Bryn Mawr Classical Review

[NB : Seuls les aspects linguistiques de ce livre seront considérés. Un compte rendu de leurs aspects littéraires paraîtra dans la prochaine Revue des Etudes Latines.]

Lucio Ceccarelli offre un livre au titre trop modeste. En effet, ce qu'il désigne du nom de Contributi per la storia dell'esametro latino est une Storia quantitativa dell'esametro latino da Ennio a Venanzio Fortunato. On n'y trouvera ainsi aucunes considérations linguistiques, fussent-elles sémantiques ou stylistiques, sur un objet dont les équilibres rythmiques seront considérés du seul point de vue statistique.

Son ouvrage se présente comme le prolongement et la généralisation de résultats obtenus sur des corpus plus étroits (Evrard) ou limités à l'époque classique (Duckworth) ou seulement centrés sur quelques problématiques (De Neubourg). On ne manquera pas de saluer une extension vers l'antiquité vraiment tardive, acte complètement inhabituel dans un domaine poétique où le conformisme le plus étroit fait tout arrêter à la mort d'Ovide, abandonnant l'épopée flavienne aux audacieux, Juvénal aux téméraires et le reste aux marginaux.

L'auteur part de cette constatation intuitive que le poète use de ses vers comme il utilise sa langue (p. 7). Il tentera donc de mesurer diachroniquement et synchroniquement les traits distinctifs de la grammaticalité rythmique de l'hexamètre dactylique telle qu'elle s'incarne dans la parole d'un auteur particulier.

Il s'agira aussi d'appréhender une part importante de ce que j'ai ici même (cf. BMCR 2009.08.37) désigné du nom de << stylistique de la métrique >>.

L'ouvrage est construit en deux parties. La première (p. 23-138) couvre la période préclassique et classique, la seconde, plus brève (p. 139-205), touche à la période tardive.

Deux remarques s'imposent d'entrée.

La première concerne la chronologie. On peut s'étonner de voir l'antiquité tardive commencer à la mort de Juvénal. Il faut toutefois tenir compte du fait que les poètes des deuxième et troisième siècles sont rares et mal datés. Il est ainsi nécessaire d'attendre le milieu du quatrième siècle pour trouver de la poésie en quantité suffisante à la constitution de statistiques. Cette discontinuité introduit de fait un biais dans l'analyse.

La seconde concerne les auteurs choisis. La méthode statistique comporte des contraintes mathématiques. En effet, pour que les résultats produits fussent significatifs, il fallait des textes longs et continus. Sont ainsi exclus de l'analyse les textes fragmentaires, les épigrammes et les hexamètres issus de distiques.

L'ordonnancement de chacune des parties se fait selon une progression qui va du plus général au plus particulier. Elle comporte trois étapes.

La première (p. 25-85 ; 141-171 : La realizzatione dello schema metrico) touche à l'équilibre global de la rythmicité de l'hexamètre, considérée comme résultant de la constitution progressive et raisonnée de cellules rythmiques dactyliques et spondaïques.

La deuxième (p. 87-101 ; 173-181 : Il trattamento della clausola), à laquelle il faut joindre le chapitre suivant (p. 103-123 ; 183-192 : Le incisioni), voit abordé l'hexamètre par son extrémité finale et sa centralité.

La troisième (p. 125-129 ; 193-194 : La sinalefe) regroupe des considérations sur l'élision et l'équilibre phonologique qui en résulte.

Des Considerazioni conclusive (p. 131-138) et finali (p. 195- 205) couronnent séparément chaque partie, avant qu'un chapitre de Conclusioni (p. 207-213) ne résume l'ensemble. Une Bibliografia (p. 215-235) presque exhaustive achève ce livre auquel il ne manque que l'index qui en aurait fait un instrument efficace. Mais on sait l'entreprise décourageante : tantae molis fuisset ...

La première partie se fonde sur cette constatation que l'hexamètre grec est beaucoup plus dactylique que l'hexamètre latin. Les résultats statistiques produits permettent de le voir évoluer vers une dactylisation -- le terme n'est pas de l'auteur -- dont l'intensité fournit un excellent marqueur de distance. La valeur de ce marqueur doit s'évaluer selon deux paramètres conjoints : la fréquence dactylique du pied 1 et la manière dont le rythme dactylique se répand du pied 1 au pied 4.

On constate ainsi que si l'hexamètre grec contient une moyenne de 70% de dactyles en attaque métrique, celui d'Ennius n'en contient que 40% alors que les Bucoliques de Calpurnius Siculus en comportent un peu plus de 57%. Un marquage de ce type fournit donc un excellent indice de la proximité hellénique du texte considéré. Ainsi, que l'épopée historique et archaïque d'un Ennius soit au plus éloigné de l'hellénisme se comprend parfaitement. De même ne doit-on pas s'étonner que les Bucoliques de Virgile soient plus dactyliques que son Enéide. On pourrait ajouter ici que la comparaison s'impose avec ce qui s'observe dans le domaine iambo-trochaïque où l'on voit le vieux sénaire se régulariser peu à peu et tendre, jusqu'à y aboutir, au trimètre à la grecque de Sénèque à mesure que le théâtre se délatinise et passe d'une grammaticalité rythmique latine à une grammaticalité rythmique hellénisée.

J'ajouterai à titre personnel qu'il est de ce point de vue particulièrement significatif que les usagers de l'autochtone satire usent tous d'une langue beaucoup plus spondaïque que celle qui se lit dans les textes poétiques de leurs contemporains. En utilisateurs du sermo, ils rapprochent mécaniquement leur parole d'une langue parlée dont l'influence était très forte sur les poètes archaïques puis archaïsants.

Le fait est significatif du mouvement qui a porté le latin d'oralité ancienne jusqu'à la hauteur d'une langue d'art. Déjà observé sur les plans phonologique, sémantique, lexical et syntaxique, ce mouvement de sélection diasystémique s'est également incarné dans le rythme de la langue poétique saisie dans son ensemble. L'hellénisation progressive de la rythmicité poétique apparaît ainsi moins comme l'instrument d'une délatinisation que comme celui d'une désoralisation par adoption d'une grammaticalité rythmique antinomique à celle de la langue parlée qui tendait, à quelques exceptions près, à la constitution de syllabes longues. De même que la désocclusion et l'amuïssement, l'allongement de la quantité syllabique propre à la langue de l'oralité populaire devait-elle faire sonner << vulgairement peuple >> la langue du uulgus profanum aux oreilles de la melior pars generis humani.

Dans le domaine plus particulier de la langue poétique, l'enjeu était spécialement crucial. En effet, la langue poétique est une oratio uincta, langue d'amuïssement, terreau d'élisions traversé de syllabae ancipites, et dont bien des moyens, tels l'expressivité des sémantismes, la tolérance syntaxique et l'usage fréquent d'intensifs comme les pluriels dits << poétiques >> sont issus du langage populaire. Il s'agissait donc d'aseptiser une oralité sans doute ressentie comme toujours vivace. L'usage à la grecque de syllabes brèves fut sans aucun doute une contribution importante à cette aseptisation. Il en est résulté un hexamètre mécaniquement plus long et de masse phonémique plus importante. C'est donc bien une nouvelle matière sonore qui se créait, à la fois plus étendue et plus dense. Le poète de la nouvelle rythmicité avait-il conscience de faire subir un véritable saut qualitatif à l'hexamètre latin ? Je veux croire que c'était le cas et que, dans la conscience linguistique latine, assez de traits rythmiques avaient désormais été changés pour que l'ancien et le nouvel hexamètre fussent deux objets désormais distincts.

La seconde partie est consacrée à la clausule. Lucio Ceccarelli y examine en détail son évolution vers des types canoniques tels condere gentem ou conde sepulchro. Leur nette prévalence, surtout du premier type, montre une forte tendance à la recherche de ce qu'il faut appeler une <<clausule lexématique >> où non seulement ictus et accent sont homodynes, mais encore où chaque pied correspond exactement à un mot. Cette tendance effacera les types non standards tels que primus ab oris ou si bona norint.

La seconde partie touche également au délicat problème de la césure. On y sent l'embarras né d'un choix difficile à opérer et ardu à interpréter. En effet, d'un vers à césure multiples, lesquelles considérer, puisque dans un vers tel VERG. Aen. 1,1 Arma uirum / que cano / Troiae / qui primus ab oris ou LVCR. 5,1091 Illud in his / rebus / tacitus / ne forte requiras, tout s'observe ? Fort d'une doctrine issue des grammairiens mais qui se trouve souvent en contradiction avec les faits, Lucio Ceccarelli ne reconnaitrait pas à ces vers de césure trihémimère mais seulement des césures penthémimère et hephthémimère. Mais quoi qu'il en soit, comme le reconnaît Lucio Ceccarelli lui-même, la statistique devient délicate sitôt que la césure n'a qu'une existence rythmique et que ni syntaxe ni sémantique n'y ont leur partie à jouer (p. 103). J'ajouterais que tout montre par exemple que la coupe bucolique, pour ne citer qu'elle, correspond presque invariablement chez un Juvénal à une rupture argumentative forte. Considérer les autres césures amène à des constatations toutes semblables et contraint à les reconnaître soumises à des exigences non pas rythmiques mais sémantiques.

Dans le domaine particulier de la césure, les résultats auxquels aboutit Lucio Ceccarelli éclairent également un peu de l'évolution linguistique. Il me semble en effet, si l'hexamètre grec est foncièrement une dipodie coupée au trochée troisième, c'est-à-dire entre les deux syllabes brèves de son centre géométrique, l'hexamètre latin, quant à lui, devient un vers homogène césuré à la penthémimère, c'est-à-dire un peu asymétriquement après une syllabe longue qui n'est pas exactement centrale. On peut voir ici l'effet de la tendance à la longueur syllabique du latin oral qui aura évacué la double brève du centre de l'hexamètre. Le point extrême du goût du latin oral et archaïque pour les grandes longueurs syllabiques est d'ailleurs atteint d'une part dans ces vers sans coupe penthémimère que le classicisme révoquera, mais surtout dans ces vers à centralité lexématique massivement circonscrite entre les césures trihémimère et hephthémimère tels ENN. ann. 423 Qui clamos / oppugnantis / uagore uolanti ou LVCR. 5,1370 Cernebant / indulgendo / blandeque colendo, dont la binarité colométrique évoque les prière agricoles catoniennes, et que l'on trouve parfois mâtinée d'ennianismes lexématiques et phoniques, comme dans VERG. Aen. 5,407 Magnanimus / que Anchisiades / et pondus et ipsa.

La troisième partie touche à l'élision. Comme l'affirme Lucio Ceccarelli lui-même (p. 128) : Il dato oraziano suggerisce di considerare l'alta frequenza di sinalefi come una caratteristica della lingua parlata e dello stile colloquiale. Je crois donc que la fréquence de l'élision devra être interprétée soit comme une touche d'oralité archaïsante chez un Virgile ou un Silius, soit comme une affirmation d'oralité pure chez un Perse ou un Horace satiriste. A l'inverse, ce même Horace saura significativement raréfier ses élisions lorsqu'il voudra se faire hellénique, comme dans l'Ars poetica.

