesis had been that the words / in Ar. Eq. 12501, in a Euripides-dense environment, pointed to a Euripidean referent rather than to e.g. Sappho 94. If the Amphitryon derives from an Alcmene that did not include a departure scene, where did the Amphitryon scene come from (if it was not invented by Plautus or his intermediary source)? Again, Sappho 94 or some other non-dramatic carrier of the unwilling-departure theme cannot be ruled out. 64 Another and perhaps more plausible possibility, however, is that Euripides remained Plautus or the pre-Plautus target and source, but that more than one of his plays was drawn upon and aimed at. 65 The idea that some sort of contaminatio lies in the Amphitryons background is not new. 66 Leo argued that the plots anomalies (the nox longa and Hercules birth on the same day, among others) could be explained on the hypothesis that two comedies had been combined; Prescott proposed that two tragedies had been combined by one (Greek) comic poet. 67 Stewart, followed by Slater, has
Amphitryon to her bed, i.e., that he defeat the Taphians first, and if it is also correct that the fragment comes from the Alcmene, then a central component of Plautus departure scene cannot have derived from Euripides play; for in the Amphitryon Jupiter gives Alcmene the gift of the patera only now, as he leaves her. This violates the logic of the traditional arrangement, inferred for fr. 87b and explicitly stated in Pherecyd. F 13b: the drinking cup, as the concrete evidence that he has met Alcmenes condition, served as his passport through her bedroom door. Plautus, who jettisoned the sex-embargo (which appears in the earliest surviving version, [Hes.] Sc. 1519), and with it the need to meet the conditions for its being lifted, preserved the now superfluous traditional detail only in order to end the departure scene on a ludicrous note: child-like delight having banished her sorrow and care, Alcmene goes off cooing contentedly over her fabulous new accessory (ecastor condignum donum! [By god, a present altogether worthy of me!]). Bribing off grand, tragic emotions is a venerable device of comic bathos: [Trygaeus daughters] drop any real resistance to Tr.s plan once he promises them something to eat (Olson (1998) on Ar. Pax 11921). 64 Traill (2005), pointing to the large number of Attic comedies that take Sappho as their subject, argues that Pl. Mil. 121683 contains a parody of Sappho 31, probably taken over from Plautus Greek source, identified without author at Mil. 86 (Alazon graece huic nomen est comoediae [the comedys name in Greek is Alazon]). 65 On the importance of 5th and 4th century drama in the Hellenistic reception of lyric see further n. 154. 66 For a summary presentation of proposals (up to ca. 1970) for Plautus source(s), see Reinhardt (1974) 11214; cf. Shero (1956) 203-6 with notes. Trnkle (1983) argues for a multiplicity of sources. 67 Leo (1911); Prescott (1913) 15-18. More recently, Galinsky (1966) 2039, 225, following Siewert, has claimed that Sosias battle-narrative in 20361 is based on the messenger speech of

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suggested that the entire second half was modeled on Euripides Bacchae, specifically in the interventions of Jupiter, which, he argues, were patterned after those of Dionysus and meant to be recognized as such. Stewart made this suggestion while maintaining that the main story of the play derived from the Alcmene. Plautus play, or its model, he implies, travestied Euripides somewhat promiscuously: scenes and situations written for Dionysus and Pentheus in the one play were burlesquely reassigned to a plot and characters taken from the other. 68 Most scholars who accept Euripidean, or tragic, influence on the Amphitryon seem also to believe that this influence was indirect, mediated by a comic work that was Plautus immediate source. 69 But naming this source has never risen much above guessing: we have some suggestive titles, but we know little about the works themselves. 70 The theory nonetheless remains compelling for one overriding reason: pre-Menandrian comedy from the late 5th century onward provides abundant evidence for mythological travesties of the kind from which

Euripides Heraclidae (799866). Cf. Oniga (1985) 123 n. 41; Onigas own detailed discussion finds the models in epic; see esp. 1467, 16870, 177208. 68 The multiple scene-parodies of Aristophanes Thesmophoriazusae do not provide a parallel, since each borrowing there is announced as such; Strattis Phoenissae (frr. 46-53 PCG), however, predominantly burlesqued Euripides play of the same name, but opened with a prologue parodying that of his Hypsipyle (fr. 46 PCG); see Hunter (1983) 28, who observes that a similar mixture of the purely comic and the parodic is suggested by the fragments of Eubulus . 69 Exceptions are Lefvre (1982), (1999) and Strk (1982); cf. E. A. Schmidt (2003) 8789. 70 See, e.g., Shero (1956) 200; Reinhardt (1974) 967. Pace (1998) argues for a model in Archippus , tentatively associating the of Archippus fr. 7 with the patera of Am. 535; but in fact nothing is known about the plot and cast of Archippus play (K-A quote Kaibel: de argumento non constat); Paces further speculation that the duals of Archippus fr. 2 may have something to do with the twinning of characters through divine doubles is clever but takes us beyond the evidence. According to the Suda, Archippus won his first victory in the period 415412 (Suda 4115 = Archippus T 1), and thus overlapped chronologically with Euripides. It may be relevant that the Amphitryon is one of only two New Comedy plays for which a plurality of skene doors is not required (the other is Captivi): see Duckworth (1952) 83; the increase in the number of doors from one to two or three is a late-5th or 4th c. innovation; see Taplin (1977) 4401. Oniga (2002) 207, after considering and rejecting Archippus (and also Platos , on which see Christenson (2000) 49) as Plautus model, opts for Philemons , about which virtually nothing is known and which need not even have had anything to do with Alcmene and Amphitryon. On Rhinton, see following note.

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the Amphitryon seems to derive. 71 Euripides, in particular, was a favorite object of such parodic burlesques, 72 and the fashion flourished in Southern Italy. 73 Stewarts proposal that the Amphitryons model combined the story of the Alcmene with plot-features borrowed from the Bacchae has not gone uncriticized: the plots of the Bacchae and the Amphitryon are after all rather different. 74 And yet it is hard to ascribe all the points of contact Stewart details to coincidence: the most compelling of these have to do with the ways divine characters in the plays disguise themselves in order to join the action on stage (not from above it) and on that level interfere with and manipulate the lives of the human characters. As

The procedure for such travesties is succinctly stated in the extract from Platonius I. 53-4 Koster (the subject is the poets of Middle Comedy): (adopting plots that had been used in older comedies, they ridiculed them as badly composed). In the Amphitryon prologue (59) Mercury labels the play tragicomoedia, the first surviving occurrence of that word. Three Greek comic poets are credited with having written plays titled : Dinolochus (5th c.; junior to Epicharmus?) fr. 3 PCG I (questioned by K-A et al.), Alcaeus frr. 19-21 (poet of Old Comedy: Suda 1274 = T 1) and Anaxandrides fr. 26 (1st half 4th c.); to the last is also ascribed a Protesilaus (frr. 41-42), on which see Nesselrath (1990) 214-15. The late 4th/early 3rd Tarentine Phlyax-writer Rhinton is described by Stephanus of Byzantium (Rhinton T 2 PCG I) as turning the stuff of tragedy to comic ends ( ). He composed an Amphitryon, of which one word survives (unless Anon. Dor. fr. 1 is from it; see PCG I 262 and 2912). Rhintons claim to have been Plautus model is perhaps strengthened by (1) his evident interest in parodying Euripides, or at least tracking Euripidean themes (nine titles are known: the already-mentioned Amphitryon, plus Doulomeleager, Heracles, Iphigeneia in Aulis, Iphigeneia in Tauris, Medea, Orestes, and Telephus; the ninth was Iobatas, which is the title of a play by Sophocles); (2) his reputation as the originator of (Suda 171 = Rhinton T 1 PCG I), which is perhaps as plausible a source for Plautus tragicomoedia as (above) is; (3) his South Italian location. For more on Rhinton see Olson (2007) 13-14; on his supposed connection with the phlyax vases see Taplin (1993) 48-52. 72 See preceding note and Nesselrath (1990) 188-241, (1995); Hunter (1983) 20-30. 73 See on Rhinton in n. 71, and cf., e.g., Trendall (1991); Taplin (1993) 989. One of the sources by which the Alcmene has been reconstructed since Engelmann is a mid-4th c. crater from Paestum (see n. 48 above), i.e., precisely the context of the phlyax vases that form Taplins subject (on the painter, Python, see Trendall (1991) 1679). E. A. Schmidt (2003) argues that the iconographic evidence divides into two groups, one based on Euripides tragedy, the other on a burlesque treatment of the Euripidean version. Her case largely depends on the assumption that the recently recovered skyphos from Rocca di Entella depicts Alcmene; see Taplin (2007) 263 for problems with the identification. 74 Oniga (2002) 2045; Christenson (2000) 545; cf. Segal (1987) 174.

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Stewart notes, the Bacchae is the only surviving tragedy to use a god in this way. 75 Current scholarship might save Stewarts proposal by turning it around: was the Bacchae itself influenced by the mythological travesties that seem to have been coming into vogue right at the time Euripides was writing it? 76 It was the mythological travesties of this period and later that brought the gods down to the level of the human action: this is the essence of their comedy, to reduce the divine to the pedestrianly human. One of the chief techniques for doing so is to put divine characters into undignified scenes that tragedy would ordinarily eschew. 77 The Amphitryon I 3 leave-taking of Jupiter from Alcmene is such a scene. Jupiter appears in disguise and tells banal lies in order to secure his release from the woman he has just duped. Can we find a corresponding scene in Euripides one played out between human principals, since our assumption is that the introduction of the supreme god was the comic innovation? We know of another lost Euripidean work that seems to have tied together all the various plot-strands and motifs of the unwilling-departure theme, and probably enacted the unwilling departure itself; to it we can now turn. Protesilaus and Laodamia
Though some of the supernatural events of the Bacchae seem to have had precedent in Aeschylus (e.g., the shaking up of the palace, conjecturally assigned to Edoni as fr. 58 Radt); cf. Dodds (1960) xxxiii. 76 Seidensticker (1978), with the discussion of the Bacchae reproduced in (1982) 11529, argues with specific reference to the Bacchae that Euripides makes extensive use of structural forms, characters, dramatic situations, motifs, themes and story patterns which were already or were soon to become typical elements of comedy (305), and called these features comedy elements. This type of genre-interaction in fact antedates the Bacchae by at least half a century: see Herington (1963); it has been given the name paracomedy by Scharffenberger (1996) (although the term had already been introduced by Sidwell (1993) 378 to refer to comic mimicking of other comic authors). The cross-dressing scene of the Bacchae (91276) in particular has often been compared to that of the earlier Thesmophoriazusae (21368): Dodds (1960) 192; Seidensticker (1978) 317; Zeitlin (1996) 4002 remarked the similarities without suggesting influence (though cf. 401 n. 37), while Muecke (1982) and Blaise (2003) at n. 59 (unpaginated) have argued for direct modeling of the later passage on the earlier, the latter scholar in apparent unawareness of the former. It seems likely that dressing up scenes were identifiably comic, so Bacchae 91276 should be accepted as an example of paracomedy; but they were probably so common that the scenes debt specifically to Th. 21368 cannot be considered proven (cf. Seidensticker loc. cit., and the examples collected by Kirkpatrick and Dunn (2002) 40-1 of comic scenes of the transvestism of Heracles during his servitude to Omphale). 77 See Nesselrath (1995).
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Iliad 2.699702 tell of Protesilaus and his bride:

, . But by then the black earth already held him; his wife was left in Phylace, tearing her cheeks, and his house was left half built. A Dardanian man slew him as he sprang from his ship, far the first of the Achaeans to do so.

This is all Homer has to say about the pair. 78 The story was told in the Cypria too,79 where Protesilaus' wife seems to have been called Polydora, daughter of Meleager, and not Laodamia, daughter of Acastus, as elsewhere. 80 In the Hesiodic Catalogue (fr. 199 M-W/108 Hirschberger), Protesilaus (with a non-Homeric genealogy) is listed as one of Helens suitors. In the fifth century Sophocles is said to have related the story of the heros death in his Poimenes (fr. 497 Radt). Euripides lost play Protesilaus, of uncertain date, 81 seems to have shared a numDo 7001a describe the scene in Phylace at Protesilaus initial departure, or at news of his death? Eustathius reports criticism of Homer that implies the latter (note on Il. 2.7002 = 1.506.1114 van der Valk): , , . , , , , (the order is inverted: his wife was not widowed and his house left unfinished first, and then Protesilaus died, but the other way aroundfirst someone killed him, and then his wife and house suffered their fates). This proceeds as if 7001a were in narrative sequence with 701b2, i.e., it ignores 699, from which 700 might step back in time (contrast the legitimate if captious application of the same complaint in E. Med. 1). would imply Ls widowhood only if it were beyond possibility that the action it designates could be taken by a bride whose husband has only left for war and not yet been killed there, which, despite Il. 11.393, seems unwarranted: Medea at A.R. 3.672 lacerates both her cheeks out of lovesickness ( [she tore both her cheeks]). 79 Arg. 53 f. Bernab; in Wests edition the text has been supplemented with material from [Apollod.] Ep. 3.2830. 80 Paus. 4.2.7 = Cypria fr. 26 Bernab/22 West. 81 Kannicht (2004) 220 tentatively (videntur) follows Cropp and Fick (1985) 90 in assigning the play on metrical grounds to the first 30 years of Euripides career (455425 B.C.). The conclusion is contested by Parker (2007) 123, who believes that the sample size of 91 resolvable feet is too small; it seems to me that Cropp and Ficks defense of their procedure for the Prot. is wellfounded and duly cautious. Parker is wrong to say that the play nearest to Prot. in the category deemed significant, assuming that to mean those with more than ten fragments (Cropp and Fick (1985) 22), is the Auge, with 150 resolvable feet; it would be the Kressai, with 137.
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ber of key themes with his earliest surviving play, the Alcestis of 438 BC, among which the most prominent are: a husbands death, defiance of the underworlds boundaries, and a wifes willingness to die for love of her husband. 82 It is this work which I now put forward as a plausible original context for the husband/wife departure scene in which was spoken the invitus line that served as model (at whatever remove) for both Plautus and Callimachus, and for Virgil after them. 83 (a) Euripides Protesilaus Detailed reconstruction of the play is impossible; 84 surviving fragments reveal little of the plot. Later versions disagree on the details. What follows is an account of what seems the minimum covered in the play. In the interests of brevity I will often refer to the lead characters by the abbreviations P and L. Identified fragments imply the following plot-elements:
(1) Laodamia was a character (Protesilaus fr. 655) and the action was therefore set in Thessaly, presumably either at the couples half-finished married home or at that of Laodamias father. (2) L asserted her refusal to betray a friend, even if lifeless (fr. 655); this refers to the image she made of Protesilaus, 85 either after he departed to Troy or after word of his death there had come home. 86

