University of Illinois Press
  • The Campanian Case of Gaius Lucilius:Downtrodden Satire from Suessa Aurunca

The hometown of the verse satirist Gaius Lucilius was Suessa Aurunca, on the border between Latium and Campania. This chapter investigates the remnants of Campania in this poet’s surviving fragments and reception, mostly in Horace but also in Cicero and Juvenal. Horses, gladiators, pots, theater, and pronunciation are all Campanian aspects of the satirist’s cultural identity, despite his invention of a Roman genre. Contexts of arrogance and militarism, harking back to fighting against Rome in centuries-old wars, mingle in Lucilius with tourism and conspicuous consumption as markers of insider and outsider positioning vis-à-vis Campania, a half-forgotten homeland for the satirist.

The inventor of Roman verse satire,1 Gaius Lucilius, was born, probably in 180 BCE,2 in the town of Suessa Aurunca, on the border between Latium and Campania, between the rivers Liris and the Vulturnus, a town colonized by the Romans in 313 BCE.3 We know Lucilius was from there because of the scholium to some programmatic lines of Juvenal:

cur tamen hoc potius libeat decurrere campo,per quem magnus equos Auruncae flexit alumnussi uacat ac placidi rationem admittitis, edam.

(Juv. 1.19-21)4 [End Page 91]

But why I choose to traverse the same plain across which Aurunca’s star student steered his horses, I’ll tell you, if you are free and take in my rationale calmly.

This town, Suessa Aurunca, was traditionally a stronghold of the Aurunci, their major base. To explain why it might be important to Campanian identity, the theme of this collection of essays, we need to invoke the Great Latin War of almost two centuries before Lucilius’ floruit. In this major turning point for Roman history, the Latin league, including Volsci, Campani, and Aurunci, were beaten by the Romans and Samnites. At least one battle was fought, as Diodorus Siculus has it,5 at Suessa Aurunca:

Ῥωμαῖοι δὲ πρὸς Λατίνους καὶ Καμπανοὺς παραταξάμενοι περὶ πόλιν Σούεσσαν ἐνίκησαν καὶ τῶν ἡττηθέντων μέρος τῆς χώρας ἀφείλοντο. ὁ δὲ κατωρθωκὼς τὴν μάχην Μάλλιος ὁ ὕπατος ἐθριάμβευσεν.

(Diod. Sic. 16.90.2)

And the Romans, drawn up around the town of Suessa against the Latins and Campanians, defeated them, and annexed part of the land of the conquered. Manlius, the consul who had won the battle, celebrated a triumph.

This campaign was famous because, as Livy recounts, it led to Manlius Torquatus celebrating a triumph in 340 BCE, having in its course put his son to death for disobeying his orders (Liv. 8.7.1-22); so, too, this section of Livy contains the equally exemplary story of the deuotio of Decius Mus (Liv. 8.8.19-11.1).6 And as a result of this war, ciuitas sine suffragio was extended to the defeated Latin peoples, and Rome’s hold over the Italian peninsula started to take shape.7

Talking the cultural identity talk, as I intend to do about Lucilius, is important because, as Quintilian famously observes, Roman satire is the one genre that “at least is wholly ours” (quidem tota nostra est, Inst. 10.1.93). And Suessa Aurunca, Lucilius’ hometown, is important for early interactions between Rome and Campania proper because the Via Appia originally ran through it.8 However, after 296 BCE the town was bypassed by the redirection of the Appia from [End Page 92] Minturnae through nearby Sinuessa. Hence Horace missed Suessa on his journey to Brundisium in Satire 1.5, and instead he met some dear friends, including Virgil, at Sinuessa:

Plotius et Varius Sinuessae Vergiliusqueoccurrunt, animae quales neque candidioresterra tulit neque quis me sit deuinctior alter.

(Hor. S. 1.5.40-42)

Plotius and Varius and Virgil ran into us at Sinuessa; the earth never bore brighter souls, and none to whom I was more attached.

The choice of this meeting-point, in terms of its proximity to Naples with the Epicurean school of Philodemus and Siro (with which Varius, Virgil, and Horace had connections),9 has the advantage of effectively erasing Lucilius from the northern Campanian landscape. We know from Porphyrio on Satire 1.5 that that poem is modelled on a voyage taken and/or described by Lucilius in his book 3, so that the absence of a pilgrimage to Lucilius’ hometown, and indeed its replacement by a location with a similar name, might be taken as sacrilege against the founder of satire. And yet, later in the same poem, there is a famous problem: the travelling companions end up staying at a town whose name cannot be represented in hexameter (1.5.84-90). Although many options have been suggested—principally, Equus Tuticus, Ausculum, and Herdoniae10—and indirection is part of Horace’s point, I am tempted by Gowers’ candidate, Venusia.11 This was Horace’s hometown, and the inability to reveal its name is a joke indebted to Lucilius, as the earlier poet had done the same for a slaves’ festival (228-29 Marx = 252-53 Warmington).12 If, for argument’s sake, we take the town in question to be Venusia, then Horace, by withholding the name, is being coy about visiting his birthplace on this journey. Essentially, the end result is that he has not explicitly passed through it—which is of a piece with his refusal to so much as glimpse at the birthplace of his illustrious satiric predecessor, much less pay homage. Perhaps Lucilius played the same literary game in his book 3.13

I should declare, as is customary at such a juncture, that my investigation into Lucilius’ Campanian origins is fraught with difficulty, not least because his thirty books of satires exist only in a fragmentary state, 1,400 lines or part-lines [End Page 93] largely bereft of context that require speculation to make some sense of them. While there are tantalizing hints there about Lucilius’ Campanian identity, such as the fact that Lucilius was given a public funeral in Naples according to Jerome (Chron. 148e Helm), they are unfortunately even flimsier than the remainder of what I have to say here. One thing will be clear, however: I consider Lucilius’ third book to be of vital importance to our understanding of his relationship with the regions outside Rome, and so I will circle back to the so-called Iter Siculum in the second half of this article. Also, on one of the biggest questions, namely to what extent we can explain Horace’s avowedly Roman reaction to Lucilius’ inclusion of Greek vocabulary in his poetry,14 I will offer some thoughts at the end of this article, by using the elder poet’s heritage in Campania and exposure to Greek influences. But note that the principal aim of my essay is to uncover a putative construction of Campanian significance: Lucilius surely offered a self-fashioned persona of equal complexity and subtlety to Horace’s later intimations of Apulian identity. An all too easy fallback position, when responding to the lacunae which the fragments present stems from Horace (whose attitude to Campania in his two books of satires I will be equally concerned with here) He treats Lucilius as a purely literary construct, not a real individual, when he sets the earlier poet up as the primus inuentor of the genre of satire. As I shall also show in this article, though, our ideas about Lucilius should not be drawn solely from Horace’s deliberately confining picture of an unsophisticated, verbose satiric predecessor, even if we discern some reflection of rustic, provincial life away from Rome in the fragmentary remains.

Instead of offering a central thesis about Lucilius’ Greekness, then, I will dance around the subject of Magna Graecia, so to speak, as I discuss thematically other aspects of Lucilius’ poetry that could be described as non-Roman, and specifically Campanian. That itself is a tough task when only two fragments use the adjective Campanus, one of which is mostly useless for our purposes as it consists of just the two words Campana Capua (1125 Marx, not assigned by Warmington).15 Of course, there has long been discussion about whether Lucilius was in fact a Roman citizen, or whether as an eques municipalis he was an outsider in the “Big Smoke.”16 We at least know he was an equestrian [End Page 94] (although that order was not responsible for horse provision, which had been outsourced to auxiliaries, by Lucilius’ time). That fact, together with his seeming fixation on horses, may serve as our initial link for him to the Campanians, who, as Tim Cornell writes, espoused an “addiction to horse-breeding and cavalry prowess.”17

Only Fools and Horses

That horse jokes are part of satire’s Campanian inheritance is borne out at another point on Horace’s Satire 1.5 journey. The traveling companions are witness, in a tavern, to a war of words between one of their party, a scurra named Sarmentus,18 and a local magistrate, Messius Cicirrus. Sarmentus’ opening gambit is to call Messius a unicorn (the traditional translation, despite Plin. Nat. 8.76): ‘equi te / esse feri similem dico’ (“I say you’re like the wild horse,” S. 1.5.56-57). The reason is perhaps the scar on his head which Sarmentus pretends is where Messius’ horn had been cut off (1.5.58-60); this could well be a growth resulting from “the Campanian disease”:

Campanum in morbum, in faciem permulta iocatus,pastorem saltaret uti Cyclopa rogabat:nil illi larua aut tragicis opus esse cothurnis.