Dans ses Considerazioni conclusive, Lucio Ceccarelli ne cache pas la difficulté qu'il y a de distinguer des influences, voire des écoles rythmique. En effet, l'examen des données statistiques montre que l'évolution ne s'est pas faite de manière homogène mais ponctuellement. Certes, comme je l'ai dit plus haut, la tendance non pas à l'hellénisation de l'hexamètre, mais à l'effacement de ses traits d'oralité par l'adoption de traits observables sur le grec, apparaît assez nettement pour être signalée avec plus de force que ne le fait Lucio Ceccarelli. Pour le reste, je crois qu'il faut constater que chaque auteur fait ses emplettes où bon lui semble. Un Ovide (p. 132) se veut fortement dactylique, mais surtout fait ce qu'il veut. Sans doute, si l'on y cherche bien, lui trouve-t-on des rattachements rythmiques avec les Bucoliques. Mais ceux-ci ne sont vraisemblablement que le résultat d'un commun désir d'hellénisme. Il faut le croire innovateur mais peu suivi dans des créations rythmiques qui resteront des idiosyncrasies ovidiennes. En revanche, des surprises surgissent parfois. On découvre ainsi (p. 133) que les auteurs rythmiquement les plus influencés par la pratique virgilienne sont Manilius et Grattius, que Germanicus se veut cicéronien et que l'ovidienne Ilias latina est d'une rythmicité très virgilienne. Il va de soi que de telles constatations devront trouver leur place dans les évaluations futures de ces auteurs et d'autres encore. Mais un fait demeure toutefois : quel qu'en soit l'aspect rythmique étudié, l'Enéide occupe une place médiane qui la situe comme le point d'équilibre de la rythmicité poétique latine.

L'examen détaillé de la pratique tardo-antique éclaire la perception par des locuteurs natifs d'une rythmicité héritée et réinterprétée. Il faut toutefois rappeler, mieux que ne le fait Lucio Ceccarelli, que le locuteur de cette période évolue dans un univers phonétique où la réalisation des longueurs syllabiques s'est effacée ou au moins recomposée en oppositions de syllabes accentuées et de syllabes atones, tendant à leur allongement et raccourcissement respectifs.

Des continuités se distinguent en terme d'influences auctoriales -- le modèle rythmique virgilien se perpétue en référence -- et de choix fondés sur d'autres critères. Ainsi la séquence DSSS reste-t-elle privilégiée de même que la séquence DSDS qui permet d'obtenir une alternance totale : DSDSDS. Cependant, comme le reconnaît Lucio Ceccarelli (p. 170-171), un même auteur peut simultanément s'apparenter à plusieurs modèles très différents selon l'aspect rythmique considéré. En matière de clausules, même si les types canoniques s'imposent aux temps tardifs comme aux temps classiques, il semble bien que l'on ait usé en la matière d'une liberté assez grande pour qu'on puisse la croire fondée sur l'indifférence à toute influence (p. 181).

Lucio Ceccarelli peine a trouver raisons et modèles cohérents, sinon convaincants, à la pratique tardive de la césure. Il est vraisemblable qu'elle tende à n'être plus utilisée que comme relais tactique destiné à mettre en relief l'adjectif antéposé et séparé de son substantif par hyperbate, selon le type : ALC. AVIT. carm. 1,1 Quidquid agit uarios / humana in gente labores. Quant à l'élision, si des fréquences d'usage semblent se corréler avec celles qui s'observent chez un Virgile par exemple, l'impression générale qui se dégage est qu'elle ne fait plus l'objet de soins particuliers, ou qu'elle n'est plus utilisée que comme un marqueur phatique, mécaniquement créateur de signifiant poétique.

La liberté de choix rythmique, que reconnaît d'ailleurs Lucio Ceccarelli (p. 203 et 213), ne me semble pas témoigner d'un désir de rattachement polymorphique qui lierait, par exemple, la césure à Ovide, la clausule à Virgile et les séquences quantitatives à qui sais-je encore. L'auteur tardif fait visiblement son choix dans une rythmique comme il le fait dans le domaine générique, en fonction d'un désir qui est moins de pieuse filiation que d'immédiate nécessité et volonté expressive.

Au terme de la lecture du livre de Lucio Ceccarelli, on doit en outre arriver à cette conviction que la périodisation qui l'articule doit être révisée. En effet, tout dans les données qu'il recueille et analyse montre que l'histoire rythmique de l'hexamètre s'ordonne en cinq périodes.

1) Une période de constitution d'une rythmicité proprement latine, dont les fragments sont malaisés à étudier, mais dont les traits communs avec l'oralité et sans doute avec de vieilles formes colométriques et/ou saturniennes devaient apparaître à qui savait les entendre.

2) Une période de réaction à la vieille oralité latine. Les années 50 témoignent parfaitement des tentatives non pas d'hellénisation de l'hexamètre, mais de sa désoralisation. Un Lucrèce tente de civiliser Ennius, mais sans oser se séparer totalement de lui ; un Cicéron, en zélateur bien revendiqué de la poésie ennienne, s'efforce, mais sans succès, d'en tirer de quoi établir une norme rythmique acceptable ; un Catulle vise l'hellénisme, mais dans une fidélité à la latinité qui l'amène, comme Cicéron, à une attitude tout aussi typée, quoique différente, et tout aussi idiosyncrasique dans son insuccès.

3) Une période de normalisation. Elle voit deux tendances se dessiner. La première est latine et conservatrice. Elle a pour représentant un Virgile qui établit une norme par l'adoption presque systématique de fréquences moyennes dans l'usage des procédés qu'il juge assez éloignés de l'oralité ancienne pour constituer une norme rythmique qu'il faut qualifier de << moderne >>. De ce point de vue, il ne procède pas différemment de ces praticiens de la prose qui, dans le courant du deuxième siècle, avaient établi par criblage et élimination une norme syntaxique et lexicale. La seconde tendance est novatrice et hellénisante. Elle s'incarne dans la pratique d'un Ovide, qui adopte une attitude plus radicalement à la grecque dans une pratique rythmique qui apparaît comme l'aboutissement final d'une désoralisation de l'hexamètre.

4) Une période d'éclatement où l'adoption d'une des deux normes établies par l'époque précédente se subordonne très systématiquement à un désir d'expressivité. De ce point de vue, la difficulté où se trouve Lucio Ceccarelli à interpréter en termes de filiations et d'influences ses propres données montre, d'une manière qui méritera un examen plus approfondi, que cette époque voit le triomphe de la sémantique sur la rythmique. J'entends par là que le désir d'expressivité qui s'exacerbe alors amène les poètes à faire des choix qui ne sont plus motivés par une doctrine rythmique, mais par la volonté de voir s'accomplir efficacement le munus pesuadendi. Leur attitude rythmique n'est dès lors plus langagière mais oratoire ; le signifiant rythmique a désormais changé non pas de référent, mais de signifié. Il ne dénote plus une revendication linguistique mais une volonté d'efficacité persuasive.

5) Une période phatique et expressionniste. Considérée sous l'angle de l'expressivité, la pratique rythmique y apparaît motivée comme celle des poètes de l'époque précédente. Cependant, les auteurs postérieurs à la fin du troisième siècle sont les usagers d'une langue qui n'est désormais plus quantitative au sens ancien du terme ; ils emploient un idiome dans lequel l'accent l'a emporté sur une quantité syllabique qui en a vraisemblablement été réorganisée, suffisamment en tout cas, comme en témoignent les vers de Commodien, pour devenir impropre à la fabrication de vers << à l'ancienne >>. Dans un pareil cadre langagier, un respect très conservateur des objets s'affirme comme la marque phatique de la poéticité. Quant à la liberté de leur usage, on la croira motivée par un besoin immédiat d'expressivité ou alors par une fidélité très fragmentée à d'illustres modèles des temps anciens. Quidquid id est, in aeternum sub iudice lis erit.

On aura compris qu'il est extrêmement rare de se confronter à un livre aussi riche et aussi stimulant. On aura surtout constaté qu'il n'est désormais plus possible de mener quelque étude que ce soit sur de la matière poétique romaine sans prendre en considération les résultats rassemblés par Lucio Ceccarelli. Sans doute exploitera-t-on davantage les tables qui constituent le second volume de son ouvrage. Elles sont le résultat de l'analyse de presqu'un million de pieds et contraignent à l'admiration la plus respectueuse quiconque s'est jamais soucié d'introduire de la géométrie dans le flou inévitable des études littéraires. On lira cependant aussi son premier volume, sans doute pour les résultats qui y sont analysés, mais également pour goûter la rigueur d'une méthode, la clarté d'une écriture et l'agilité d'une intelligence créatrice d'un livre qui est moins une synthèse qu'un tremplin.

Preview

L'étude des Verrines a considérablement progressé ces six dernières années, grâce d'abord à la parution quasi simultanée de deux commentaires fouillés en langue italienne du De signis,¹ ainsi que des actes de deux colloques bien ciblés.² La plupart des études réunies dans ces deux derniers volumes étudient la valeur documentaire des différents discours,³ alors que l'ouvrage de Thomas D. Frazel, issu d'une thèse de Ph.D. soutenue en 1998 à l'University of California à Los Angeles, est une étude approfondie des procédés rhétoriques mis en oeuvre par Cicéron pour emporter l'adhésion de ses auditeurs.⁴ Frazel étudie de ce point de vue successivement le De signis (p. 71-123), le De suppliciis (p. 125-185) et le De frumento (p. 187-221). Le principal procédé ainsi mis en évidence est l'amplificatio: Verrès ne s'est pas seulement rendu coupable de furtum, il est un fur sacrilegus; loin d'être un bonus imperator, comme le soutient son défenseur, Verrès se révèle, à travers son auaritia, sa mollitia et sa crudelitas, être un tyran sanguinaire; s'il est difficile de nier qu'il a contribué momentanément à l'approvisionnement en blé de la capitale, son exploitation éhontée des fermiers siciliens a conduit à un large abandon des cultures dans l'île et à la désertification de nombreux champs, ce qui met à court terme en danger l'approvisionnement de Rome.

Dans la conclusion (p. 223-236), Frazel résume les enjeux du procès à la fois pour Verrès (déchéance civique, infamia) et pour Cicéron (gain en notoriété par l'étalage de son capital culturel).

Tous les éléments de ces analyses ne sont pas nouveaux et beaucoup de remarques dans ce sens ont déjà été faites par les rhéteurs antiques (que Frazel cite à l'occasion) et par les commentateurs humanistes (que Frazel, comme malheureusement la plupart des philologues modernes, passe sous silence). Néanmoins, il s'agit d'une étude éminemment originale, l'auteur postulant que les sources du savoir-faire oratoire de Cicéron doivent être cherchées moins dans les traités théoriques (tels le De inuentione ou la Rhetorica ad Herennium) que dans les exercices de déclamation que l'Arpinate , de son aveu même, n'a jamais cessé de pratiquer, de sa plus tendre jeunesse jusqu'à la fin de sa vie. Frazel assimile ces exercices aux progymnasmata et il consacre son premier chapitre (p. 23-70) à présenter la tradition antique de ces exercices préparatoires. Il admet avec raison que cette tradition remonte à l'époque hellénistique et que les plus anciens recueils conservés (notamment celui de Théon et ceux dont Quintilien se fait l'écho dans l'Institution oratoire) nous permettent ainsi d'avoir une idée assez précise des exercices connus et pratiqués par Cicéron.

