Hostname: page-component-8448b6f56d-cfpbc Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-04-23T13:47:00.568Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false
  • English
  • Français

EPIC VOICES IN STATIUS’ ACHILLEID: CALCHAS’ VISION AND ULYSSES’ PLAN

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  15 November 2021

Francesca Econimo
Francesca Econimo*
Affiliation:
Scuola Normale Superiore
*
francesca.econimo@sns.it
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

This article deals with Calchas’ prophecy and Diomedes’ and Ulysses’ interventions during the mustering of the Greeks at Aulis in Statius’ Achilleid (1.514–52). It will be argued that Calchas and Ulysses embody two different approaches to the generic tensions of the new epic which Statius’ poem represents. Calchas, the old uates of the Homeric tradition, seems unable to fully understand the ‘poetics of illusion’ enacted by Thetis and Achilles in disguise, as is clear from his vision. His point of view is skilfully complemented by Ulysses, who turns out to be the true uates, as well as the perfect leader for Achilles’ rescue. As the only figure who can face the fluid and ambiguous reality of the poem and its literary dynamics as well, Ulysses also stands as a poetic voice himself; through his speech, Statius reflects upon the tensions of his epic and the poetic effort needed to channel the narrative from the peaceful setting of Scyros to the martial horizon of Troy.

Keywords

CalchasUlyssesimproba uirgouatesvisuality and illusionself-reflexivitygeneric tensionsStatius’ Achilleid
Type
Research Article
Information
The Classical Quarterly , Volume 71 , Issue 2 , December 2021 , pp. 759 - 776
Check for updates
Creative Commons
Creative Common License - CCCreative Common License - BY
This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited
Copyright
Copyright © The Author(s), 2021. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical Association

Despite its importance as a turning point in the plot, the episode of the mustering of the Greek fleet at Aulis in Stat. Achil. 1.397–559 has only recently begun to attract scholars’ attention on account of its literary interest.Footnote 1 In this paper I would like to examine the section which contains Calchas’ prophecy and Diomedes’ and Ulysses’ interventions (1.514–52). My aim is to show that in this passage the voices of these characters function as ‘poetic voices’, through which Statius reflects upon his poetic agenda. I will focus, in particular, on the traditional figures of Calchas and Ulysses, by considering their different degrees of adaptability in the complex system of literary genres with which the poem is engaged. Both Calchas and Ulysses belong to the epic tradition of the past, but in the new epic of the Achilleid they represent two opposite approaches to the same genre. Calchas is so firmly rooted in the tradition of martial epic that he proves unable to adapt his prophetic skills to understand the fluid and ambiguous reality which is displayed in the Achilleid, and consequently the new literary dynamics of the poem as well. Therefore, his voice needs to be integrated and enriched by that of Ulysses, the polytropos hero, who once again demonstrates his ethos, namely versatility, and skilfully manages to control the generic tensions of the poem, so as to channel the narrative from the un-epic setting of Scyros to the martial world of Troy.Footnote 2

I. THE VOICE OF A TRADITIONAL SEER

Calchas’ prophecy at Aulis takes place after the voyage of Thetis and Achilles to Scyros in terms of narrative sequence, but almost simultaneously in terms of chronological sequence. From an internal point of view, therefore, Calchas’ vision is necessary to provide the Greeks, who do not know where Achilles is, with useful indications on how to find him and counteract Thetis’ furtum. From an external point of view, the revelation, which is a shortened rewriting of what has previously been narrated at length, allows the reader to re-experience the same story but through the focalization of the internal characters. In this sense, repetition creates a sense of diffraction. As we will see, the same content is presented through multiple points of view and interpreted in different ways. This offers a first glimpse of the ‘multifocal’ architecture of the Achilleid,Footnote 3 and at the same time it reveals the difficulty in decoding the divine message univocally by human characters who show different levels of understanding and sensibility.

As is known from Iliad Book 1, the prophet Calchas is consulted by Achilles about the causes of Apollo's wrath because ‘he knows both the past, the present and the future’ (Hom. Il. 1.70). In the Achilleid, a poem chronologically posterior to the Iliad but prior to it in terms of literary plot, Calchas, who is expected to be the omniscient uates of the Homeric tradition, is urged by Protesilaus to reveal the recent events involving Thetis and Achilles. However, when Protesilaus finishes his speech, Calchas seems to be in trouble: while he begins to be possessed by the god, he frantically turns to various mantic techniques, until he is completely overcome by prophetic frenzy (1.514–25). Ecstatic possession is an innovative element in Calchas’ characterization: although in his Iliadic past he already interpreted divine signs and made prophecies,Footnote 4 now, for the first time in his literary biography, he receives Apollo within himself (intrantemque deum, 1.515) and his prophetic furor.Footnote 5 In other words, Calchas becomes a possessed mouthpiece for mysterious and often obscure divine knowledge which he cannot control in his own right.Footnote 6 In the detail of the furor, Calchas diverges from his Homeric self and rather aligns himself with the prototype of the female prophetess possessed by Apollo, namely the Virgilian Sibyl (Verg. Aen. 6.50–1 adflata est numine … | iam propiore dei), as well as with the Lucanian Phemonoe (Luc. 5.161–77, 186–7 plena laborat | … Phoebo).Footnote 7 The overall outcome of this mixture between experience of various mantic arts and visionary frenzy is that Calchas appears like a patchwork character, a ‘super-uates’, who combines in a single figure several traits of all the most famous epic and tragic prophets.Footnote 8 However, this solemn portrayal ends up clashing with the content of the revelation itself, thereby producing a consequent sense of bathos (Achil. 1.524–37):Footnote 9

tandem fessa tremens longis mugitibus ora
soluit, et oppositum uox eluctata furorem est:         525
‘quo rapis ingentem magni Chironis alumnum
femineis, Nerei, dolis? huc mitte: quid aufers?
non patiar: meus iste, meus. tu diua profundi?
et me Phoebus agit. latebris quibus abdere temptas
euersorem Asiae? uideo per Cycladas artas         530
attonitam et turpi quaerentem litora furto.
occidimus: placuit Lycomedis conscia tellus.
o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes.
scinde, puer, scinde et timidae ne cede parenti.
ei mihi, raptus abit! quaenam haec procul improba uirgo?’         535
hic nutante gradu stetit amissisque furoris
uiribus ante ipsas tremefactus corruit aras.Footnote 10

As previously mentioned, Calchas speaks in the name of the god (et me Phoebus agit, 1.529).Footnote 11 The prophet received his mantic art from Apollo (Hom. Il. 1.72), and in this sense he seems to be a proxy for the poet, who in the proem asked Apollo to give him new sources of poetic inspiration as well (da fontes mihi, Phoebe, nouos ac fronde secunda | necte comas, 1.9–10). Again, Calchas’ prophetic aim of discovering the hiding places (latebris, 1.529) where Thetis has sought to conceal her son overlaps with Statius’ poetic aim, namely to reveal the hero who is hidden (latentem, 1.5) at Scyros. Thus, Calchas, in his role of uates, is a figure of prophecy and poetic composition who is inspired by Apollo as patron of prophets and poets.Footnote 12 In this light, a passage which needs a close reading is the passage in which Calchas claims Achilles as his own: meus iste, meus (1.528). By these authoritative words, which echo the solemn style of the exclamation cried out to Apollo by the Sibyl, deus, ecce deus! at Verg. Aen. 6.46,Footnote 13 the uates declares his intention to take Achilles away from his mother and make him join the ranks of the Greeks.Footnote 14 However, given the ‘polyphonic’ arrangement of the revelation, Achilles is also meus to Calchas, because Apollo, who speaks through the voice of the uates, wants to ensure his control over the fulfilment of Achilles’ literary destiny. In this sense, the exclamation meus iste, meus makes complete sense if we consider that, from the Homeric tradition onwards, it is Apollo who is going to kill Achilles at the hands of Paris, and that, in knowing this, Apollo's claim might serve as an allusion to the destiny of the young hero in the Achilleid as well.Footnote 15 Ultimately then, given that Achilles is the object of a poem inspired by Apollo, the divine voice claiming meus fades into the all-controlling voice of the inspired epic poet, who evokes the inescapable trajectory of his literary creation (that is, Achilles as well as the Achilleid) towards Troy.Footnote 16

Calchas’ speech touches upon all the remarkable events which have been narrated at length in the previous account by the narrator, and even shows straightforward connections with it. For example, Calchas’ question to Thetis (latebris quibus abdere temptas, 1.529) closely reworks Protesilaus’ question (quibus abditus oris | quaue iubes tellure peti?, 1.505–6) and matches exactly the moment when Thetis, emerging from Chiron's cave, is pondering where to go with her son (quibus abdere terris | destinet, huc illuc diuisa mente uolutat, 1.199–200). But the content of the vision needs to be considered in light of the personal point of view of the seer as the interpreter of that same vision, without neglecting the limits and prejudices by which he is affected.