(Hor. S. 1.5.62-64)

Joking some more at his features and the Campanian disease, Sarmentus asked Messius to dance like a shepherd Cyclops: nor did he need a mask or the tragic boots.

Whatever this local illness may have been—and Ortwin Knorr may be right that that physical symptom is a red herring and the malady may be merely a manifestation of the typically Campanian trait of arrogance,19 to which I shall return—the episode shows that a Campanian presence seems to be bound up with popular entertainment and the problem of acceptable invective. It is no surprise that Messius’ origin is apparently Oscan (1.5.54), whence according to the commentator Pseudo-Acro the etymology of obscenus: this reference alludes to forms of local entertainment, fabulae Atellanae, a slapstick genre of Italian farces.20 [End Page 95]

The conuiuium would have been a suitable, if smaller-scale, place for such entertainment, and a riddle that appears in Lucilius may have been rehearsed in that context. It features a horse being watched:21

quis hunc currere ecum nos atque equitare uidemus,his equitat curritque. oculis equitare uidemus:ergo oculis equitat.

(Lucil. 1284-86 Marx = 1250-52 Warmington)

What we see this horse run and go with, by means of those things he runs and goes. We see him running by means of our eyes, therefore he goes by means of eyes.

The puzzle, noteworthy for its repetition (typical of such a captio or ἐνθύμημα), requires no equestrian knowledge and, indeed, echoes (at some remove) Aristotelian logic.22 It speaks more to abstract than to practical concerns. The opposite seems to be true of a fragment which Gellius tells us came from book 15, when citing it to prove that mille is always singular (Gel. 1.16.10). These three lines feature a contest between two horses, judged on the basis of speed, so again we have an appraisal, but seemingly about success rather than semantics:

hunc milli passum qui uicerit atque duobusCampanus sonipes succussor nullus sequeturmaiore in spatio ac diuersus uidebitur ire.

(Lucil. 506-8 Marx = 511-13 Warmington)

A bumpy clatterer from Campania, although he might gain the lead over this horse in race of one or two miles, will not only trail him in a longer race, but seem to be going in the opposite direction.

Now, the high-flown word sonipes, which first appears in Accius but may be an Ennian coinage,23 and the adjective Campanus denoting the hypothetical horse’s provenance, both jar with the derogatory succussor, if the other Lucilian use of the word, which equates a “jolter” with a “slow, ugly horse,” is any indication.24 While I do not know where some commentators on the fragment get the idea that the unnamed hunc comes from Spain,25 what happens when we identify the Campanus with Lucilius himself, bearing in mind his origins in Campania? The conjunction of sonipes and succussor is reminiscent of the mash of hexameter with down-home subjects that embodies Lucilius’ greatest [End Page 96] innovation, the regularization of verse satire in a set meter.26 If the satirist’s stand-in is put on the back foot by a speaker in his own poem, authorial claims to expertise become unstable. Indeed, this fragment is about the insubstantiality of victory and defying appearances. At a stretch, it might be about the diversity of satire, that catchall medley of a genre; we could even be reminded in diuersus uidebitur ire of the Stephen Leacock bon mot, “Lord Ronald said nothing; he flung himself from the room, flung himself upon his horse and rode madly off in all directions.”27

More seriously, the denigration of the Campanian horse sits oddly with Horace’s stance towards Lucilius in the matter of chosen mounts:

ut ueni coram, singultim pauca locutus(infans namque pudor prohibebat plura profari)non ego me claro natum patre, non ego circumme Satureiano uectari rura caballo,sed quod eram narro.

(Hor. S. 1.6.56-60)

When I came face to face with you, I gulped out a few words (because childish shame prevented me from speaking further), and I told you not that I was the son of a distinguished father, not that I rode around the country on a Satureian steed, but what I was.

When he first encounters Maecenas in Satire 1.6, the shy and stuttering Horace claims not to be high-born or wealthy, not to be the kind of person who pilots a horse around the countryside.

This noble rider has long been identified with Lucilius.28 Shortly afterwards in the same poem Horace claims that for him himself a ramshackle steed will [End Page 97] suffice, a mere mule disfigured because it has been castrated—cut short, like his Iter Brundisinum poem Satire 1.5:

        nunc mihi curtoire licet mulo uel si libet usque Tarentummantica cui lumbos onere ulceret atque eques armos.

(Hor. S. 1.6.104-6)

As it is, if I like I can go right up to Tarentum on a gelded mule, whose loins the saddlebag chafes, and whose shoulders the horseman wounds.

Horace is an equestrian willing to ride a mule.29 But then again, so was Lucilius: the Lucilian line that Porphyrio adduces as a comparandum (ad Hor. S. 1.6.104-6), mantica cantheri costas grauitate premebat (“the saddlebag was pressing on the mule’s ribs because of its weight,” 1207 Marx = 101 Warmington), suggests a similar occurrence.30 My point is that even though Horace looks askance at Lucilius’ superiority, Lucilius may have already cast himself as a ramshackle Campanian rider. And if we accept that, the information in 506-8 Marx = 511-13 Warmington that the Campanian horse is good for short courses should condition our unthinking acceptance of Horace’s other famous contrast between his short-winded satires and Lucilius’ muddy (lutulentus, S. 1.4.10) flow: Lucilius may already have claimed—ironically, even—brevity for himself.

While this seems a lot of weight for an innocuous three-line fragment to bear when it does not certainly relate to Lucilius, we can set its playfulness in the context of Campanian humor, construed as autochthonous, native, and earthy. Cicero demonstrates a feel for the genre in his correspondence with Paetus:

itaque, te cum uideo, omnes mihi Granios, omnes Lucilios—uere ut dicam—Crassos quoque et Laelios uidere uideor: moriar, si praeter te quemquam reliquum habeo, in quo possim imaginem antiquae et uernaculae festiuitatis agnoscere.

(Cic. Fam. 9.18.4) [End Page 98]

And so, when I see you, it is as though I am seeing the likes of Granius and Lucilius entire—truth to tell, the likes of Crassus and Laelius as well. I’ll be damned if I have anybody but you left, in whom I could recognize the image of our olden-day and native humor.

Paetus is living in Campania, and a noteworthy aspect of the line-up of comedians cited by Cicero is that it is not strictly Roman, consisting as it does of two native Campanians and two Romans who owned property there (Granius was a Campanian auctioneer who seems to feature prominently as a character in Lucilius).31 But Cicero has equated Paetus with these jesters past in terms of homegrown Roman wit. Another letter that revolves around food gags of the kind Lucilius might have enjoyed culminates in the encouragement to come back and join the staff of Cicero’s “philosophical school.” What is more, Paetus, Cicero then jokes, was so desperate for food or money that he sold (or ate?) his horse and will only have a mule on which to return to Rome.32 Even if Horace, riding his mule away from Rome, is not mindful of Cicero’s ribbing of Paetus, it is surely significant that Paetus is both a mere equestrian (like Lucilius) and in Campania.33 The question is: how much of an outsider does one have to be before urbanitas becomes impossible, or libertas possible? Is Campania far enough? After all, Cicero had to endure invective about his supposedly humble upbringing in Arpinum, away from the bustle of the capital.34

A Lucilian line quoted by Cicero shows that Lucilius’ satires were not entirely concerned with running wild and getting ahead: sustineas currum, ut bonus saepe agitator, equosque, “hold back your chariot and horses as a good driver often does” (1305 Marx = 1249 Warmington). Cicero adduces the sentiment in a letter to Atticus (Att. 13.21.3), when admitting that he had been wrong about translating the Greek ἐποχή, “suspension of judgment” with a Latin equivalent, inhibere, “to hold back,” literally “to back water with the oars.” His mistake was, so he says, to think that the command involved stopping rowing. Checking oneself requires effort, according to Lucilian advice, and the context of Cicero’s quotation, in a discussion of translation from Greek, anticipates the Greek telos of this article. Thus it is a mistake to think (following Horace) that Lucilian [End Page 99] poetics involved pure “sound and fury”: decorum and self-effacement, we are seeing, may have played a role.