La démonstration de cette thèse est menée avec beaucoup d'érudition et elle est le plus convainquant à propos du De signis: Frazel rappelle que, si Cicéron avait respecté les règles des traités théoriques, il aurait dû discuter les faits selon le status definitionis et montrer en quoi les différentes oeuvres d'art dont Verrès s'était approprié étaient avant tout des objets de culte. Or, selon Frazel, Cicéron n'en fait rien parce que la preuve du caractère sacré n'était pas toujours facile à apporter, ensuite parce qu'une telle démonstration n'était pas indispensable, Verrès étant accusé pecuniarum repetundarum et non sacrilegii. Mais, qualifier Verrès de sacrilegus est un procédé d'amplification qui d'une part aggrave, du moins aux yeux d'une partie de l'auditoire, les exactions commises par Verrès et d'autre part permet à l'orateur de passer rapidement sur le fait plutôt gênant pour lui que tous les prétendus furta n'en étaient pas et que certaines oeuvres avaient été cédées par leur propriétaires contre rémunération (cf. p.ex. p. 91-96, à propos des oeuvres provenant du sacrarium d'Heius). D'où, selon Frazel, le recours par Cicéron aux lieux communs que les auteurs des progymnasmata définissent comme l'amplification de ce qui est considéré comme démontré. En l'occurrence, les thèmes développés par Cicéron proviennent du lieu commun contre le voleur sacrilège, tel que nous le lisons chez ps.-Hermogène, p. 11.21-14.15 Rabe.

Dans le De suppliciis, qui est une réfutation de l'argumentation ex uita anteacta développée par Hortensius, Cicéron aurait emprunté aux progymnasmata d'une part le procédé de la comparaison (pour faire ressortir la différence entre Verrès et les grands imperatores passés et présents) et d'autre part différents éléments du lieu commun contre les tyrans, tel qu'on le trouve chez Aphthonius, p. 17.17-21.3 Rabe.

Dans le De frumento, Cicéron utilise l'ekphrasis, l'un des procédés étudiés dans les progymnasmata (Frazel renvoie ici à la description du pays en guerre dont il est question chez Théon, p. 119.20 Rabe), pour établir un tableau impressionnant des champs abandonnés à la suite des exactions commises par Verrès.

Frazel a raison de souligner qu'on ne rend pas justice à l'art oratoire cicéronien en l'analysant à la lumière des seuls traités rhétoriques. Seulement, depuis l'article fondamental que R. Heinze a consacré en 1925 au Pro Caelio, plus personne ne le fait Les analyses désormais classiques de Chr. Neumeister, C.J. Classen et W. Stroh ont montré que le choix des procédés ne peut s'expliquer qu'à partir d'une analyse minutieuse des attentes de l'auditoire. Frazel s'inscrit d'ailleurs dans cette tradition (cf. sa lumineuse analyse des attitudes différenciées vis-à-vis du vol d'oeuvres d'art chez les auditeurs de Cicéron, p. 123). D'autre part, que la maîtrise de l'art oratoire demande un entraînement régulier et une pratique continu de l'écrit, Cicéron n'a eu cesse de le répéter dans ses oeuvres et il s'est astreint lui-même à cette exigence tout au long de sa vie (p. 38-49).

La faiblesse de la thèse de Frazel consiste à assimiler ces exercices aux progymnasmata, tels que nous les connaissons à travers les recueils de Théon, Aphthonius et al. Ces rhéteurs ont compilé des recueils d'exercices préparatoires à l'intention de jeunes gens qui, en partie, suivent encore l'enseignement d'un grammaticus. Et j'ai du mal à imaginer qu'en déclamant, en Asie ou à Rhodes, avec de célèbres rhéteurs grecs ou, en avril 44 à Pouzzoles, avec de futurs consuls (Hirtius et Vibius Pansa en avril 44), Cicéron se soit contenté de répéter des exercices destinés à l'entraînement de jeunes débutants.

Les procédés que Frazel estime dériver de la familiarité de Cicéron avec les progymnasmata (lieu commun, description, etc.) sont en effet des plus galvaudés: les auteurs de ces recueils les ont notés et décrits parce qu'ils les avaient observés dans les discours réels. Et, comme l'ont montré différentes études sur l'influence des orateurs grecs sur Cicéron, celui-ci connaît ces procédés pour les avoir repérés en lisant les oeuvres de Démosthène, d'Eschine, de Lysias, d'Isocrate, et al.⁵

Malgré cette réserve sur le fil conducteur choisi par l'auteur, la lecture de ce livre sera indispensable à toute étude approfondie des Verrines: il fourmille de remarques très pertinentes qui éclairent utilement de nombreux passages des trois discours étudiés plus à fond.

Quelques remarques de détail: p. 152, à propos de Verr. 2.3.47 (hos ... nunc ac desertos uidebam), Frazel pense que l'adverbe nunc se réfère au moment où l'orateur parle; en fait, nunc est couramment utilisé dans les récits pour opposer un instant du passé à un instant antérieur (cf. OLD, s.u. 3a).

P. 217, à propos de Verr. 2.4.113 (tanta religione obstricta tota prouincia est, tanta supersitio ex istius facto mentis omnium Siculorum occupauit), Frazel croit que, en utilisant les termes tanta religio et tanta superstitio, Cicéron 'denigrates' et 'deprecates' les craintes religieuses des Siciliens. Certes, le choix de superstitio (cf. G. Baldo, ad loc., p. 496) ne permet pas de douter que Cicéron prend ses distances avec cette croyance irrationnelle; il me semble néanmoins que l'orateur cherche ici non pas à discréditer les Siciliens, mais à mettre ses auditeurs en garde contre le risque de voir cette superstitio provoquer de graves troubles dans l'île, s'ils ne prennent pas les devants par une condamnation de Verrès.

P. 140-147, le long développement que Frazel consacre à la question de savoir si Verrès avait des penchants hétérosexuels ou homosexuels, est assurément en phase avec un questionnement très en vogue chez beaucoup d'intellectuels du XXe siècle finissant, mais ne contribue guère à élucider les préoccupations des auditeurs de Cicéron, pour qui la sexualité débridée de Verrès était scandaleuse dans la seule mesure où elle l'empêchait de tenir son rôle dans la société et de satisfaire à ses officia de magistrat.

P. 56: dans une étude rhétorique, l'on s'attend à une certaine rigueur terminologique et on est gêné de voir l'auteur qualifier le 'lieu commun' de 'trope'.

Comme il est de coutume pour les volumes de la collection Hypomnemata, la présentation matérielle du livre est impeccable, mais un relecture plus attentive aurait permis d'éviter plusieurs coquilles inélégantes, notamment dans les citations latines (ainsi p. 66, 101, 161, 247; lire p. 52 'a progymnasma' et p. 147 n. 72 'praedicare').

1.   G. Baldo (Firenze, 2004) et A. Lazzeretti (Pisa, 2006).
2.   J. Dubouloz-S. Pittia (éd.), La Sicile de Cicéron: lectures des Verrines. Besançon, 2007; J.R.W. Prag (ed.), Sicilia nutrix plebis Romanae: rhetoric, law, and taxation in Cicero's Verrines. London, 2007.
3.   Exception des deux contributions de K. Tempest, 'Saints and sinners: some thoughts on the presentation of character in Attic oratory and Cicero's Verrines'. In J.R.W. Prag (ed.), op.cit., p. 19-36; et de C. Steel, 'The rhetoric of the De frumento'. Ibid., p. 37-48; voir aussi C. Steel, 'Being economical with the truth: what really happened at Lampsacus'. In J. Powell-J. Paterson (ed.), Cicero, the advocate. Oxford, 2004, p. 233-251.
4.   Cf. déjà T. D. Frazel, 'The composition and circulation of Cicero's In Verrem', CQ 54 (2004), p. 128-142; Id., "Furtum and the description of stolen objects in Cicero, In Verrem 2.4", AJP 126 (2005), p. 363-376.
5.   Cf. déjà R. Preiswerk, 'Griechische Gemeinplätze in Ciceros Reden'. In Juvenes dum sumus. Basel, 1907, p. 27-38; et surtout A. Weische, Ciceros Nachahmung der attischen Redner. Heidelberg, 1972; ainsi que plus spécifiquement à propos des Verrines, L. Pearson, 'Cicero's debt to Demosthenes: the Verrines', Pacific Coast philology 3 (1968), p, 49-54, et l'étude de K. Tempest citée ci-dessus n. 3. Curieusement, Frazel ne cite aucune de ces quatre études dans sa bibliographie.

Fino a pochi anni fa l'unica antologia scientifica di testi magici antichi era quella di Theodor Hopfner, Griechisch-ägyptischer Offenbarungszauber, Leipzig 1921-1924, di cui solo di recente è stata pubblicata un'edizione (Amsterdam 1974) con caratteri tipografici: prima era scritto a mano. Sicuramente i libri sono il riflesso degli interessi del pubblico, ma certi libri hanno la capacità, a loro volta, di destare ulteriore interesse. Nell'ambito della magia antica questo è il caso della traduzione dei papiri magici [The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation, a cura di H.D. Betz, Chicago-London 1986 (II edizione 1992)], che ha permesso ai molti mortali che non sanno i greco (o il tedesco) di accedere al più vasto repertorio di formule magiche che ci è stato tramandato dall'antichità. Più o meno contemporaneamente Georg Luck pubblicava una ricca antologia di testi relativi alla magia, che è stata tradotta in molte lingue (Arcana Mundi: Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds. Baltimore 1985; II edizione 2006; Magie und andere Geheimlehren in der Antike. Stuttgart 1990): Arcana Mundi - Magia e occulto nel mondo greco e romano, Milano 1999).

Fritz Graf ebbe altrettanto successo con il suo agile e rigoroso trattato sulla magia nell'antichità (F.Graf, La magie dans l'antiquité gréco-romaine, Paris 1994; La magia nel mondo antico, Bari 1995; Magic in the Ancient World, Cambridge Mass. 1997). E poi ci sono edizioni di altri generi di documenti, come le lamelle o le gemme magiche, che negli ultimi hanni hanno fatto grandi progressi. E i congressi dedicati alla magia antica si moltiplicano ogni anno, senza che la qualità dei contributi tenda a declinare, vista la ricchezza dei temi da trattare e la competenza di molti specialisti.

A spiegare l'enorme interesse che la magia antica desta da una ventina di anni a questa parte concorrono due fenomeni diversi: da un lato gli studiosi hanno trovato nei testi di magia una miniera vastissima di documenti poco studiati, difficili ed insieme affascinanti, che riservano sempre nuove scoperte, visto che nel passato l'atteggiamento classicheggiante degli studi li aveva trascurati; d'altro lato sta la ricerca morbosa di paganesimo da parte di molte persone, il bisogno di esseri sovrumani presenti nella natura.