Let us examine the opening apostrophe to Thetis: quo rapis ingentem magni Chironis alumnum | femineis, Nerei, dolis? (1.526–7). The theme of the furtum is immediately announced through the reference to the abduction of Achilles (quo rapis)Footnote 17 and to the female tricks (feminei … doli) Thetis resorted to in order to carry her son away from Chiron.Footnote 18 This formulation also bears an allusion that helps to further explain Calchas’ mindset. First, the verb rapere referring to Thetis’ kidnapping of Achilles conjures up the traditional abduction of young women and the subsequent military expeditions they are unwittingly responsible for;Footnote 19 after all, Helen's abduction is still fresh in the Greeks’ minds and is the very cause of their departure for Troy.Footnote 20 Second, the expression feminei doli activates sinister associations. This is, for example, the label by which Clytemnestra, who is planning a ‘greater crime’, designates the tragic deeds of unfaithful wives, nefarious stepmothers and women such as Medea at Sen. Ag. 116 tecum ipsa nunc euolue femineos dolos.Footnote 21 It is immediately clear how Calchas’ vocabulary appears disproportionate to its real object. What Calchas calls feminei doli does not actually represent a case of mortal deceit with tragic effects, in the manner of Clytemnestra's feminei doli, as the prophet suspected. Thetis’ feminei doli are rather materni doli which just stem from the art of deception, that defensive strategy in which the goddess––since her Ovidian encounter with Peleus in Metamorphoses Book 11––proved to be well versed and which she now exploits to protect her son.Footnote 22

Calchas then moves on to the exposition of the vision proper (uideo, 1.530), which is made up of a sequence of ‘frames’, as it were. An interesting aspect of this section is the way in which Calchas depicts Thetis’ trip across the sea. He describes her as ‘searching for’ (quaerentem, 1.531) a place that can accommodate the turpe furtum.Footnote 23 It seems that Calchas, inspired by Apollo, envisages Thetis’ trip as the ignoble and debased version of another famous journey, one which is much more familiar to the god, namely the wanderings of Apollo's mother Latona who, after being unjustly refused, had to travel around the same islands in order to find a shelter to give birth.Footnote 24 It is tempting to trace a crypto-allusion to this mythical referent in the place name Cyclades. The Callimachean aition attested in the Hymn to Delos, indeed, suggests an etymological interplay between the name Cyclades and the fact that these islands gathered in a circle all around Delos, after the island had hosted Latona and had been anchored to the bottom of the sea: Ἀστερίη θυόεσσα, σὲ μὲν περί τ᾽ ἀμφί τε νῆσοι | κύκλον ἐποιήσαντο καὶ ὡς χορὸν ἀμφεβάλοντο (Callim. Hymn 4.300–1).Footnote 25 In this sense, then, the name Cyclades not only provides a set of geographic coordinates but also functions as a marker of mythical chronology: the landscape is reminiscent of its history and even in its topography it bears the vivid marks of its literary past.

The revelation goes on in the next section. Among all the islands of the Aegean Sea, Scyros is the final choice (placuit Lycomedis conscia tellus, 1.532). It comes as no surprise that, to Calchas, even the land which Thetis opted for seems itself to be an accomplice to the furtum. But in fact the juxtaposition of Lycomedis and conscia sounds somewhat like an antiphrasis, considering that King Lycomedes himself will later fall victim to that deceit. There is also something more to add here. Calchas, without even realizing it, is offering a longer-term prophecy: Scyros, which is henceforth considered to be conscia of Thetis’ furtum, will soon be conscia––according to the meaning of the adjective in erotic contextsFootnote 26—of another furtum, the furtum of love between Achilles and Deidamia.

Calchas then moves on to the cross-dressing scene in a characteristically selective style: o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes (1.533). Everything is reduced to the single detail of the clothes (uestes, a word further emphasized by the alliteration of ue-): clothes that in the eyes of a Greek (but a Greek of quasi-Roman inflexibility) evoke first of all a trait of oriental effeminacy.Footnote 27 A similar expression, for instance, recurs at Luc. 8.367–8 illic et laxas uestes et fluxa uirorum | uelamenta uides, referring precisely to the clothes of men from Asia.Footnote 28 But the most disturbing and intolerable aspect of them in Calchas’ speech is that these uestes … ueniunt in pectora, they ‘come upon Achilles’ breast’, which is the symbolic shorthand for his strength.Footnote 29 That breast, which in the Homeric tradition used to be covered by the corslet or the shield,Footnote 30 is now to be concealed under female garments, in order to validate the new gender identity of the character. But when the deceit is over and Achilles suddenly turns into a great hero, the clothes will fall down by themselves and his breast will be uncovered again with a spectacular unveiling: illius intactae cecidere a pectore uestes, | iam clipeus breuiorque manu consumitur hasta | (mira fides) Ithacumque umeris excedere uisus | Aetolumque ducem (1.878–81).Footnote 31 Let us compare the first line of this passage with line 533:

o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes (1.533)
illius intactae cecidere a pectore uestes   (1.878)

The end of the two hexameters (in pectora uestes and a pectore uestes) and the matching opposition of the words depicting the garments (fluxae ueniunt and intactae cecidere) stage the circular mirroring of two key moments that visibly echo each other in the wider frame of the poem: the beginning and the end of the ‘masquerade’. Indeed, the whole story of Achilles’ disguise is the story of a dress––a female dress that carelessly shows off Achilles’ breast in the presence of the Greeks during the banquet at Lycomedes’ palace (nudataque pectora, 1.768),Footnote 32 and that once again loosens at the trumpet blast, when the epic tuba announces by a coup de théâtre the end of the ‘comedy’ and the martial turn of the narrative (iam pectus amictu | laxabat, cum grande tuba sic iussus Agyrtes | insonuit, 1.874–6).Footnote 33

The revelation, right at the peak of its tension, suddenly ends with a question, leaving the major element in suspense: quaenam haec procul improba uirgo? (1.535). In the first instance, this riddle prompts us to reflect upon the multifaceted dynamics of focalization and the complex system of vision which is cleverly exploited by Statius in order to create an Ovidian ‘poetics of illusion’ which ensnares the reader (and the internal characters as well) in a play of conflicting perspectives.Footnote 34 In other words, the narrator designs a brilliant closure for a prophecy––one of Sibylline obscurity––that perfectly mimics, with its final flash, the fleeting uncertainty of the situation itself combined with the pleasant effect of theatricality and irony. In addition, this final question also aligns Calchas with many other prophets of the tradition, who often show a limited understanding of their own prophecies and lack clarity of expression,Footnote 35 as is clear in particular from the phrase quaenam … procul?.Footnote 36 Yet, while the ambiguity typically fits the oracular context, here it betrays a deeper difficulty of interpretation as well. Calchas himself either does not understand the last image of the vision or, if he does understand it, he does not reveal it in full. So, what does the seer mean by the expression improba uirgo? We cannot provide a definite answer. The problem is that improba uirgo wittily expresses the issue of sexual ambiguity, pointing exactly to one of the main paradoxes in the poem.Footnote 37 One possibility is that improba uirgo designates Deidamia, as has been suggested by the majority of scholars.Footnote 38 In this case, from the Greek viewpoint, Deidamia would be improba because she is the object of Achilles’ erotic desire and, therefore, she is responsible for Achilles remaining at Scyros and not joining the mustering troops.Footnote 39 However, it seems more likely to me that what Calchas sees and is unable (or unwilling) to name is not Deidamia but Achilles, who has seemingly left the stage after being abducted (raptus abit, 1.535) only to come back immediately afterwards in the guise of a uirgo.Footnote 40 But why should Achilles look like an improba uirgo in the eyes of the prophet?

We should keep in mind the context of the vision. From this perspective, improba probably hints at a physical trait of the body or the bearing that visibly looks unnatural at first sight, as well as at an air of boldness which is not befitting of a young lady.Footnote 41 In this sense, the adjective improbus Footnote 42 is highly appropriate here, if we think that Achilles is stifling (albeit somewhat awkwardly) his own masculine nature in order to look like a real girl of refined manners, thereby accomplishing his mother's vow (sit uirgo pii Lycomedis Achilles, 1.396), but still remaining the boy who grew up in the wilds of Pelion and Ossa.Footnote 43 That Achilles has something strange in his physical appearance and demeanour is also demonstrated by the special attention which is paid to him by the maidens of Lycomedes’ court. In their eyes (notice the insistence on the sphere of visual perception), he appears to be a uirgo noua:Footnote 44 noua not only because she is the last one to join their group, but also because she is unusual and different from the other girls, as is clear from her height, her shoulders and, once again, her breast (quantumque umeros ac pectora fundat, 1.369). Lycomedes’ daughters (who denote a female, youthful and curious eye) see as nouitas what Calchas (a male voice of the epic-tragic tradition) sees as improbitas. After all, in this flowing continuity of literary chronologies, we should keep in mind that the Calchas of the Achilleid is the same prophet who appeared in Iliad Book 1, and who knew the martial Achilles of the Homeric narrative. This is the only Achilles he can imagine. Unsurprisingly, therefore, when talking of Achilles, Calchas is always looking at his standard representation of the epic hero who is destined for great achievements. First, he calls him ingentem magni Chironis alumnum (1.526);Footnote 45 then, with a proleptic glimpse of the future, he calls him euersorem Asiae (1.530).Footnote 46 As we can see, Calchas’ rigid, Homeric viewpoint is mirrored in his own rhetorical style. In this sense, his language follows in the footsteps of traditional epic vocabulary: the expression euersor Asiae, in particular, resounds with the echo of the Homeric epithet πτολίπορθος (‘sacking or wasting cities’)Footnote 47 and especially with the memory of Verg. Aen. 12.545 Priami regnorum euersor Achilles.