Gladiators, Ready (for the Pot)

In line with this apparent need for self-control, when we consider what makes up the liberal jest, the important issue is a disavowal of belligerence.35 I suggest that it is the powerful association of Campania with gladiatorial combat, thanks to its training schools in Capua,36 which lies behind the portrayal of aggression in Lucilius. The swaggering authority required by competitors is on show in Lucilius’ fourth book, where a famous gladiator, Pacideianus, is set to compete against another named Aeserninus:

Aeserninus fuit Flaccorum munere quidamSamnis, spurcus homo, uita illa dignus locoque.cum Pacideiano conponitur, optimus multopost homines natos gladiator qui fuit unus.

(Lucil. 149-52 Marx = 172-75 Warmington)

In the show put on by the Flacci there was a certain Aeserninus, a Samnite, a nasty fellow, worthy of that life and position. He was matched with Pacideianus, who was by far the single best gladiator after the creation of man.

The fragment, which Cicero cites in his discussion of anger in the Tusculan Disputations (4.48), that editors universally suppose follows on from this, features Pacideianus arrogantly ranting about how he is going to lay waste his opponent:

‘occidam illum equidem et uincam, si id quaeritis’, inquit.‘uerum illud credo fore: in os prius accipiam ipsequam gladium in stomacho furi ac pulmonibus sisto:odi hominem, iratus pugno, nec longius quicquamnobis, quam dextrae gladium dum accommodet alter:usque adeo studio atque odio illius ecferor ira.’

(Lucil. 153-8 Marx = 176-81 Warmington)

“I for my part will kill him and win, if you ask for it,” he said. “But I think it will happen like this: I’ll receive his blows to my face before I stick my sword in the wretch’s gut and lungs. I hate the man, I fight in anger, and we won’t delay any longer than it takes for one of us to fit a sword in his right hand: so much am I transported by rage, passion and hatred of him.”

Lucilius makes Pacideianus speak poetry, with imaginative pretensions of his own: “I think it will happen like this.” And yet the Lucilian example, being [End Page 100] “eigentlich unprofessionelle,”37 is cited by Cicero as the exception that proves the rule of gladiatorial equanimity as ideal before a contest. What I am interested in right now is the identification of Aeserninus as a Samnite. According to Livy gladiators were originally Samnite prisoners of war, referred to in derogatory fashion and forced to perform:38

et Romani quidem ad honorem deum insignibus armis hostium usi sunt: Campani ad superbiam et odio Samnitium gladiatores, quod spectaculum inter epulas erat, eo ornatu armarunt Samnitiumque nomine compellarunt.

(Liv. 9.40.17)

So the Romans made use of the splendid armor of their enemies in honor to the gods: while the Campanians, in consequence of their pride and in hatred of the Samnites, equipped after this fashion the gladiators who furnished them entertainment at their feasts, and bestowed upon them the name of Samnites.

The aetiology, with its identification of Campanian influence, is apposite to our theme.39 I suspect that the effusive praise of Pacideianus and extravagant blame of Aeserninus can be linked to a Campanian distaste for Samnites, or even Samnite militarization,40 rather than “a certain contempt for what is not of the city.”41

Pacideianus is the “single best gladiator since the origin of man”42—perhaps a cue to think about where Lucilius was born (natus), and then the extent to which the satirist is himself a performer of ambiguous status, pugnacious in his faultfinding.43 What kind of entertainment did Lucilius provide, and for whom? In [End Page 101] Horace’s portrait of his predecessor from Satire 2.1, more conciliatory than his portrayals before, Lucilius is shown as a boon companion of the nobles Scipio Aemilianus and Laelius:

quin ubi se a uulgo et scaena secreta remorantuirtus Scipiadae et mitis sapientia Laeli,nugari cum illo et discincti ludere, donecdecoqueretur holus, soliti.

(Hor. S. 2.1.71-74)

In fact, when the brave Scipionic scion and gentle, wise Laelius had withdrawn from the crowd and left the stage for a private place, they were accustomed to fool about with him, and to play with their belts loosened, while the cabbage cooked down.

Their fun and games together, while the cabbage—that humble country food—is boiling away (presumably in a pot, to which we shall return), are conducted away from the public stage, which Peter Wiseman wants to read as an admission that satire was designed to be recited or even acted out in theaters.44 At this juncture, I want to explore the role of the gladiator in relation to the satirist as public rather than private entertainment and, in particular, in terms of the luxurious implications of leisure activities (ludere in the Horatian extract). We should remember the claim in the opening of Terence’s Hecyra that the play’s second performance, when it had been revised after the work’s invidious premiere, at the funeral games of Aemilius Paullus in 160 BCE was derailed by an influx of a crowd who had heard that “there was going to be a gladiator show” (datum iri gladiatores, Hec. 40). This famous passage may well be disingenuous,45 but it does give a flavor of what theatrical performances were up against—or associated with. Gladiatorial entertainments could have taken place in theaters as part of ludi funebres that would also have included stage performances,46 although they were, up to Augustus’ reign at least, not part of public Roman religious festivals, but restricted to private shows.47

If gladiators were seen as swaggering actor-type celebrities with extravagant habits, they might be anathema to those preaching restraint and humble moderation, as a Lucilius who liked a quiet supper of cabbage might have done, even if [End Page 102] it was with noble friends. A fragment of book 26 describes someone as “having returned and footed it back so that he might avoid Rome with its gladiators” (rediisse ac repedasse, ut Romam uitet gladiatoribus, 677 Marx = 636 Warmington).48 We might well ask: back to where? Of course, our inability to gauge whether the fragment is in the voice of, or refers to Lucilius himself, means we cannot work out whether Lucilius felt this way about gladiatorial shows, or even about city living in the manner of Umbricius in Juvenal 3. But shows took place in the city, where one would have seen “the forum sometimes adorned with lamps in the Roman games” (Romanis ludis forus olim ornatus lucernis, 146 Marx = 148 Warmington).49 And adjacent to this last fragment in book 3 Lucilius may have compared that picture of the forum to the sparks flying from a volcano.50 The public decoration of the forum was the responsibility of the aedile organizing the games there,51 and we must ask whether luxurious ornament was expected.52 Bronze lamps placed in equally prestigious candelabra would count as a luxury.53 Even if the candelabrum was primarily a private household [End Page 103] item,54 it may have suited the privately sponsored nature of gladiatorial munera.55 This kind of light fixture was immortalized by Lucretius, whose examples, part of a critique of luxury, take the form of torch-bearing youths (Lucr. 2.24-26). However, we should bear in mind that they were not necessarily a symbol of inappropriate decadence:

et reliqua ex collocatione uerborum quae sumuntur quasi lumina magnum afferunt ornatum orationi. sunt enim similia illis quae in amplo ornatu scaenae aut fori appellantur insignia, non quia sola ornent sed quod excellent.

(Cic. Orat. 134)

The other ornaments derived from combinations of words bring great decoration like lights to an oration. They are like those objects which in the full embellishment of a stage or forum are called outstanding, not because they are the only ornament, but because they stand out.

If we recall that Livy’s passage about the origins of armed gladiatorial traditions, quoted above, observes that the Romans (in contrast to the Campanians) set up the Samnite spoils as offerings (9.40.17, just before the passage quoted above), then, even though that description is part of a critique of luxury,56 we can claim that Lucilius’ flashes from the forum, comparable to Cicero’s rhetorical embellishments, might be caused by the light glinting off this ostentatious armor. So it is not such a bad thing after all. Still, the discourse of luxury means that the Samnite armor was not actually especially manly.57 If Lucilius is to be comparable to a gladiator, it is not necessarily such a fighter’s masculine aggression that would have rubbed off on him, but a love for luxury.

The haughtiness of Pacideianus in comparison to Aeserninus is pertinent too.58 We should remember that Cicero attributes arrogance to the Campanians on account of their “fertile lands, abundant crops and healthiness, arrangement, and beauty of their city” (Agr. 2.95). That city would be Capua.59 He continues, [End Page 104] in the same speech, by contrasting the cramped confines of Rome, on its hills,60 with the spacious outlook of the premier Campanian city:61

Romam in montibus positam et conuallibus, cenaculis sublatam atque suspensam, non optumis uiis, angustissimis semitis prae sua Capua planissimo in loco explicata ac praeclarissime sita irridebunt atque contemnent.