Alcestis was the daughter of Pelias and brother of Acastus, father of Laodamia (according to the emended text of the sources for E. Protesilaus fr. 647; cf. Hyg. Fab. 103; 104). Luc. Dial. Mort. 28.3 has Protesilaus refer to Alcestis as (my relation, Alcestis). 83 My assumption is that Callimachus and Plautus (and/or their intermediary models) drew upon this original modelex hypothesi, E. Protesilausindependently. 84 Attempts can be found in Welcker (18391841) 4949; Mayer (1885); Schan (1953); Jouan (1966) 31728 (in abbreviated form also in Jouan and van Looy (1993) 56784); Webster (1967) 978; the second, third, and fourth of these provide very thorough assemblages of sources and testimonia, not all of which are cited by Kannicht; see also Jacobson (1974) 1958; Lyne (1998) 2004 (both excellent brief accounts of the evidence); Reeson (2001) 11516. 85 As Welcker (18391841) 498 (cf. Kiessling (1884) viivii, without reference to Welcker) inferred from the context of fr. 655 (= [Dio Chrys.] 37.46, i.e., Favorinus), in which the speaker addresses the Corinthians now-removed statue of himself, saying that he, too (i.e., like Laodamia), will not betray a friend: (I could not betray even a lifeless friend). It might be argued that Laodamias words as Favorinus quotes them would be better spoken in reference to her dead husband himself, to whom she has perhaps been accused (by, e.g., her father) of displaying excessive loyalty (e.g., in refusing to marry another); the later attestations of the simulacrum idea (on which see further n. 107 below), however, in combination with Favorinus introduction of the quotation in reference to a simulacrum also, give Welckers suggestion an edge over this alternative. Gleason (1995) 1820 is a recent discussion of the Favorinus passage.

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(3) P himself appeared on stage in a speaking part (fr. 647). 87 (4) Hermes escorted P somewhere (fr. 646a). 88 (5) L committed suicide (fr. 656). 89

1-4 cohere with what we are told by Aelius Aristides 3.365 and the scholia ad loc. (also found as a scholium to Luc. Char. 1), which Kannicht presents as Protesilaus T ii, here reproduced verbatim:
Arist. Or. 3, 365 (1, 418, 16 Lenz-Behr) , . . . (vid. Eup. fr. 104 K.-A. [PCG 5, 356]) . . . . . . . . . , ubi v R L Ambr. ed. Lenz Mnemosyne IV 21 (1968) 163172 ( U Lucian p. 119, 22 Rabe: neglego pusilla) (:
86 For the full references and discussion of the simulacrum, see n. 107 below: Ovid has L make the effigy before she has heard of Ps death, Eustathius places it between the news of his death and his return from Hades, and Hyg. Fab. 104 after the return visit (though Kannicht follows Mayer in adjusting this complicated sequence away); in [Apollod.] Epit. 3.30 L makes the effigy explicitly after Ps death, but when he returns from Hades she rather inconsistently thinks he has come from Troy. Bettini (1999) 1011 assumes that Ovids timing is his own innovation, and cites predecessors who evince surprise that L should have made the effigy even when she believed P still alive (240 n. 22); but the logic is precisely the same as that followed by Butades daughter in Plinys anecdote, quoted and discussed in n. 107 below, and Menelaus palace, according to A. Ag. 41619, contained shapely statues of Helen that caused her husband erotic torment after her departure. 87 Welcker (18391841) 496 found it incredible that der Schatten conversed with his fatherin-law on the stage. But Darius in A. Pers. and Clytemnestra in Eum. converse with characters of the drama, and Polydorus in E. Hec. addresses the audience (cf. S. fr. 523 Radt); Green (1994) 1718 infers from the iconographical evidence that the raising of a dead hero on stage was an almost traditional motif of the stage by the time Persians was produced (cf. Storey (2003) 1223); cf. Aphthonius Progymn. 11 on (discussed in Storey (2003) 115). Welckers scepticism is therefore unfounded. More important, the resurrected Protesilaus was probably not a ghost in the ordinary sense; he is likelier to have been restored to flesh-and-blood for a day; cf. n. 97. 88 Assuming fr. 646a is spoken by Hermes to Protesilaus, which is not stated in the lemma, but reasonably inferred from (1) T iii a = [Apollod.] Epit. 3.30; T iii b = Hyg., Fab. 103; the Vatican sarcophagus relief, most readily available in Canciani (198197) 558 no. 27 (= T iii c. 2; see n. 95 below), all reporting or representing Hermes as Protesilaus escort to or from Hades; (2) the brusque tone of fr. 646a itself, suitable for a god speaking to a mortal; and (3) the aptness of for designating Hermes function as , especially as depicted on the sarcophagus (see Kannichts note on fr. 646a ad fin.): the urgent physicality of Hermes behavior presumably reflects haste, in consideration of the brief time allotted to Protesilaus for his visit. 89 Assuming that the identification by Gomperz (1912) 1289 of fr. 656 as Ls deliberation over her method of suicide is correct.

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Luc.) ( Luc. : Arist. L, Ambr., ( ) v.). ( Arist. v R, Ambr. : L et Luc.) (: Luc.) , (: Luc.) . ( Arist. v [?] Ambr. : R et Luc. : non iuvat L Lenz) , . Arist. Or. 3.365: Come now, by the godsif, as they say Protesilaus by petitioning the gods below came among the living, or as one of the comic poets wrote . . . , so also these men were resurrected to consort with Plato for a single day . . . On which the scholia say: Protesilaus is a play written by Euripides. He [Euripides] says that he [Protesilaus] married and consorted with his wife for one single day, and then was compelled to accompany the Greeks against Troy, and, having been the first to disembark at Troy, he was killed. And he [Euripides] says that he [Protesilaus] petitioned the gods below, was released for one day and consorted with his wife.

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From this can be extracted the following further details:

(a) Protesilaus was compelled to leave for Troy one day after he married Laodamia. 90 (b) P was the first to disembark at Troy, and was thereupon killed. (c) P asked the underworld powers that he be permitted to rejoin the living. 91 Compelled corresponds to in the scholium to Aelius Aristides (above). The scholiast seems unlikely to have used the verb unless Protesilaus had made some show of reluctance or even resistance, and been brought to heel. 91 According to both Lenz (1968) and Lyne (1998) 203 the final sentence of the Aristides scholium taking the story past Protesilaus death at Troy cannot be certainly referred to Euripides play. I believe that though certainty is impossible, their negative view is less likely than the positive one. The basic principle is that introduces the point of a commentin effect, the solution to the problem (often implicitly) posed. This makes perfect sense for our Aristides scholium. The implicit question is: what do we need to know to understand Aristides reference to Protesilaus? The answer is to be found (the commentator believes) in Euripides play, a plot summary of which he procedes to give. Such summaries typically come in one of two forms: the direct, exemplified by narrative (van Rossum-Steenbeck (1998) 132) tragic hypotheses, in which the story is simply told in indicatives without much if any reference to the author; and the indirect, typical of scholia, which explicitly report (with verbs like and ) the contents of specific versions, as here. As is common in both types, the account here begins with the deeper backgroundi.e., it corresponds to the earlier part of a tragic prologue of a standard type. As also in such prologues, where there typically comes a shift to the more immediate background of the action about to begin (e.g., at E. Ion 52 and Hel. 60, both with ), so in our scholium the specific point of the summary is announced with : like the four Athenian statesmen in Eupolis Demoi, and like the four in Aristides current imagining, so also Protesilaus in Euripides play returned for a day from the dead. The key fact to note is that without the information in this
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(d) He was granted a days leave to do so, and he consorted with L.

At least (a) and (b) are prior to the main action of Euripides play. But if some portion of (d), i.e., Ps departure, and (5), Ls suicide, were depicted in the play (i.e., within the span of one day), then (c) also is background. 92 It appears from this evidence possible that the play began, for example, at the end of the night of Protesilaus visit to the upper world, perhaps with the arrival of Hermes (the speaker of the prologue, relating inter alia items (a)(d)?) to escort him back to Hades (fr. 646a); after the parodos, Protesilaus and Laodamia emerged from the skene, and the former took his leave, perhaps finally at the behest of Hermes (implying a third actor). 93 Much of the remainder then would have dealt with whatever took place after Protesilaus departure up to the immediate aftermath of Laodamias suicide; complications with her father are one possibility (see Eustathius on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.5 van der Valk, quoted below). For the moment, however, it is the fact of the departure that needs to be emphasized. If Protesilaus came on stage as a character of the drama, as it appears he did, he surely also had to leave, to return to Hades: otherwise, why did Laodamia commit suicide? He departed, and his departure caused her unbearable griefthis is just the element we found earlier to be inorganic to the plot of the Alcmene, where a tearful departure scene has no place. By contrast we should consider the plot-elements chosen for the depiction of the Protesilaus story in the principal relief of the Vatican sarcophagus,

final sentence, introduced by , the citation of Euripides loses its purpose: the scholium is a unity. 92 My assumption, shared by most other scholars to discuss the Protesilaus, is that it centered on the resurrection of the title character (see n. 91). Our evidence does not permit us to decide whether the resurrection was Euripides invention. It cannot be clearly established before him; cf. Jacobson (1974) 197, and contrast the (unsupported) confidence of, e.g., Jouan (1966) 330: the very least we can affirm is that this legend [of Protesilaus resurrection] was not invented ab ovo by Euripides; its origin is ancient, and should be sought in the fertile ground of Thessalian myth and cult. It would be helpful to know the chronological relationship of the Protesilaus to Eupolis Demoi; the latters resemblance to other resurrection-plays (though Protesilaus is not mentioned) is discussed in Storey (2003) 1214. 93 If Hermes was also the prologuist, his movements will have resembled those of Orestes (and Pylades) at the beginning of A. Ch.: prologue, departure into hiding (as also for Hermes at E. Ion 7681), and re-entry toward the end of the first episode; see Taplin (1977) 3345.

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comprising six successive scenes from left to right: 94 (1) Ps disembarkation at Troy, (2) his death, (3) his return from Hades with Hermes, (4) the reunion of P and L, standing face-to-face, (5) the moment before the second departure of P, (6) Charon receiving P from Hermes. The first departure, of P to Troy, is not depicted on the front relief: it has been placed on the left-hand side panel, as if it belonged to the prologue. The leave-taking as depicted on the side panel is formal and dignified (L shrouded and seated, P standing before her, their right hands joined). The second departure, in panel (5) of the front relief, on the other hand, is unrestrainedly melodramatic, showing the lovers faces contorted in misery and apparently foretelling the suicide of Laodamia; this forms the emotional crescendo of the sequence as a whole. 95 The relationship of the sarcophagus to
Vatican, Galleria dei Candelabri 2465 = ASR III 3.499500 tab. 132. Photographs in Canciani (198197) Protesilaos cat. no. 27, and Zanker and Ewald (2004) 3767, and, for a close-up of panels (4), (5), and (6), 100. 95 Canciani (198197) 558 describes panel (5) thus: [t]he next scene captures the moment immediately preceding their [second] separation: Laodamia, on the right, reclining on a kline, throws her head back in an attitude of despair; her unpreserved right hand probably held a dagger [i.e., as on the Naples sarcophagus = Canciani cat. no. 26 = ASR III 3.496498 no. 422 tab. 132]; at her feet is seated Protesilaus, in an attitude of affliction, wrapped in his cloak, with his legs crossed and his head resting on his right hand. Behind him there already appears his psyche, hooded over with a cloak. Above Laodamias head is an aedicula holding a theatrical mask (no beard) and a thyrsus; on the ground next to her kline are auloi and tympani. Bettini (1999) 12 claims that the theatrical mask is Ls simulacrum of P, and, with Canciani (above) and Ewald in Zanker and Ewald (2004) 376, believes that the hooded figure represents Ps shade. For Bettini, then, P is represented three times in the same scene (This triangle . . . surely constitutes a profound cultural model . . .); Ewald loc. cit., on the other hand, associates Ls cult of P with the hooded figure behind, identifying it as P. But as Annetta Alexandridis has observed to me, the contours of the hooded figures cloak outline a female breast; furthermore, as many have suggested, Ls missing raised right hand probably held the dagger with which she killed herself, so the hooded female figure is probably her own shade, parallel to that of P, likewise standing behind his human body, in panel (2) (cf. Zanker in Zanker and Ewald (2004) 101: Laodameia liegt wie eine Sterbende). As for the mask, taking it with Bettini to represent Ls simulacrum of P arbitrarily limits the latter to the face, whereas taking it as what it most obviously is, i.e., a theatrical mask, brings it into line with the other Dionysian objects in the frame. As Canciani 560 notes, this same scene (i.e., with the same arrangement of the two human figures), which uniquely for the Vatican sarcophagus contains Dionysiac imagery (cf. the tympanum held by Laodamia in the second main panel of the Naples sarcophagus depicting Ps arrival from Hades: Canciani (198197) cat. no. 26) recurs on two clay pieces (cat. nos. 24 and 25, late 2nd/3rd c.), in the older of which (no. 24, a lamp) both humans have tragic masks, while in the later both have comic masks; Canciani suggests that Anaxandrides Protesilaus is referred to; he connects the Dionysiac objects on the Rome sarcophagus to Philostratus implication that Ls suicide included some sort of Bacchic element (Im. 2.9.5: Pantheia died with her beauty un94