Moreover, Calchas’ attitude is to be considered not only as a self-standing manifesto of the Greeks’ heroic aspirations but also as an answer to the anti-epic threat of the female antagonist Thetis. Calchas’ awareness of the risk of Achilles’ deviation emerges clearly when he begs him to choose war and to reject the clothes and his anxious mother's wishes: scinde, puer, scinde et timidae ne cede parenti (1.534).Footnote 48 But no sooner has the seer delivered his warning than the young hero yields to the other side. In that exact moment, as if by magic, Thetis’ son disappears and then he comes back as Thetis’ daughter. This foretold metamorphosis is also sealed––as the reader can notice from his detached and amused perspective––by the ring composition between the first line (quo rapis ingentem magni Chironis alumnum?, 1.526) and the last line of the prophecy (ei mihi, raptus abit! quaenam haec procul improba uirgo?, 1.535).Footnote 49 The effect of Thetis’ abduction (rapis ~ raptus)––which is reflected in Achilles’ shift from Chironis alumnus to improba uirgo––is thus conveyed within the prophecy itself, but ironically the seer still seems to be too disturbed by the uncanny spectacle of the transformation to realize what has happened.

Since Calchas fails to acknowledge Achilles in cross-dress (or does not even dare to imagine such a scenario), he is ultimately exposed as being too tightly bound to outdated systems of interpretation that prevent him from reading the core of the vision correctly. In other words, Calchas is too one-dimensional in his role of interpreter. Perhaps the phrase fessa … ora (1.524), which referred to the seer struggling to convey the divine message, offers a subtle allusion to a tradition that is now exhausted and needs to be refreshed with a new perspective which will soon be provided by Ulysses’ versatile intuition and perceptive foresight, as is shown in his following speech and especially in the embassy at Scyros.Footnote 50

II. CALL TO AN EPIC LABOR

Calchas’ limited and defective sight will be supplemented by Ulysses’ insightful ‘eye’. Ulysses, in fact, is the only one who is able to fully decipher the vision by means of his cunning mind. His speech is actually delayed by Diomedes’ exhortation (Achil. 1.538–45):

tunc haerentem Ithacum Calydonius occupat heros:
‘nos uocat iste labor: neque enim comes ire recusem,
si tua cura trahat. licet ille sonantibus antris         540
Tethyos auersae gremioque prematur aquosi
Nereos, inuenies. tu tantum prouidus astu
tende animum uigilem fecundumque erige pectus:
non mihi quis uatum dubiis in casibus ausit
Fata uidere prior.’         545

In its essential traits, this scene harks back to the assembly preceding the famous Doloneia at Hom. Il. 10.218–53. But while in the Iliad it is Diomedes who chooses Ulysses as his companion (10.241–7), now––in a much more condensed scene––it is Diomedes who volunteers to be Ulysses’ wingman.Footnote 51 Turning to Ulysses, who is still hesitant, Diomedes claims that a labor is summoning them; obviously, he could not refuse to undertake this mission at Ulysses’ side (neque enim comes ire recusem, 1.539).Footnote 52 Diomedes thinks that he will have to face a fully fledged epic task, a sort of new Ulyssean journey to the end of the earth or, better, to the depths of the Ocean, in the caverns of Tethys and Nereus (sonantibus antris | Tethyos auersae gremioque … aquosi | Nereos, 1.540–2).Footnote 53 This image has no close parallels, but it possibly recalls, in its majestic tone, the Homeric scene in which Hera goes to visit the Halls of Ocean and Tethys.Footnote 54 Diomedes’ prediction is hyperbolic and counterfactual, but it outlines one of the possible alternative developments of the Achilleid itself, namely the proper mission that would have awaited the two heroes if the prophecy Thetis had falsely attributed to Proteus had been true (iubet … | Carpathius uates puerumque sub axe peracto | secretis lustrare fretis, ubi litora summa | Oceani et genitor tepet illabentibus astris | Pontus, 1.135–9).

Even though he is not really aware of the meaning of Calchas’ revelation, Diomedes is eager to entrust the leadership to Ulysses, because Ulysses is prouidus (1.542), that is, because he can foresee.Footnote 55 By making this remark, the Statian Diomedes subtly recalls the Homeric Diomedes, who wanted to find a companion because, when two go together, one ‘perceives before’ the other (σύν τε δύ᾽ ἐρχομένω καί τε πρὸ ὃ τοῦ ἐνόησεν | ὅππως κέρδος ἔῃ, Hom. Il. 10.224–5).Footnote 56 But being prouidus is typical of prophets as well: Calchas himself, for instance, is said to be ueri prouidus augur at Ov. Met. 12.18.Footnote 57 In this sense, therefore, when Diomedes claims that no prophet would dare to see the Fates before Ulysses (non mihi quis uatum … ausit | Fata uidere prior, 1.544–5), he is acknowledging the prouidus Ulysses as the only true and reliable uates. In addition, he establishes a symbolic succession and points out the need to switch from a traditional seer, Calchas, whom he deems inadequate, to a new, superior seer, Ulysses.Footnote 58 Ultimately, it is the foreseeing Ulysses (prouidus astu, 1.542), not the sightless and absent Calchas (caecus et absens, 1.517), who will first see and recognize the improba uirgo and then figure out how to reveal her own nature.

III. ULYSSES’ PLAN, OR HOW TO MAKE ACHILLES AN EPIC HERO

Ulysses’ reply to Diomedes represents his first intervention in the Achilleid. Hence, this passage deserves close attention since it potentially contains a programmatic agenda of the hero's intentions in the next section of the poem (Achil. 1.545–52):

subicit gauisus Vlixes:         545
‘sic deus omnipotens firmet, sic annuat illa
uirgo paterna tibi! sed me spes lubrica tardat:
grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem,
sed si Fata negent, quam foedum ac triste reuerti!
uota tamen Danaum non intemptata relinquam.         550
iamque adeo aut aderit mecum Peleius heros,
aut uerum penitus latet et sine Apolline Calchas.’

Despite his ostensible uncertainty, Ulysses appears self-confident and satisfied with Diomedes’ flattering appeal (gauisus, 1.545).Footnote 59 So, he wishes that Jupiter and Minerva could fulfil Diomedes’ purpose and support their common pursuit. By calling Minerva illa | uirgo paterna tibi (1.546–7), Ulysses bestows on Diomedes the special link that existed between the goddess and Diomedes’ father, Tydeus, as is well known from the tradition as well as from Statius’ own Thebaid.Footnote 60 But, of course, Minerva is also Ulysses’ tutelary deity, and this was one of the reasons why the Homeric Diomedes wanted Ulysses by his side (φιλεῖ δέ ἑ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη, Hom. Il. 10.245).

Not without some hesitation, Ulysses declares his mission and comments upon it: grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem (1.548).Footnote 61 Ulysses’ statement complies with the plans of the poet, who had himself already announced something similar in the proem: tota iuuenem deducere Troia (1.7), namely to bring Achilles to Troy and lead him all the way through the war.Footnote 62 Ulysses’ words can thus be read, beyond their literal meaning, as an authorial remark: his military mission stands somehow as the equivalent of the literary mission of composing an epic war poem about Troy. The language is indeed characterized by a reflection on poetics. grande hints at the measure of an epos that is expected to ‘embrace’ the greatest hero of all, that hero whose uis festina, as Chiron said at Achil. 1.147–8, foreshadows nescio quid magnum.Footnote 63 In addition, grande points to the tension between the first part of the poem and the second, as does the Dulichian trumpet with which Agyrtes grande … | insonuit (1.875–6), thereby announcing the impending passage to the expected-to-be martial section.Footnote 64 In the Thebaid too, grande stands as a signpost to the climactic increase in the poetic agenda: when Tisiphone summons Megaera to rouse the brothers Eteocles and Polynices to their mortal combat, she claims that her plan is a ‘grand deed’ (grande opus, 11.100), thereby marking a narrative and poetic twist that, with a surge of tension, plunges the plot into the intimately tragic core of the poem.Footnote 65 Not only that, the adjective armatus (1.548) also guarantees that the Achilleid should be in line with traditional martial epic, that is, the epic of arma uirumque; and at the same time it ensures that the characterization of the young hero should be in tune with the Horatian recommendation according to which Achilles ‘should claim everything by force of arms’ (nihil non arroget armis, Hor. Ars P. 122).Footnote 66 In this programmatic reading of Ulysses’ statement, inducere (1.548) also gains renewed prominence, since it is also a technical verb to depict the staging process.Footnote 67

The choice of Ulysses as a mouthpiece of the most strictly epic issues of the poem could not be more adequate. Throughout the narrative, in fact, he is represented as the poetic repository of the Homeric tradition.Footnote 68 This is consistent with the ancient rhetorical tradition, in which it is Ulysses who most epitomizes the ‘grand style’ (in this case, the style appropriate to sing of Achilles in arms), of which the label grande at the beginning of line 548 is a clear assertion.Footnote 69