(Cic. Agr. 2.96)

They will laugh at and disdain Rome, placed in mountains and valleys, hung up and supported from its rooftops, its roads not the best, its paths the narrowest, in comparison with their own Capua, spread out on the widest of plains and situated beautifully.

The luxurious fertility of Campania, which lies behind this passage, made the province’s major product wine62 and encouraged Campanians to become commercially savvy.63 Lucilius certainly evinced an interest in money matters64 and liked to indulge in “gutem, reinem, italischem Wein.”65 However, these are admittedly not specifically Campanian traits, even if we may suspect that Horace, in his self-effacing assertion, shortly after the Satire 2.1 passage quoted above, that he is “beneath Lucilius in standing/wealth and talent” (infra Lucili censum ingeniumque, S. 2.1.75), is playing with the regional connotations of Lucilius’ place of origin. After all, Horace has already in that poem talked about his own [End Page 105] roots, relative to Lucilius, in Apulia (sequor hunc, Lucanus an Apulus anceps, “I follow this man [i.e., Lucilius], whether as a Lucanian or an Apulian,” 2.1.34).66 Yet the vocabulary of Lucilian indulgence may still have Campanian resonance in the fact that the region is mentioned by Horace in satire, at least, not so much for its wine but for its crockery.67 Black-glazed ware went under the name of “Samian” for much of the Republic,68 and—in opposition to silver or later Arretine ware—it was cheapskate and unfashionable. So much so, that it could be used for a sordid task, as Lucilius describes:69

hanc ubi uult male habere, ulcisci pro scelere eius,testam sumit homo Samiam sibi, ‘anu noceo’ inquit,praeceidit caulem testisque una amputat ambo.

(Lucil. 279-81 Marx = 303-5 Warmington)

When the man wants to spite this woman, and take vengeance for her crime, he takes to himself a Samian pot-sherd, saying, “I am hurting the old woman,” and cuts off the stalk and lops off both balls at once.

The use of a humble pot-sherd—presumably there isn’t enough money to buy a knife to do the job properly—by this man at the end of his tether to castrate himself is testimony to the multivalency of Campania. It may be fertile,70 yet not only does it provide the vehicle for infertility in this particular fragment but it also can be luxurious (like Capua) as well as impoverished (like the cheap pottery produced locally). This is a bundle of contradictions ripe for satirizing. But is it really coincidence that that same description could easily characterize [End Page 106] Lucilius himself, simultaneously genteel and rough-and-ready, elite and outsider all in one?

Comic Weakness and Greekness

In my delineation—and no more than that is possible, I again stress—of a Campanian strain to the satirist Lucilius, we have repeatedly seen the poet on the back foot, whether as a decrepit racehorse, a would-be gladiator reliant on Scipio and his set for patronage, or on the losing side in an ancient conflict.71 An episode later than the Great Latin War, in which Livy might admittedly have played fast and loose with the facts,72 shows the Aurunci as dependent on Rome for protection in 337 BCE:

The blessings of peace were now enjoyed everywhere, a peace maintained not more by the power of Rome than by the influence she had acquired through her considerate treatment of her vanquished enemies, when a war broke out between the Sidicines and the Auruncans. After their surrender had been accepted by the consul Manlius, the Auruncans had kept quiet, which gave them a stronger claim to the help of Rome. The senate decided that assistance should be afforded them, but before the consuls started, a report was brought that the Auruncans had been afraid to remain in their town and had fled with their wives and children to Suessa—now called Aurunca—which they had fortified, and that their city with its ancient walls had been destroyed by the Sidicines.

(Liv. 8.15.1-5)

Such weakness seems to me as plausibly Auruncan, a characteristic of Lucilius as the conventional picture of satire’s primus inuentor playing the condemnatory scourge.73 For instance, it is all too easy for Juvenal to exploit vague recollections of Auruncan wars, let alone Lucilius’ military service under Scipio at Numantia (which I have ignored in this article),74 as the opportunity to turn the poet into a swashbuckling hero, as he does at the end of his first satire:

ense uelut stricto quotiens Lucilius ardensinfremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens estcriminibus, tacita sudant praecordia culpa.

(Juv. 1.165-67) [End Page 107]

But whenever Lucilius blazes and roars as if with a drawn sword, the listener whose mind is chilled with guilt blushes, and his heartstrings sweat with silent guilt.

“As if with a drawn sword”: not a real sword, then, if we take the uelut seriously.75 It is not long after this, if we read the book sequentially, that we encounter Juvenal’s only other reference to Aurunca, in the middle of the rant against secret homosexual orgies. Juvenal grafts together two excerpts from Virgil’s Aeneid, using epic parody to cast satiric aspersion on the ways in which effeminate men transgress and pervert the Bona Dea ritual: ille tenet speculum, pathici gestamen Othonis, / Actoris Aurunci spolium (“he holds the mirror, the accessory of the pathic Otho, the spoil of Auruncan Actor,” Juv. 2.99-30).76 The first allusion to the epic defaces Aeneas’ dedication of Abas’ shield at Actium, magni gestamen Abantis (“tool of great Abas,” Virg. A. 3.286); the second quotes from Turnus’ rush to battle clutching a spear, the original spolium, in the Aeneid (12.94).77 Given that the place-name’s first appearance was strongly associated with Lucilius, it is tempting to speculate that the second may also call the Republican satiric predecessor to mind. But if a mirror is now the spoil taken from an actor from Aurunca,78 then Lucilius, having lost control of his legacy (you have to be defeated to have spoil taken from you), has fallen from the pedestal he occupied in Juvenal’s first satire. He has gone from charioteer to comic actor, if we adduce the famous proverb about comedy as holding a mirror up to daily life.79 If we accept Lucilius as a referent here, Juvenal makes Lucilius a standard-bearer for comedy. This characterization may well be derived from Horace’s attempted dismissal of Lucilius as a follower of comic poets:

hinc omnis pendet Lucilius, hosce secutusmutatis tantum pedibus numerisque; facetus, [End Page 108] emunctae naris, durus componere uersus: nam fuit hoc uitiosus.

(Hor. S. 1.4.6-9)

On these authors Lucilius depends entirely, following them with only their meters and rhythms changed; he was witty, with a cleaned-out nose, but rough in composing his verses: in this he was at fault.

The poets cited as Lucilius’ models are Greek Old comedians: Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes (S. 1.4.1). Finally therefore we must turn to the possibility that the inheritance Horace identifies for Lucilius is Greek because he came from a province in Magna Graecia.

I here sketch three ways in which the idea could play out: topographic, Homeric, and theatrical. First, if we look to the descriptions of places in Lucilius’ Iter Siculum we find the following note: inde Dic[i]architum populos Delumque minorem (“from there to the people of Dicaearchitae, and the lesser Delos,” 123 Marx = 118 Warmington). The information provided by Paulus (Paul. Fest. p.109 Lindsay), the preserver of the fragment, is that both of these are terms that describe the town of Puteoli, in Campania. While it is true that the name Puteoli would not fit into a hexameter,80 it is difficult to read the tone of “lesser Delos”: celebratory, neutral, or snide? I would argue that the explanatory bent (Puteoli, after all, could have been smaller in extent than Delos) is not imperialistic but touristic, as some lines that seem to propose visitor attractions further South demonstrate:81

        et saepe quod anteoptasti, freta, Messanam, Regina uidebismoenia, tum Liparas, Facelinae temple Dianae.

(Lucil. 102-4 Marx = 143-45 Warmington)

And as you often desired before, you will see the straits, Messana, the walls of Rhegium, then Liparae and the temple of Diana Facelina.

These references to possible sightseeing landmarks also fit in with another celebrated fragment from earlier in Lucilius’ Iter Siculum, if the journey was described chronologically:

uerum haec ludus ibi, susque omnia deque fuerunt,susque et deque fuere, inquam, omnia ludus iocusque:illud opus durum, ut Setinum accessimus finem,αἰγίλιποι montes, Aetnae omnes, asperi Athones.