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Euripides play, if any, is unknown, making it impossible to reconstruct the remaining plot details of the latter from the former alone; nonetheless, we can acknowledge that panel (5) of the monument, which corresponds to and resembles the departure scene of Amphitryon I 3, fits the story of P and L far better. 96 Other evidence supports this conclusion. For example, when Protesilaus emerged on his temporary pass from the underworld, was he visibly a ghost, or was he resurrected into flesh? If he and Laodamia spent the night together as husband and wife, as some sources imply, he must have been the latter. 97 But if so,
adorned, (not as the wife of Protesilaus did, crowned with her Bacchic garlands); Philostratus information may derive from a misplaced literal interpretation of a formulation like Evadnes at E. Supp. 1001); for further discussion, see Zanker and Ewald (2004) 101 and 376. 96 The second departure is also given in its own scene on the Naples sarcophagus (n. 95), on the right side panel, showing both P and L standing, with P saluting and L holding a dagger; see Canciani (198197) cat. no. 26; Zanker and Ewald (2004) 101-2. 97 See Felton (1999) ch. 2 and Liapis (2006) 203 with nn. 11 and 12 for discussion (with further references) of the definitional problems posed by ghosts and revenants or embodied ghosts, etc. In Luc. Dial. Mort. 28.3 Persephone has Ps disfigured and wounded ordinary ghost-form removed and his youthful appearance restored. Lyne (1998) 210 says, [a]s Lucians Persephone saw, Protesilaus must return in full human form for the reunion to mean anything, and this is how it must traditionally have been shown, implicitly or explicitly. In Philostratus Heroicus, the emphasizes the physical solidity of Protesilaus: 10.14, and especially 11.2, where, in response to the Phoenicians question , [my reading (for transmitted ), referring to Il. 23.1001; cf. Wecklein on Heroicus 4.1 (changing to . . . ) as quoted in testimony to E. fr. 561 in Kannicht (2004) 587: the choices in both passages are either to emend with Wecklein and me, or to accept a prepositional use of : as per the poets; Grossardt (2006) ad loc takes the received text as does Prot. flee you as he does the poets?; his explications of what this is supposed to mean demonstrate the untenability of that interpretation], he answers emphatically: (Do you embrace him when he comes, or does he flee you in the manner of smoke, as the poets say?He enjoys me embracing him and he allows me to kiss him and feast on his neck). (Servius on A. 6.447 seems confused: Laodamia . . . quae cum maritum in bello Troiano primum perisse cognovisset, optavit ut eius umbram videret: qua re concessa non deserens eam, in eius amplexibus periit [Laodamia . . . who when she learned that her husband was the first to die in the Trojan War, wished to see his shade; when this was granted she wouldnt leave it, and died in its embrace].) Cf. Jouan (1966) 324; Jacobson (1974) 21112; Nesselrath (1990) 215 with n. 106. The belief that the couple engaged in sex, about which Petronius, unsurprisingly, is in no doubt (140.12), may have some obscure connection to the sexcapades Herodotus (7.33; 9.11620) says the Persian governor got up to in

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did Laodamia know he had died at all, or did she think this was her husband come back from Troy, alive and well? And was the truth revealed to her only at his departure, enacted on stage, as in Amphitryon I 3? If the answers to these questions are affirmative, odd details from the Plautine scene come to make sense when transferred here: Amphitryon (at least the real Amphitryon) had no reason to depart, but Protesilaus was on a day-pass and had no option to stay. Jupiters claim in Plautus that he must return to the army is feeble and is treated as such. But if Laodamia did not understand that her husband was, in fact, dead, her first assumption when hearing of his departure would be that he must be rejoining the unfinished campaign against Troy. Consider fr. 18 (Courtney) of Laevius Protesilaodamia:
aut nunc quaepiam alia te illo Asiatico ornatu affluens aut Sardiano aut Lydio fulgens decore et gratia pellicuit? or has some other woman, rich with Asiatic ornamentation, or radiant with Sardian or Lydian beauty and grace, ensnared you?

Laodamia suspects Protesilaus of infidelity, glosses Courtney, echoing previous editors and proposing a soliloquy spoken before Protesilaus return. 98 But what has made her jealous? Simply the fact of her husbands absence on the expedition to Troy? That seems undermotivated. Harmon suggested that these words were
his shrine, on which see Burkert (1983) 2437 (presupposes some kind of custom or at least fantasy of a sacred marriage in the temple of Protesilaos); Bowersock (1994) 11113 points out that Petronius linking of P with Encolpius recovery from sexual impotence reflects his association with resurrection, as depicted in Philostratus Heroicus. Euripides Protesilaus T ii Kannicht (= to Ael. Arist. 3.365), quoted above, says of the resurrected P: (he consorted with his wife). On as a sexual euphemism, see Adams (1982) 177; cf. E. Prot. T iii b = Hyg. Fab. 103: tres horas cum eo collocuta est (she had converse with him for three hours), where it might not be too Petronian to suspect that collocuta est is being used pregnantly. On Laodamias intimacies with her effigy of Protesilaus, see the passages assembled by Reeson (2001) 200. A parallel for the idea of the procreative revenant, combined with an Amphitryonic motif of I-thought-it-was-my-husband cuckoldry, is provided by the story of the conceiving of Demaratus at Hdt. 6.619 (Ariston supplanted in his wifes bed by the revenant hero Astrabacus); on the connection with the Amphitryon story, and for a wide range of international parallels, see Strk (1982) 2847 (who does not mention Protesilaus); cf. Felton (1999) 28. 98 Courtney (1993) 133.

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spoken by Laodamia to Protesilaus on the occasion of his second departure, reconstructing as follows: When he appears, she thinks him to have come from Troy; the first intimation that he must return to the place from whence he came fills her with amazement, for she naturally supposes that he means to go back to Troy. Under this delusion she plies him with indignant, suspicious questions: ... Have I done anything to estrange you, or are your affections engaged over there? Little by little she extorts from the reluctant lips of Protesilaus an explanation [i.e., that he must return to Hades] which transforms her incipient anger to black despair. 99 Harmon rightly points out that his reconstruction, and in particular the detail that Laodamia did not at first apprehend the terms of her husbands return, harmonizes with the account given in the epitome of [Apollodorus] (Epit. 3.30 = Protesilaus T iii a): , . . , (this mans wife, Laodamia, felt passion for him even after his death, and made an idol in close likeness to him and had intercourse with it. The gods took pity on her, and Hermes brought Protesilaus back up from Hades. Laodamia saw him and thought he was there from Troy; at first she was filled with joy, but when he was brought back to Hades she slew herself).100 His argument brings the Amphitryon as close to the Protesilaus as it is reasonable to go. 101 But that the Euripidean play included some sort of departure scene seems inevitable: two fixed points in
Harmon (1912) 189. I think Courtney (1993) 134 misjudges the relative merits of the two hypotheses, i.e., (1) that the fragment was spoken by Laodamia in a soliloquy vs. (2) Harmons suggestion that she spoke the words directly to Protesilaus on learning of his intention to depart. The known story centers on Protesilaus departure, so a departure scene is easy to posit; but to accommodate the speech as a soliloquy we must invent a scene or situation in which Laodamia sings to the scenery, before Protesilaus return, unmotivated accusations of hisor rather, yourinfidelity. This is possible, but it is not clear what advantage the hypothesis confers. It is notable that the two works from which Courtney cites parallels for such suspicions about an absent consort (Prop. 4.3.256 and Ovid Ep.1.75) are both letters, not soliloquies, the latter genre being pragmatically governed by mute-addressee restrictions (i.e., imposed by the expectation of no response; see Pelliccia (1995) 161-78), the former not. 101 There are whole sequences of lines from Amphitryon I 3 that could have been spoken by Protesilaus and Laodamia: 5013, 51214 and 5313 (where you are leaving the same day you came becomes especially pointed).
100 99

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our knowledge of it are that Protesilaus was a character and that Laodamia committed suicide; the necessary bridge between the two is his departure. It is here, in the centrality of the husbands departure, that the Protesilaus story demonstrates its fundamental and essential difference from that of Alcmene/Amphitryon, the action of which turns on the (real) husbands arrival. What both stories strikingly share in common, however, is the one-night visit the heroine receives from an other-worldly lover. This was the detail that presumably caught the eye of the unknown comic poet who originated the departure scene of the Amphitryon. Both Euripidean plays might have begun at approximately the same moment, i.e., the end of the night of the visit. This synchrony will have given the comic poet the idea of combining the two: taking the Alcmene as his basic story line, he grafted onto its the departure scene from the Protesilaus, 102 thereby creating a farcical onstage appearance for Zeus, who was forbidden by convention from appearing in tragedy (and perhaps, until now, even in comedy: Pl. Am. 8896). The human situation of the one play was adapted to bring in the divine initiator of the other, the plot of which featured neither an on-stage Zeus nor, a fortiori, his departure. Thus my speculative reconstruction of how the departure scene I 3 and the invitus-utterance it contains came into the Amphitryon via its potential Greek model. There is, however, no direct evidence that the Protesilaus contained an invitus-line: Ar. Eq. 12501 raises the possibility that Euripides used one, and the Amphitryon points in the direction of the Alcmene or Protesilaus. Still, the closest verbal parallel to the Knights parody remains Sappho. So while, in considering the Protesilaus, we may, like the cat in The Tale of Benjamin Bunny, have a strong sense that something rabbit-like is under the basket, we cannot quite get at it. Our maximal claim is: Eq. 12501 came from the departure scene (inferred) of the Protesilaus, and from there, perhaps by way of an intermediary or two, to both the Amphitryon and Callimachus Coma. But that claim is not sustained by direct

Stewart (1958) 357 locates the influence of the Bacchae primarily in the second half of the Amphitryon, i.e., starting in II 2 at line 633; he speculates (359) that the first half of the play parallels parts of the Alcmene in the same way that the second half parallels the Bacchae. I suspect that the Alcmene is being followed even in II 2. If my earlier argument against a departure scene in the Alcmene is correct, Stewarts analysis of the Amphitryon into an Alcmene-half followed by a Bacchaehalf leaves the departure scene of I 3 an unsourced orphan. Perelli (1984) 3869 stresses that Alcmenes personality in I 3 is very different from that she displays in the second half (il personaggio totalmente cambiato: 388).

102

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b) Protesilaus/Laodamia: a supernatural variant of the unwilling departure theme What the direct evidence does amply attest is a traditional theme of the unwilling departure of a lover. In the Protesilaus/Laodamia variant (for short, P/L) the distinctive feature is that one of the lovers is dead, or in some sense not of this world, and the departure scene is informed by the knowledge of both parties that this ontological gulf divides them. 104 The P/L themes main plot-elements can be laid out schematically as follows:
(i) P and L have one night together as a married couple. (ii) P immediately departs to Troy. (iii) P immediately dies. (iv) P, in Hades, requests and is granted a days return to L. (v) P and L enjoy a second 24 hours together. 105 (vi) P immediately departs to Hades. (vii) L commits suicide.

The story typically contains two other elements that are more like motifs than stages in the plot-sequence:
(a) L, at some point between (i) and (vii), though presumably not during (v), 106 makes an image

For the specific question of the invitus-utterance of Ar. Eq. 12501 and its hypothesized Euripidean original, one small piece of evidence again supports the Protesilaus against the Alcmene: the former is likely to belong to the early part of Euripides career (see n. 81), whereas for the latter Cropp and Fick (1985) 73 suggest that dates as late as 416 . . . or even 410 are slightly favored by the nature of the resolution in fr. 87b.6; this would imply that the Alcmene post-dated the Knights, a possibility which would remove the Alcmene from contention. But Cropp and Fick concede that an early date remains plausible. 104 It tantalizingly follows that the Jupiter and Alcmene scene of the Amphitryon exhibits half of this feature, the other-worldly spouse, but not the shared knowledge. 105 Most sources, including the Aristides and Lucian scholia (= Protesilaus T ii, quoted above), give Protesilaus one days visit from the underworld (so also Stat. Silv. 2.7.1203; Luc. Dial. Mort. 28; Char. 1; Ausonius, as quoted in n. 111); on the implications of in Eust. on Il. 2.701 = 1.507.8 van der Valk, see Radermacher (1916) 99. Hyg. Fab. 103 and 104 (= Protesilaus T iii b) limit the visit to three hours. (Minucius Felix Oct. 11.8 speaks simply of horae; cf. Jouan (1966) 327 n. 5). On the temporal implications of the Naples sarcophagus, see Mayer (1884) 11820. 106 Though Eustathius account quoted in n. 107 has P on his return from Hades discover L embracing the .