None the less, to bring Achilles into camp is an ambitious project which seems risky and no longer appealing.Footnote 70 This awareness is pointed out by a clear allusion to the very beginning of Ovid's Amores 2.18, as noted by A. Barchiesi (Am. 2.18.1–2):Footnote 71

carmen ad iratum dum tu perducis Achillem
primaque iuratis induis arma uiris

The words used by Ovid to describe the poetry of his friend Macer, who practises the traditional (and quite exhausted) epic genre in the style of Homer and the Epic Cycle,Footnote 72 now surface as a foil in the Statian line spoken by Ulysses (Achil. 1.548):

grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem

This allusive clue to the Ovidian criticism, on the one hand, problematizes the current difficulty in writing a traditional epic poem; on the other hand, it warns the reader about the novelty of Statius’ poetic project. Unlike Macer's iratus Achilles (the Homeric hero of μῆνις), Statius’ Achilles is armatus, not in the sense that he is already ‘in arms’ but rather in the sense that he is to be provided ‘with arms’. In other words, he is to be transformed into a real epic hero and possibly, given the sexual symbolism of arma, will thereby become a male in the proper sense.Footnote 73 Clearly, it turns out, there will be a return to the war epic but only through a new metamorphosis: from being a lover at Scyros to becoming a soldier at Troy. This shift is officially signalled by the ‘metamorphic’ adjective par excellence, mutatus, at Achil. 2.10.Footnote 74 After all, the destination––just like the corresponding poetic way to reach it––is clear: Achilles is to be brought to the castra, the military camp. None the less, if we keep in mind the elegiac intertext of Ovid's Amores 2.18, the epic word castra cannot but recall by contrast the castra of Love, the camp of the erotic battles to which Ovid wanted to draw Macer (si bene te noui, non bella libentius istis [sc. the love stories associated with the Trojan War] | dicis, et a uestris in mea castra uenis, 2.18.39–40).Footnote 75 Likewise, the court of Scyros, since it was suitable not for the battles of Mars but for the battles of Love,Footnote 76 has also determined the first deviation in the heroic career of Achilles in love.Footnote 77 The task of redirecting the young hero and, at the same time, of setting off the epic turn of the plot is now up to Ulysses.Footnote 78 He has to engage not only with a new endeavour but also with a new epic, which challenges the balance of internal tensions in the poem (the themes of love and war, as well as the mixture of different generic elements).Footnote 79 None the less, the grandeur of this pursuit is not devoid of uncertainties. Notice especially the use of expressions such as haerentem (1.538) and spes lubrica tardat (1.547). Once again, the reading is twofold: haerentem and tardat are reminiscent of the critical vocabulary of poetry making. The same verbs tellingly recur at Silu. 4.7, the lyric ode to Vibius Maximus, in which Statius, referring to the composition of the Achilleid, states that Apollo comes more sluggishly than usual (tardius … uenit, 4.7.22), and that his Achilles, namely his Achilleid, is stuck (haeret, 4.7.24) just after the first turn of the racecourse (Silu. 4.7.21–4):

torpor est nostris sine te Camenis,
tardius sueto uenit ipse Thymbrae
rector et primis meus ecce metis
haeret Achilles.

In this case, the delay formally depends on the absence of the patron who is the primary source of inspiration for the poet;Footnote 80 but the sense of compositional lethargy and stalemate might also outline his difficulty in arranging the new epic project. In the same way, Ulysses initially feels uncertain about his duty to set off the martial plot. Yet this is only a momentary (and perhaps artfully simulated) hesitation and soon the hero appears resolute in carrying out his mission: uota tamen Danaum non intemptata relinquam (1.550). These words sound once again like a programmatic statement exploiting the language of metapoetic reflection: to accomplish the vows of the Greeks means to accept the challenge of leading Achilles to Troy and, at the same time, provide the new subject of the poetic song––namely, to deal with a military as well as literary labor (to use Diomedes’ words) that has not yet been experienced. It is no coincidence that the litotes non intemptata contains the verb tempto, the same verb that Statius used to depict the newly undertaken process of writing the Achilleid in the authorial statement at Silu. 4.4.94 magnusque mihi temptatur Achilles.Footnote 81 Moreover, tempto is frequently associated with the experimentation of new poetic paths, starting from the famous ‘proem in the middle’ at Verg. G. 3.8–9 temptanda uia est, qua me quoque possim | tollere humo uictorque uirum uolitare per ora.Footnote 82 With reference to the literary activity, equally noteworthy for our comparison is the wording at Hor. Ars P. 285 nil intemptatum nostri liquere poetae.Footnote 83

Aware of these risks from a poetological dimension, Ulysses envisions the chance of a successful outcome (aderit mecum Peleius heros, 1.551),Footnote 84 as well as the possibility of failure in the event that uerum penitus latet et sine Apolline Calchas (1.552).Footnote 85 The possibility that Calchas is sine Apolline outlines the portrait of a fake seer, who is not truly possessed by the god and who is, therefore, devoid of prophetic inspiration.Footnote 86 But there is also a second level of interpretation: being without Apollo––the same Apollo that was invoked in the proem––also means suffering from a lack of poetic inspiration. A similar expression recurs in another passage from Silu. 5.3, in which Statius presents himself as still in need of poetic guidance from his dead father (Silu. 5.3.289–93):

somnique in imagine monstra
quae solitus. sic sacra Numae ritusque colendos         290
mitis Aricino dictabat nympha sub antro,
Scipio sic plenos Latio Ioue ducere somnos
creditur Ausoniis, sic non sine Apolline Sulla.

Taken at face value in the context of this simile in which Statius lists three examples of divine support, the reference to Apollo (non sine Apolline, 5.3.293) points to the fact that, before the Battle of the Colline Gate, Sulla appealed to the god for victory and kissed a golden image of him; in this sense, then, he was ‘not without Apollo’.Footnote 87 But Apollo's appearance in the last line of a poem dealing with issues of inspiration (and the temporary lack thereof) tellingly suggests poetry as well, and seals the carmen with a glimmer of hope for a future creative comeback.Footnote 88 Moreover, in both passages, sine Apolline recalls, albeit only formally, the standard expression sine te (or sine plus a proper name), which is typical not only of hymns to the gods but also of proemial contexts of request for poetic inspiration from a deity (or a patron).Footnote 89 If Calchas’ revelation is truly inspired by Apollo––that is, Calchas is not sine Apolline––then the project (understood as both military and literary) with which Ulysses has been entrusted as interpreter and executor of the message of the vision is also likely to prove successful. However, despite his doubts about the authenticity of Calchas’ divine inspiration, Ulysses is intimately aware that the first fundamental mission of the Achilleid ultimately depends on himself and the resources of his own human intelligence.

In conclusion, this section of the poem, through Calchas’ and Ulysses’ speeches, stages the interplay between two poetic voices, which belong to the same generic system, namely epic poetry, but diverge considerably from one another in their interpretative approach to reality within the narrative. On the one hand, Calchas appears to be closely bound to strictly traditional practices of prophetic art so that, in the new challenging context of the Achilleid, he conveys Apollo's divine message but then fails to interpret it in light of the complex dynamics of deceptions which stand at the heart of the plot. On the other hand, Ulysses, who has grasped the meaning of the revelation, outdoes Calchas, thereby presenting himself as the true uates and the leader of the upcoming expedition. But Ulysses’ plan bears signs of poetic self-reflexivity as well. So, his first intervention within the Achilleid functions as a kind of ‘poetic proem’:Footnote 90 through Ulysses’ promise not to leave the Greeks’ request for Achilles (the uota Danaum) unfulfilled, the poet reflects upon the difficulty of managing the epic, but, in the end, he reassures his readers about his loyalty to the epic programme declared in the opening of the poem––the awaited move from Scyros to Troy. In this light, if we imagine that everything that has been narrated up to this point represents a sort of ‘false start’ in terms of the epic plot,Footnote 91 Ulysses’ speech also provides an ideal proem for the second part of the Achilleid, that is, the martial beginning. Ulysses pulls the strings of the plot and holds together two different sections (and dimensions) of the poem. Thanks to his epic identity as the polytropos hero and his experience of a great variety of generic situations––traits which seem tailored to the blended identity of the Achilleid itself––Ulysses proves that he is perfectly equipped for his poetic goal of unblocking the impasse of the Scyrian court and redirect Achilles onto his martial track.

Footnotes

An earlier version of this paper was presented at the workshop ‘Une lecture de l’Achilléide de Stace’ at the Fondation Hardt in October 2018. I would like to thank the organizers and the participants for a stimulating discussion. I am grateful to CQ's editor, Bruce Gibson, and to the journal's anonymous readers for their insights. I also wish to thank Federica Bessone and Gianpiero Rosati for their encouragement and inspiring suggestions.

References

1 See Moul, V., ‘Quo rapis? Tone and allusion at Aulis in Statius’ Achilleid’, CQ 62 (2012), 286–300CrossRefGoogle Scholar; M. Fantuzzi, ‘Achilles and the improba uirgo. Ovid, Ars am. 1.681–704 and Statius, Ach. 1.514–35 on Achilles at Scyros’, in T.D. Papanghelis, S.J. Harrison and S. Frangoulidis (edd.), Generic Interfaces in Latin Literature: Encounters, Interactions and Transformations (Berlin and Boston, 2013), 151–68; cf. also Parkes, R., ‘The return of the Seven: allusion to the Thebaid in Statius’ Achilleid’, AJPh 129 (2008), 381–402Google Scholar, at 393–4; ead., ‘The epics of Statius and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica’, in M. Heerink and G. Manuwald (edd.), Brill's Companion to Valerius Flaccus (Leiden and Boston, 2014), 326–39, at 335–6; G. Bitto, Vergimus in senium: Statius’ Achilleis als Alterswerk (Göttingen, 2016), 274–85; F. Ripoll, ‘En attendant Achille (Stace, Achilléide, 1.467–513): enjeux dramatiques, éthiques et politiques d'une scène “de transition”’, Dictynna 16 (2019), https://doi.org/10.4000/dictynna.1826.