(Lucil. 110-13 Marx = 102-5 Warmington) [End Page 109]

But there everything was a game, free and easy; things were free and easy, I say, the whole thing a jest and a joke: that was a hard task, when we reached the border of Setia, goat-free mountains, all Mount Etnas and rough Athoses.

Setia (modern Sezze), though in Latium, is on the way out of the old province, hence finem, and thus arguably the gateway to Campania.82 One way of reading the joke, that the foothills there are the equivalent of the famous mountains Etna and Athos, is to observe that these disparate locations are being assimilated to one another. What this implies is a form of pan-Mediterranean unity and a détente with Greek culture.83

The second possibility feeds off a variety of circumstantial evidence regarding the Greek hero Odysseus. The postulated descent of Campanians from the man of many wiles may have been a racial stereotype invented to explain their treacherous behavior.84 Most pertinently for my purposes perhaps, Verrius Flaccus (Paul. Fest. p.16 Lindsay) claimed that Auson, son of Odysseus and Calypso, founded Suessa Aurunca.85 A satirical inheritance from the Odyssey exists too: if Horace’s journey in Satire 1.5 is a veiled homecoming, with the town (as I argued above) that is not able to be named in hexameters, Horace’s own hometown of Venusia, one of its intertexts must be the nostos of Odysseus, and the presence of a Campanian Cyclops-figure (Messius Cicirrus, S. 1.5.63 as above) is especially appropriate.86 It is therefore not out of the question that Lucilius’ Iter Siculum also owed something in structure to the Odyssey. In this vein, we can return to the susque deque fragment above (110-13 Marx = 102-5 Warmington). The word aigilipos used to describe the hills at Setia may recall the Catalogue of Ships, as one of the lands that Odysseus is credited with holding in that list is called “rough Aigilips” (Il. 2.633).87 And there seems to be engagement with the [End Page 110] idea of being Odysseus elsewhere in the Lucilian corpus:88 witness the fragment nupturum te nupta negas, quod uiuere Vlixen / speras (“married as you are you deny that you will get married, because you hope Ulysses is alive,” 538-39 Marx = 565-66 Warmington).89

My third option stems not from Lucilius proper but from one last mention of Campania in Horace’s Satires. At the climax of Fundanius’ report of Nasidienus’ banquet in Satire 2.8, a tapestry falls on the eel dish that the host intends as the pièce de résistance:

interea suspensa grauis aulaea ruinasin patinam fecere, trahentia pulueris atriquantum non Aquilo Campanis excitat agris.

(Hor. S. 2.8.54-56)

And now the suspended tapestries fell heavily on to the dish, bringing down more black dust than the North Wind stirs up from the Campanian fields.

Campania enters this equation as the source of the dust in this comparison, which brings to mind a fragment of Accius (566-67 Ribbeck = 242-43 Dangel), quoted by Cicero (Tusc. 1.68), that talks of the Aquilo sweeping down from the frozen north. Horace, by locating the reference in a burlesque of tragedy,90 in a recounting by a comic poet (Fundanius), is saying something important about satire’s relationship to the province. We have already seen references to fabula Atellana and homegrown Oscan farces. What has not yet been mentioned is the Lucilian connection: the likelihood that he responded to Oscan as something he had learned in Suessa Aurunca.91 Now, one poet who advocated Oscan spellings (with doubled vowels) was Accius.92 Even though this polymathic and long-lived author was from Pisaurum in Umbria, he did write, as well as tragedies, a fabula praetexta that treated the deuotio in the Third Samnite War of Decius Mus—the son of the eponymous commander who committed a similar self-sacrifice in the [End Page 111] Great Latin War against the Aurunci.93 If Accius’ drama contained a flashback to earlier events (or if, indeed, he had written a separate play on that theme),94 then perhaps we could have a partial explanation for why it is that Porphyrio attests that Lucilius especially attacked Accius in his third book of poetry, as the satirist journeyed through lands relevant to that praetexta’s plot, or at least to the lead-up to its events.95

Horace seems to imply that Lucilius’ criticisms pertained to Accius’ tragedies: nil comis tragici mutat Lucilius Acci? (“doesn’t Lucilius the charmer change anything of the tragedian Accius?” S. 1.10.53), and I did promise tragedy above.96 However, tragedy—at least, the Attic variety—seems to have been more of a Tarentine and Lucanian concern than a Campanian one;97 the most we can say with certainty about a link to our subject province is that many of the pots which depict scenes from tragedy are from Campania.98 One other option is that Lucilius played with the abjection of tragic heroes, perhaps in a ‘hotel inspector’ mode as he journeyed south: a fragment from book 3 mentions Tantalus paying a penalty (140-41 Marx = 136-37 Warmington), which could easily be assimilated to a traveller’s burning thirst. This identification may have been the rationale behind a fragment describing a despondent character (599-600 Marx = 727-28 Warmington) that some grammarians link with Accius’ Telephus.99 It has been suggested that on the book 3 journey a sickness afflicted somebody close to Lucilius, a ploughman named Symmachus, and the party stopped over in Capua:100

Symmacus praeterea iam tum depostus bubulcusexspirans animam pulmonibus aeger agebat.

(Lucil. 105-6 Marx = 133-34 Warmington)

Besides, Symmachus the ploughman was already at that time on point of death, breathing his last, sick in the lungs. [End Page 112]

Perhaps Lucilius assimilated his fate (assuming depostus in the last fragment equals depositus, meaning “having died”) to a tragic hero’s; it is perhaps interesting that the idea of the magister pecoris “losing his breath,” in the literal meaning of exspirans animum,101 foreshadows another vocally challenged Lucilian character, “a tragic man who destroys songs with a hoarse Orestes” (rausuro tragicus qui carmina perdit Oreste, 567 Marx = 594 Warmington).102 But even though this focus on physical frailty resembles the infirmity we earlier identified as typically Auruncan,103 I admit that here I have only had to offer the kind of claim which Stefan Faller labels “vage Spekulationen.”104

Me Talk Pretty One Day

However, Accius is not the most obvious poet with links to Campania of whom Lucilius and Horace may have been aware: that honor belongs to Naevius, who is as far as we know the founder of the genre of fabula praetexta. He was supposedly flung into jail by Rome’s principes, where he wrote two plays before winning his release.105 Whether or not the anecdotes about Naevius’ exile following his taunting of the Metelli and Scipio Africanus have any truth, I wonder about whether Lucilius’ Iter Siculum could be seen as an ironic form of exile, with the poet fleeing Rome for the sake of privacy after the concentration on civic matters that dominated books 1 and 2, the (very different) trials of Lentulus Lupus and Mucius Scaevola. The journey then becomes a reversal of the poet’s arrival in the city, as could be documented in a line where the diminutive puellus carries a sexual charge, replacing the colloquial (and cretic, therefore non-hexameter) word pusio:106 “then he came to Rome, a delicate fellow while still a boy” (inde uenit Romam tener ipse etiam atque puellus (425 Marx = 453 Warmington). Might this be an autobiographical reminiscence, visualizing Lucilius himself as once a similarly lowly and inexperienced newcomer to the city?

This focus on language as a marker of relative status is a fitting place to round off our survey of Campanian tropes in Lucilius. Naevius’ epitaph apparently [End Page 113] demonstrated his Campanian arrogance (plenum superbiae Campaniae, Gel. 1.24.2).107 One way in which superiority can be presented is through the medium of accent-based racial mockery. When it comes to the ambiguity we identified above as a feature of Campania, shellfish are an important part of it because they were both a highly prized delicacy and readily available.108 On Lucilius’ journey south, he seems to complain a lot (in a mock-tragic manner?);109 “no oysters,” he claims at one point (132 Marx = 126 Warmington). But while the word for oyster, ostrea, is feminine in gender, on one later occasion it seems to appear in the neuter plural:

        quid ergo, si ostrea Cercocognorit fluuium limum ac caenum sapere ipsum?

(Lucil. 328-29 Marx = 357-58 Warmington)

What then if Cerco finds that oysters taste of the very mud and mire of the rivers?