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or effigy of P and either lies with it or cultivates it as an object of worship. 107 (b) Sexual insatiety: 108 sexual passion has been tasted but not satisfied, and its intensity persists even after death. 109 L makes a simulacrum of P, and embraces or makes cult of it: Protesilaus T iii a = [Apollod.] Epit. 3.30, (she made an idol in close likeness to him and had intercourse with it), Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.4 van der Valk (arriving back [from Hades] he (Protesilaus) found her embracing an image of him); Ovid Ep. 13.1518 quae referat vultus est mihi cera tuos: / illi blanditias, illi tibi debita verba / dicimus, amplexus accipit illa meos (I have a wax figure that reproduces your face: to it the sweet-nothings, to it I speak the words meant for you, and it receives my embraces) (cf. 11112); Protesilaus T iii b = Hyg. Fab. 104 fecit simulacrum aereum [cereum: Schmidt] simile Protesilai coniugis et in thalamis posuit sub simulatione sacrorum, et eum colere coepit (she made a bronze [wax: Schmidt] idol in likeness of her husband Protesilaus, and set it up in her bedroom in simulation of a cult, and began to worship it). Cf. Apul. Met. 8.7 (Charites cult images of Tlepolemus). This motif may have appeared in Euripides play (see n. 85); it bears a close resemblance to Pliny the Elders story of the first sculpting of a human facial likeness in clay (Nat. 35.151): fingere ex argilla similitudines Butades Sicyonius figulus primus invenit Corinthi filiae opera, quae capta amore iuvenis, abeunte illo peregre, umbram ex facie eius ad lucernam in pariete lineis circumscripsit; quibus pater eius inpressa argilla typum fecit et cum ceteris fictilibus induratum igni proposuit (Butades of Sicyon invented the art of making likenesses in clay, through the agency of his daughter, who had fallen in love with a young man: when he was going abroad she outlined the silhouette a lamp cast on the wall from his face; her father pressed clay into the outline and took a mold, and together with other clay-works he put it into the fire for hardening). For the resemblance of Plinys story to P/L, see Bettini (1999) 914, followed by Steiner (2001) 193 with n. 31 (on Bettinis interpretation of the Vatican sarcophagus, see n. 95). The structural similarities of the two accounts transcend the narrative logic of each: in Pliny the daughter makes an outline of her lovers umbra (a significantly ambiguous word) from which her father takes a clay impression and fires it; the account of Hyg. Fab. 104 quoted above (for the full passage see n. 142) concludes with Ls fathers ordering that the simulacrum be taken from her and incinerated along with its associated cult objects: iussit signum et sacra pyra facta comburi (he ordered that a fire be built and the statue and offerings be burned); this is the pyre that Laodamia hurls herself onto. 108 The word insatiety has been chosen in preference to insatiability, which connotes a morbid dysfunction; what I am talking about is rather a normal, healthy sexual appetite that has been denied, usually via separation, the satisfaction that marriage had promised and begun to deliver. See n. 120 on . 109 L suffers erotic longing for P: Protesilaus T iii a = [Apollod.] Epit. 3.30 (even after his death Laodamia desired him); Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.5 van der Valk (Laodamia burned with desire for Protesilaus even when he was dead). Cf. Catul. 68.834, 1058; Ovid, Ep. 13, esp. 1038 (erotic dreams) and 11522. P too suffers erotic longing for L: Prop. 1.19.78 illic Phylacides iucundae coniugis heros / non potuit caecis immemor esse locis (there in the lightless regions the Phylacian hero could not forget his delightful wife); Luc. Dial. Mort. 28.1 ...
107

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Thus another distinctive feature of P/L lies in a certain repetitiveness 110its use of doublets: the couples real wedding day is repeated in the posthumous visit of Protesilaus, 111 again a single day; Protesilaus departure from Laodamia for Troy, and Laodamias consequent longing and despair, are repeated with his departure to Hades. So the distinctive stages of the plot are (iv), (v) and (vi): a second wedding night, with the difference that one of the spouses has crossed the border between the upper and lower worlds to participate in it. This reunion of parted spouses is followed by a second departure and comprises an exitinterview, which distinguishes the second departure from the first: the words spoken in the second departure differ from any spoken in the first in that both parties know that the departing spouse will not return because he is dead. Stage (vii), the Liebestod of the abandoned heroine, is not unique to P/L, but is also characteristic of it: it makes possible the third and final coupling of the lovers in the underworld. c) Callimachus Coma and the diffusion of the Protesilaus and Laodamia Theme Let us now consider some features of Callimachus Coma in light of this thematic sequence. First, the Comas speech situation is a bit obscure: the lock, now transformed into a constellation, addresses the queen. It is hard not to think of the Woody Allen short film Oedipus Wrecks (from New York Stories), in which a magic trick gone bad causes the heros mother to reappear as a face in the New York sky, kvetching at her son day in and day out, with the entire populace (which takes the development in stride) as witness. The technical problem of how this works is not addressed in Catullus translation any more than it is in

, (desire for my wife torments me exceedingly, lord); Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.5 van der Valk . . . (Protesilaus, even after death desiring his wife . . .); Philostr. Her. 2.9 [Protesilaus] . . . , (he says that he died in Troy on account of Helen, but returned to life in Phthia out of desire for Laodamia) (cf. 11.1: , , , [he loves, stranger, and is loved, and they behave to each other like passionate newlyweds]). 110 Cf. Jacobson (1974) 202 n. 23, documenting the virtual refrain-like recurrence [i.e., in Ep. 13] of words compounded in re-, and meaning or implying return. 111 Ausonius Cupido cruciatus 356 praereptas queritur per inania gaudia noctes / Laudamia duas, vivi functique mariti (Laodamia bewails the two nights spent on joys in vain, one with a living husband, the other with a dead).

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Allens film. 112 But, whatever the specifics, the conversation between the coma and the queen (the second-person pronouns and verbs start at 21), one-sided as it may be, clearly takes place after they have parted company and the lock has been removed to its new celestial home; that is the premise on which the entire utterance is predicated. The curious speech situation of the Coma, I propose, is based on that of the P/L exit-interview: in P/L, we have a posthumous return engagement between lovers; 113 in the Coma, a return engagement between two who had been physically conjoined by other means. If this is right, and
One way of analyzing the arrangement would be to say that the Hellenistic taste for catasterism has been combined with the age-old Greek epitaphic tradition whereby the departed speaks to the living in the first person. The origins of Hellenistic catasterism are obscure. The idea that heroes and other semi-divine figures might become stars is attested for Greece from Homer forward (Orion: Il. 18.488 = Od. 5.274, where makes it clear that the constellation is identified with the hero: Od. 11.572, cf. Pi. N. 2.1012; Pleiades: D Il. 18.486a = Titanomach. 14 Bernab = Il. Pers. 5 West; cf. Hirschberger (2004) 3412; Simon. PMG 555; Pi. loc. cit. supra; Dioscuri: E. Hel. 140; see further Robinson (2006) 1619); cf. CEG 10.6 with Sourvinou-Inwood (1995) 194 n. 342. The idea that catasterism is the normal human fate at death seems to be first attested for Greece in Ar. Pax 8323, with a hint of antecedent popular tradition: , / , ; (then it was not true what they say, that at death we become stars in the sky?) see Olson (1998) ad loc.; Weinstock (1971) 3712 (old oriental belief in the divinity of the stars . . . adopted, by among others, the Pythagoreans); Liapis (2006) 2089. Catasterism enjoys a dramatic leap in popularity in the Hellenistic era, especially in Egypta development not implausibly associated with native traditions. Selden (1998) 3413 illuminatingly connects Callimachus lock to the vast corpus of Egyptian mortuary literature preserved from the Old Kingdom on, . . . in which mortals are regularly represented as rising after death up to the firmament, where the gods and goddesses place their souls among the stars. Newly catasterized, the deceased in these texts characteristically speaks in propria persona from the vault of heaven and, particularly in the case of royal persons, relates his role in helping to ward off Asiatics, the details of his transposition, his new astral location, the unguents with which he has been annointed, and the cult offerings that he is due. The match-up of this inventory with the Coma seems almost too good to be true; a good deal of it was also available from Greek precedents, which Callimachus doubtless also had in mind. Selden later (351) says of the Coma that [n]o Egyptian learning is . . . required for a basic appreciation of the poem, though ... many of its detailsthe link between the Syrian campaign and catasterism, the manner of the Locks translation, his speaking from the starsare bound to appear arbitrary, if not decidedly bizarre. But the last point is exaggerated. Selden himself had previously noted (328) that the firstperson explanation by a dedicated object of how it came to rest (in the same temple the lock was dedicated in!) has a parallel in Callimachus Selenaea epigram (5 Pfeiffer = 14 Gow/Page), and, as noted above, the device is well-established from archaic Greek funerary inscriptions forward; on the Comas possible influence on Hellenistic epitaph, see GVI 1002.3, quoted in the Appendix. 113 Wiederbegegnung, as Zanker in Zanker and Ewald (2004) 99 puts it.
112

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Callimachus did use P/L as his model for at least certain elements in the Coma, we might expect to find in it other elements of P/L as laid out above. Ptolemy clearly, and inevitably, plays the role of the yearned-for departed lover in the poems first 36 lines; the situation is precisely that of P/L (i) and (ii) above: whatever the degree to which lines 11-14 represent an improvement on historical fact, 114 they unambiguously imply that Ptolemy departed for war the day after the wedding night, just as Protesilaus had. 115 Once Ptolemy returns triumphant, the focus shifts to the lock itself: it is the lock, not Ptolemy, who in effect dies, like Protesilaus, or is at least translated to another realm. The uttering of the poem itself constitutes the exit-interview, to be followed, we assume, by some variant of the second departure, the breaking of contact, and the confinement of the lock, or its voice, to the firmament. That the queen should commit suicide in order to be reunited with it is presumably not to be inferred. Of equal interest to its manipulation of the P/L plot sequence is the way in which the Coma introduces (b), the motif of sexual insatiety. Some of the language and themes that start to appear after Ptolemy has been supplanted by the lock as the center of interest are clearly erotic, though the gender roles are hard to work out. Line 51 [] [ (my sibling tresses longed for me, who was newly cut off)/abiunctae paulo ante comae mea fata sorores / lugebant (disjoined [from me] just a little before, my sister locks lamented my fate) seems to depict the lock as a newlywed bride torn away from her mournful younger sisters, 116 maiden-hairs, who, presumably, remain at home missing her. 117 This puts Ptolemy again in the husbands role, but now with the lock as wife, in that it is his advent (356) that causes the removal of the lock from its sibling tresses (3750); but the conceit is not elaborated upon. A few
Quinn (1973) 358. The key phrases are 11 novo . . . hymenaeo (by recent nuptials) and 1314 dulcia nocturnae portans vestigia rixae / quam de virgineis gesserat exuviis (carrying the sweet traces of a nocturnal contest which he had waged over virgin spoils). 116 The identification of the coma as a bride, female and sister to her sorores, is clear in the Latin, where coma is feminine and Catullus consistently uses feminine endings for adjectives referring to the speaker (e.g., invita); in the Greek the text of 51 is defective ([) and Callimachus words for the lock, (8) and (62), are masculine; the question is discussed by, among others, Puelma (1982) 240 n. 57; Gutzwiller (1992) 3745 with n. 43; Koenen (1993) 945; Barchiesi (1997) 214; Acosta-Hughes (2008) 5 and (2010) 689. Vox (2000) seems to me to get closest to the truth. 117 Lugere of those called upon to join in lamenting the loss of a love object, with strong mors/amor interweavings, as in Catul. 3.1.
115 114

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lines later, after the account of the catasterism itself (5268) is complete, the lock returns to the subject of its own emotions, and, here, in one of the segments for which Callimachus version survives, it says the following (758):
[] ] [, , [] , , .

the joy of this does not match the grief I feel that I will never again touch her head, from which I did not get my fill of wifely myrrh, though when she was still a maid I drank much plain.

The comas complaint, which seems to imply that it now conceives its role not as the newlywed bride but as the departed groom, 118 is that it enjoyed only a brief taste of marital pleasures ( ) before it was forever separated, unwillingly, from Berenice, his bride. 119 The eroticism is a function not just of the contrast between [] and , but especially of , which looks back to an old theme most often sounded in bitter irony. 120 The clearest Homeric example is in Il. 11.22147,
Gutzwiller (1992) 3812 and Puelma (1982) 23940 assume that the locks role remains the same throughout, whereas I (like Vox 2000) think it changes: with 3940 it is the abandoner, with 51 the bride torn from her siblings, with 758 the young husband who has not gotten enough. Gutzwillers and Puelmas positions seem to me to force them to ignore contradictory indications; e.g., the Comas invitus-utterance puts the lock not in the role of Sappho, the maiden abandonee in poem 94, but of the abandoning girl Sappho addresses (see further on Gutzwillers interpretation in n. 120). Puelma alternates between describing the lock as an abandoned lover on the model of Ovids letter-writing heroines, and a maiden or even a chambermaid (i.e., on the basis of 778), but does not draw the obvious conclusion, that the representation is wittily varied, along with the topoi out of which it is constructed. 119 This is not to suggest that frustrated or unsated sexual desire was automatically and exclusively associated with the husband; see the passage from Ar. Lys. quoted in n. 120. Catullus attributes such desire specifically to Laodamia in 68.736, 7986; cf. the simile at A.R. 3.65664, with Hunter (1989) ad loc. 120 Some commentators on Catul. 66.758 (e.g., Quinn; Fordyce ad loc.) and Call. (e.g., Putnam (1960) 224; Gutzwiller (1992) 3812; Koenen (1993) 96, 107) assume that implies that the coma never got a taste of the marital myrrh (the textual difficulties of Catul. 66.778 form an insuperable obstacle to discovering if or how Catullus reinterpreted his Callimachean model; cf., e.g., Kroll (1959) ad loc., and Holford-Strevens (1993) 210, arguing that Catullus misconstrued the Greek). The inference from that Callimachus lock was never annointed with post-marital ointments entails that Berenice continued to restrict herself to right through her wedding night and until after Ptolemys
118