Ecco perché questa nuova antologia, curata da Daniel Ogden, ha come editore niente meno che Oxford University Press. L'argomento trattato garantisce il successo editoriale e giustifica la nuova edizione, arricchita di nuovi testi.

Questa antologia è, a mio avviso, la migliore di cui oggi si disponga, per ampiezza e capacità di sintesi. Le testimonianze--sia autori che monumenti--sono presentate con gli elementi minimi indispensabili per un inquadramento cronologico e culturale, e con un commento breve, chiaro ed efficace. La ratio con cui le testimonianze sono suddivise è la seguente: 1) quelle relative a maghi che sembrano conservare alcuni tratti arcaici della fenomenologia dello sciamanismo, che permettono di proporre un'abbozzo delle origini del fenomeno "magia": 2) poi i testi sui magi persiani, sui caldei e sui sacerdoti egizi; 3) i grandi taumaturghi di età imperiale; 4) le più famose maghe greche e latine. Poi seguono le diverse tipologie di magie, 5) quelle che riguardano gli spiriti, i fantasmi e la possibilità di esorcizzarli; 6) la necromanzia; 7) le defixiones; 8) la magia amorosa. L'autore propone poi dei reperti antichi, quali le bambole "voodoo" ed altre immagini magiche, e poi gli amuleti. Infine è presentata un'antologia di leggi contro la magia e il volume si chiude con dei testi supplementari ed una ricca bibliografia.

L'utilità di questo volume, la sua ricchezza, il rigore scientifico e la concisione sono da sottolineare, ma qualche osservazione critica può essere avanzata in merito ad alcuni punti specifici.

P.59; sulla famosa consultazione astrologica fatta da Nectanebo alla corte di Olimpiade (Historia Alexandri, B, 1.4) c'è da aggiungere che a Grand, nei Vosgi, sono state trovate due tavolette astrologiche ¹ dello stesso genere di quelle che avrebbe usato il re-mago egiziano.²

P. 204 il mago (cui viene dato nelle PGM il titolo di "re") Pitys non è egiziano, come si continua a dire, ma persiano o medo. Egli va identificato con Patizeithes/Pityaxes,³ che si diceva avesse resuscitato il fratello di Cambise. Questo spiega la sua fama come necromante e la sua corrispondenza con il persiano Ostane, il mago di Cambise.

Pp. 202, 206 (cf. D.Ogden, Greek and Roman Necromancy, Princeton-Oxford 2001, 210-211); l'autore pensa che la descrizione (Hippol., Ref. IV, 41) dei trucchi usati per far parlare i crani nelle sedute necromantiche (un aiutante parlava attraverso un esofago di gru che arrivava sotto il cranio) e di bacini con fondo di vetro per far apparire figure divine in una stanza nel corso di una lecanomanzia (grazie a immagini che venivano create da un ambiente sottostante) fosse il risultato di un'invenzione di Ippolito per screditare i riti pagani. L'autore sostiene che queste informazioni sono in contrasto con quanto sappiamo di questo genere di rituali.⁴ In realtà, noi non sappiamo quasi nulla di queste pratiche mantiche e quanto affermato da Ippolito non ha nulla di inverosimile. Per altro verso, è ben noto che nei mitrei si usavano trucchi di vario genere, anche usando luci attraverso fori nel soffitto o nei monumenti, oggetti che producevano effetti inattesi dopo il riscaldamento e altri generi di spettacolo con finalità religiose. Pertanto risulta imprudente affermare che un autore antico mente in una materia che noi conosciamo molto meno di lui.

Pp. 204-205; il sigillo descritto in PGM IV, 2125-39 (usato far tacere le coppe ricavate da crani che profetizzavano male) trova un confronto calzante in una gemma un tempo conservata a Göttingen.⁵

P. 264; l'autore data le Kyranides al IV secolo. Tuttavia gli argomenti usati dagli specialisti per sostenere una tale datazione ⁶ non hanno valore per il I libro, che risulta avere una sua autonomia e trova validi confronti strutturali e contenutistici nei trattati accadici di età ellenistica, dedicati alle proprietà delle pietre e delle sostanze, ordinate secondo un criterio alfabetico.⁷ La concezione del I libro è dunque probabilmente più antica del resto dell'opera.

P. 263; non è probabile che la pietra chiamata "tutta d'oro euanthes" nelle Kyranides fosse l'opale, che nella glittica antica è quasi assente. Potrebbero essere avanzate ipotesi più verosimili: il lapislazuli, prima di tutto, che sarebbe pertinente alla descrizione di questa pietra, sacra ad Afrodite e che realmente contiene particelle d'oro, oppure il cosiddetto diaspro fiorito, color giallo, simile al colore dell'oro.

P.281; la distruzione dei libri profetici ad opera di Augusto viene connessa da Svetonio (Aug. 31) con l'assunzione della carica di pontefice massimo, che avvenne nel 12 a.C., non nel 31.

Dunque, a parte qualche piccolo appunto che si può fare a questo lavoro, che nulla tolgono ai suoi meriti, si può concludere ribadendo che si tratta di un'opera molto utile e accurata.

1.   Les tablettes astrologiques de Grand (Vosges) et l'astrologie en Gaule Romaine, Actes de la Table ronde du 18 mars 1992, Lyon-Paris 1993.
2.   Si veda S. Aufrère, Quelques aspects du dernier Nectanébo et les échos de la magie égyptienne dans le Roman d'Alexandre, in La magie. Actes du colloque international de Montpellier 25-27 Mars 1999, par A. Moreau et J. Turpin, I, Montpellier 2000, 95-118.
3.   F. Altheim, H. Junker, R. Stiehl, in Annuaire de l'Inst. de Philol. et d'Hist. Orient. et Slaves 9, 1949 (= Mél. H.Grégoire), 1-25.
4.   Sulla necromanzia la pubblicazione di altri frammenti di crani profetici iscritti ha recentemente ampliato le nostre conoscenze: D. Levene, "Calvariae Magicae: The Berlin, Philadelphia and Moussaieff Skulls", in Orientalia" 75, 2006, 359-379.
5.   A. Mastrocinque, Studi sul Mitraismo. (Il Mitraismo e la magia), Roma 1998, 32-33.
6.   Si veda K. Alpers, "Untersuchungen zum griechischen Physiologos und den Kyraniden", in Vestigia Bibliae (Jb. d. deutsch. Bibel-Archivs Hamburg) 6, 1984, 13-88.
7.   E. Weidner, "Gestirndarstellungen auf babylonischen Tontafeln", in SÖAW Phil.-hist. Klasse 254, 1967, 30; G. Pettinato, La scrittura celeste. La nascita dell'astrologia in Mesopotamia, Milano 1998, 114.

John R. Hale is an aficionado of ancient and medieval ships, with interests stretching from his rowing days as a college undergraduate into Viking longboats (his dissertation topic) and Greek triremes. His enthusiasm has colored his narrative, which is not a history of the Athenian navy but rather the story of the Athenian democracy with the pulse of its oars as its heartbeat. "Passing centuries," he writes, "washed the blood and guts, sweat and struggle, from the modern conception of Athens." Rather than the "shell of inspiring art, literature, and political ideals," he invites us to see "[a] living sea creature, all muscle and appetite and growth," in which the navy was the guts and the muscle. (xxxiii) His basic thesis is that the Athenian navy was the prime motor of the rise of Athens--and the fall of the navy was the fall of the city.

The audience for Lords of the Sea will be all those passionate about the Greeks, military history, ships and shipping--especially laymen. The beauty of the book is not to be found in any new close interpretations of text (instead of footnotes, it has short general source notes by chapter) or new reconstructions of naval engagements but rather in its grand synthesis. In Hale's view, the navy was the foundation of everything in Athens, and the history of the city is the history of its navy. "All the glory of Athens--the Parthenon, Plato's Academy, the immortal tragedies, even the revolutionary democracy--can be traced back to one public meeting, one obstinate citizen, and a speech about silver and ships." (3) This thesis stands or falls on the central causal importance of the navy to that glory.

The story begins in 483 BC, and ends in 322. Lords is structured in five parts: Freedom (483-480 BC), Democracy (479 to the mid-fifth century), Empire (446 to 413), Catastrophe (412-399), and Rebirth (397-322). In the first part (five chapters) the man of the hour is Themistocles, whose vision set Athens on the road to empire and greatness by leading Athens against the Persian invasion. Nearly a quarter of Lords is dedicated to the Persian Wars, which, like all other events in the narrative, is reconstructed primarily from ancient literary sources. Hale sets a good context for his account by discussing the specifics of building and operating a trireme, with an important emphasis on the stupendous energy required to create and maintain a military navy. He has pulled an oar and has visited the ancient sites involved; his narrative allows a reader to feel the carbuncle on a rower's backside.

But Lords also steers a problematic course by mixing sources in a way that glosses over certain problems. For instance, Cornelius Nepos is accepted uncritically as a source for the life, character, thoughts and vision of Themistocles. The scope of vision attributed to Themistocles is enormous; as Xerxes sought to achieve an empire reaching the Atlantic, so the Athenians, by leaving their land and pulling together on ships, "fulfilled Themistocles' dream" and raised Athens to one of the most powerful cities on earth. There is a certain teleological premise at work throughout: that the great men of Athens saw the city's destiny clearly into the future, and guided the city to that result.

In part two, "Democracy," the centrality of the navy to Athens' rise is set within the story of Athens' drive to victory in the Aegean Sea, the rise of Cimon (and the return of Theseus' bones to Athens among other myths), her battles in Egypt and her growing conflict with Sparta. During this time, Athens became thoroughly "'navalized' from top to bottom" under a "rule by generals" that lasted for a century (90). Chapter eight, "Mariners of the Golden Age," is a portrait of Athens during the fifth-century that highlights the social and political conditions in Athens by connecting the navy to the lives of average citizens. Naval talk that permeated everyday language (including terms for sex), naval scenes on domestic earthenware vessels, the ribald port at the Piraeus, and the democratic spirit embodied in the state trireme the "Paralos" are all built into the narrative in order to demonstrate the deep cultural and social impact of the navy on Athens.

There are some potentially misleading pitfalls here, perhaps unavoidable given the author's project of relating the story of Athens and its navy rather than reconstructing a history. For instance, in the discussion of the Battle of Tanagra (457 BC), we read that certain oligarchs in Athens invited a Spartan army, "encamped not far from the frontiers of Attica," to attack Athens and help topple the current (democratic) regime (105). But readers are told little of the context--that the Spartan army was on a mission against Phocis, that the Athenians soon defeated the Boiotians before spending a decade struggling to control the area, and that there was much more to the issue than the Athenians convincing the Spartans not to interfere with the rebuilding of Athens' long walls. A reader should bear in mind the purpose here--to relate the story of Athens' navy, not to provide a detailed history of the Athenians' political and military actions.