2 On Ulysses as an intertextually well-learned character and a double of the poet, see now F. Ripoll, ‘Ulysses as an inter-(and meta-)textual hero in the Achilleid of Statius’, in N. Coffee, C. Forstall, L. Galli Milić and D. Nelis (edd.), Intertextuality in Flavian Epic Poetry (Berlin and Boston, 2020), 243–58, whose insights are largely complementary to my reading of Ulysses as well.

3 See Bessone, F., ‘Visions of a hero: optical illusions and multifocal epic in Statius's Achilleid’, Helios 45 (2018), 169–94CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

4 On Calchas as an augur inspired by Apollo, cf. Hom. Il. 1.69–72. On his expertise in various mantic fields, cf. Sen. Tro. 351–9.

5 The word furor is repeated at the beginning (1.525) and at the end of the revelation (1.536).

6 The state of possession makes the seer deprived of agency in his delivery of divine prophecies. As we will see, this deepens the interplay between points of view and voices within the poem. On the differences between possessed seers and intellectual sign-interpreters, see E. Pillinger, Cassandra and the Poetics of Prophecy in Greek and Latin Literature (Cambridge, 2019), 9–12.

7 Calchas’ gendered shift from masculine sign-reading to feminine divine possession is particularly interesting in a ‘dual’ poem such as the Achilleid. A similar oscillation partly affects the Virgilian Helenus, whose prophecy at Verg. Aen. 3.369–462 is none the less conveyed through a controlled inspiration: see Pillinger (n. 6), 157–65.

8 On the one hand, Calchas shares some traits of the possessed seer (bloodshot eyes, pallor, messy hair, etc.), which stem from the Virgilian Sibyl (Verg. Aen. 6.46–51) but also recur in the portraits of Cassandra (Sen. Ag. 710–15) and Phemonoe (Luc. 5.169–74, 209–18); on the impact of the Sibyl on these figures, see respectively Pillinger (n. 6), 205–7 and J. Masters, Poetry and Civil War in Lucan's ‘Bellum Civile’ (Cambridge, 1992), 118–33. On the other hand, Calchas’ wide-ranging divinatory skills make him closer to Helenus in Verg. Aen. 3.359–61; for ornithomancy (1.518–19), see Amphiaraus (Theb. 3.633–40), with Parkes (n. 1 [2008]), 393; for divination from smoke (1.509, 1.520–2), see Tiresias (Theb. 10.604–8), with Bitto (n. 1), 274–8. For an extensive survey of Calchas’ models, cf. F. Ripoll and J. Soubiran (edd.), Stace: Achilléide (Leuven, 2008), 224; Parkes (n. 1 [2014]), 335–6.

9 Cf. the hair rising in horror and the fillet faltering on the top of the head (1.522–3); a similar reaction ominously affects Tiresias in Theb. 10.606–7, just before he announces the oracle's answer and the terrible request for Menoeceus’ sacrifice (cf. also Cassandra at Sen. Ag. 710–19, with M.M. Perilli, ‘Falsa canebat. Il modello di Cassandra nella Pizia lucanea’, Maia 72 [2020], 374–89, at 383–5). On this basis, we might equally expect a tragic outcome in the case of Calchas as well, but no mournful event will happen after his revelation. Similarly, Statius exaggerates in a ‘comic’ and extravagant way the figure of his own Sibyl in Silu. 4.3: see C.E. Newlands, Statius’ Silvae and the Poetics of Empire (Cambridge, 2002), 309–23, especially 310–12.

10 The text of the Achilleid is cited from D.R. Shackleton Bailey (ed.), Statius: Thebaid, Books 8–12. Achilleid (Cambridge, MA and London, 2003).

11 Cf. Amphiaraus’ possession at Theb. 3.625–6 sed me … | Phoebus agit. For this wording, cf. also Verg. Ecl. 3.62 et me Phoebus amat.

12 On this topic, see in general J.F. Miller, Apollo, Augustus, and the Poets (Cambridge, 2009); Pillinger (n. 6), 9–12. On the epic uates as a prophetic as well as poetic figure inspired by Apollo, cf. e.g. O'Higgins, D., ‘Lucan as uates’, ClAnt 7 (1988), 208–26Google Scholar; Masters (n. 8), 133–41. On the uates in Statius, see H. Lovatt, ‘Statius, Orpheus, and the post-Augustan uates’, Arethusa 40 (2007), 145–63.

13 Cf. also the Statian Sibyl's address of Domitian as a god at Silu. 4.3.128 en hic est deus; see Newlands (n. 9), 313–14.

14 On repetitions such as meus iste, meus, cf. B. Gibson, Statius, Siluae 5 (Oxford, 2006), 165. Cf. also Silu. 5.5.69 meus ille, meus referring to the dead slave boy whom Statius claims as his foster father; on this basis, P.J. Heslin, The Transvestite Achilles. Gender and Genre in Statius’ Achilleid (Cambridge, 2005), 292 argues that ‘Calchas disputes Thetis’ right, even though she is his biological mother, to keep possession of Achilles’. On the contrasting attitude of Thetis, who shows off her motherly possessiveness as well (meus quaeretur Achilles, 1.37), see now F. Bessone, ‘Nimis … mater: mother plot and epic deviation in the Achilleid’, in A. Keith and A. Sharrock (edd.), Maternal Conceptions in Classical Literature and Philosophy (Toronto, 2020), 80–112, at 88.

15 See Feeney, D.C., ‘Tenui … latens discrimine: spotting the differences in Statius’ Achilleid’, MD 52 (2004), 85–105Google Scholar, at 88–9. For Achilles’ death at the hands of Paris on behalf of Apollo, cf. e.g. Hom. Il. 21.277–8, 22.359–60; Verg. Aen. 6.56–8; Ov. Met. 12.597–609, 13.501. In this light, meus iste, meus could acquire an ominous tinge, since it alludes to the warrior's claim on the victim (or the enemy) who is due to him: cf. Verg. Aen. 10.442–3 soli mihi Pallas | debetur; Sil. Pun. 2.228 meus ille hostis. In addition, this marks an inversion of Apollo's words at Hom. Il. 22.13 οὔ τοι μόρσιμός εἰμι, when the god, revealing himself to Achilles, says that he is not marked by fate (i.e. not appointed to die at the hands of Achilles) because he is immortal.

16 In this sense, Achilles is meus to Statius too: cf. Silu. 4.7.23–4 meus … | haeret Achilles; 5.2.163 te meus absentem circumspectabit Achilles.

17 quo rapis recalls similar questions asked by prophets (or poets) in a state of possession: cf. Hor. Carm. 3.25.1–2 quo me, Bacche, rapis tui | plenum?, with Moul (n. 1), 296–7.

18 Namely the fake account of her anxious dreams about Achilles’ destiny and Proteus’ advice to purify the boy in the farthest regions of the Ocean (cf. in particular 1.141 sic ficta parens).

19 The overlap between Achilles’ abduction, as depicted by Calchas, and the traditional pattern of female abduction (the raptus of Helen, Europe, Io, etc.) is pointed out by Moul (n. 1), 286 and 290. The expression turpi … furto in Calchas’ speech recalls the way in which Thetis indicates Paris’ theft of Helen: en aliud furto scelus (1.66).

20 On Paris’ abduction of Helen in the poem, see 1.20–1, 1.66–7, 1.399–403, 2.58–71.

21 Phaedra's crime against Hippolytus is also defined as a dolus, an evil intent arranged by means of female deceit (Sen. Phaed. 828). For dolus referring to Thetis’ action, cf. Sen. Tro. 213 and 569–70 uicimus matrum dolos | etiam dearum (here, interestingly, the words are spoken by Ulysses himself); see also Fantham, E., ‘Statius’ Achilles and his Trojan model’, CQ 29 (1979), 457–62CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 459–60.

22 While in the Achilleid Thetis’ deception essentially consists of a series of wiles and furta (see G. Rosati, ‘L’Achilleide di Stazio, un'epica dell'ambiguità’, Maia 44 [1992], 233–66, at 241–2), in the Metamorphoses, by contrast, Thetis performs a sequence of proper transformations in order to escape Peleus’ rape (Ov. Met. 11.241–2 uariatis saepe figuris | ad solitas artes; 11.253 nec te decipiat centum mentita figuras; 11.261 nouat formas). Perhaps, her Ovidian ability at metamorphosing could be a source of inspiration when she decides to dress her son as a girl in order to save him from his call-up to Troy (cf. also Ov. Met. 13.162–4 praescia uenturi genetrix Nereia leti | dissimulat cultu natum et deceperat omnes | … sumptae fallacia uestis). On Thetis who ‘moulds’ Achilles and sets in motion his first metamorphosis, see F. Bessone, ‘The hero's extended family: familial and narrative tensions in Statius’ Achilleid’, in N. Manioti (ed.), Family in Flavian Epic (Leiden and Boston, 2016), 174–208, at 188–9; Bessone (n. 3), 177–8. On Thetis’ literary role in the poem, see Bessone (n. 14).

