Despite some notable recent essays in the rehabilitation of the Latin epic of the first century A.D., there remains a prejudice that post-Virgilian epicists are slavishly imitative in a way that Virgil (and his contemporaries in other genres) are not. The following three studies, in Valerius Flaccus, Statius, and Silius Italicus, are contributions to an argument, currently being conducted on a wide front, that imitation, even of a very close kind, may behave in a dynamic and creative way; in particular I wish to show how the epigone may function as an implicit literary analyst or critic, anticipating the results of twentieth-century criticism. My three examples take their starting-point from what I see as a general modern consensus about the nature of Virgilian epic, but the direction could be reversed, that is, we might use post-Virgilian epic as a critical aid to our reading of Virgil.

I take individual passages from the Flavian epics in which two (or more) passages of the Aeneid are laid under contribution; analysis of such passages reveals that the later poets were reading Virgil with an eye to structural correspondences or contrasts, and to image-structures reaching from the small scale of the ‘multiple-correspondence simile’ to the large scale of patterns that arch over the whole text, features that have been at the centre of much modern Virgilian criticism. Repeated reading of the Aeneid reinforces the impression of a vast structure of self-allusion and self-comment aiming for a maximal transparency of the text to itself, in so far as the prima materia of language will allow, and demanding a ‘simultaneous reading’ that is more spatial than temporal. The fragmentary state of previous large-scale Hellenistic poetry makes it difficult to judge of the originality of Virgil in this extreme extension of the features of repetition and self-allusion that characterize all literary works; but, for example, every increase in our knowledge of Callimachus' Aitia makes it seem more likely that it was constructed in a similar way.

When one tries to characterize the Flavian epics as a group, one encounters a series of chronological and historical problems not faced in many earlier eras of Latin literature. For example, though we know the rough outline of literary history from the death of Nero to the accession of Trajan, precise details regarding the lives of Valerius Flaccus, Statius, and Silius Italicus elude us — we know most about the career of Silius, thanks in large part to Pliny the Younger's letter noting his death, charting his career, and to a large degree dooming his reputation for posterity.

Despite Pliny's letter, and despite several references in Martial to Silius, the exact chronology of the Punka's publication is impossible to reconstruct. Martial's poems suggest that Silius was at least reading from his work during the early 90's AD, and a publication date from the mid-90's to around 100 seems probable; that is as far as we can go. The same problems face us with the works and careers of Statius and Valerius. Regarding Statius, we know that the Thebaid was published in the early 90's AD, before Statius moved on to his Sitvae and unfinished Achilleid. For Valerius' Argonautka there is even less evidence; arguments for the date of his epic's composition span two decades, between AD 70 and 92.

Surprises await the reader who approaches the Argonautica of Valerius Flaccus expecting to find a pleasant but unchallenging version of the content of Apollonius Rhodius' epic retold in Vergilian style. The poem is much more than ‘a thrilling tale that has absorbed and delighted readers and hearers’ and much more than an imitation of the work of two great predecessors. If we consider the matter of story line alone, Valerius differs from Apollonius. He included the rescue of Hesione by Hercules, which was part of the myth of Argo but not used by Apollonius, and he created an entire book (Book 6) full of new material by recounting how Jason and the Argonauts joined Aeetes in a civil war at Colchis. The syntax, long supposed to be Vergilian, on closer examination appears to have departed from Vergil's ways.

Valerius made his individuality clear from the beginning of his epic:

prima deum magnis canimus freta peruia natis fatidicamque ratem, Scythici quae Phasidis oras ausa sequi mediosque inter iuga concita cursus rumpere flammifero tandem consedit Olympo.
(Arg. 1.1-4)
I sing the straits first navigable for great sons of gods and the prophetic ship that dared to seek the shores of Scythian Phasis, that dared to burst a course between clashing rocks, that settled down at last on fiery Olympus.

Power, like the diamond, dazzles the beholder, and also the wearer, it dignifies meanness; it magnifies littleness; to what is contemptible, it gives authority; to what is low, exaltation. Power will intoxicate the best hearts, as wine the strongest heads. No man is wise enough, no man good enough, to be trusted with unlimited power.

Charles Colton, Lacon

Thebaid is about power. On this cardinal theme Thebaid reflects, its focus emphatic, its message incisive. (Virtually) every event is related in some way to the unfavourable aspects of the exercise of power. Prominent is the issue of its pursuit and abuse, the consequent suffering and impotence of its victims. As Statius observes of monarchal power in connexion with Adrastus, the least objectionable regent in Thebaid, agit miseranda potestas inuigihre malis (‘distressing power compels him to be vigilant against ill fortune’, 8.262f.).