Part three, "Empire," focuses on Pericles, whose "four mighty pillars" were "democracy, naval power, the wealth of empire, and the rule of reason" (125). Hale does not segregate the Peloponnesian War into a distinct historical period, but, consistent with his theme, divides Athens' history between the achievement of empire and the catastrophe that followed the defeat of the Sicilian Expedition. The tribute needed to maintain the navy dictated the organization of the empire, shaped Athens' relationships with the island polities, funded the civic expression of power in matters such as public monuments and dramas, and paid its citizens. The final result of the Periclean policy was war with Sparta, pestilence, and loss of control leading to disaster. Chapter 11 is dedicated to Phormio--on whom Hale has done much work--and who almost single-handedly saved Athens in the west. But, as for all the leaders celebrated here, there is a tension between their thoughts, their actions, and the reactions of the city to them, which will reinforce, for readers not well versed in Athenian history, the tragic nature of how Athens used its muscle.

Part four, "Catastrophe," moves from the disaster at Syracuse through the Ionian War to the death of Socrates. The dominance of the sea is illustrated, for instance, in Euripides' tragedies, and the "daring and joyful rescues" at their close, which reassured the Athenians that all was not lost in the aftermath of Sicily. The chief figure in the last eight years of the war--when "the sea became the theatre for an epic conflict"--is Alcibiades, although as always the primary historical energy behind events is the navy. The defeat of the oligarchic "Four Hundred," for instance, occurred when the defeat at Eretria "exposed the impotence of the oligarchs at sea"; Sophocles' play Philoctetes refers to the return of Alcibiades to his comrades after the Battle of Cyzicus in 410 BC; Socrates' death is delayed due to a ship. Lords is strongest at this point, for the Ionian War was indeed an epic contest of naval power.

But something important has been missing from this story, and in part five this becomes most evident. The fourth century--specifically, from 397 to 322--constitutes less than a quarter of the book. Overall, Lords affords more pages to the Persian and Peloponnesian Wars than to the remainder of events, as should be expected in a narrative either of Athenian naval military history or of the city's political rise and fall. But the focus on the navy as a prime engine of Athens' rise and fall demands deeper integration with the events of the non-war periods. All of chapter eighteen, "Triremes of Atlantis," is dedicated to a reading of Plato's Atlantis myth as an allegory of the city of Athens, and much time is spent elevating Demosthenes into a new Themistocles who rallies the city to its defenses; but I wondered what happened to the merchant marine that had kept the city fed for a century? Is this not part of the navy, and the democracy? What of debates in fourth-century Athens about the nature of empire, the role of the navy, and relations with allies?

We have been told, with little elaboration, that cutting the grain routes constituted the final defeat by Sparta, and that, decades later, Philip of Macedon again moved against the grain convoys coming from the Black Sea. But beyond a few such passing mentions, only one paragraph is set aside for merchant shipping--and connected to Xenophon's recommendation that the Athenians create "a new kind of navy; a merchant marine" (274). I had hoped for some acknowledgment that they had such a navy back into the fifth century--and that disrupting it was key to defeating Athens. Further, some discussion of the role of political power in an empire versus Athenian leadership in trading alliances would have better contextualized this book. Something about Athens as a maritime trading leader, about its grain contracts and legal speeches, and the city's overall character as dependent upon trade gained from the sea would have better rounded out this story. Indeed without addressing these issues, the fourth century becomes merely an echo of the fifth, which makes this less than a bold new interpretation of Athens.

Numerous questions remain open. Like all such narrative stories, Lords of the Sea must "freeze" the ambiguities, contradictions, and blank spots within the sources into a single progression of events. It must also largely dispense with controversies and disagreements about the sources, and with the rationales behind the author's choices, all of which would become distractions to the story. (The so-called Peace of Callias between Athens and Sparta, for instance, is treated as if historically unproblematic 108). The deeper question that follows is whether this is an accurate reconstruction of events. Without doubt, there are numerous controversies bypassed, contradictions in the sources ignored, and blind areas papered over, and one should not turn to this as a primary guide to such details. But, in terms of the underlying spirit of Athens' rise, Lords of the Sea may be more accurate than many critical histories. Certainly the Athenians were not the white statues remaining today--they did argue, work, sweat and fight their way to dominance. Lords of the Sea has achieved its purpose of "charting the life cycle of the animal that generated" the rise and fall of Athens, but only if one accepts the basic thesis about the overriding centrality of the military navy to the life cycle of Athens.

[Table of contents is listed at the end of the review.]

This collection of ten essays is a valuable contribution to the tradition and reception of classical literature in the Latin and vernacular literary production of Renaissance Italy. In their introduction the editors place the collection well in its scholarly context; with references to the essays and some additional details they deal with the interrelation between Italian and the classical languages (essays 1-3), the impact of Greek literature on the Italian culture of the Renaissance (essays 4-6), issues raised by the influence of classical authors on Italian poetry, and attempts made for the renewal of classical sources, and the generation of new literary genres (essays 7-10). The collection is supplemented by a subject bibliography, usefully arranged in seven sections, and with three indices.

Some specific aspects of the classical tradition and reception are explored more deeply and thoroughly in this volume than in previous studies; Most of the essays are valuable additions to Medieval and Renaissance, as well as Classical, scholarship, well-argued on sound literary and historical evidence, addressing questions with precision, and pointing to directions for future research.

The first section of the collection opens with Lepschy's general, and rather weak, observations on the interrelations between the two classical languages and Italian (first, among all three languages, and then pairing Greek and Latin, Latin and Italian, and Greek and Italian). In the second part of his essay, using a number of treatises on rhetoric, the author addresses in a detailed manner, the notion of 'grammaticality' of people in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, focusing on infinitival structures, where the three languages under discussion come together. The issue of Hellenismus is only approached superficially.

The question deriving from a phrase from Isidore's Etymologies is the starting point for Burton's analysis of the term Itali. Burton concludes that it refers to any Latin/Romance language speakers. This leads to the question of how to define standard and non-standard Latin, if and whether there ever was a concept and vocabulary that would justify these terms. Cicero's terminology gives us an idea of what modern linguists mean by 'standard language'. In a well-structured and very convincing manner, Burton also provides and analyzes a very thorough and detailed list of Latin terms describing non-standard and low-register speech.

Mastering Latin and learning Greek in the Italian Renaissance is the subject of Wilson's essay. He explores the difficulties that Italian scholars needed to copewith and how they accommodated these needs; special reference is made to the appointment of M. Chrysoloras as a teacher of Greek in Florence in the late fourteenth century. Wilson discusses how Italian scholars--due to the lack of learning aids and texts--experimented in learning and teaching Greek by translating grammar manuals or producing their own dictionaries, and by hunting for manuscripts in remote monastery libraries or in the Greek-speaking world. The essay is accompanied by three illustrations of mss.: Urbinas gr. 121,¹ Marston 94, and Ashburnham 1439. While Wilson deals with a subject familiar to him and his authority in it is well beyond doubt, his attempt to cover such a vast area is only somewhat successful.

McLaughlin's article focuses on Alberti's personal canon of classical texts in the 1430s. The author begins by looking at Alberti's differentiation from his fourteenth-century predecessors. Despite using Petrarch and Cicero as the models for his De commodis litterarum atque incommodis, Alberti makes allusions to a number of Greek and Latin authors, some already in the traditional classical canon and others recently discovered. McLaughlin establishes the structure of Alberti's canon by the detailed examination of his writings De familia, Theogenius, De pictura,² and Vita. McLaughlin also looks at the influence Cicero's rhetorical works had on Alberti's views on the relationship between Latin and vernacular, and how Alberti tried to encourage intellectuals of his time to use vernacular Italian.

Panizza's essay scrupulously follows the fortune of Camma, the woman-model in Plutarch's works Amatorius and Mulierum virtutes. The Latin translation of the latter work in the fifteenth century guaranteed an easier reception of Camma, while Amatorius, though never translated, had its impact on it, judging from allusions to it made by Barbaro in his De re uxoria, and by Vives in his De institutione feminae christianae. Panizza also methodically explores its reception in the vernacular literature, as in Castiglione's Libro del cortegiano and Ariosto's Orlando furioso. Surprising is Camma's absence from Boccaccio's De claris mulieribus.

The reception of Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics in Italy and France is the main point of Kraye's exhaustive essay. Her argument is that the fifteenth-century commentaries of Tignosi and Acciaiuoli cannot be described as philological, while the sixteenth-century commentaries of Pier Vettori and Marc-Antoine de Muret are purely philological. The difference was caused by Angelo Poliziano, whose lectures on Aristotle's Ethics (1490-91) heavily influenced Vettori, who established his Greek edition of the Ethics (1547) following Poliziano's philological and critical method. Vettori's edition in turn influenced other sixteenth-century scholars like D. Lambin but especially M.-A. Muret, whose lectures and notes on the Ethics, written in the mid-1560s, were published in 1602. Muret, then, was the first scholar to treat the Ethics philologically, although the publication of his work was anticipated by that of Vettori's commentary, printed in 1584.

Dante's contribution to the renovation of the classical poetry took the form of the re-interpretation of tradition. Villa examines how Dante reformulated literary archetypes into new creations, especially of well-known ancient tales, such as Inferno 5, with allusions to the story of Dido and Aeneas, Inferno 25, modelled on Ovid's Metamorphoses and Lucan's Pharsalia, Inferno 33 with allusions to the classical themes of betrayal and tortures, and Purgatorio 1. The plethora of information provided by the author and the complexity of the arguments discussed may, at times, be hard to follow.

In 1341 Petrarch was awarded the Privilegium laureationis, which was followed by the Collatio laureationis. Usher identifies the differences between the two documents, while underlining their striking similarities in content. The author very informatively emphasizes the examination of the privileges included in the dispositio of the Privilegium (Petrarch's characterization as poet and historian, his privilege of being crowned as a laureate poet, poetic uniform, and Roman citizenship), and draws some very enlightening conclusions from the analysis of the arenga on the significance of the Privilegium for Petrarch.

Following the success of Petrarch's Canzoniere, i.e., a collection of poems arranged around a particular theme, there was an outburst of similar collections in fifteenth-century Italy; the two major collections were those of Giusto de' Conti (Bella mano) and Matteo Matia Boiardo (Amorum libri). Carrai accounts briefly for the differences in structure of the two collections, and after discussing two more canzonieri by Baldinotti, he concludes that the fifteenth century canzonieri were attempts to reconcile the Petrarchan and classical models. This attempt continued in the following century with Bernardo Tasso's Amori (1531-37), his later Rime, and the canzonieri of Luigi Alamanni, as well as some Neapolitan poets like Minturno, Paterno, and Carafa.

Hugo Tucker provides a very comprehensive and clearly-structured survey of the sixteenth century political and cultural history of Rome intertwined with and mirrored in the literary production of three scholars of the time, namely Janus Vitalis and his work Sacrosanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Elogia, Lelio Capilupi and his Centones ex Virgilio, and Joachim Du Bellay and his Poemata. Vitalis' collection of textual portraits was an attempt to connect the imperial past of ancient Rome to the contemporary events under the papacy of Julius III. Contrary to Vitalis' living portraits, Du Bellay, employing the latter's poetic techniques and borrowing also from Virgil, elevates France as the successor to Rome's hegemony. Finally, Capilupi changed the contents of his centones according to the cultural and political changes of his time, to give them new political meanings. Helpful for following this combination of history and literature is the Appendix (Chronology of historical events and relevant writings, divided into three parts: 1527-52, 1553-57, and 1558-60) provided by the author.