23 Thetis’ choice of Scyros is not casual and extemporaneous (as one might infer from the expression attonitam … quaerentem litora, 1.531), but has been planned before the journey (1.201–11). The ‘imaginary voyage’ of Thetis while evaluating the most suitable island (placet ire per artas | Cycladas, 1.204–5) now, in Calchas’ vision, ends up being visualized as her actual wanderings (per Cycladas artas | … quaerentem litora, 1.530–1).

24 Cf. e.g. Callim. Hymn 4.153–4; Ov. Met. 6.188–91 and Pont. 4.14.57–8. On the myth of Latona in the Achilleid, cf. McNelis, C., ‘In the wake of Latona: Thetis at Statius, Achilleid 1.198–216’, CQ 59 (2009), 238–46CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Heslin (n. 14), 134–7.

25 On the key motif of the circle in these lines, see W.H. Mineur (ed.), Callimachus: Hymn to Delos (Leiden, 1984), 235–6. See also Dionys. Per. 525–6.

26 See G. Rosati (ed.), P. Ouidii Nasonis Heroidum Epistulae XVIII–XIX (Florence, 1996), 98–9.

27 On the tensions between the Greek, Roman and Trojan points of view, cf. Moul (n. 1), 292, 295–9 and 300; on the dichotomy of Europe/Asia, see Augoustakis, A., ‘Achilles and the poetics of manhood: re(de)fining Europe and Asia in Statius’ Achilleid’, CW 109 (2016), 195–219Google Scholar.

28 The adjective fluxus is also found with reference to the wedding dress of the bride at Luc. 2.362 fluxos … amictus. Moul (n. 1), 290 notices that Achilles’ flowing garments resemble the clothes of Europa at Ov. Met. 2.875 tremulae … uestes; this detail gains an allusive tone if we consider that Achilles, just like Europa, is also being abducted.

29 According to Catullus, Achilles will be forti pectore notus (64.339); see Feeney (n. 15), 95–6. Achilles’ pectus is also a metonym to indicate his heroic prowess: cf. Prop. 4.11.39; Manil. 2.3; Sil. Pun. 11.450.

30 Cf. e.g. Hom. Il. 19.371, 22.313 (sc. Achilles) πρόσθεν δὲ σάκος στέρνοιο κάλυψε.

31 Only from now can Achilles’ pectus be covered again with the armour (et iam punicea nudatum pectora palla | insignemque ipsis, quae prima inuaserat, armis | Aeaciden … | … prospectant, 2.5–8).

32 Ulysses was keeping his eyes fixed on the uultus and, of course, on the pectora of the Scyrian ladies to identify the intruder in disguise (1.761–2).

33 Cf. also 1.724–5 and 2.39; on the tuba as an ‘epic device’, see A. Barchiesi, ‘Genealogie letterarie nell'epica imperiale. Fondamentalismo e ironia’, in E.A. Schmidt (ed.), L'histoire littéraire immanente dans la poésie latine (Entretiens sur l'Antiquité Classique 47) (Geneva, 2001), 315–62, at 343–8; and id., ‘Masculinity in the 90s: the education of Achilles in Statius and Quintilian’, in M. Paschalis (ed.), Roman and Greek Imperial Epic (Heraklion, 2005), 47–75, at 65–6.

34 On the Achilleid as ‘poetics of illusion’, see Bessone (n. 3).

35 Cf. e.g. the Sibyl, who sings horrendas … ambages … | obscuris uera inuoluens (Verg. Aen. 6.99–100); Helenus, who admits the limits to his own prophetic intelligence (Verg. Aen. 3.379–80, with Pillinger [n. 6], 160–3); and especially Phemonoe, who has only partial control over what she says (Luc. 5.174–7, 197, 210, 222–4, with O'Higgins [n. 12], 211–17; on Pythia's deceitfulness, see Perilli [n. 9], 385–8).

36 Questions such as quaenam … procul?, etc. make the prophets seem closer to any other character enquiring about anything obscure or mysterious (cf. e.g. Anchises’ rhetorical question at Verg. Aen. 6.808 quis procul ille … ?, and especially Aeneas’ question at 6.863 quis, pater, ille … ?) than to the divine knowledge they convey.

37 Cf. 1.336–7 fallitque tuentes | ambiguus tenuique latens discrimine sexus; 1.605. See Rosati (n. 22), 236–50; Feeney (n. 15), 90–5; Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 57–8; Heslin (n. 14), 237–76; McAuley, M., ‘Ambiguus sexus: epic masculinity in transition in Statius’ Achilleid’, Akroterion 55 (2010), 37–60Google Scholar. It is not only Achilles that is affected by a cross-gender fluctuation; also Deidamia and her sisters show some masculine traits (formae species permixta uirili, 1.811): cf. S. Hinds, ‘Essential epic: genre and gender from Macer to Statius’, in M. Depew and D. Obbink (edd.), Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons and Society (Cambridge, MA, 2000), 221–44, at 237–40.

38 See Ripoll and Soubiran (n. 8), 226–7; L. Sanna, ‘Achilles, the wise lover and his seductive strategies (Statius, Achilleid 1.560–92)’, CQ 57 (2007), 207–15, at 210; Bitto (n. 1), 278–9. Other scholars acknowledge the ambiguity of the expression improba uirgo and its possible twofold reading (cf. Moul [n. 1], 296), but in the end they tend to refer it to Deidamia: see Fantuzzi (n. 1), 160–6; Parkes (n. 1 [2014]), 336 with n. 55, who considers uirgo as a reference to Deidamia on the ground of some intertextual echoes from Valerius Flaccus. Interestingly, improba … uirgo defines Medea at Val. Fl. 6.681–2 imminet e celsis audentius improba muris | uirgo; in this case, however, the adjective relates to the shameless passion that affects Medea at the sight of Jason.

39 Cf. Fantuzzi (n. 1), 160 and 163. In this case, then, we should suppose that Calchas is already aware of Achilles’ love for Deidamia.

40 Expressions such as raptus abit and quaenam haec procul improba uirgo, which announce the arrival of a character ‘on the scene’ (or his departure), contain a fair slice of theatricality; cf. also the disappearance of the female Achilles (Peleaque uirgo | quaeritur, 1.884–5). On theatricality as a key feature of the prophecies in Flavian epic, see H. Lovatt, ‘Competing visions: prophecy, spectacle, and theatricality in Flavian epic’, in A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic (Oxford, 2013), 53–70.

41 Other scholars imagine that if improba uirgo refers to Achilles, then improba ‘will point to the “morally unsound” new sex of Achilles’ (Fantuzzi [n. 1], 162; cf. also 160); Moul (n. 1), 296. If we imagine that improba expresses Calchas’ condemnation, likewise we must admit that Calchas did recognize Achilles in cross-dress. But Calchas seems to have been wrong-footed by the sight of the mysterious virgin: that is the reason why we should not underrate the visual aspects that the adjective, even with its possible tinge of moral blame, conjures up in the first place.

42 ‘“Shameless”, of anything unnatural’, thus O.A.W. Dilke (ed.), Statius: Achilleid (Cambridge, 1954), 84. Interestingly, thirty-four lines after Calchas’ mention of the improba uirgo, the adjective improbus recurs with reference to Achilles in cross-dress and maliciously glancing at Deidamia (illam sequiturque premitque | improbus, illam oculis iterumque iterumque resumit, 1.568–9); improbus also refers to Achilles at Achil. 1.41, with R. Uccellini (ed.), L'arrivo di Achille a Sciro. Saggio di commento a Stazio, Achilleide 1.1–396 (Pisa, 2012), 69. Noteworthy too is Deidamia's claim at 1.942 i felix nosterque redi! nimis improba posco; whether improba here refers to Deidamia as a feminine singular or to the ‘overbold’ demands she makes in the neuter plural (which seems to me more likely), the meaning is an ironic one: the princess (just like a relicta-to-be) is legitimately asking Achilles not to betray her while away at Troy, even though she is well aware that she is making a ‘hard’ request (cf. also 1.940); see Rosati (n. 22), 257–9.

43 Conversely, in Silu. 1.6.53–4 the female sex is qualified as improbus when, during the Saturnalia, some women engage in manlike fighting and feign a virile attitude: stat sexus rudis insciusque ferri: | ut pugnas capit improbus uiriles!, with A. Pittà, ‘Il prefetto risanato e i Saturnali. Stazio, Siluae 1.4 e 1.6. Testo, traduzione e commento’ (Diss., Scuola Normale Superiore, 2016), 286–7.

44 nec turba piarum | Scyriadum cessat nimio defigere uisu | uirginis ora nouae, 1.366–8. On the Scyrian maidens’ visual attitude at the sight of the transvestite Achilles, see Bessone (n. 3), 178–9.