This essay was largely completed before I had an opportunity to read Professor F. Ahl's contributions to Statian scholarship in ANRW. In those two essays there is to be found an extensive survey of the negative judgements accorded to Statius in general and to the Thebaid in particular, scholars have united in assuming that Statius' flattery of Domitian is either sincere or merely servile and that his epic has nothing to say about the world in which he lived. By challenging both these assumptions in an extremely trenchant and, I believe, convincing way, Professor Ahl has prepared my ground for me and I do hope that any reader who feels that the thesis of this paper must be unsound because of what we ‘know’ already about Statius will consult Professor Ahl first. On the other hand, while I do think that the recently traditional view of Statius as, at best, an escapist and, at worst, a toady is unsustainable, I do believe that Professor Ahl is, from time to time, guilty of over-interpreting and I think that there must be some danger that critics who can see the excesses in some of the details of his position will imagine that they can safely ignore his far more important fundamental point. In this piece, I intend to explore the first book of the Thebaid in the light of its models, especially the Aeneid, not because that is a method that will reveal all there is in the book but because it is possible to apply reasonably rigorous tests of plausibility. At a later time and elsewhere I hope to pursue this kind of analysis both to the rest of the epic and in relation to other sources. It is also my view that Statius presented his material in a particular order for his own good reasons and that it can be unhelpful, as many do, to rearrange the material in the hope of revealing some novel insight.

The second half of the first century A.D. is the age of the senatorial poet at Rome. While previously Rome's poets frequently were outsiders adopted into the system (Vergil and Horace in particular come to mind in this connection), now members of the inner circles of government could actively display their literary talents and preferences. There can be little doubt that the reign of Nero is mainly responsible for this state of affairs — there is a revival of Roman poetry such as has not been seen since the age of Augustus, evidenced by the diverse works of Lucan, Persius, and even the emperor himself. Previous emperors had dabbled in poetry, but as hardly anything more than a hobby. Now the most important personages in the Roman state could openly engage in creative writing. This trend, beginning under Nero, continues in the Flavian Age, many of whose most prominent members, including the founder of the dynasty himself, originally came to the forefront under the last of the Julio-Claudians. The poetic capabilities of the emperor Domitian are praised by Quintilian (10.1.91) and by Valerius Flaccus (1.12-14); the latter seems at least to have begun his epic with its Greek mythological theme under Vespasian. An author who is often less well regarded had first come to public attention under Nero and remained prominent under the Flavians — Silius Italicus.

It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.

Henry James, Life of Nathaniel Hawthorne

History is not what you thought. It is what you can remember.

W.C. Sellar & R.G. Yeatman, 1066 And All That

As history Tacitus' Annals pose problems. On the one hand meticulously researched — on the other obfuscatory; self-avowedly unprejudiced and conspicuously prejudicial; evocative more than discursive; necessarily reliant upon the flawed historical tradition which they set out to correct. As historical epic they evidence rhetorical mastery and greatness of vision; a sense of dramatic moment and vivid rendering of character; a sense of history as dramatic process, seen through the eyes of contemporary and later observers. Moreover they engage the reader narratologically; point the distinction between Tacitus' insights and those of his occasionally self-deceived, subjective persona, ‘the historian’; signal a mechanism for interpreting the seeming distortions and inconsistencies of the text. This essay looks at six interrelated apsects of the Tiberian Annals, which elucidate Tacitus' purpose and vision as historical epicist, and which fix the rules by which the whole of the Annals are to be read and understood.

Time will say nothing but I told you so

Time only knows the price we have to pay

If I could tell you I would let you know

‘History is one of the most harmless products ever elaborated by the chemistry of the intellect.’ Siesta hammock of History, that ancient ‘bunk’ — ‘an old man pipes icing of concordance: oneiric cake of ungrasped memories’ …

But when the historian exorcises his work from his passions, the ira et studium of commitment, pastoral care, life-time, it gives pause: Why? — Why write procul habeo — the vatic hekas hekas of the voice that means to speak the sacred ‘word’ of the community (1.1.)? The gesture does not simply seal Tacitus from implication in his Annals behind the impassive modality of the annalistic genre and a double safety-door of assassination and end of Dynasty. No, the formula invites inspection of its rhetorical role: disarming … disavowal, yes but/so challenging … conscription: any citizen ‘can’ and ‘must’ join this project, brought near to readers of Latin by the distance-annulling homoeostasis of affective discourse, that programme already spelled out by the opening text, Urhem Romam … et cetera. ‘Rome’ is, ahistorically, ‘the near’ the ‘here’ the ‘now’ the ‘us’ — the ‘wor(l)d’ that was in the beginning.