Overall, this collection of essays brings together some of the established scholars in this field of studies, to contribute significantly to the investigation and interpretation of the classical tradition and its reception in the Renaissance. It illuminates new paths to the approach to the literary production of Renaissance Italy has already become a useful and valuable reference book, and will provide ground and inspiration for future research.

Contents:

Preface and Acknowledgments (pp. vii-viii)

List of Contributors (pp. ix-x)

Carlo Caruso & Andrew Laird, Introduction: The Italian Classical Tradition, Language and Literary History (pp. 1-25)

Part I. Latin, Greek and Italian

Giulio Lepschy, The Classical Languages and Italian: Some Questions of Grammar and Rhetoric (pp. 29-40)

Philip Burton, 'Itali dicunt ozie': Describing Non-Standard and Low-Register Speech in Latin (pp. 41-61)

Nigel Wilson, 'Utriusque linguae peritus': How Did One Learn Greek and Acquire the Texts? (pp. 62-70)

Part II. Hellenism and the Latin Humanists

Martin McLaughlin, Alberti and the Classical Canon (pp. 73-100)

Letizia Panizza, Plutarch's Camma: A Greek Literary Heroine's Adventures in Renaissance Italy (pp. 101-117)

Jill Kraye, Italy, France and the Classical Tradition: The Origins of the Philological Commentary on Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics (pp. 118-140)

Part III. The Classical Tradition in Poetry

Claudia Villa, 'Unicuique suum': Observations on Dante as a Reader of Classical Authors (pp. 143-160)

Jonathan Usher, Petrarch's Diploma of Crowning: The Privilegium laureationis (pp. 161-192)

Stefano Carrai, Putting Italian Renaissance Lyric in Order: Petrarch's Canzoniere and the Latin Liber carminum (pp. 193-203)

George Hugo Tucker, A Roman Dialogue with Virgil and Homer: Capilupi, the Cento and Rome (pp. 204-238)

Subject Bibliography: Further Reading on Italy and the Classical Tradition (pp. 239-245)

Index of Manuscripts and Printed Copies (p. 247)

Index of Principal Passages Cited (pp. 248-252)

General Index (pp. 253-269)

1.   See a quasi diplomatic edition of Lucian's De calumnia (the text shown in Wilson's illustration from ms. Urb.gr.121), provided by the reviewer in his Fifteenth-century Latin translations of Lucian's essay on Slander, Pisa-Roma, 2006, pp. 265-295, and details on this manuscript, pp. 31-50.
2.   Something that McLaughlin fails to mention in relation to (p.88) "Alberti could have used Latin translations, and he had probably read Guarino's Latin version of Lucian's ekphrasis of the Calumny of Apelles," is that Alberti had produced his own Latin version of this excerpt from Lucian's De calumnia, based on Guarino's version. Cf. Alberti, De pictura and his Trattato della pittura, III.53, and Guarino's Ex Luciano Ne facile credenda calumnia 5, ed. by the reviewer, o.c., pp. 118-119, and p. 18 with bibliography.

Table of Contents

In Ancient times, it was very common that poets and performers were great travellers. This is a theme still overlooked, according to Richard Hunter and Ian Rutherford, the editors of the book under review here. It is a collection of papers formerly presented in April 2005, in a colloquium at the University of Cambridge in which the main questions were why poets travelled and how the skills of these outsiders were used by the local communities for their own purposes. In the Introduction, Hunter and Rutherford present the volume, asserting that "travel and wandering are persistent elements in both the reality and imaginaire of Greek poetry, and intellectual and cultural life more generally, from the earliest days" (p. 1). Orpheus was the first wandering poet and even a professional of the word like Empedocles of Acragas is a good example of the truth of this statement. But not only the poet could be a traveller. The public also could make a journey by attending or reading a text. And even more, a poem could travel and spread the fame of both poet and patron. Names like Theognis and Pindar are examples of that. And there's still another possibility of travel in the act of composing or enacting a poem. This also can be seen as a kind of journey and the Argonautica, by Apollonius Rhodius, must be cited in this context.

It was very common that poets and performers travelled to receive honors like the proxenia but also to get payment, like the epinician composers and the Artists of Dionysus. This kind of activity continued into Hellenistic times and even into the Roman period, as the example of Archias, the poet defended by Cicero, shows. So, there were a munber of motivations that led to poetic mobility. Another one was the desire to receive commissions for celebrating the antiquities (patria), buildings and local worthies of particular towns. Thus the most common forms of performance were the encomia of the host city and its traditions.

Travels could lead to different kinds of innovations producing an 'internationalization' in the Archaic period. We have many notices of poets working far away from their homeland in those times, like Thaletas of Cretan Gortyna and Alcman (from Sparta or Lydian Sardis?). It could be important for a powerful ruler to draw in skilled poets: Polycrates of Samos attracted Ibycus from Rhegium and Anacreon from Teos; Periander of Corinth brought to his court Arion, from Lesbian Methymna; Peisistratus took Homer's poetry to Athens and latter Anacreon and Simonides of Ceos spent some time there, before going to courts in Thessaly (the Tean) and in Sicily (the Cean). So, in Ancient times, a poet would take all the chances he had at hand to profit from his art (cf. Theocritus 16.34-47, cited p. 28).

But this phenomenon was not particular to Greece alone. As the editors say (p. 14), "singers and poets travel in many societies, perhaps most". In Japan, in late medieval Europe, in medieval India, in Western Africa singers travelled to where they could find employment, and the best singers migrated to where they would be paid most. And to consider this comparative evidence can be useful in helping us to understand the ways poetic itinerancy developed in Ancient Greece.

Concluding their Introduction, the editors say (p.17) that poets travel to perform, but this does not exhaust the issue. It's very import also to say that poets, local and foreign, played a role in celebrating local traditions. "One of the main functions of the shared cultural tradition was to provide an ideological fabric connecting the different Greek cities" (p. 20). So poets, when wandering, were reinforcing local traditions but also making Hellenic identity.

In the second chapter, 'Hittite and Greek perspectives on travelling poets, texts and festivals', Mary R. Bacharova starts by asserting that the mechanism by which literature from the Near East reached Greece has not been well studied. She argues that there was contact at an early stage between Pre-Greek and Anatolian poetic traditions. According to her, transmission of cultural practices via Anatolia during the Mycenean period should be given serious consideration. She examines the mechanisms by which second-millenium Anatolian singers and other 'masters of the word' made their way from one location to another. The focus is particularly on two related settings: the worship of an imported god and festivals. In analysing the texts, she presents phraseological correspondences that she claims to be "good indirect evidence of the contact between wordsmiths through whom the phrasing crossed langages" (p. 29). In conclusion, Bacharova asserts that festivals from Anatolia and other parts of the Near East shared much in common with Greek festivals of the first millenium.

Peter Wilson is the author of chapter 3, "Thamyris the Tracian: the archetypal wandering poet?". The author notes that Thamyris may seem, at first glance, the perfect 'wandering' archetypal poet, but, in fact, he is a difficult role-model. He is a marginal figure in Greek myth and literature, even though an ancient and persistent presence. He comes from the margins of the Hellenic world. As Wilson argues, Thamyris is a useful model of opposition, a figurehead for a religious tradition that ran against Olympian religion and Homeric epic itself. Perhaps the most interesting contribution of this paper is the analysis made by Wilson of a number of Sophoclean fragments, specially those from the play Thamyras or Mousai. Thamyris was a kind of revolutionary poet who opposed the poetic status quo represented by the Homeric Muses. For this reason, his identification with the poets of the New Music of the second half of the fifth century was a natural development, as Wilson masterfully shows.

"Read on arrival" is the title of chapter 4, by Richard P. Martin. In this paper the author tries to make a diachronic examination of the strategies adopted by wandering poets and performers in order to delineate a typology. In doing that, he wants to explore the poetics of a number of genres related or not to the travelling poets. The strategies of the wandering poets are different from those of the metanastic figures (a term proposed by Martin in 1992)¹ because these had a kind of one-way ticket, while the travelling poets had "the equivalent of a long-term Eurail pass" (p. 81). Based on this, Martin analyses Aristophanes' Birds 904-57, where a parody is presented of a travelling poet's arrival that can be viewed as representing the typical behavour of a poet seeking for a patron; Pindar's Pythian 4, 275-280; Odyssey 17.382-6; Bacchylides' 5.7-14 and 3.90-8; the Hymn to Apollo 166-75 and some other texts are used to establish the six gambits that form the handbook of strategies and rules for the wandering poet: 1. praise the place and let the people come later; 2. make yourself the voice of tradition; 3. for success, don't dress; 4. inflate your worth; 5. handle many genres (polueideia); and pratice, pratice, pratice. In conclusion, Martin says that "the successful roaming poet will be one who makes the memorized look spontaneous" (p. 103). In this context, the concept of re-performance is very important, because, as Martin argues (p. 103), there must have been a kind of temporary textualization of a repertoire that was 'read' in a type of composition-in-performance characteristic of oral tradition.

Ewen Bowie, in chapter 5, entitled "Wandering poets, archaic style", studies archaic wandering poets' representation in their poetry of themselves and of their performances. He is interested mainly in monodic lyric poetry down to 500 BC. According to Bowie, travelling poets can be divided in three categories: 1. the poet as a member of a group (Archilochus, Tyrtaeus, Mimnermus and maybe Anacreon; 2. Solitary travellers outside their polis who performed in a symposium and did not travel in order to sing (Semonides, Alcaeus and Solon); 3. Professional poets or ones who travelled in order to sing and to participate in symposia as guests (Ibycus [maybe] and Anacreon [maybe] and Simonides).

In Chapter 6, "Defining local identities in Greek lyric poetry", Giovan Battista D'Alessio argues that in the formative period of the Greek poleis the construction of a local identity was often voiced by foreign poets. He explores some case studies of public poetic discourse as a means for defining and promoting civic identities in the archaic and classical periods, and of the different strategies by which such a poetic communal self-definition was constructed. D'Alessio studies the cases of Eumelus' Delian Prosodion for the Messenians, refered to by Pausanias (4.4.1 and 4.33.2; see also PMG 696), and also the Delian Prosodia by Pronomus (for Chalcis; see Paus. 9.12.6) and Amphicles of Rheneia (for the Athenians; see ID 1497). Further on, the author dedicates some pages also to the Nephelokokkygia episode, in Aristophanes Birds (851-8; 863-904; 1318-22) and to the 'choral' elegy by Tyrtaeus (the poetic voice as a collective discourse) to understand the relevance and impact of lyric discourse as an important medium for expressing a communal image of the polis. The last case study analysed by D'Alessio is Pindar's Paeans 2 and 4. In conclusion, the author says that "public poetic performance (...) was one of the privileged media for Greek cities to give voice to their 'identities' from the archaic age onward" (p. 166).