45 Cf. also Ulysses’ words at Achil. 1.868 tu semiferi Chironis alumnus. The mention of Chiron (magni Chironis)––instead of Peleus––underlines the extraordinary nature of Achilles’ upbringing (ingentem … alumnum). See Fantham, E., ‘Chironis exemplum: on teachers and surrogate fathers in Achilleid and Siluae’, Hermathena 167 (1999), 59–70Google Scholar; on the poetic programme with which Chiron is associated in contrast with Thetis, see Bessone (n. 22), 177–83.

46 See also Ulysses’ flattering apostrophe to the young hero at Achil. 2.32 magnae uastator debite Troiae; here Ulysses is reworking his previous speech to Achilles at Ov. Met. 13.169 quid dubitas ingentem euertere Troiam?

47 LSJ s.v. πτολίπορθος; this epithet is often used with reference to Ares and, among the various heroes, to Achilles (cf. Hom. Il. 8.372, 15.77, 21.550, 24.108).

48 Calchas’ injunction (scinde [sc. uestes] … ne cede) is a perfect reply to Thetis’ previous invitation to Achilles to yield and accept her clothes: cedamus … | atque habitus dignare meos (1.259–60). Cf. Bessone (n. 14), 93–5.

49 I owe this suggestion to Federica Bessone.

50 fessus refers to Calchas’ physical weakness owing to his struggle to endure divine possession (cf. oppositum uox eluctata furorem est, 1.525; nutante gradu, 1.536; tremefactus corruit, 1.537). But, in a metaliterary sense, fessus can also allude to the ‘exhausted’ literary tradition Calchas belongs to (notice also the rare patronymic Thestorides at line 516, which pointedly looks back to the ‘ancient’ Homeric epos [Il. 1.69]; occurrences in Latin poetry before Statius are found only in Ov. Met. 12.19 and 27; Il. Lat. 52 and 59). The widespread sense of weariness that affects Statian epos is best symbolized by Jupiter's taedium at Theb. 1.216–17 taedet saeuire corusco | fulmine: see D.C. Feeney, The Gods in Epic. Poets and Critics of the Classical Tradition (Oxford, 1991), 343.

51 On the comparison with the Doloneia, see Ripoll (n. 2), 244–5 and 250.

52 Cf. Anchises’ reply to Aeneas pleading with him to leave Troy: nec, nate, tibi comes ire recuso (Verg. Aen. 2.704); see Moul (n. 1), 298–9. Claiming to be Ulysses’ comes, Diomedes perfectly complies with the cliché of friendship stated by Ulysses himself at Ov. Met. 13.239–40 at sua Tydides mecum communicat acta, | me probat et socio semper confidit Vlixe.

53 This image will be reworked by Claud. Rapt. Pros. 3.316–20.

54 Hom. Il. 14.200–1 εἶμι γὰρ ὀψομένη πολυφόρβου πείρατα γαίης, | Ὠκεανόν τε θεῶν γένεσιν καὶ μητέρα Τηθύν. Cf. also Ov. Met. 2.509–10.

55 For prouidus referring to Ulysses, cf. also Achil. 1.698; Hor. Epist. 1.2.19. Indeed, in the Achilleid Ulysses will recognize the transvestite Achilles thanks to his ‘visual’ skills: uisu perlustrat … | scrutaturque, 1.742–3; ceu miretur, 1.746; intentus … | perlibrat uisu, 1.761–2; defigit comitique obliquo lumine monstrat, 1.766; aspicit, 1.794. On Ulysses’ eye, see Bessone (n. 3), 184–6; Ripoll (n. 2), 245–8. The only other character of the poem who is described as prouidus is Deidamia (1.802), who, having perfectly understood Ulysses’ goal to arouse Achilles’ desire for war, leaves the table clasping the boy in cross-dress. Her prudentia makes her side with Thetis’ literary programme and clash with Ulysses’ project.

56 The Homeric Diomedes adds that with Ulysses the return will be safe even from fire ‘because he is wise in understanding’ (Hom. Il. 10.247 ἐπεὶ περίοιδε νοῆσαι).

57 See also Verg. Aen. 3.433 (Helenus); Stat. Theb. 4.197 (Amphiaraus); 10.639 (Manto).

58 Likewise, at Ov. Met. 13.363 Ulysses himself claims his cura futuri.

59 gauisus could recall the Homeric formula ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν, which often introduces Ulysses’ reply (cf. e.g. Hom. Od. 7.329, 8.199, 13.250, 18.281). Elsewhere in the poem Ulysses turns out to be satisfied with his charismatic appeal and cunning resolutions: subridens, 1.718; contentus, 2.85.

60 On paterna, see Dilke (n. 42), 122. The fact that Minerva, who was Tydeus’ goddess in the Thebaid, now offers protection to his son Diomedes highlights not only the genealogical succession between father and son but also the symbolic succession between the Thebaid (the first epos) and the Achilleid (the second epos). For a similar notion of metaliterary continuity, see Achil. 1.468–9 famamque auida uirtute paternam | Tydides Sthenelusque premant, where Diomedes and Sthenelus ‘press’ the fame of their fathers (respectively Tydeus and Capaneus), namely the fame of the Thebaid and the previous tradition; cf. also Achil. 1.732–3. On the self-aware ‘secondariness’ of the Achilleid, cf. S. Hinds, Allusion and Intertext. Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry (Cambridge, 1998), 91–6; Barchiesi, A., ‘La guerra di Troia non avrà luogo: il proemio dell’Achilleide di Stazio’, AION(filol) 18 (1996), 45–62Google Scholar, at 50; Feeney (n. 15), 86–8; Heslin (n. 14), 76–8; McAuley (n. 37), 40–2.

61 At Hom. Il. 9.225–306 Ulysses’ duty was to persuade Achilles to come back to the Greek camp. Now, in this sort of Statian prequel to the Iliad, Ulysses is in charge of leading the young Achilles to Troy. This might seem a bit paradoxical at first sight, if we consider that Ulysses himself was a draft dodger when called up for the Trojan expedition: cf. Ajax's charge at Ov. Met. 13.35–9 and Ulysses’ reply at 13.296–305, when the hero shrewdly associates himself with Achilles for their common delayed participation.

62 On this trope, according to which the poet, in programmatic contexts, claims to do the same action that is being described in the poem, cf. Heslin (n. 14), 75; J.C. McKeown (ed.), Ovid: Amores. A Commentary on Book Two (Leeds, 1998), 388.

63 nescio quid magnum adopts ‘the sense of a comparison, no more between minor and grand genres, but between more or less grandiose versions of the same epic genre’: thus Bessone (n. 22), 183; cf. also Bessone (n. 3), 173. For the programmatic meaning of nescio quid magnum, cf. e.g. Prop. 2.34.66; Ov. Her. 12.212 nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit, with F. Bessone (ed.), P. Ouidii Nasonis Heroidum Epistula XII (Florence, 1997), 32–6. For the notion of grandeur associated with Achilles, cf. also Chiron's hyperbolic statement at Achil. 1.151–2 nunc illum non Ossa capit, non Pelion ingens | Pharsaliaeue niues (notice too the allusion to the ‘sublime’ topography of the Gigantomachy mentioned in this passage).

64 Cf. Verg. Aen. 7.45 maius opus moueo, in which maius opus announces the beginning of the Iliadic half of the Aeneid, the ‘greater’ epic within the epic.

65 The Muses withdraw from the Theban camp and the Furies become the new agents of the plot which is going to be driven to its tragic peak, namely the fratricide: cf. Feeney (n. 50), 386; on Tisiphone's programmatic speech, cf. F. Bessone, La Tebaide di Stazio. Epica e potere (Pisa and Rome, 2011), 95–101.

66 See D. Kozák, ‘Si forte reponis Achillem: Achilles in the Ars poetica, the Metamorphoses, and the Achilleid’, MD 72 (2014), 207–21; on the Achilleid's engagement with Horatian prescriptions, see K.S. Myers, ‘Ambiguus uultus: Horatian echoes in Statius’ Achilleid’, MD 75 (2015), 179–88. In general, claiming to arm a hero's hand is a metaphor for traditional epic poetry: cf. Prop. 2.1.17–18 si tantum … fata dedissent | ut possem heroas ducere in arma manus, in the context of a recusatio.

67 TLL 7.1.1232.69–1233.7 and 1239.67–1240.16 s.v. induco. With its technical meaning, induco is commonly attested in commentators’ language as well: cf. e.g. Serv. Dan. Aen. 1.446, 4.694. I would like to thank Francesco Busti and Stefano Poletti for this remark.

68 At Achil. 1.785–7 Ulysses conveys in an abridged version the essence of the Odyssey and the Iliad: see Bessone (n. 3), 185–6; cf. also the proleptic glimpse of the κλέα ἀνδρῶν (tantae … copia famae | fortibus, 1.792–3) and the battle camp of Troy (campo maiore, 1.793, a metaphor for the Iliad itself). Similarly, at 2.49–83 he sings, just like an epic uates, of the beginning of the war (primordia belli, 2.47; on primordia as a term of the poetic agenda, see e.g. Theb. 1.4), going back (repetito longius orsu, 2.49) to the pre-Iliadic subject of the Cypria, namely the wedding of Peleus and Thetis and especially the judgement of Paris.