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relating the death of the young Antenorid Iphidamas, who encounters Agamemreturn from the Syrian campaign (when she cut off the lock), which seems implausible. (The historical Berenices alleged interest in perfumery as attested in Ath. 15.698a, perhaps extrapolated from the Coma itself, though Selden (1998) 329 accepts it, should not be assumed, with Kroll ad loc., to decide the issue.) Koenen (1993) 1089, following Herter (1971) 68, develops an elaborate theory based on this assumption, but in the relevant topos phrases like (and of Iphidamas, in Il. 11.243, discussed below) need not mean didnt get a taste of at all (false for both Iphidamas ... and for the lock), but didnt have my full enjoyment of, didnt get my moneys worth of. On the latter connotation, cf. . in Il. 11.243, and the -words discussed by Barrett (1964) on E. Hipp. 11445, where the chorus of mothers apostrophizes Hippolytus mother, (you gave birth profitlessly): a scholium glosses, (since she did not get full enjoyment of him), i.e., the pain of her travail has been wasted (Barrett); E. uses the same words of husband and wife at Alc. 412 (see below). Similarly, the D scholia gloss the verb phrase at Il. 17.24 5 ... with , , : he did not have full enjoyment of his youth (i.e., he died young, before his youth was fully run), not he never attained it. The clearest instance of in this sense, which is presumably conditioned by the - prefix, is Ar. Lys. 591, in a passage (58893) in which Lysistrata describes the burdens of war suffered by us women: first, we have sent our sons to serve as hoplites (and we never see them return), and then, , / . , / (at a time we should have fun and enjoy our youth, we sleep alone on account of the campaigning. But leaving our own case aside, I grieve for the young girls, growing into old maids in their bedrooms). There are thus three age-groups: matrons, whose sons are at war; the young married women, who should be copulating to their hearts content ( ... : Euphemisms for sexual fulfilment: Henderson (1987) on 5913) but cannot because their husbands are absent; and the virgins, who will die spinsters because all the eligible men are getting killed. The members of the second group are not chaf[ing] at the[ir] condition of perpetual maidenhood (Gutzwiller (1992) 381 on Coma 758) but at their inability to get their full share () of a pleasure they have had some but not enough of (the principle is stated even more explicitly at Catul. 68.803, quoted in n. 123). So also in funerary inscriptions, e.g., the early 2nd-c. Milesian epigraph SGO 01/20/24 Merkelbach and Stauber (= SEG 17.502 = PHI Miletos 459 = IMilet 738), where (1314) the deceased is made to say [] ... [= her first husband], / (I leave behind a child by Dionysius, who though having married me when I was still a girl did not have full enjoyment of my youthful bloom): he drowned; but obviously a marriage that produced a child was consummated. The ideal marital , per contrarium, is to grow old together, as in the lovely epitaph for the happy-lived man in Carphyllides 1.34 HE (Gow/Page): / (I had full enjoyment of one wife who grew old with me). Admetus son sums up his fathers misfortune (E. Alc. 41213) in the same terms: , / (to no profit, no profit did you marry, and you did not reach old age with her).

UNLOCKING AENEID 6.460 non during the latters aristeia (2257): 121
[i.e., Iphidamas] , [i.e., his grandfather , in Thrace], . but when he attained his glorious prime, [his grandfather] tried to keep him there, and gave him his daughter; but having married her he went straight from the bridal chamber to pursue glory over the Achaeans.

193

The encounter ends when Agamemnon strikes a blow to the younger mans neck and kills him; Iphidamass life is then summed up (2413):
, , , thus he fell on the spot into a brazen sleeppitiful, bringing aid to his townsmen, away from his wooed and wedded wife, the enjoyment of whom he did not see, though he gave for her much dowry.

A T scholium on in 227 says (as also in the case of Protesilaus). 122 On 243 ( ) we are told: (such as in the case of Protesilaus). On 243 ( ) we are told: (such as in the case of Protesilaus). In other words, this is thought of as belonging to the Protesilaus theme. 123 That a great deal of what the dead warrior lost is erotic is emOther Homeric instances of the theme are 13.36382 (not yet married, but with hopes), 42835; 17.357. 122 In Lucians account of Protesilaus return from the dead (Dial. Mort. 28), Persephone orders that he be cleaned up to appear to Laodamia (as he was when he emerged from the bridal chamber), i.e., as he was at the moment of his first departure. 123 Putnam (1960) 2267 points out the relevance of P/L to Catullus Coma generally and to the oils passage of 758 in particular; he has the role of P/L in Catul. 68 especially in mind; cf. Puelma (1982) 2334, who, following Clausen (1970), discusses P/L as part of the same complex, identifying the Berenice of 66 with the Laodamia of 68. The key passage in poem 68 comes at 80 83: Laodamia . . . coniugis ante coacta novi dimittere collum, / quam veniens una atque rursus hiems / noctibus in longis avidum saturasset amorem (Laodamia . . . forced to surrender her new husbands neck before one winter followed by another could have sated her eager desire with their long nights). Catullus in the next line says that had Laodamia had sufficient marital time to satisfy her
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phasized by a gloss of given in a T scholium to in 242: (because in what preceded he spoke of the bridal chamber and sex with his wife). The case for thinking that Callimachus modeled the features of the Coma discussed above on P/L seems reasonably strong: among other P/L features, the themes unique identifiers, the communicative other-worldly spouse and the return engagement comprising an exit-interview between him/her and the other, are present, and these make the invitus-utterance possible: I left you unwillingly then, at the time of the first departure. P/L is unique in affording an opportunity to say such a thing. The Comas exploitation of the exit-interview device points to a solution to a conundrum posed by another work discussed at the beginning of this article. I argued there that Quintus of Smyrnas treatment of Paris death (10.253489), in which the wounded hero is carried back to his betrayed former lover Oenone and cravenly begs for her help, with death for both parties ensuing, had a predecessor in Lycophrons and Parthenius accounts. This romantic tail-piece to the story was unknown to the epic cycle (in which Paris simply died on the battlefield), and Norden and others assumed that it was invented by a Hellenistic poet. P/L might have provided the model on which this tail-piece was constructed. 124 The core sequence of P/L is: husband leaves wife, husband dies, posthumous exit-interview between husband and wife, and suicide of wife. For Paris and Oenone the second and third elements are enacted when Paris is mortally wounded, with only one foot in Hades, as it were; otherwise the sequence is the same. 125 Callimachus Coma testifies to a Hellenistic interest in the (melo-)dramatic possibilities of the exit-interview, and the Paris/Oenone cadenza can now be recognized as another Hellenistic adaptation of the device. Paris might be said to bring the Protesilaus-figure into disrepute, as suggested earlier: he returns to Oenone not because he loves her, but in an
physical desire, she would have been able to bear her husbands loss (posset ut abrupto vivere coniugio [so that she could live in spite of the marriages end]), a refreshingly down to earth view. 124 The argument in the text raises the question if it is legitimate to cite as instances of P/L stories and works that concern persons other than P and L. I assume it is acceptable if there is genetic descent from P/L proper; the examples I think this is true of are all presented in the text, and the reader can judge the likelihood of the implied claim of descent on a case-by-case basis. For further discussion of the theoretical question see n. 151. 125 It deviates from the P/L script in precisely the point on which it resembles that of A. 6: Paris is a faithless beloved, who left his lover without intending or desiring to return. For further brief discussion of this ironizing of P/L see the end of this section.

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opportunistic bid to save his own life, as a result of which Oenone ends hers. I noted that the ironic use of the unwilling-abandonment theme was evident from its earliest appearance, in Archilochus 5 W. The ambivalence this irony exploits is present in P/L itself: the (apparently) non-ironic accounts admit no doubt about the depth and, we must infer, sincerity of Protesilaus love for Laodamia, which sounds commendable, but it does cause her death. Some of the later accounts of P/L make this result intentional, which cannot but seem sinister. Consider this exchange between the and the Phoenician in Philostratus Heroicus (2. 911; the subject is Protesilaus):
.: , , , , . .: , . .: , . He doesnt speak of his own sufferings, stranger, except to say that he died in Troy on account of Helen, and returned to life in Phthia out of desire for Laodamia.And yet he is said to have died after returning to life, and to have persuaded his wife to follow himHe confirms this, but how he returned again afterwards he does not say, though I have long wished to hear it.

Eustathius version, in which Laodamia commits suicide in compliance with Protesilaus request that she not lag behind him, is similar. 126 It is curious that Philostratus version described Protesilaus as regularly returning to earth to tend vines and perform other productive labor, but Laodamia is kept in Hades (11. 8). Philostratus and Eustathius have Protesilaus persuading or urging Laodamia to follow him back to Hades; although telegraphically brief, the accounts do not exclude the possibility that the impulse to make this fatal exhortation was stimulated by the excitement of the visit itself. Lucian, however, makes it all part of a premeditated plan: his Protesilaus uses Laodamia as a bargaining chip in an
Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507 4 van der Valk = Protesilaus T iii a Kannicht: , , (he had asked her not to lag behind him and so she killed herself with a sword).Herodes Atticus inserts Il. 2.701 into an epigram mourning the loss of his wife Regilla (SEG XXIII 121.4); even though the allusion puts Herodes in the Laodamia role, his brother-in-laws allegation that Herodes was Regillas killer (Philostratus VS 555) raises the angel of death question rather emphatically.
126

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effort to induce Pluto to grant him a day-pass to the upper world (Dial. Mort. 28.2): , (I fancy Ill induce her to follow me back here, so in return for one corpse youll soon get two). The gambit pays off. It would be enlightening to know if Euripides Protesilaus contained any momentary or oblique hints of this angel of death theme, since it recurs in Latin poetry. Some scholars have conjectured that a lost Hellenistic treatment of the P/L story was responsible for its popularity with Latin poets. 127 The major known Classical treatments are Laevius Protesilaodamia, Catullus 68, Propertius 1.19 and Ovid Ep.13. 128 The first survives in only a few fragments, the most informative of which was examined earlier, but the poems apparent inclusion in a larger work called Erotopaegnia might be taken to encourage inference back to a Hellenistic Greek model. In view of Catullus central position in our inquiry as a whole, it is certainly significant that he knew and used P/L proper; but poem 68 does not include the supernatural side of the story, i.e., Protesilaus postmortem visit and the exit-interview. Both Propertius and Ovids versions, on the other hand, do, though neither is a straightforward rendition; it is with them that the ontology of the Protesilaus-figure begins to be reconfigured. 129 I assumed above that in Euripides Protesilaus, as in, e.g., Philostratus Heroicus, Protesilaus returned from Hades as a fully corporeal man. But in Ovids poem Laodamia is visited by a specter, an imago, who looks lugubrious but seems not to speak, and who disturbs her. 130 In 1.19.10, Propertius likewise speaks of the visiting ProtesiRohde (1914) 112 with n. 1 and Kroll (1959) on Catul. 68.7088 simply assert that there was a Hellenistic Greek treatment based on Euripides Protesilaus that served as a model for Catullus (and Propertius and Ovid, etc). Lefvre (1991) 31819 follows them and claims that this unknown work was one of those in the capsula that followed Catullus to Verona. 128 On the use of P/L in Catul. 68 and Prop. 1.19, Lyne (1998) is excellent (on the possibility of influence from Laevius fr. 18 on Catul. 68, see, among others, Hinds (1998) 78). On Ovid Ep. 13 see especially the preliminary discussion of Jacobson (1974) at 1958. Reeson (2001) 11416 discusses Ep. 13 also, but some of his judgments are debatable, and some of the intertexts he detects seem bridges to nowhere. 129 On the range of possibilities, see n. 97 above. 130 There is a small piece of indirect evidence to support the notion that Euripides Protesilaus may have at some stage or another (perhaps after his death but before his days resurrection?) visited Laodamia in ghost form: Alc. 3546, where Admetus remarkably urges his dying wife to come visit him as a ghost in order to lift his spirits: / / , (by visiting me in dreams you could cheer me up; for it is enjoyable to see loved ones, even at night, for as long
127

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laus as an umbra and foresees himself in a posthumous role as an imago (11). 131 Ovids conception of this ghost, however, may be indebted to a different play of Euripides. I earlier raised the possibility that Laodamia in the Protesilaus did not know that her returned husband was a dead man resurrected until he told her on departing; Ovids Laodamia believes her husband to be alive, but she clearly has suspicions (her letters end foreshadows her suicide), and the questions the ghost-image raises in her mind contribute to them. 132 The character whose death is announced by its own ghost is a well-defined literary conceit prefigured by the Odyssean Elpenor (11.5180) and given a memorable tragic realization in the figure of Polydorus ghost in the prologue of Euripides Hecuba. 133 The basic idea is that a revenant comes to the upper world to reveal to a loved one the fact of his

as permitted). In the lines immediately preceding (34854) Admetus had proposed the scheme of having a simulacrum of Alcestis made for him to snuggle up with in bed, which scholars have rightly identified as a P/L borrowing (see, e.g., Parker (2007) ad loc.). 131 Jacobson (1974) 21112 makes the ghost in Ep.13 an internal, psychological phenomenon; Reeson (2001) 1715 suggests that while Laodamia thinks it is a dream-vision, Ovid expected readers familiar with the Euripidean version to see that it is the dead Protesilaus ghost. 132 Ep. 13.1078: sed tua cur nobis pallens occurrit imago? / cur venit a labris muta querela tuis? (but why does a pale image of you keep coming before me? why do your lips make mute complaint?). 133 Generally dated to the mid-420s B.C. (with the depiction of Polydorus ghost perhaps indebted to Sophocles Polyxena, esp. in 3644). The close relationship between the Protesilaus and the Hec. in regard to the theme of the revenant is shown in a detail: several versions of P/L make a point of saying that it is the shade of P that asks the underworld powers to let him return to L for a day or three hours: Protesilaus T ii = Ael. Arist. 3.365 . (they say Protesilaus by petitioning the gods below came among the living) (cf. ad loc.: [he petitioned the gods below]); T iii a = Eust. on Il. 2.700-2 = 1.507.23 van der Valk . . . (P. petitioned the powerful below to let him return); Luc. Dial. Mort. 28.23, quoted above, dramatizes the request-making; cf. Char. 1 (just like that famous Thessalian youth I myself sought leave from Hades to jump ship for a day and so returned to the light). In the Hecuba, Polydorus explains his presence in the upper world in the same language (49): (I petitioned the powerful below). This motif is applied to Aeneas visit to the underworld: see A. 6. 1069 unum oro . . . ire ad conspectum cari genitoris et ora / contingat (I ask one thing only . . . to be permitted to see my dear fathers face), 115 ut te supplex peterem ([he begged and commanded] that I petition you as a suppliant).