"Wandering poetry, 'travelling' music: Timotheus' muse and some case-studies of shifting cultural identities" is the title of chapter 7, by Lucia Prauscello. The author investigates the ways the poetry of Timotheus of Miletus was exploited and re-interpreted in different moments and in different places of Ancient Greece. She says she is concerned with whether and to what extent re-performances and musical re-settings may have affected the generic definition of the text itself and its reception among the audience. In this context it is important to note that musical performance is a prominent feature in the rhetoric of self-construction of Greek cultural identities, in the poleis but also in broader geographical limits. Prauscello examines how the poetry of Timotheus was re-used and interpreted in Sparta (analysing the 'forged' Laconian decree transmitted by Boethius [De inst. mus. 1.1]); in Arcadia (commenting on passages from Polybius [4.19-21], Plutarch [Philop. 11] and Pausanias [8.50.3]; and in Crete (taking as points of departure the inscriptions ICret V.viii.11 [Knossos] and xxiv.1 [Priansos]). In conclusion, we could say that the interpretation and value of a text varies with time and withplace . A poem by Timotheus could be seen positively by the Arcadians, but could also be banished by the Spartans for different motives.

Andrej Petrovic is the author of chapter 8, entitled "Epigrammatic contests, poeti vaganti and local history". He discusses the role of wandering poets as local historians. The focus is on texts dated up to the end of Hellenistic times written by wandering poets for public monuments. Petrovic is concerned with the fact that the composition of public epigrams in a number of cases was a task fulfilled by wandering poets. He is also interested on the procedure through which texts for public monuments were chosen and his response to this question is that the texts were chosen after contests that took place in public festivals and in the framework of public commissions. Petrovic argues also that these public epigrams had a supra-local reception, even though they were composed for local addressees. He sugests in the end that these poems were diffused through epigrammatic collections organized on the principle of interest in local history.

Chapter 9 is by Sophia Aneziri, who writes about "World travellers: the associations of Artists of Dionysus". According to her, poets and musicians, in any time and in any society, have their mobility determined by three factors: first, by the features of the society they are operating in, along with conditions of travel and communication; second, the existence of opportunities for performance that might attract performers, such as festivals and competitions; and third, she asserts that it is important to know if the poets work by themselves or are organized in professional groups and if they stay at home or are continuously travelling. In her paper, she explores these three factors in relation to the Artists of Dionysus operating in the Mediterranean world during the Hellenistic and imperial periods. The volume of travel was very great in these periods because of the explosion in festival culture, but the pattern of movement of the Artists was very different in the two periods. In Hellenistic times artists of many places organized themselves in regional associations, but in the imperial period these regional associations lose their importance and the Association of the Artists of Dionysus achieves the status of an empire-wide network.

Ian Rutherford is the author of chapter 10, "Aristodama and the Aetolians: an itinerant poetess and her agenda". Born most likely in the third quarter of the third century BCE in Smyrna, the poetess Aristodama is known to us only because around 220 BCE she travelled to central Greece and was honored by two cities due to the skill she demonstrated when presenting her poems there. Rutherford analyses two decrees, one of the city of Lamia (218/217 BCE, IG IX 2, 62 = Guarducci 17), the other from the Lokrian city of Khalaion (FD 3.2.145 = G17*). He also compares the case of Aristodama with those of other poetesses and performers and examines what the relationship between Aristodama and those cities might be. Rutherford defends the hypothesis that the Aetolians engaged Aristodama to write about Aetolia and to create a sort of pan-Aetolian poetic tradition, forging in this way a political community through song. This is another example of how poetry can work as a mechanism that creates a political and cultural identity.

In the last chapter, "Travelling memories in the Hellenistic world", Angelos Chaniotis starts his paper by analysing a document in which is narrated the visit of three citizens of the city of Kytenion in Doris to the city of Xanthos. The visitors wanted financial aid to help reconstruct the walls of their city and, in order to get that, they used many strategies to show that there was a kinship between Kytenion and Xanthos. Chaniotis is concerned with the impact cultural mobility had on the shaping of memory in the Hellenistic world. He is more interested in the contribution of orators, historians and envoys than in that of poets.

In conclusion, I want to say that this is a wonderful book. It deals with a matter whose importance is still underestimated. The authors of the different papers enter into a dialogue with each other and write in a way that is certain to inspire new research. The texts are very well edited and I have found only a few insignificant typos. All in all, this is an amazing collection.

1.  Martin, R. 'Hesiod's Metanastic Poetics', Ramus 21: 11-33.

Table of Contents

Nel 1960 Lacan profetizzava: "l'Edipo non potrà tenere indefinitamente il cartellone in società in cui sempre più si perde il senso della tragedia". Gli faceva eco nel 1975 Heiner Müller: "nel secolo di Oreste e di Elettra Edipo diventerà una commedia".¹ Profezie, se non erronee, precoci, perché ad oggi la fortuna di Edipo pare più che mai prospera. Ne danno prova i numerosi saggi dedicati al tema: negli ultimi cinque anni, almeno quattro monografie per l'Edipo re e due per l'Edipo a Colono.² Alla già lunga serie si aggiunge ora un'eccellente indagatrice del Fortleben classico quale Fiona Macintosh, il cui contributo vede la luce per la collana "Plays in Production" di Michael Robinson: una destinazione che ha evidentemente condizionato il taglio divulgativo del volume e la particolare prospettiva scenica da cui è inquadrata la fortuna di Edipo. Un volume che fra divulgazione e dottrina trova tuttavia un ottimo compromesso.

Nei sei capitoli di cui consta il lavoro, la Macintosh si occupa dei seguenti temi: 1) la fortuna del mito edipico ad Atene nel V sec. a.C., non senza riferimenti alle riprese del secolo successivo (a partire dall'immancabile Antiph. fr. 189 K.-A.). Particolarmente apprezzabile l'insistenza sul carattere innovativo dell'Edipo re, contro la frequente distorsione prospettica che ne retrodata al V sec. la canonizzazione. 2) Edipo a Roma, con le ricadute dell'interpretazione senecana sulle riprese anglosassoni e francesi del XVII-XVIII sec. (A. Neville, T. Evans, J. Prévost, P. Corneille, J. Dryden e N. Lee, ma anche il Milton di Samson Agonistes). 3) La funzione del Coro nelle moderne rappresentazioni dell'Edipo re, dall'epocale messinscena vicentina del 1585 sino alla Francia otto- e novecentesca, con la resa di Jules Lacroix e l'interpretazione a lungo canonica di Jean Mounet-Sully: la progressiva riduzione del Coro a vantaggio di un eroismo via via più monumentale è un'ottima chiave di lettura per tracciare, sotto specie teatrale, la storia letteraria e culturale del dramma sofocleo. 4) La trionfante interpretazione irrazionalistica dell'Edipo re nel primo Novecento (Macintosh parla di una "dionisizzazione" di Edipo), fra M. Reinhardt, H. von Hofmannsthal e W.B. Yeats. 5) La progressiva diffusione novecentesca del modello freudiano, che trasforma Edipo in un "everyman", nelle rappresentazioni e nelle riscritture di J. Cocteau-J. Daniélou-I. Stravinskij, E. Fleg-G. Enesco, A. Gide, P. Blanchar. 6) La vague anti-edipica del secondo Novecento, con una sostanziale demolizione del modello freudiano, da Tyrone Guthrie sino alle messinscene-riscritture di O. Rotimi e S. Berkoff, non senza accenni a M. Graham e a H. Cixous-A. Boucourechliev. Completano il lavoro una "Selected Bibliography" e un utile Index nominum. Contenuto ma ben scelto l'apparato iconografico.

Il volume si arresta dunque agli anni Ottanta-Novanta del secolo passato, con minime incursioni nel nuovo millennio: limitazione dovuta forse alla volontà di trattare soltanto riprese ormai canonizzate. Niente di ciò che qui si trova può sorprendere, mentre sorprende qualche omissione (cf. infra): ma la densità delle trattazioni dedicate alle specificità attoriali, registiche e scenografiche dei singoli allestimenti riscatta ampiamente la ristrettezza della selezione. Non sempre è chiaro il criterio che ha condotto a privilegiare questa o quella messinscena dell'Edipo re, e a trattare saltuariamente e non organicamente le modalità spettacolari (o le particolarità tematiche) dell'una o dell'altra riscrittura: il volume non è né una storia della fortuna letteraria, né una storia della fortuna scenica, ma un personale percorso in equilibrio fra le due linee di ricerca. Un equilibrio talora precario: e.g., la regia di Guthrie ha tanto spazio quanto le riscritture di Cocteau o Gide, mentre il contributo attoriale di Mounet-Sully rischia di apparire più rilevante della lettura freudiana. Ma al di là di queste dissimmetrie, le singole trattazioni sono ovunque lucide e proficue.

Qualche assenza, si diceva, sorprende. Ma in tema di Reception Studies, l'integrazione di una lacuna non può essere che contributo ulteriore, spesso soggettivo, all'inevitabile selezione del materiale. La selezione operata dalla Macintosh è marcatamente anglo-centrica, sicché nemmeno una riga è dedicata -- fra Corneille e Dryden-Lee -- all'Edipo di Emanuele Tesauro (1661), benché l'autore del Cannocchiale aristotelico sia fra i più influenti interpreti di quel senechismo barocco cui la Macintosh dedica ampio spazio.³ Si capisce che sia omesso l'intero Medioevo, fecondo di spunti edipici -- Propp docet -- ma irrilevante sotto il profilo scenico e teatrale;⁴ di Voltaire si potrebbe ricordare l'ampia critica d'impianto al dramma sofocleo -- ne è ancora erede R.D. Dawe⁵ -- e fra i contemporanei del philosophe non andranno dimenticati Folard e Hudar de La Motte. Per la fortuna teatrale di Edipo fra Otto- e Novecento, andrebbero integrati almeno Leconte de Lisle in qualità di traduttore e Firmin Gémier in qualità di regista (data la diretta dipendenza da Max Reinhardt), per tacere di Paul Claudel e delle sue riflessioni sul ruolo del Coro,⁶ un altro tema caro alla Macintosh. Quanto al pieno Novecento -- per limitarsi ai registi -- una menzione meritano almeno Benno Besson (oltre alla messinscena berlinese del 1967-1968, condotta su Hölderlin, si ricordi la regia italiana del 1980, su traduzione di Edoardo Sanguineti⁷) e Jean-Pierre Vincent ⁸; Heiner Müller non può non essere ricordato come autoréregista di un Ödipus Tyrann a base hölderliniana (1966), se lo si cita quale profeta di un Edipo ridotto a commedia (p. 161).⁹ Infine, in tempi più prossimi, meritevoli di menzione appaiono le regie di M. Martone e T. Suzuki.¹⁰ Quanto alla recente produzione italiana, la Macintosh evoca inaspettatamente il nome di Giuseppe Manfridi (p. 162), perché il suo Cuckoos (in originale Zozòs) è oggetto di una ripresa inglese a firma di Peter Hall (2000): poiché si tratta di una vaga trama edipica, di deliberata o scontata oscenità e di minimo spessore letterario, si potevano citare piuttosto Edoardo Erba (Dejavu, 1999) e soprattutto Renzo Rosso (Edipo. Ambigui presagi disadorni e senza profumo, 1990);¹¹ ma il nome italiano di cui più vistosa è l'assenza -- specie perché la Macintosh si sofferma a lungo sui contemporanei elogi dell'incesto -- è quello di Giovanni Testori (Edipus, 1977, uno dei capolavori scenici della compagnia Lombardi-Tiezzi ¹²). Infine, un'originale riscrittura di cui tutti i repertori edipici si ostinano a ignorare l'esistenza è l'ungherese Játétok Életré-Halálra di Miklós Hubay (1968),¹³ mentre un'opera recente di ormai internazionale notorietà è Edipo asesor del cileno Benjamin Galimiri (2000; cf. Edipo asesor).