This question, which Nonius records as being in book 9, can be deemed an example of the speech of a person of lower social rank (such as a cook), with the neuter plural ostrea, as if transliterated from Greek, an affectation showing pretensions to hyper-correctness.110 Although we may be dealing with a generation before Gaius Sergius Orata’s supposed foundation of artificial oyster beds on the Lucrine Lake early in the first century BCE,111 I still think—in view, for instance, of the sumptuary laws of 115 BCE that regulated shellfish consumption (Plin. Nat. 8.223)—that Campanian oysters might have been a flashpoint for Lucilian grumbling.112 Another relevant issue of pronunciation may lie behind the much-disputed fragment, Broncus Bouillanus dente aduerso eminulo hic est / rhinoceros (117-18 Marx = 109-10 Warmington, in Warmington’s rendering).113 The crux in transmitted Noui†tlanus has been interpreted as Noulitanus, denoting [End Page 114] a man from Nola, that is a Campanian, with a strange way of pronouncing the vowel o.114

Once more we see that however much Campania is suggestive culturally or topographically for Lucilius, it always ends up as having literary significance or at least mediated through literary sources. In this regard I have combined two approaches here, diachronic and synchronic ones, in the sense of paying attention to contemporary realities as well as historical inheritance. Let us return to the first mention of satire’s primus inuentor in Juvenal (1.19-21), where we began. There the magnus alumnus Auruncae guided his horses (plural, i.e., a chariot?), forcing Juvenal to follow him, to decurrere campo. The plain in this instance is always supposed to be located at Rome. However, just because Juvenal’s plain is both the field of satiric poetry and literally the Campus Martius, which was also outside Rome’s pomerium anyway,115 does not mean that Lucilius’ was. Capua’s plain perhaps was always a site for Lucilian satire—and I would at the very least aver that it is only by excavating a deep Campanian past that we can illuminate the satiric present. The province’s old conflicts, the Great Latin War onwards, live on in Lucilius and the reception of Lucilius.

Ian Goh
University of Manchester

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1. Thanks to the editors, for their organization of the APA 2013 panel at which a version of this article was read, to the other panel members and the audience on that occasion, and to Emma Dench, Emily Gowers, and Marden Nichols, for advice and encouragement.

2. In Chron. 143e Helm, Jerome gives 148 BCE. Controversy surrounds the date, regularly emended to either 168 BCE, if we believe that Jerome miscopied the number giving the year of Lucilius’ life in which he died, changing LX to XL, or 180 BCE, on the assumption that Jerome was misled by the identical nomina and cognomina of the respective consuls in that year and in 148 BCE.

3. For a suggestive survey of the town’s mostly post-Lucilian archaeological record, see De Caro (2012) 175-85.

4. I have used the following texts and (adapted) translations: for Cicero’s Orator, Hubbell (1939); for Diodorus, Welles (1963); for Horace, Brown (1993) and Muecke (1993); for Juvenal, Braund (2004a); for Livy, Foster (1948); for Lucilius, Marx (1904-5) and Warmington (1938). All other translations are my own.

5. Livy cites two battles, one at the Veseris, and the other at an unknown site called Trifanum (8.11.5-12); Diodorus mentions only one battle. For discussion, see Oakley (1998) 428-30. On Sigonius’ correction in Diodorus, of Σινούεσσαν for Σούεσσαν, Oakley (1998) 430 comments that “the conjecture is hardly needed: Suessa and Sinuessa are very close together.” In terms of military maneuvers, perhaps, though I argue here that Horatian eyes would have strictly differentiated them.

6. For the former, see Oakley (1998) 436-39; for the latter, Oakley (1998) 477-86.

7. See e.g., Dench (1995) 14. Of course, this was just the beginning of a process, as the summary of Cerchiai (2010) 117-18 makes clear.

8. Arthur (1992) 49-50. There has been some controversy over the proposal that the road from Minturnae to Suessa Aurunca was the original Via Appia; see e.g., Wiseman (1970) 130.

9. See Welch (2008) 64-65 on the Epicurean aspects of these lines.

10. Brink (1995) 267-71. It would be a nice irony, in view of my comments on horses, if the town were Equus Tuticus.

13. The map at Marx (1905) 51 shows the communis opinio that Lucilius did not visit Suessa Aurunca on this trip. The joke would be that obscuring one’s origins fits with the humility of satire, even though the genre sets great store by its claims to first-person authority.

14. Cf. Hor. S. 1.10.20-30; for discussion of Lucilian code switching, see Adams (2003) 10, 19-20, 77, 326-27, 353-55. Of course, the issue of Greek vs. native Italian is fundamental for satiric theory; see e.g., Braund (2004b) 413-18.

16. For doubt on this score, see RE 13 cols. 1617-18, reasserting the guesses of Marx (1904) 1:xvi, xix-xxi against Cichorius (1908) 14-22. Mouritsen (1998) 61 notes the “Italian stock” of most of Rome’s writers. Were Lucilius’ ancestors among the 1,600 equites who were granted citizenship in 340 BCE (Liv. 8.11.16, cf. Frederiksen [1984] 191-98)?

17. Cornell (1995) 346. See especially Frederiksen (1968), Hyland (1990) 40 and 74, as well as Liv. 8.11.5, 26.4.3 and V. Max. 2.3.3 with Dench (1995) 65. Cf. Hass (2007) 112, who deems Lucilius’ horses “nach den Frauen wohl seine zweite grosse Leidenschaft.”

18. How real was the scurra? Was the term a byword for urban sophistication, cf. the “Townies” of Corbett (1986) 37? The jury is still out on this question.

20. See now Gowers (2012) 199-201 (also good on the intimation of Greek satyr-plays in Messius’ Cyclops dance). For Cicero’s joke that Campanian politics are Osci ludi (Fam. 7.1.3), see Dench (2005) 181-82.

22. Marx (1905) 406-7 cites Arist. Sophist. el. 177a36.

24. Lucil. 163 Marx = 153 Warmington: succussatoris, taetri tardique caballi (“of the jolter, of the horrid lazy nag”).

26. Morgan (2010) 310-45, earlier statement at 286.

27. Nonsense Novels, IV (“Gertrude the Governess: Or, Simple Seventeen”). Another long-lived Lucilian joke may be reflected in Pers. 1.2, which the scholia claim is taken from Lucilius; if true, adding the beginning of 1.3 produces a witticism similar to the W. S. Gilbert repartee: “‘What, never?’ ‘No, never!’ ‘What, never?’ ‘Well, hardly ever!’” (H.M.S. Pinafore, Act I, No. 4). See also Morgan (2003) for the long survival of witty Lucilian dicta.

28. Cichorius (1908) 26-27. While it has been claimed on the strength of this reference that Lucilius owned land around Tarentum, a place famous for its tradition of libertas—it housed a cult of Zeus Eleutherios (Jupiter Libertas), cf. Fears (1981) 864—it is only the horse that comes from that city. Although its descriptor, Satureianus, is suggestively close to the word satura that describes Lucilius’ and Horace’s genre, and my argument so far has been that the horses’ origins reflect those of their writers, this could be a deliberate Horatian pretense. Tarentines are apparently one of the three peoples, not including Campanians, for whom Lucilius wrote (Cic. Fin. 1.7); Horace may be taking this statement literally. If Lucilius is surveying his property, note also that at Var. R. 1.10.1 it is revealed that the unit for measuring land in Campania (corresponding to a iugerum in Rome and Latium) is, again suggestively, a uersus.

29. A “brilliant joke”: Armstrong (1989) 19. This is an apt figure for Horace’s “pedestrian Muse” (S. 2.6.17) because it lumbers along prosaically: see e.g., Freudenburg (1993) 207. Notice that Horace is apparently trying to get to Tarentum (not his destination in the previous poem, which ended at Brundisium); I think this is of a piece with satiric indirection about his hometown discussed above. Safer to pretend to be from Tarentum than to endure too close enquiries into one’s actual origins; a motivation for Lucilius to have done the same might have involved Pyrrhus, as written about in Ennius’ Annales, who had been associated with Tarentum and Campania. See also Dench (1995) 55 on relations between Samnites (for whom see below) and Tarentum.

30. For Horace’s close reworking of the Lucilian line, see Schlegel (2010) 265 (her conclusion that it has been displaced from the poem we expect, S. 1.5 corresponding to the Iter Siculum, is unfortunately based only on Warmington).

31. So D’Arms (1967) 200-2. I hope to return to Granius, whom Morgan (2010) 311 calls “Lucilius’ most celebrated mouthpiece,” on another occasion.