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death and its manner. 134 The typology was productive. 135 Two later examples are found in the stories of Alcyone and Ceyx in Ovid Met. 11.410748 136 and of

134 Polydorus provides the information that he was murdered by Polymestor (70311). This is accepted by Agamemnon as a sufficient basis on which to hand Polymestor and his sons over to their fiendish and hell-bent enemies. The unhesitating granting of credence is characteristic: Dido has no doubt that the ghost of Sychaeus is giving her sound information, and Aeneas likewise accepts (and passes on) the Creusa-imagos story of her disappearance, though he might be regarded as having a motive for doing so. Contrast a Shakespearean parallel: Hamlet (and with him the audience) remains throughout uncertain as to whether the apparition commanding him to seek revenge upon his Uncle Claudius is really the spirit of his murdered father or, as Hamlet puts it himself, May be the devil, and . . . abuses me to damn me (Marshall (2007) 47); this is framed in Christian, specifically Reformation, terms, as Marshall shows; but Nestors response at Il. 2.801 to the report of Agamemnons vision shows that the veracity of dream-informants could be questioned under the Greek conception as well; cf. Hdt. 7.16. 135 A remarkable and charming instance of an invitus-utterance (with oath) appears in an Augustan or early Imperial poem known as the (Gow (1952a) 1667), telling of Adonis death. Lines 1531 depict the confrontation of Aphrodite with the unwilling killer, a boar: , / . / , / , / ; / ; / / , , / / / / / , / / / / ... (The beast came meekly since he feared Cythera; to him Aphrodite said, Worst of all beasts, did you hurt this thigh? Did you strike my husband? The beast said this: I swear to you, Cythera, by your own self and by these bonds of mine, and by these huntsmen: it was not my wish to strike your fair husband, but I beheld him as if a divine image, and not able to bear the heat of passion I raged to kiss his bare thigh . . .). Especially notable from the P/L point of view is how this situation preserves or even embellishes (while rearranging) P/Ls characteristic ontological incommensurability of principals: dead mortal human, living mortal animal, immortal god. 136 Summary: Ceyx leaves his new bride, much against the will of both, on a sea-voyage, and drowns; ignorant of his death, Alcyone demonstrates an unwholesomely obsessive devotion to him that takes a specifically religious form; at the bidding of Juno, who wants to stop Alcyone from praying to her for the safety of a man already dead, Morpheus takes the shape of Ceyx and announces his own (i.e., Ceyx) death to the sleeping Alcyone (65072); the lovers are reunited in their afterlife as birds. The story was treated in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (frr. 10a.8396, 10d M-W/5.8396 Hirschberger), but without any hint of the visit of Ceyx ghost brought in by Ovid: the couple incurred Zeus displeasure by addressing each other as Zeus and Hera (cf. Apollod. 1.7.52); the anonymous synopsis 10d provides a P/L detail: after their transformation they are described as still in love with each other ( ); the insatiety theme is perhaps hinted at in Met. 11.4713.

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Charite, Tlepolemus and Thrasyllus in Apul. Met. 8.114. 137 In both passages the visit of the husbands ghost (or, in the case of Ceyx, his ghosts double), serving as the functional equivalent of the exit-interview, brings the wifes human life to an end: the next morning Alcyone is transformed into a bird, as Ceyx has been, while Charite takes her revenge on the Pygmalion figure Thrasyllus, and then, in more strictly Laodamian fashion, kills herself on Tlepolemus tomb, with his sword. Both stories may well have been influenced by P/L. 138 (d) P/L in the Aeneid: some conclusions What is curious is how many of these motifs are found in the Aeneid. Polydorus opens Book 3 (2268), in a sequence clearly based on but departing from Euripides version. Other information-bringing revenants are Hector in Book 2 (27097) and Anchises in Book 5 (72245). The truly significant clustering of P/L-like motifs, however, takes place around Aeneas/Creusa/ Sychaeus/Dido: the Polydorus/Hecuba/Polymestor triad of revenant-victim/ relict/murderer is reproduced at 1.34359 by Sychaeus/Dido/Pygmalion (and re-appears in Apuleius as Tlepolemus/Charite/Thrasyllus): Dido is told by Sychaeus imago both of the fact of his death and who the murderer was, i.e., the situation is that of Polydorus. 139 Likewise, Aeneas learns of Creusas translation from the mortal realm from her own maior imago (2.77194, where she is also called simulacrum and umbra; cf. 4.654). 140 Dido, like Laodamia (and later
Summary: shortly after Charite and Tlepolemus are married, Tlepolemus is killed apparently by a boar but in fact by his best friend Thrasyllus, secretly lusting after Charite. Tlepolemus umbra comes to his sleeping widow and tells her the truth (8.8); Charite tricks and entraps Thrasyllus, pokes out his eyes (cf. Hecuba and Polymestor), and kills herself. 138 I am indebted here to Lateiner (2000) and (2003); Protesilaus and Laodamia are discussed on (2003) 225 and esp. 2289. On Apuleius, cf. Nicolini (2000) 614. Protesilaus himself is credited with delivering such a warning in Philostr. Her. 16.34. 139 Williams (1972) on 3.4957 correctly notes that the background information embodied in these lines is given by Aeneas specifically with a view to Dido, and the transition back to the main narrative (56-7) by means of the exclamation against the corrupting power of gold would have special significance for Dido, as Pygmalion had murdered her husband Sychaeus for gold. Sychaeus seems to visit Dido from the underworld also at 4.4601. 140 In other respects the Creusa episode bears a striking resemblance to Virgils treatment of Orpheus and Eurydice at the end of G. 4: see Heurgon (1931) 258-68, who points out that Creusa is made to follow Aeneas out of Troy in conformity to the arrangement decreed for Eurydices departure from the underworld, at a distance behind Orpheus; cf. Mynors (1990) on 4859, 495 9. There is considerable overlap between the Orpheus-Eurydice story and P/L: the traffic of a lover between upper and lower worlds, the at least theoretical possibility of a quasi-exit-interview in
137

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Alcyone and Charite) vows fidelity to her husband and honors his memory in a cult (4.1529, 552). 141 In at least one version of P/L, Laodamia commits suicide by throwing herself onto a pyre on which a simulacrum of the dead Protesilaus is being burned. 142 This is again a motif that Euripides applied to a devoted wife in another play, this one surviving: toward the end of the Suppliants, Evadne throws herself (from the skene) onto the flaming pyre of Capaneus (9891030). 143 Dido kills herself with Aeneas sword on top of a pyre that is represented as Aeneas
Hades (cf. Eurydice parting cry at 4.4948), and the two partings: 4956 en iterum crudelia retro / fata vocant (alas, the cruel fates summon me back once more), and 504 quid faceret? quo se rapta bis coniuge ferret? (what was he to do? where would he go, his wife twice taken from him?). In reconstructing the sources for Plautus Amphitryon I suggested that a hypothesized intermediary comic dramatist took advantage of the plot-similarities of Euripides Alcmene and Protesilaus to segue from one story-line to the other. Similarly, Virgil seems to construct his account of Aeneas/Creusa/Sychaeus/Dido from elements taken from the thematically overlapping stories of P/L, Orpheus and Eurydice, and Admetus and Alcestis. Curiously, literary sources for V[irgil]s account [of Orpheus and Eurydice in the fourth Georgic] are hard to find (Mynors (1990) on 4.453527; cf. Albinus (2000) 105 n. 20; Graf and Johnston (2007) 1724); nonetheless, E. Alc. 35762 makes it clear that the story in some form was established by the mid-5th century. 141 L is/vows to be faithful to P (especially in the face of pressure): Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.5 van der Valk (forced by her father into a second marriage she did not stop loving [P.]) (Radermacher (1916) 1056 believed this sub-plot to be a late intruder into the Laodamia story). Cf. Ovid Met. 11.704 (Alcyone and Ceyx); Apul. Met. 8.89 (Charite, Tlepolemus and Thrasyllus). 142 Hyg. Fab. 104 = Protesilaus T iii b Kannicht: (L. made an image of P. and was seen by a slave embracing and kissing it; to save her further torment her father) iussit signum et sacra pyra facta comburi: quo se Laodamia dolorem non sustinens immisit atque usta est (ordered the statue and offerings be burned up in a fireinto which L., unable to bear her grief, hurled herself, and was consumed). 143 Compare 10067 / (The sweetest death is to die together with dead loved ones) and 10234 [i.e., Capaneus] . . . (I never having betrayed you, who are now dead) with Protesilaus fr. 655 (I could not betray a friend, even if lifeless). Euripides seems to have liked the theme of the combusted bride: in addition to the Suppliants, it figures in the Alcmene, discussed earlier, and is alluded to in Ba. 3, of Semele, whose death by lightning may have featured in Aeschylus eponymous play (see Dodds (1960) xxix) and was certainly known to Pindar (O. 2.256); in Pindar the combusting of Coronis is also told (P. 3.38 44); of these four, three are combusted while pregnant with a god or demi-god to be (Evadne is the exception). Currie (2005) ch. 14, discussing Coronis and Asclepius as instances of the theme of fire and immortality, gathers Greek and non-Greek examples of fire as a mechanism of heroization, but does not mention Alcmene (or Evadne), though Heracles death by fire figures prominently in his argument (36970).

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(4.640), bears the lectus iugalis and is littered with his exuviae (496, 651). 144 Turning to Aeneas encounter with Dido in Book 6, the obvious correspondence with the principle P/L motifs (a day-pass to the other world; the reuniting of lovers, one dead, the other alive; their second parting) must immediately lead us to reassess the nature of the allusion in line 460. We can no longer view it as a terminal reference to Catullus Coma or the Greek original of Callimachus that Catullus translates; rather, it is a window reference through those two works to an entire antecedent tradition: 145
per sidera iuro, per superos et si qua fides tellure sub ima est, invitus, regina, tuo de litore cessi. sed me iussa deum, quae nunc has ire per umbras, per loca senta situ cogunt noctemque profundam, imperiis egere suis; Ill-starred Dido, so it was true, the report that came to me, that you were dead, and sought the end with a sword? Was I, alas, your cause of your death? By the heavenly bodies I swear itby the gods above, and if there is any oath-trust under the deep earth: unwillingly, Queen, did I depart your shore. But the commands of the gods, which even now bid me come through the shades here, through places foul with mould, and bottomless night, drove me then with their imperial dooms;

When we now take line 460 together with 4613 we can see that what is being evokedwith a bit of syntactic tweakingis not so much the Coma as the P/L second departure (per sidera may point briefly up, but 4613 take us emphatically down). The encounter of Dido and Aeneas in the lugentes campi seems to be configured as an inverted by-form of that scene: this time the man is alive and the woman dead. In P/L the dead lover visits the living one in the upper world, whereas here the living lover visits the dead one in the lower. But if on the surface

L kills herself with a sword, according to Eust. on Il. 2.7002 = 1.507.4 van der Valk: (she did herself in with a sword). 145 I adopt, with slight relaxation of his definition, the concept of the window reference from Thomas (1999) 130: it consists of the very close adaptation of a model, noticeably interrupted in order to allow reference back to the source of that model: the intermediate model thus serves as a sort of window onto the ultimate source. As I am using the idea here, A. 6.460 exploits an interpretatively problematic reference to the Coma to open a window onto the larger and superficially less problematic tradition of P/L.

144

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Dido is dead and Aeneas living, from another perspective Dido is a mortal who happens to have died, and Aeneas, and those he represents, is a future immortal. Are there other interpretative gains from this proposed window reference through the two Comas to P/L? The question immediately draws attention to an earlier point in the A. 6 scene, for the P/L theme has already been sounded in the immediately preceding catalogue of Didos companions (4459): Phaedra, Procris, Eriphyle, Evadne, Pasiphae, Laodamia and Caenis. Austin says [t]he group of heroines . . . is strange and disturbing: an incestuous woman, a notorious traitress, a woman of unnatural lust, a bizarre man-woman; Procris, a jealous and suspicious wife (and, in Apollodorus version, immoral); the devoted Evadne, the loving Laodamia. 146 Among these women whom harsh amor destroyed, 147 then, Laodamia and Evadne are distinguished as having gone to death not as punishment or in revenge for a warped, betrayed or forbidden love, but to fulfill a pure one by rejoining their husbands below. But that point raises another question: where is Protesilaus? The whole purpose of Laodamias suicide, and, according to Lucian, of the visit from Protesilaus that instigated it, was to reunite her with her husband; but Protesilaus is nowhere to be seen. Or does that not matter? For until the startling revelation of 4734, neither is Sychaeus to be seen: can we rule it out that Protesilaus is also lurking in the shadows beyond? Aeneas quotation of the Comas invitus line, if it in fact points back to P/L, would complement the mention of Laodamia with a reference to Protesilaus parting words to her and thereby prepare for the appearance of Sychaeus. Parallelism between Laodamia and Dido seems apt, 148 and the hint that there may or may not be something of interest lurking in the shadows does not seem un-Virgilian.
Austin (1977) 1612. 6.442, quos durus amor crudeli tabe peredit: quos, though all those then listed are female, including the transgendered nunc femina Caeneus. Norden (1957) on 442 rejects Servius claim that the masculine includes Sychaeus, on the ground that the latter was not destroyed by durus amor, but somewhat paradoxically goes on to suggest that the formulation has been conditioned by the lovely motif of the reunion of lovers in death, of which Dido and Sychaeus will prove an example. He takes Ovid Met. 11.616 (Orpheus and Eurydice) and Prop. 1.19.711 (Protesilaus and Laodamia) to demonstrate the popularity of the motif in Hellenistic poetry. Cf. Austin (1977) on 6.449; Tatum (1984) 4367; Johnston (1987) 6512. 148 And not without a certain characteristic Virgilian twist: according to a tradition preserved in the A and D scholia to Il. 2.701 and ascribed by Eust. (on Il. 2.701 = 1.508.78 van der Valk) to Palaephatus, the said by Homer loc. cit. to have killed Protesilaus was Aeneas. (The mainstream tradition made Hector the slayer: Cypr. arg. 10 West; S. fr. 497; [Apollod.] Epit. 3.30; Luc. Dial. Mort. 28; Q.S. 1.81617.)
147 146