Fin qui alcune rapsodiche integrazioni. Su quanto la Macintosh cita e discute, siano consentite poche osservazioni di dettaglio. Pp. XIII, 4, 7: che l'OT vada datato al 430-425 a.C. resta ben più dubbio di quanto la Macintosh lasci presumere, ed è impegnativo asserire che "the play undoubtedly reflects upon [...] ideas and events that dominated Athenian life at the beginning of the 420s." (p. 7). Perché non del decennio successivo? L'ipotesi è almeno equiprobabile (cf. e.g. E. Degani, Filologia e storia. Scritti di Enzo Degani, I, Hildesheim-Zürich-New York: Olms, 2004, pp. 289s.; G. Avezzù, Il mito sulla scena. La tragedia ad Atene, Venezia: Marsilio, 2003, pp. 214-216). P. 8 (cf. anche p. 172): la legge periclea sulla cittadinanza (451 a.C.) non basta certo a spiegare "the play's preoccupation with biological, as opposed to 'given' or assumed, identity"; la portata ideologica di ogni discorso tragico relativo al genos va ben al di là di ogni sociologia evenemenziale. Pp. XII, 15: la Macintosh, fin dal titolo, si rifiuta di stemperare il titolo tyrannos nel diffuso "re"; ma non è chiaro se la studiosa pensi a un pieno valore tirannico (cf. p. 15), o se accolga la più neutrale esegesi di Knox, frequentemente richiamata (tyrannos come re non ereditario: cf. B.M.W. Knox, Word and Action. Essays on Ancient Theater, Baltimore-London: John Hopkins University Press, 1979, pp. 87-95; un'ipotesi cui ostano però almeno gli impieghi dei vv. 128, 799, 939, 1043, tre dei quali riferiti al regno di Laio). P. 17: che nel finale Edipo assuma, verso le figlie, un ruolo tipicamente materno, è idea difficile da sottoscrivere; sul frequente misconoscimento dei legami che connettono la chiusa al resto del dramma cf. V. Di Benedetto, Sofocle, Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1988, pp. 127-135. P. 20: il finale spurio dei Sette contro Tebe dimostrerebbe che l'Antigone è divenuta un pezzo da repertorio già sul finire del V sec. a.C.; non vedo come si possa escludere -- al di là del parallelo con le Fenicie -- un'interpolazione posteriore. P. 37: Petr. 132, con la celebre allocuzione al fallo, non è che uno dei tanti passi antichi in cui sia suggerita l'equivalenza simbolica di pene e occhi, e non è il caso di parlare di "anticipazioni" della psicoanalisi; l'equivalenza, peraltro, è qui blanda, perché gli occhi sono un termine di paragone inter alia. Cf. piuttosto G. Devereux, The Self-Blinding of Oidipous in Sophokles' Oidipous Tyrannos, "JHS", 93, 1973, pp. 36-49. Pp. 37s. L'insistenza sul rapporto fra Nerone e Agrippina concede ben poco al topos che vuole i tiranni incestuosi, e difficilmente potrà valere quale chiave interpretativa per l'Edipo senecano (cf. p. 40), anche a prescindere dalla notoria oscurità cronologica. P. 44. È qui riaffermata la fede di Sofocle nel "providential order" del cosmo. Non so quanti possano sottoscrivere, oggi, almeno in questa forma lapidaria, un'esegesi tanto prevedibile. Pp. 48s. Un accenno alle numerose traduzioni latine e volgari di Sofocle, fra Cinque- e Seicento, avrebbe giovato ben più di un riferimento alle traduzioni senecane; dopo M. Delcourt, Étude sur les traductions des tragiques grecs et latins en France depuis la renaissance, Bruxelles: Lamertin, 1925, cf. ora E. Borza, Sophocles redivivus. La survie de Sophocle en Italie au debut du 16ème siècle. Editions grecques, traductions latines et vernaculaires, Bari: Levante, 2007. P. 70. La messinscena vicentina del 1585 non è "the first modern vernacular production of Sophocles' tragedy". Essa è stata anticipata almeno dalla messinscena edipica del 1560, a cura di Giovanni Andrea Dell'Anguillara, per la stessa Accademia Olimpica di Vicenza. Pp. 102-124. Per l'Edipo "dionisiaco" del primo Novecento non andrà trascurata l'influenza del modello incestuoso wagneriano, percettibile ancora nel libretto della Cixous: cf. Paduano, Lunga storia, cit., pp. 127-148, 234-239. P. 139. "The priest Jean Daniélou" è una curiosa semplificazione (nel 1927, al tempo della collaborazione con Stravinskij e Cocteau, il grande studioso e futuro cardinale era peraltro un ventiduenne fresco di studi); non mi pare si possa sottoscrivere quanto la Macintosh osserva sull'uso del latino nell'opera-oratorio di Stravinskij ("very close to the post-war French, Catholic conservative classicising traditions", p. 139): ciò non dà conto, peraltro, della lingua ibridata prescelta da Daniélou; cf. Paduano, Edipo, cit., pp. 189-192. Pp. 160s. Non si dovrebbero assimilare Foucault e Deleuze-Guattari nelle rispettive critiche al modello freudiano, salvo credere a una indistinta koiné postmoderna; non a caso, la prefazione di Foucault all'Anti-Oedipe, citata dalla Macintosh (p. 160 e 189 n. 7: ma si tratta di un testo del 1977, non del 1983), non tratta, se non di passata, gli intenti anti-freudiani del volume.¹⁴ Più in generale, accomunare tutte le opere posteriori al 1950 sotto una generica etichetta di "antifreudianesimo" pare sommario e, in alcuni casi, fuorviante; non è un caso che molti dei presunti tratti "antifreudiani" censiti dalla Macintosh riguardino anche le opere del primo Novecento. Pp. 160 e 188 n. 3. È curioso vedere indicato in G. Steiner, The Death of Tragedy, "the locus classicus of the 'post-tragic' position": il polemico volume, come è noto, attinge a stereotipi tardo-idealistici e non cessa di ribadire l'assunto erroneo secondo cui l'antica tragedia sorgerebbe da una spontanea fede nel Fato; su queste fragili basi, e in nome della maestà classica, Steiner demolisce quasi ogni riscrittura tragica moderna: tutto ciò ha poco a che fare con "the post-tragic world of post-war Europe", ammesso e non concesso che un così spontaneo discrimine cronologico sia ben scelto. Pp. 181-187. La promozione di Giocasta a protagonista non deve attendere la Graham o la Cixous; è un tipico caso di quella che Genette definiva "valorisation secondaire",¹⁵ ed è fenomeno che interessa la fortuna del mito edipico almeno dal Settecento (per tacere di Euripide). I tratti distintivi andranno cercati altrove.

Qualche inevitabile dissenso nulla toglie alla ricchezza dell'insieme, alla lucidità di molte trattazioni particolari e all'originalità del taglio teatrologico, che assicura al volume un posto di rilievo fra le indagini contemporanee su un mito di cui troppo spesso si annuncia la fine.

1.   Cf. J. Lacan, Scritti, trad. it. Torino: Einaudi, 1974, p. 815; per Müller, cf. J. Scott, Electra After Freud. Myth and Culture, Ithaca-London: Cornell University Press, 2009, p. 75, nonché la stessa Macintosh a p. 161.
2.   Cf. M. Bettini-G. Guidorizzi, Il mito di Edipo. Immagini e racconti dalla Grecia a oggi, Torino: Einaudi, 2004; L. Edmunds, Oedipus, London-New York: Routledge, 2006; G. Paduano, Edipo. Storia di un mito, Roma: Carocci, 2008; G. Avezzù (ed.), Sofocle, Seneca, Dryden e Lee, Cocteau. Edipo: variazioni sul mito, Venezia: Marsilio, 2008; per il Coloneo, i pressoché contemporanei saggi di A. Markantonatos, Oedipus at Colonus. Sophocles, Athens and the World, Berlin-New York: de Gruyter, 2007, pp. 231-255 e A. Rodighiero, Una serata a Colono. Fortuna del secondo Edipo, Verona: Fiorini, 2007. Dei saggi citati la Macintosh ricorda il solo Edmunds.
3.   Cf. C. Ossola (ed.), Emanuele Tesauro. Edipo, Venezia: Marsilio, 1987, pp. 9-45 e G. Paduano, Lunga storia di Edipo re. Freud, Sofocle e il teatro occidentale, Torino: Einaudi, pp. 285-288.
4.   Il lettore inglese troverà ampi risarcimenti in Edmunds, op. cit., pp. 64-79.
5.   Cf. R.D. Dawe (ed.), Sophocles. Oedipus Rex. Revised Edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006, pp. 11-17.
6.   Si può vedere al proposito S. Humbert-Mougin, Dionysos revisité. Les tragiques grecs en France de Leconte de Lisle à Claudel, Paris: Belin, 2003, pp. 37-45, 211-216, 221-226.
7.   Cf. e.g. H. Flashar, Inszenierung der Antike. Das griechische Drama auf der Bühne. Zweite, überarbeitete und erweiterte Auflage, München: Beck, 2009, pp. 223-227 (il classico volume, da poco riedito, è la più notevole assenza in bibliografia; ma essa sembra limitarsi intenzionalmente a testi in lingua inglese e francese).
8.   Cf. Flashar, op. cit., p. 287.
9.   Cf. M. McDonald, L'arte vivente della tragedia greca, trad. it. Firenze: Le Monnier, 2004, p. 79 (ed. or. Bloomington-Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2003).
10.   Cf. Flashar, op. cit., pp. 292 e 297. La regia di Tadashi Suzuki (2000) è brevemente menzionata a p. 159.
11.   Cf. E. Erba, Maratona di New York e altri testi, Milano: UbiLibri, 2002 e R. Rosso, Edipo. Ambigui presagi disadorni e senza profumo, Roma: G. Edizioni, 1992. Su quest'ultimo cf. Paduano, Lunga storia, cit., pp. 243-248.
12.   Ora in G. Testori, Opere. 1965-1977, Milano: Bompiani, 1997. Cf. Paduano, Lunga storia, cit., pp. 227-230; Id., Edipo, cit., pp. 178-180.
13.   Non mi risultano traduzioni inglesi. L'unica traduzione in lingua occidentale pare M. Hubay, La sfinge, ovvero addio agli accessori, a c. di U. Albini, Firenze: Nardini, 2005.
14.   Il testo si può leggere oggi in M. Foucault, Dits et écrits II. 1976-1988, Paris: Gallimard, 2001, pp. 133-136.
15.   G. Genette, Palimpsestes. La littérature au second degré, Paris: Seuil, 1982, pp. 471-491, in part. p. 484.