33. Leach (1999) 173-74. For an effective put-down when Paetus got too big for his boots, see White (2010) 70.

34. Cf. Clodius’ taunt, “what would a man from Arpinum want with the hot springs of Baiae?” Cicero complains at Att. 1.16.10, but laughs it off at Att. 14.9.1. See Dench (2005) 185.

36. For these gladiatorial schools, see e.g., Cic. Att. 7.14.1-2.

39. For the importance of Campania rather than Etruria, see Salmon (1967) 60-61. Comprehensive summary of this aetiological hypothesis is at Welch (2007) 11-14.

40. For aggressive Samnite imperialism, see Eckstein (2006) 138-47. Note, though, that in the Great Latin War, even if it did pre-date by several decades attempted rebellion by the Campani against Rome, the Samnites were fighting on the Roman side against the Aurunci and the Campani.

41. Ramage (1960) 70. For anti-gladiatorial provincialism, see Wiedemann (1992) 114 and Noy (2000) 118-9.

42. I am tempted to recall Jerome’s apparent evidence that Lucilius called Ennius “another Homer” (alter Homerus, Comm. in Mich. 2.7 = 1189 Marx = 413 Warmington) with Morgan (2002), who notes that this makes Ennius “Homer no. 2.” However, Jerome may simply be extrapolating from Hor. Ep. 2.1.50-51.

43. Cf. the possibility that the etymology of the name of Messius Cicirrus in Hor. S. 1.5 stems from a reference to cock-fighting, with a Lucilian fragment, ille alter abundans / cum septem incolumis pinnis redit ac recipit se (“that one of the two, billowing over with seven feathers, retreats and withdraws unscathed,” 121-22 Marx = 115-16 Warmington): Cucchiarelli (2001) 35n69. A different interpretation is that Lucilius refers to a pinnirapus, a gladiator (Samnite, according to Var. L. 5.142) who aimed for the feathers on the crest of his rival. Note the implications of excess (abundans) and retreat.

44. Wiseman (2009) 136. I treat the Lucilian and Horatian metapoetics of satiric “cooking down” (decoqueretur) in a forthcoming article, but for now cf. Gowers (1994) with reference to Persius.

45. There were gladiators at those games: Plb. 31.28.5-6. Reassessments of the truth of the claim include Sandbach (1982) and Parker (1996) 592-601. Segal (2001) 242-46 buys into the conventional assessment of Terence’s unpopularity. Gowers (2004) 161 judges it a joke on the overtly unpopular protagonist. See the summary of Marshall (2006) 24-26.

46. Jory (1986), although see Horsfall (2003) 62, concluding that the Hecyra audience’s demands are impossible. On the prevalence of Republican gladiatorial spectacles, see Welch (2007) 18-22.

47. Cf. Dio Cass. 54.2; Scullard (1981) 41.

48. Whoever it is may admit as much in a seemingly associated but uncertain fragment: sanctum ego a Metellorum iam Anxur repedabam munere (“I was at that very time footing it back from the games of the Metelli to sacred Anxur,” 676 Marx = 637 Warmington); see Cichorius (1908) 137-41. Why Anxur is sacred is unclear (Lindsay conjectured sancto to fit munere); a Metello Romam is transmitted, and there is little agreement.

49. The fragment is cited for the unusual masculine form forus. As a location for gladiatorial contests, the forum was a possible prototype for amphitheaters, whose tiered seats were called maeniana; one aetiology was that this name commemorated a Maenius who sold a house facing the forum to the censors so that they could build the Basilica Porcia in 184 BCE, but kept a column there over which he built a balcony so that he and his descendants could watch the gladiators. Lucilius refers to “when Maenius was going to his column” (Maenius … columnam / cum peteret, 1203-4 Marx = 1136–37 Warmington) and may be explaining the origin of the term maeniana. Most importantly, he mentions observance of gladiatorial combat, rather than participation in it. See Ascon. ad Cic. Diu. Caec. 16.50, Porph. ad Hor. S. 1.3.21: Coarelli (1985) 42-53 and Welch (2007) 32-5 with bibliography.

50. Cf. crebrae ut scintillae, in stricturis quod genus olim / feruenti ferro (“just like crowds of sparks, of the kind we see sometimes round lumps of metal when the iron is red hot,” 144-45 Marx = 146-47 Warmington); note the similarity of phrasing with 146 Marx = 148 Warmington in olim, with the learned note of Marx (1905) 68-70.

51. See Oakley (2005) 522 with instances of forum decoration at ludi Romani.

52. Cf. Cic. Mur. 38-39; at Ver. 2.1.126, Verres is to lend his plunder to the aediles for this purpose; in a Lucilian half-line somebody apparently “will move the miracle elephants” (mirac(u)la ciet elephantas, 14 Marx = 17 Warmington), which despite the disputed reading Pontani (2001) links with the games of 169 BCE put on by Scipio Nasica and Publius Cornelius Lentulus, the cousin of Lucius Cornelius Lentulus Lupus from Lucilius’ Concilium Deorum in book 1; cf. Liv. 44.18.8.

53. Cf. Plin. Nat. 34.10-12; see Wallace-Hadrill (2008) 371-79 on candelabra, 379-86 on bronze lamps.

54. Wallace-Hadrill (2008) 376 suggests that “candelabra mimicked columns in form, yet drew them into the private sphere.” For an example from public banqueting, cf. CIL 10.114 = ILS 6469, cited by Dunbabin (2003) 84.

55. For the wordplay on senses of officium and munus in the book 26 fragments, see now George (1988).

57. See Dench (1998) 132-33 on the overtones of decadence in Samnite arms.

58. I am not arguing that Pacideianus is Campanian to match Aeserninus’ Samnite origin. Gladiators called “Samnite” may not have been ethnically Samnite: Dench (1995) 146, with n169 on this Lucilian passage.

59. Yet note that even though luxuriousness is attached to South Italian cities, it is associated “apparently less frequently to those of Campania”: Lomas (1997) 38.

60. Livy’s story (7.28.1-4) of the vowing of a temple to Juno on one of these Roman hills, the Capitoline, by L. Furius Camillus in the course of a victory over the Aurunci in 345 BCE, even before the Great Latin War, tempts me to ponder whether an Auruncan satirist’s possible grudge against Juno Moneta, the recipient of that temple, would extend to all his fragments that involve the Muses, who could be styled as her daughters. However, the evidence is too scanty for certainty; for that temple see Coarelli (1994), Meadows and Williams (2001), and Clark (2007) 134-37. Miano (2012) 91-95 has recently taken a skeptical line on Juno’s functions in that context.

61. On Cicero’s techniques here see Vasaly (1993) 231-43 and Wallace-Hadrill (2008) 269.

62. On Falernian wine, see e.g., Dalby (2000) 48-50. Cf. Patterson (2006) 60-62, whose mention of the predominance of the Dressel 1 amphora type before the late Republic could be extended back to Lucilius’ time if we follow Parker (1992) 32 on Dressel 1A as essentially a second century BCE product.

63. It was Campanians who were closely identified with commerce and therefore ran Rome’s economy; cf. Farney (2007) 189, following Frederiksen (1984) 305-11.

64. Cf. Goldberg (2005) 167-68 on the language of commerce in Lucilius’ uirtus-fragment (1326-38 Marx = 1196-208 Warmington).

65. Faller (2001) 82, with similar phrasing at 77 and 78. It is tempting to see a winevs. waterdrinking conflict, along Callimachean lines, in fragments such as quantum haurire animus Musarum e fontibus gestit (“as much as my mind longs to drink from the springs of the Muses,” 1008 Marx = 1061 Warmington); cf. Hor. Ep. 1.19.1-11, with e.g., Crowther (1979), Knox (1985). Bagordo (2001) 30-33 examines whether Lucilius participated in the pauci/populus dichotomy or used the vocabulary of labor in poetic composition.

66. For the importance of this, see Freudenburg (2010) 276-77. It may not be far-fetched to see a Horatian assimilation of the terms which Cicero uses when talking of Rome’s narrow streets and pot-holed roads in contrast to Campania’s broad expanses, in his claim that Lucilius is verbose and un-Callimachean (lutulentus, S. 1.4.10).