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There are other correspondences and parallelisms, the workings of which are complicated. Virgil takes advantage of the P/L doubleness remarked upon earlier to interweave a succession of symmetries, and he also splits up motifs and gives them dual allegiances, if not more. 149 He thereby exposes a potentiality implicit in P/L that our fragmentary and reconstructed sources have tended to conceal: since the story-line contains two departures, it not only has two opportunities for making an invitus-utterance but can make invitus-utterances in two tenses: present in reference to the departure at hand, and, during the return visit, past in reference to the previous departure. In fact, there is no reason why both tenses could not be used at once during the second departure: Unwillingly I left you then, and unwillingly I leave you now . . . Virgil himself has given us both: in Book 4 Aeneas took his leave from Dido in the present-tense (361): Italiam non sponte sequor (I do not seek Italy on my own initiative), while the Book 6 exit-interview version modeled on Catullus and Callimachus looks back to that occasion in the perfect (460): invitus . . . cessi. Variation on these possibilities is a feature of the antecedent tradition from as early as we can trace it: Amphitryon 531 puts the present (relinquo) in the second departure, and I have tentatively reconstructed the same for the Protesilaus (i.e., from Ar. Eq. 12501 ... ), though, as noted, it could in theory accommodate both. The past is used to refer to the first departure in E. Andr. 981 ( ), in both Comas (invit(a) ... cessi), and in Q.S. 10.2856 ( ... ) and its hypothesized Hellenistic modelall, like A. 6.460 itself, aiming for some form of reconciliation. But A. 4.361 uses the present tense in the first departure, a modified example of which is provided by E. Alc. 3889 (Admetus: . Alcestis: ). Play upon these possibilities, and thus an awareness of their enjoyable complexity, is suggested already in Sappho 94, in which the present tense usage of the first departure is quoted in direct speech in the course of a later reminiscence, i.e., in a circumstance in which mutatis mutandis we might expect the past tense of the exit-interview and second departure. 150 In Euripides play, Protesilaus second departure is the final one and occasions the suicide of Laodamia; Aeneas first departure, likewise recognized to be final, occasions Didos. I have remarked that the Book 6 encounter mirrors the P/L exit-interview, but further modifications are less susceptible to neat
149 150

Wills (1998) studies the technique of dividing a reference and distributing the elements. On the poems handling of time, see Cairns (cited in n. 26).

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management: Dido has had two husbands, and if we look at the narrative structure formally, as if it were laid out like the panels on the Vatican sarcophagus, we might say that Aeneas in Book 6 comes upon her having reached the last stage of P/L: reunited in Hades with devoted husband #1. Dido, on the other hand, sees faithless husband #2 before her and superimposes the closural pattern of Odysseus underworld encounter with Ajax (Od. 11.54364). Aeneas, ostensibly inhabiting the same scene, seems to think he is back at panel 5 of the sarcophagus, i.e., the exit-interview between living lover and dead; the invitus line comes naturally to his lips, necessarily in the past tense, referring back to the Book 4 occasion when he spoke the corresponding one in the present. The past tense may invoke, via window reference, the speech of Paris to Oenone in the lost Hellenistic poem posited earlier; in his version, Quintus of Smyrna had the dying hero say ... . Paris appeals to Oenone as a potential helper; his cousin Aeneas had used Dido as such, and likewise abandoned her. 151 But can we be satisfied with this? We are inevitably drawn back to our earlier typology of departures: what we might call the characteristic love-elegiac
What are the limits of the P/L theme? This question was raised in n. 124 above, but might be re-invoked on slightly different terms: if Parthenius and Q.S. Paris and Oenone scenes, where the returning husband is not yet even dead but just mortally wounded, can count as P/L variants, what of the Hector and Andromache scene of Il. 6.394496? Hector is not dead or wounded, but he is doomed, and the scene constitutes his final interview with his wife. Christenson (2000) on Am. 499550 called Amphitryon I 3 a parody of epic departure scenes, and cited Hectors departure as a target (n. on 5035). But who would want to suggest that the Hector and Andromache scene owed something to an earlier one between P and L? The topos is simply too common. It is important to remember that the distinctive feature of P/L is not the unwilling departure but the exit-interview between now ontologically incommensurate lovers. This feature, and the whole idea of Ps return from Hades, may have originated with Euripides (see n. 92). The Hector and Andromache scene, like Sappho 94, belongs in the discussion of P/L as a kind of distinguished multi-generational ascendant exhibiting a limited number of shared features. For example, like the P/L exit-interview, the scenes circumstance has been artificially contrived: the absurdity of removing Troys chief warrior from battle to perform messenger errands has often been remarked, and there is no reason known to the principals why they should indulge in an especially melodramatic parting now (instead of having done so that morning, e.g.). The audience knows how the story will turn out and that this departure is different from all their (innumerable) earlier ones. But the characters do not and are not in a position to ask Homer why he has singled out this particular farewell for the full treatment, the mere fact of which would serve to lead an audience that did not know the outcome to predict it. P/L differs on just this point, i.e., by granting the characters the knowledge Hector and Andromache lack: the departing spouse was not simply doomed to die (privileged audience information), but already dead (or, in Paris case, moribund) and known to be so.
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problem is precisely the difficulty of determining whether a departure presented as a good-faith type-(1) temporary separation conceals a type-(3) rejection and break-up. In literary terms, the prominent place occupied by Sappho 94 in the P/L ancestry requires that my earlier reassessment of the nature of the relationship between that poems speaker and her departed friend be brought to bear now on Aeneas words to Dido: I argued then that Sapphos responding to her friends with an injunction to go in peace and remember me ( / ) identified the parting as type-(1), i.e., a good-faith separation on determinedly friendly terms. Her formulation closely resembles that of Nausicaa when bidding farewell to the departing Odysseus: , , ... / (Od. 8.4612). Both of these female speakers are regretful but accepting abandonees, and the two passages show that amidst the irony and double-dealing we find on all sides of the literary tradition, unwilling separations could be managed with sincerity, however pained and rueful, and faced with dignity, tact and grace. The clear correspondence of these parting speeches to Aeneas nec me meminisse pigebit Elissae / dum memor ipse mei (nor will remembrance of Elissa cause me regret, for as long as there remains to me remembrance of myself) from the first leave-taking (4.335 6) emphasizes that the hero was even then falling back on stock utterances that Didos unwillingness to stick to his planned script had rendered brutally inept: she should have said, with Nausicaa, Remember me fondly; nec me meminisse sounds as if that is what she had said, and in their Bk. 6 encounter Aeneas again uses language that would better suit a parting that had proceeded on such comfortably civilized terms. The firmly established fatal associations of unwilling departure add depth and intensity to this dissonance. Virgil continues to sound the motifs death-knell undertones right through to the end of the epic: the (apparent) resolution of the central wrath story is announced by Juno with another ominously clear echo of the conventional phrase (12. 8079): 152
sic dea summisso contra Saturnia vultu: ista quidem quia nota mihi tua, magne, voluntas, Iuppiter, et Turnum et terras invita reliqui . . . with submissive face Saturnia said in reply It was because that wish of yours was known to me, great lord, that I departedunwillinglyfrom both Turnus and the earth . . .

152

I owe my understanding of this passage to Jay Reed.

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Here the mandate of heaven, which drove Aeneas both away from Carthage and down to Hades, and Dido likewise, forces Turnus other-worldly ally, if not lover, to abandon both him and earth for the upper-world; he is dead in 150 lines (Dido took 250). 153 Amid all these other reverberations, the primary allusion of 6.460 invitus, regina, tuo de litore cessi must remain the Coma, a point that returns us to the problem with which we began. If we can now see a purpose to associating Dido and Aeneas and the Book 6 scene with the profoundly emotional pre-Callimachean P/L, 154 what is the special advantage of connecting it all with the frivolous jeu desprit of the Ptolemaic Coma of Callimachus? Bringing in that facetious poem, I suggested earlier, was too high a price to pay to work references to Ptolemy/Berenice/Caesar/Cleopatra/Antony into Dido and Aeneas encounter. But what if Virgil did not want to invoke only the nexus of Ptolemy et
In finishing him off Aeneas once again locates responsibility elsewhere (12.9489): Pallas te hoc vulnere, Pallas immolat et poenam scelerato ex sanguine sumit (It is Pallas who, with this wound, sacrifices you, Pallas who exacts compensation from your criminal blood). This topos (Lys. 1.26 , , . . . [I said It is not I who will kill you, but the law of the city, which you transgressed, deeming it less important than your own pleasures . . .]; Ar. Ec. 1055 6; Rhet. ad Alex. 36.44; cf. A. Ch. 923) is related to the unwilling departure theme, as Virgil would have perceived from E. Ba. 4412 (spoken by the guard leading the docile and compliant Lydian stranger to Pentheus): , / , . . . (I said with shame Stranger, I do not arrest you willingly, rather, it is Pentheus, who sent me under orders . . .). The self-serving hoc voluerunt (They wanted this) credited to Caesar post-battle at Pharsalus (Suet. Jul. 30.4) also belongs in this group. 154 Though we must allow for certain possible Callimachean complications here also: my chief claims are that Euripides Protesilaus contained an unwilling departure scene and that the invitus-utterance of the Paphlagonian at Eq. 14501 quotes or parodies it. I suspect that Callimachus had not just the former but the latter also in mind when he gave his own coma a corresponding invitus line, for it will not have escaped his notice that what the Paphlagonian was bidding farewell to was an adornment of his head. The subject of Acosta-Hughes (2010) is the debt of Hellenistic poets to archaic Greek lyric, especially Sappho. The contribution of dramatic intermediaries to this dynamic is crucially important. Acosta-Hughes general index has no entry for Euripides, while the index locorum lists 4 brief passages, all treated in footnotes; and yet from the time of Euripides death to the end of antiquity, Greco-Roman culture was utterly saturated with his works, not just through the incessant reperformance of the plays themselves, but from the copytexts with which the most ordinary school-children learned how to write (see Cribiore (2001) 197201) to the scenes represented in the mosaics on which the rich walked in their villas (see, e.g., DAlfonso (2006) 717; cf. Slater and Cropp (2009)). Aristophanes appearances in AcostaHughes book are on the same small scale as those of Euripides; and yet it is probable that the inventors of Hellenistic allusion based their creation on the parodic techniques of comic poets.
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al. but that of Callimachus/Catullus, too? That is, what if he wanted to bring in precisely the literary context whose intrusion was found so troublesome to begin with, i.e., the lighthearted Coma itself? 155 Catullus died probably no later than 54 B.C. Within half a dozen years the civil war had broken out, Caesar had defeated Pompey at Pharsalus and followed him to Egypt, and had thereupon become entangled in local issues that led to his being cut off for several months in Alexandria, where he took up with Cleopatra. Eventually he was relieved and went off to look after other military business in the East, leaving Cleopatra pregnant with his son. Caesar was a cultured and clever if wicked man, with strong literary interests and accomplishments. He also had a personal relationship with Catullus and his family, attested by Suetonius. As we know from the poems, Catullus insulted the older man a number of times; Caesar felt these insults had damaged his reputation, but, Suetonius tells us, when Catullus apologized, Caesar invited him to dinner and continued dining with the poets father, presumably in Verona. 156 This raises a tantalizing question: Did Caesar know the poets translation of Callimachus Coma? It is certainly possible, even likely, since this was a small world. At any rate, a few years after Catullus death, Caesar found himself in Egypt departing for war from his new wife, Cleopatra, the lineal descendant and successor of the Ptolemy and Berenice of Callimachus and Catullus poems. Was the couple aware of the historical and literary background, or of the parallelism between their situation and that of Ptolemy and Berenice as related in the poems? Cleopatra for her part is supposed to have been a docta puella and brilliant conversationalist. 157 Would she have enjoyed identifying herself and Caesar with the royal couple of Callimachus poem? For all we know, generations of Ptolemaic queens could have been regularly cueing their departing husbands to quote Callimachus unwillingly, my queen, . . . line to them. At any rate, regardless of whatever literary allusions were made upon their parting, our sources report that Caesar left Cleopatra to go to Syria 158likewise Ptolemys destination two centuries before. 159 These undoubted convergences suggest that
Lighthearted: Drew Griffith (1995) 47. Jul. 73. 157 See Plut. Ant. 27.35 on the charm of her conversation and her linguistic skill, and Philostratus VS 486 for her enjoyment of philology. 158 Bell. Alex. 33 and 65; Suet. Iul. 35.2; Appian B Civ. 2.91; Cass. Dio 42.45.1. 159 The formulation found in one of these sources raises the possibility that somebody, at some point, may have connected the dots linking Caesar and Cleopatra to Callimachus and
156 155