69 Interestingly, the first word spoken by Ulysses in his speech to Lycomedes is magna (1.728). On the grandeur of Ulysses’ eloquence, cf. e.g. Silu. 5.3.114–15, with Gibson (n. 14), 309–10 for further references on this topic. Moreover, Ulysses specifically represents one of the three types of Homeric oratory, the sublime one: cf. e.g. Quint. Inst. 12.10.64; Gell. NA 6.14.7 magnificum in Vlixe et ubertum. On Ulysses as a traditional epic voice in the Achilleid and his symbolic role in the rhetorical tradition, see Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 65–70; Ripoll (n. 2), 248–50.

70 In this sense, in fact, ‘the use of grande has dangerous overtones of bombastic sublimity’: Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 69; cf. e.g. Hor. Ars P. 27 and 80; Ov. Rem. am. 375; Pers. 5.7. For grande as a stylistic category in rhetorical contexts, see TLL 6.2.2185.52–2186.36 s.v. grandis. Morerover, the notion of grande with regard to poetry can also recall the Callimachean notion of μέγα and the negative evaluation with which it is linked.

71 Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 68–9. A wider discussion on similar collisions between quintessential epos and minor genres that apparently threaten the consistency of Statius’ poetic project is found in Barchiesi (n. 33 [2001]), 331–2; see also Barchiesi (n. 60), 57–8.

72 On Macer and his Antehomerica (and Posthomerica), see McKeown (n. 62), 382–3. Cf. also Ov. Pont. 4.16.6 Iliacusque Macer; 2.10.13–14 tu canis aeterno quicquid restabat Homero, | ne careant summa Troica bella manu.

73 For arma as a sexual euphemism, cf. e.g. Prop. 1.3.16, 4.8.88; Ov. Am. 1.9.26; J.N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary (London, 1982), 19–22. In this sense, it is interesting to consider the description of the young Achilles, who patria iam se metitur in hasta (Achil. 1.41). Phallic jokes can be detected in the representation of Achilles in disguise as well, especially regarding the thyrsus (which is a ‘softer’ equivalent of the masculine hasta) in the Bacchic scene: see Heslin (n. 14), 238–42; Bessone (n. 3), 181–3. For Achilles as a symbol of sexual power, see also e.g. Petron. Sat. 129.1.

74 As shown by Bessone (n. 3), 184, this metamorphosis is actually a ‘counter-metamorphosis’ that realigns Achilles with his true nature after Thetis’ intervention. His desire to comply with ‘new’ male heroic models, such as Ulysses and Diomedes, is also betrayed at Achil. 1.754–5 auidusque nouos heroas et arma | uel talis uidisse cupit; cf. also Hinds (n. 37), 240–1. mutatus, then, like uersutus used of Ulysses in Livius Andronicus (on which, see Hinds [n. 60], 61–2), could also evoke the process of ‘translating’ Achilles from the Greek Iliad to the Latin Achilleid, and here again from lover to warrior, in order to recapture a Homeric spirit, which is now, after this Roman ‘bath’, inevitably changed from the original.

75 On the image of castra Amoris, see J.C. McKeown (ed.), Ovid: Amores. A Commentary on Book One (Leeds, 1989), 49. On the presence of Love in Macer's epic poem, see Ov. Am. 2.18.35–8; Hinds (n. 37), 227–8.

76 Cf. imbelli … Lycomedis ab aula, 1.207; hic thiasi tantum et nihil utile bellis, 1.393. On Scyros as ‘an emblematically unwarlike land’, see Hinds (n. 37), 236–7.

77 Love is ultimately the force that prompted Achilles to yield to his mother's will. On the implicit presence of the god of Love in the disguise scene at Achil. 1.283–4 (quis deus attonitae fraudes astumque parenti | contulit?) and on his intervention in the plot, see Bessone (n. 22), 184–6; Bessone (n. 14), 92–9. Moreover, given Achilles’ future dalliances (cf. e.g. Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis or Ovid's Heroides 3), there is good reason to think that eros would have been anything but missing in the unfinished part of the Achilleid: cf. Rosati (n. 22), 263–4; Hinds (n. 60), 135–44; Feeney (n. 15), 97–8; Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 70–1; Heslin (n. 14), especially 84–6; Bessone (n. 22), 183.

78 Calchas has been considered the ‘“protector of the plot” of the Trojan War’ (Fantuzzi [n. 1], 161; see also 166), but in the same fashion Ulysses proves to be the one who really keeps the epic plot on track.

79 The new poetic project which Statius (and Ulysses) is involved in combines different kinds of epics: on the one hand, Homeric and Virgilian epics: on the other, Ovidian epic, or rather Ovidian poetry (epic as well as erotic elegy). This generic blend responds to the issue of dealing with Achilles’ identity in his twofold nature of lover and soldier: see Rosati (n. 22), 250–5. But the challenge is also related to the structure of the poem: the Achilleid is not a standard Homeric poem focussing upon a single action (i.e. the war at Troy or Ulysses’ wanderings), according to Aristotelian recommendations, but a poem focussing upon a single character, whose life is supposed to be narrated at length from the beginning to the end (ire per omnem | … heroa, 1.4–5); cf. Rosati (n. 22), 233 with n. 3; Heslin (n. 14), 80–2; Kozák (n. 66), 217–19; Myers (n. 66), 180–1.

80 See O'Sullivan, T.M., ‘Waiting on a friend: Statius, Siluae 4.7’, MD 60 (2008), 125–43Google Scholar, at 132–4; on the poetic programme of Silu. 4.7 and on Statius’ search for inspiration in the passage from the Thebaid to the Achilleid, see E. Merli, Dall'Elicona a Roma. Acque ispiratrici e lima poetica nell'Ovidio dell'esilio e nella poesia flavia di omaggio (Berlin and Boston, 2013), 91–4. The image of Achilles getting stuck primis … metis implies the metaphor of the chariot race, on which see K.M. Coleman (ed.), Statius: Siluae IV (Oxford, 1988), 203; Heslin (n. 14), 61.

81 On this occasion, the hesitation of the poet is not to be traced back to the novelty of the project but rather to the perpetually delayed urge to compose a solemn and ambitious epos devoted to Domitian, as is declared in the immediately following lines (4.4.95–6). Cf. G. Rosati, ‘Muse and power in the poetry of Statius’, in E. Spentzou and D. Fowler (edd.), Cultivating the Muse. Struggles for Power and Inspiration in Classical Literature (Oxford, 2002), 229–51, at 235; Merli (n. 80), 124.

82 For this image, which bears a certain Callimachean flavour, cf. e.g. Hor. Carm. 3.2.22; Sen. Oed. 392 alia temptanda est uia, with Palmieri, N., ‘Alia temptanda est uia: allusività e innovazione drammatica nell’Edipo di Seneca’, MD 23 (1989), 175–89Google Scholar. For tempto in programmatic contexts, cf. also Hor. Epist. 2.1.164; Stat. Theb. 12.816.

83 For intemptatus as a loanword from the Greek ἀπείρατος in contexts of literary innovation, see C.O. Brink (ed.), Horace on Poetry. The ‘Ars Poetica’ (Cambridge, 1971), 318–19.

84 By referring to Achilles as Peleius heros, in his heroic dress, Ulysses implicitly shows himself to be confident about the positive result of his own mission.

85 Similarly, Ulysses had tested Calchas’ reliability at Hom. Il. 2.299–300 μείνατ᾽ ἐπὶ χρόνον ὄφρα δαῶμεν | ἢ ἐτεὸν Κάλχας μαντεύεται ἦε καὶ οὐκί.

86 On Calchas as an unreliable figure and the wider distrust of prophets and seers, cf. e.g. Eur. Hel. 744–57; IA 518–21 and 956–8. At Verg. Aen. 2.122–9 Sinon describes Calchas as an accomplice of Ulysses and implies that his revelation is a farce: see S. Casali (ed.), Virgilio, Eneide 2 (Pisa, 2017), 145–6.

87 For this episode, cf. Plut. Sull. 29.11–12.

88 Cf. Gibson (n. 14), 377–8, who points out the symbolic link with poetry that characterizes the gods mentioned in this passage (Jupiter, Egeria and Apollo). The implicit focus of this threefold comparison is Statius’ dead father, who was a poet himself and mentor for his son's poetic activity.

89 For this expression and its tradition, cf. R.G.M. Nisbet and M. Hubbard (edd.), A Commentary on Horace Odes, Book I (Oxford, 1970), 307. Cf. e.g. Silu. 1.4.19–20 mihi surda sine illo [sc. Phoebus] | plectra; 4.7.21 torpor est nostris sine te [sc. Vibius Maximus] Camenis; 5.3.5 te sine [sc. Statius’ father], with Gibson (n. 14), 268–9.

90 On Statius’ experimentation with multiple starting points in the Achilleid, see R.T. Ganiban, ‘The beginnings of the Achilleid’, in W.J. Dominik, C.E. Newlands and K. Gervais (edd.), Brill's Companion to Statius (Leiden and Boston, 2015), 73–87, at 84–6.

91 That is, a ‘false start’ in the light of the Trojan War, which stands on the horizon as the ultimate telos of the Greek expedition and of Achilles’ heroic consecration as well. For this reason, the experience of the female and eroticized microcosm of the peaceful court of Scyros is to be erased through a sort of collective damnatio memoriae performed by the internal characters (especially Achilles): see Hinds (n. 37), 241.