67. Witness his humble table-array: adstat echinus / uilis, cum patera gutus, Campana supellex (“nearby stands a cheap salt-cellar and an oil-flask, with its saucer, of Campanian ware,” S. 1.6.117-18); cf. S. 2.3.143-44: qui Veientanum festis potare diebus / Campana solitus trulla (“who was accustomed to drink a wine from Veii out of a Campanian ladle”). I am not convinced by Kiessling and Heinze (1957) 238, followed by Muecke (1993) 147, who claim that the material involved is bronze, even if this was produced at Capua. White (1975) 192 at least thinks that the Horatian trulla is made out of earthenware.

69. The low status is established by the other extant usage of the adjective in Lucilius: et non pauper uti ac Samio curtoque catino (“and not like a poor man and on a broken Samian dish,” 435 Marx = 467 Warmington). Perhaps the “broken” nature of the dish foreshadows the castration with a literary point, in the same way that Horace’s gelded steed mirrors his satires’ cut-off quality.

70. Hence the labels pinguis Campania (“fat Campania,” Prop. 3.5.5) and felix illa Campania (“that fertile Campania,” Plin. Nat. 3.60).

71. Cf. Hass (2007) 159 concluding her section on “Reisen und Abenteuer”: “Lucilius spottet hier nicht, kritisiert nicht, er erzählt, was ihn fasziniert oder erschüttert.”

73. Although note that Salmon (1967) 206n6 uses this passage together with the Triumph. Fasti ad an. 340 to stress “the hostility of the Aurunci.”

74. Lucilius went to Spain in Scipio Aemilianus’ entourage (App. Hisp. 84). See e.g., Gruen (1992) 281-82.

75. What kind of sword would this be? Braund (1996) 109 notes that it belongs to an epic register, although cf. Quint. Inst. 10.1.8, claiming that gladius and ensis are interchangeable; at Mart. Sp. 9(7).8 a slave (now in a mythological enactment) had used it to stab his master’s throat. Hor. S. 2.1.39-41 compares a pen to a sheathed sword, whose utility is perhaps questionable.

76. Richlin (1992) 160; cf. Braund (1996) 149, who quotes Lucilius’ friend Scipio on mirrors (Gel. 6.12.5).

77. Schmitz (2000) 190 notes the suggestive juxtaposition of speculum und spolium.

78. Lelièvre (1958) sees Nero, who famously played “Virgil’s Turnus” (cf. Suet. Nero 54), as Juvenal’s target; cf. Suet. Nero 33 for the pun overriding the different metrical quantities of actor and Actor.

79. See Cic. Hort. fr. 10 Grilli = Don. de Com. 5.1, cf. Don. de Com. 5.5, with Cicero again the subject. The sentiment was commonplace: see e.g., Ter. Ad. 415. Lucilius has a line containing the words speciem uitae (1029 Marx = 1074 Warmington), probably about comedy, though the reference is unclear.

80. Faller (2001) 81 knows what he sees, “mit dem bombastischen Spitznamen Delus minor.”

81. See Faller (2001) 76. Hass (2007) 156 thinks the possibility of a letter format distances the reader from events, which reduces their power.

82. I think this fragment is placed slightly later than Miller (2005) 114 judges, past Aricia, not on the way to Setia.

83. Cf. Gowers (2011) 180: “might his motive, at a consciously pan-Italian period of Roman history, have somehow been to put Southern Italy on the map?” Admittedly Athos, on the edges of Roman consciousness, speaks mostly to the Persian imperialist tendencies of Xerxes in Herodotus, while Etna is mostly famous in literature via Pindar and Aeschylus.

84. Farney (2007) 200, with Cerchiai (1995) 21-25. One genealogy, involving two sons of Circe and Odysseus, is preserved in Hesiod’s Theogony 1010-16, in lines that have been suspected to be interpolated: West (1966) 436.

85. See also ps.-Scymnus 229, from the fourth century BCE.

86. So too Hor. S. 2.5 is a burlesque of Odysseus’ Odyssey 11 meeting with Teiresias in the underworld, with the subject legacy hunting, though there is no mention of Campania there.

87. As LSJ s.v. note, the word does not appear in the Odyssey. Aigilips is usually thought to be a natural feature, see Kirk (1985) 182 and 221. For Odysseus’ lands, see Simpson and Lazenby (1970) 101-6, and now Diggle (2005) 513-14.

88. Lucilius cribbed an entire line from Homer (Od. 11.491) in book 14 (462-63 Marx = 491-92 Warmington). While the line is familiar, coming as it does from Achilles’ complaint to Odysseus lamenting his long-lost existence on earth, it may corroborate the possibility that Lucilius saw himself at some stage in his work as an Odysseus redux.

89. I intend to treat the supposedly associated (by all editors) passage that compares epic heroines with women of today (540-46 Marx = 567-73 Warmington) elsewhere; see Morgan (2010) 327, where Junius’ conjecture Τυρὼ eupatereiam (545 Marx = 572 Warmington) is accepted and Ledam substituted for Helenam (543 Marx = 570 Warmington), both on the model of the Odyssey 11 Catalogue of Women.

90. Gowers (1993) 164. Cf. Oliensis (1997) 99-100 on how this disaster reflects the poem’s (and its companion poems’ in Satires 2) focus on responses to reversals of Fortune.

92. In his grammatical works: see Allen (1965) 64.

93. This was the Aeneadae or Decius, whose fragments we unfortunately only know from Nonius, so we have no idea how widespread knowledge of its existence was.

94. See Manuwald (2001a) 216-17, on fr. 10 and 11 of the Aeneadae, which refer to a pater.

95. See Faller (2002) 152-53 for Porphyrio’s mystifying statement (which Faller reproduces) on this score. Schmidt (1977) argues that the literary critique was purely a generalized one. Freudenburg (2001) 87-92 discusses Lucilian fun, as reported by Servius (A. 11.601-2), with a line that may come from Ennius’ Scipio, likely to have been a praetexta, but see Jocelyn (1965) 148-49.

96. For a comparison of the portrayal of fatherhood in Accius’ tragedy (in this case the Armorum Iudicium) and the Decius praetexta, see Manuwald (2002) 217.

98. See e.g., Taplin (2007) 266 for a pot that seems to satisfy “the Campanian taste for explicit violence” but may not depict tragedy. On the relative paucity of definitively comic Campanian vases, see Green (2012) 324-27.

99. On the latter, see Manuwald (2001b) 156; but Pacuvius is just as much in the frame as a target.

100. This is based on the summary of Krenkel (1970) 1:65.

101. This suggestion has been canvassed by Miller (2005) 115.

102. See Habinek (2005) 78 on can- in Lucilius, which might contrast with the prosaic nature of the Iter; cf. Gowers (2011) 178. Orestes is also supposed to have been involved in the foundation of the Temple of Diana Facelina, mentioned above (102-4 Marx = 143-45 Warmington); see Fischer-Hansen (2009) 225-26. Cf. Gowers (2011) 181 on the possibility Lucilius presented aetiological explanations in the Iter.

103. But cf. Rosen (2007) 8-13 on the related dynamics of abjection in Juvenal and Hipponax (the latter with his chilblains), seeking to move us away from too easy an autobiographical reading.

105. Gel. 3.3.15. But see Gruen (1990) 92-106, and now Sciarrino (2011) 83-87.

106. Chahoud (2010) 92-94, with examples. For the docile pusio of Juv. 6.34, see Gunderson (2005) 231.

108. Wilkins and Hill (2006) 158 seem to be on the fence about the luxury of shellfish. Déry (1998) 104 notes that oyster shells were frequent in soldiers’ campsites.

109. A point made by Gowers (2011) 183.

110. Petersmann (1999) 304-5; Adams (2013) 408, 416-17 takes the Lucilian ambiguity more at face value. Mariotti (1960) 55-56 identifies the complexity of linguistic register at work here.

111. On Orata, his oyster beds and his lawsuit against Gratidianus concerning a property on the Lucrine Lake, see Bannon (2009) 219-32; the trial’s date could be “as early as 107 B.C.” (220), but is more likely to be close to 91 BCE.

112. For authoritative discussion of Italian oyster connoisseurship and cultivation, see now Marzano (2013) 173-95.

113. See the summary of Gowers (2011) 180-81, though I am agnostic about the rhinoceros promontory theory.