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(at least part of) Virgils reason for evoking Catullus Coma was that he saw the poem itself to be part of the reality to which he was referringbecause it, along with its Callimachean original, provided the framework under which first Caesar and Cleopatra, and then Cleopatra and Antony, were perceived to play out the roles in which they cast themselves on the stage of Roman history, as contemporary reincarnations of Ptolemy and Berenice. That set of parallelisms might have appealed to the principals also, though all this remains a matter of speculation. To Virgil, on the other hand, the relevance of the Coma must have been clear and mention of it hard to resist: if Caesar toyed with the conceit of himself as Ptolemy going off to war from his latter-day Berenice, he certainly did not see himself as the lock as well. But Virgil, writing in the 20s, knew that Caesar, like the lock, had been translated into the heavens: 160 the Iulium Sidus. 161 History had thus arranged to combine two of the lovers depicted
Catullus Ptolemy and Berenice: Cass. Dio 42.45.1 says, [i.e., Cleopatra], , (she would have kept him in Egypt longer, or would have set sail with him immediately for Rome, unless Pharnaces had not drawn Caesar there, against his will, and prevented him from hastening to Italy). But this may be coincidence; is a Lieblingswort of the authors (ca. 200 instances). The language Suetonius uses to report Titus dismissal of his lover Berenice suggests that the theme may have become formulaically associated with the name (Tit. 7): Berenicen statim ab urbe dimisit invitus invitam (he unwillingly sent Berenice unwillingly from the city). 160 Williams (2003) 12 notes that Virgils reference to the Iulium sidus at A. 8.58891 alludes to Coma 556. 161 The phrase sidus Iulium, as it typically appears in the scholarly literature, seems to be taken from Horace Carm. 1.12.47 micat inter omnis / Iulium sidus velut inter ignis / luna minores (the Julian star shines among all like the moon among lesser fires), the order of which it inverts, perhaps misleadingly: Horaces phrase (which assimilates the comet of 44 to Augustus: see Nisbet/Hubbard (1970) ad loc.; Weinstock (1971) 3789; Ramsey and Licht (1997) 173 n. 24) may exploit a word-play available in a variant reading of Il. 11.623 (simile for Hector), / (just as out from clouds shines forth the deadly star in brillance), the final diphthong of forming a glide before : ioulios aster. This must be triangulated with the other reading (preferred by West) (as in Call. fr. 177.6 = SH 259.6 and A.R. 4.1630; cf. Rengakos (1994) 61), star that bids the shepherd fold (LSJ), i.e., the heavenly body associated with the Aeneadum genetrix, our Venus (the identification at least as early as Arist. Metaph. 1073b302; cf. Pl. Epin. 987b24): Berenice dedicated her lock in a temple of Arsinoe Aphrodite Zephyritis (references as in n. 7 above, to which add West (1985) for a further possibility, rejected by Koenen (1993) 90 n. 151) and, by the most likely reconstruction of Call. fr. 110.556, Zephyr delivered the lock to the lap of Cypris (i.e., the sea: Koenen (1993) 1001), while the Iulium sidus appeared during Octavians celebration of the ludi

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in Catullus poem, Ptolemy departing for Syria and the coma for the heavens, in the single extraordinary figure of Caesar. By means of the allusion to Catullus, Virgil placed Caesar prominently among the many we must think of as we observe Dido and Aeneas in the lugentes campi. One lover from each of three pairs becomes a Greco-Roman hero or god, in each case the male: Protesilaus, not Laodamia; Aeneas (1.25760; cf. 12.7945), not Dido; Caesar, not Cleopatra. I earlier suggested a parallelism between Laodamia and Dido; by implication it extends to Cleopatra as well. 162 Cornell University, hnp1@cornell.edu HAYDEN PELLICCIA

Appendix: Greek unwilling(ly) (see n. 9) 163 What word(s) did Callimachus use to mean unwillingly? Until a papyrus or some other source delivers hard evidence, we cannot know. Catullus Latin is not a reliable guide to Callimachus Greek, 164 but what follows is based almost entirely on it; caveat lector. Catullus wrote invita, o regina, tuo de vertice cessi / invita: adiuro teque tuumque caput (unwillingly, O Queen, I departed your head, unwillingly: I swear by you and your head). What strike me as the most obvious questions to ask about the linguistic relationship of Callimachus original to Catullus version are: (1) verse initial? (2) asyndeton? (3) invitus-word repeated verbatim in next line? (3a)
Veneris Genetricis (Augustus Vit. fr. 6 Malcovati; Pliny Nat. 2.934; on the identification of the games see Ramsey and Licht 1997).On the sidus in general, see Weinstock (1971) 37084 and, above all, Ramsey and Licht (1997), who provide an exhaustive discussion of the astronomical and historical evidence, conveniently gathering all the sources in an appendix (15877), including an inventory of literary allusions (1727); on its appearances in Virgil, see Williams (2003). In addition to A. 8.58891 cited in the preceding note, Ecl. 5.47 is an especially important passage; for the identification of Daphnis with Caesar, see Coleman (1977) 1734 and Nisbet (1995) 320. Thomas (1988) on G. 1.32 points out that novum . . . sidus, referring to Octavian, recalls Catul. 66.64 sidus . . . novum, the coma; cf. Call. Coma 64, with Vitellis supplement. 162 For the points made in this paragraph, see especially Nadeau (1982), whose line of attack is the use of caesaries (e.g., Catul. 66. 8) to evoke Caesar. Cf. Skulsky (1985) 4512. It cannot be an accident that Aeneas underworld oath of 6.458 begins per sidera. For the parallelism between Dido and Cleopatra, see, e.g., Pelling (1988) 1718. 163 In this discussion the symbol # to the left indicates line-beginning, to the right, line-end. 164 For a pungent brief history of over-confident reconstructions of Callimachus from Catullus, see Bing (1997). For a warning about this specific word, see Barchiesi (1997) 214, endorsed by Vox (2000) 178.

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repetition through different invitus-word in next line? Other questions bear more on Callimachus poetic practice than Catullus interpretation of it, among which the most important concerns generic affiliation: was Callimachus choice of expression generically faithful to earlier elegy, or did it interestingly deviate? The most common Greek expressions for unwilling(ly) are , negated , and, much less frequently, negated . 165 In the archaic and classical periods the distribution of these words and their variant forms follow clear generic/metrical patterns: epic uses both and (and apparently admits contracted - in a specific phrase, of horses: #); 166 it provides no instance of these expressions in verseinitial position: cannot open a dactylic line, can but is confined in epic to the one post-caesural formula (there is an exception in the Hymns, to be discussed below). The absence from epic of # , on the other hand, is perhaps coincidental; it is found in early elegy (Solon 13.13; cf. 13.8; Thgn. 1279), which basically tracks epic practice. In lyric we find instances of but not , 167 a few problematic instances of negated and negated , 168 but none of negated . For fifth-century drama the voluminous evidence presents a complicated picture. As a general rule tragedy uses rather than , while Old Comedy does essentially the reverse. 169 But although is used often by Euripides, and so may be legitimately called tragic (see below), apart from Ar. V. 720 and Ec. 182, occurs in comedy only in the quotation of

Although semantic distinctions can be drawn among them (see, e.g., Maschke (1979) and Rickert (1989)), these words are used in unwilling departure contexts without demonstrably significant differences in meaning. 166 See West (1998) xxix; cf. Richardson (1979) 278 with n. 1. Threatte's Grammar of Attic Inscriptions does not seem to discuss the Attic contraction, in spite of its conspicuous appearance in IG i3.104.17. 167 Simon. PMG 541.8; Pi. O. 10.29; N. 4.21; fr. 169.52, Bacch. 17.44; ?fr. 66 (= PMG 924).14; in dactylic contexts: Sappho 94.5 (most Homeric instances take this metrical shape, uu-u); Ibycus 287.7. 168 The Lesbian form is , which makes Sappho 1.24 intractable; Pindar and Bacchylides use both and . Negated occurs at Pindar Pae. 7b.43, like Sappho loc. cit. an erotic context; negated is restored at Bacch. fr. 20A.20 169 See Gomme and Sandbach (1973) on Men. Dys. 269.

165

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Archilochus 5 in Pax 1299 and the butchering of E. Hipp. 612 at Ra. 101. 170 Neither (very common) 171 nor (ca. 30x in tragedy, rare in comedy) can stand at the beginning of a trimeter (although both could begin a tetrameter, neither is found there, except at Epich. fr. 100.3), and despite Euripides fondness for the former, neither is common in drama as a whole. , on the other hand, is very common in both tragic and comic trimeters, 172 and is verse-initial at S. OC 987; frs. 665; 929.4; E. Hipp. 1433; IA 1456; Trag. Adesp. 73 TrGF = Ar. fr. 602.1; cf. [A.] PV 19, 671; Ar. V. 1002; Pl. 781; Dionys. Com fr. 1.3; Antiph. fr. 86.4; Men. Sam. 24. Do we have any hope of recovering what Callimachus views on all this might have been? Realistically, no; but if, for the sake of speculation, we posit that Catullus translation was more or less maximally faithful on questions (1)-(3a) above, with (3) representing the more and (3a) the less, and, further, take it on faith that Callimachus 110.40 actually belongs to the Coma and in that place, we can make some educated guesses. First we should deal with a serious source of difficulty, the consequences of die Kreuzung der Gattungen: Timocreon 10 W, from the early 5th century, comprises a dactylic hexameter followed by a trochaic tetrameter, apparently in sarcastic imitation of a Simonidean predecessor (17 W):
. 2 cod.: West Cean nonsense came to me refusing; To me refusing Cean nonsense came.

Wests emendation is far better than Bergks, which put at line 1 fin. and 2 init. With West the hexameter has the epic/elegiac , the tetrameter what either already is or shortly will become the characteristic tragic , known in negated form from Euripides. We must suppose that Callimachus was aware of whatever genre-restrictions conditioned the general
Dover (1993) ad loc. calls the resolutions characteristically comic, but the associations of are not clearly comic or (para)tragic but epic/elegiac. 171 Rarely in comedy: Eriphus fr. 1. 3 PCG; Men. fr. 106. 5; Com.Adesp. fr. 1000. 29. 172 is not tragic: only at A. Supp. 39 (cf. S. Tr. 1263), on which see Friis Johansen and Whittle (1980) ad loc., who believe it to be authentic.
170

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distribution of these forms, and was better informed about them than we can hope to be. Wests text of Timocreon locates play with them as early as the first quarter of the fifth century. Callimachus also had an interest in textual oddities; he will have noted h Cer. 413 (of quasi-erotic compulsion: Persephone says of Hades he forcibly compelled me against my will to eat the seeds), which removed the contracted form from the only context in which Homer allows it, and even more surprisingly put it at the beginning of the line. The poem, which must have been the object of intensive study for Callimachus, manifests an interest in the invitus semantics: when the disguised goddess tells her Cretan tale to the princesses, she says (124) , (I went not by my will, but by force unwillingly compelled), on which Richardson (1979) ad loc. notes the fourfold repetition of the notion against my will, by force (cf. line 72 #, again of rape; the contracted form occurs also at 379, in the normal epic equine formula). Callimachus put three instances of into his own hymn to Athena, twice before the caesura of the pentameter (52, 78), and once (with ) before that of the hexameter (113), all referring to the act of unwitting(ly) (Bulloch) seeing the goddess naked; these are the only attested occurrences of the combination (a crucial phrase: Bulloch (1985) on 113) in Callimachus works. Otherwise, extant Callimachus has no example of either negated or , and only one each of (SH 257. 4 # ) and (Epig. 42. 2 # : Meineke emended to , to which Pfeiffer responded at fort. voluit poeta), neither verse-initial. All of this puts us in a quandary: none of our corpus of Greek invitus-passages has a verse-initial invitus word; neither has Callimachus; Catullus Coma and Virgils echo, on the other hand, do have one, the former twice. But since Catullus had an independent fondness for epanalepsis, he might have departed from Callimachus to introduce the figure here. 173 Might Callimachus have broken ranks with his own practice and used a verse-initial invitus word in the Coma? The part-pentameter Pfeiffer
Wills (1996) ch. 4. Within the Coma itself Catullus translates 75-6 / (as much as I grieve that I will never touch her head again) with quam me afore semper, / afore me a dominae vertice discrucior (as much as I am tormented that I will always be apart, always apart from my mistress head) (note that 76 itself recalls 39 tuo de vertice cessi).
173

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presents as line 40 of that poem is (I swear on your head and life), which corresponds closely to the pentameter in Catullus:
invita, o regina, tuo de vertice cessi, invita: adiuro teque tuumque caput . . . Unwillingly, O Queen, I departed your head, Unwillingly: I swear by you and your head . . .

Pfeiffer provided the Odyssean gloss () # (against her will by compulsion) (used only of Penelopes forced completion of Laertes winding sheet: Od. 2.110; 19.156; 24.146; but cf. h.Cer. 72, 124), but # , the proper epic/elegiac form, will not fit in the pentameter before . 174 Other scholars have assumed that Callimachus word was ,175 which does fit but violates the apparent genre-rules which, I have already suggested, Callimachus might have been willing to do on the basis of h.Cer. 413. At any rate, one piece of evidence hints that something in the Hellenistic period legitimated the use of verse-initial , in the hexameter at least. A 2nd/1st c. B.C. epitaph from Naucratis (Bernand IMEGR 11 = Peek GVI 1002) is spoken by the deceased to the living, and thus meets one P/L requirement; he says that through his demise he brought grief to his parents unwillingly: 176
177
174 175

Pfeiffer (1975) 106. Barber (1936) 351, saying "suppl. Lenchantin"; I have not been able to trace the original publication, but cf. Lenchantin de Gubernatis (1953: an expanded version of the edition of 1928, where I cannot find the supplement) lxvi; cf. Fordyce (1961) 329; Clausen (1970) 91 with n. 9; Koenen (1993) 98 (Catullus invita corresponds to Kallimachos' , no explanation given); Drew Griffith (1995) 48 n. 1. In his translation of Catullus 66 into Greek, knowledge of which I owe to Bing (1997) 82, J. J. Scaliger used , translating the couplet as follows: , , , / , , . 176 I assume, along with Bernand (who puts a full stop at the end of 2) and Peek (semi-colon), that goes with and not (somewhat fatuously) with , though the placement of permits the latterwhich would thus produce at the beginning of the hexameter something of the enjambement-effect of the epanadiplosis in Catul. 64.40. 177 Page on FGE LI.1 says the use is quite common in inscriptional epitaphs and cites Peek 1483.2; 1552.6; 2000.2; as also in Theoc. 4.39, on which Gow (1952b) ad loc. notes that in view of

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178 . . . Nichomachus daughter Pontia bore me, Apollos, to Leon; I was extinguished in my 27th year; unwillingly I conferred, in return for their nurturing, tears and threnodies on those who sowed me, by dying; whom, as one who honored his parents and is missed by his friends, the place and sacred meadow of the pious possesses. Tell those who love me to cease from laments and anguish; for I have gone to Hades as a mortal born from mortals. WORKS CITED

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