ARGONAUTICA 6.3

Book 6 opens with Mars eager to provoke a battle between Aeetes’ and Perses’ armies (1–5):

Despite some variants and corruptions in the paradosis, the passage is unanimously printed in this form in virtually all recent editions. One difficult point is the nominative praesens at 3, in a construction that normally requires the dative (placet [sc. illi]); at least since Langen it is taken to be employed ad sensum, ‘quasi praecesserit ire constituit’, though commentators adduce no parallels.Footnote ³ This may not be enough to condemn the paradosis, but conspicuously the same impersonal verb reappears with the same infinitive a mere dozen lines below (15 legatos placet ire duces), where it is grammatically unproblematic and also more pointed as the context refers to an actual deliberation. It seems a real possibility that placet at 3 is a substitute for parat, quite possibly an anticipation error caused by the scribe’s having read ahead and inadvertently remembering the wording of 15. For the sense, see OLD s.v. paro 8 (‘To purpose, plan, intend’), and note especially Verg. Aen. 1.678 puer ire parat, 4.118 in nemus ire parant, 7.624 pars pedes ire parat campis, 10.770 obuius ire parat, Ov. Met. 11.413 ad Clarium parat ire deum, Tr. 1.10.47 parat Symplegadas ire per artas; for parare with tandem, cf. Prop. 1.20.43 tandem haurire parat demissis flumina palmis, Sen. Thy. 266 facere quid tandem paras? Footnote ⁴ To reiterate, this may not amount to certainty, but the possibility appears very real.

ARGONAUTICA 6.163–5

The noise and intensity of the fighting are described with an elaborate simile (163–7):

Apart from γ’s unmetrical reading in 165, to which we shall return later, the passage is not usually considered textually problematic; there are, however, other potential issues. To begin with, the exact meaning of 163 ab extremo fluctus agit aequore is uncertain.Footnote ⁵ Moreover, whether ab extremo … aequore refers to the ocean or the horizon, it appears doubtful that the notion of the wind bringing waves from afar makes good sense in and of itself: it is common knowledge that winds do not bring but create waves. Fucecchi compares Luc. 9.322–3 longeque a Syrtibus undas | egit, Sil. Pun. 9.527–8 quantos Gradiuus fluctus in Punica castra, | respice, agit, and Ov. Her. 2.124 freta uentus agat.Footnote ⁶ However, all three contexts are different: in the first, the wind is said to drive the sea away from the Syrtis; in the second, the metaphor is that of a flood, not of a storm (cf. Curt. 6.4.19 a septentrione ingens in litus mare incumbit longeque agit fluctus et magna parte exaestuans stagnat); in the third, the verb does not mean ‘to bring’ but ‘to churn up’ (cf. OLD s.v. ago 7 ‘To set in motion, stir up, agitate’; for the implication, cf. further Curt. 4.3.17 deinde acriore uento concitatum [sc. mare] fluctus ciere, 10.7.11 nullum uastum fretum et procellosum tantos ciet fluctus). I believe this is the sense that agit should have in our context too, but ab leaves no choice but to take it as implying spatial movement; at the very least, I suggest, ab should be corrected to in. Yet even with this change the meaning remains vague and elusive: where is this faraway ocean, and why is it particularly prone to produce waves?Footnote ⁷ I find it very likely that Valerius wrote hiberno: it is not too difficult to imagine a scribe misreading iberno as īterno, which he (or the next scribe) would then correct to extremo (incidentally, if the tradition did read iberno or interno at some point, this could explain the omission of in); compare especially Ciris 480 Afer et hiberno bacchatur in aequore turbo, Hor. Sat. 2.3.235 tu piscis hiberno ex aequore uerris, Verg. Aen. 5.126 fluctibus hiberni condunt ubi sidera Cori, 6.355–6 tris Notus hibernas immensa per aequora noctes | uexit me, Ov. Tr. 1.11.33 cumque sit hibernis agitatum fluctibus aequor, [Tib.] 3.7.194 aduersis hiberna licet tumeant freta uentis; for the association of Boreas with winter storms, see Verg. Aen. 4.309–10 quin etiam hiberno moliri sidere classem | et mediis properas Aquilonibus ire per altum, Stat. Silu. 5.1.82 Boreas hibernus.

In the next line, I find aduersa … ab unda to be rather more difficult than commentators seem to realize. The fundamental question is whether unda is synonymous with fluctus or aequore: Spaltenstein is no doubt right that the latter is the expected sense (‘Ab unda adversa vaut un ab adversa parte maris’), but as a noun phrase aduersa unda can only mean ‘wave moving against’ (cf. Catull. 64.128 salis aduersas procurrere in undas, Ov. Met. 15.732 per aduersas nauis cita ducitur undas, Sen. Phaedr. 181–2 nauita aduersa ratem | propellit unda), which here would produce an absurdity (‘Mozley visualizes the winds each roaring from the waves he drove himself’).Footnote ⁸ I think we should write ora for unda; for the wording, note especially Man. 2.793 alter ab aduersa respondens aetheris ora (of West as opposed to East). The same corruption is attested at [Ov.] Argum. Aen. 1 Aeneas primo Libyae depellitur oris (v.l. undis), and the opposite corruption occurs at Verg. Aen. 10.48 Aeneas sane ignotis iactetur in undis (v.l. oris); I am not entirely certain of the mechanism involved, but each of the stages of ora → aura → unda would be easy and can be paralleled.Footnote ⁹ At 165, the central issue is the unmetricality of the paradosis (C is no doubt innovating and can thus be ignored); I shall not discuss it in detail, but Heinsius’s correction appears superior to Schenkl’s, since elision tends to be avoided at the bucolic diaeresis when it coincides with a syntactic boundary (the only exception I am aware of being Hor. Sat. 2.3.307). There is, however, also another problem, apparently unnoticed before: Spaltenstein takes the demonstrative pronoun is to mean talis (answered by quantus), citing TLL 7.2.472.80–473.43, but in all of the examples adduced there its force is anaphoric (‘such as indicated earlier’).Footnote ¹⁰ I think we have no choice but to write it, construing it either with nec sic from 163 or, perhaps preferably, assuming ellipsis of tantus; compare Verg. Aen. 4.443 it stridor, 665–6 it clamor ad alta | atria, 5.451 it clamor caelo, 8.595 it clamor, 9.664 it clamor totis per propugnacula muris, 12.409 it tristis ad aethera clamor, Luc. 1.388 it tantus ad aethera clamor, Stat. Theb. 3.593–4 it clamor ad auras, | quantus Tyrrheni gemitus salis, Silu. 1.1.64–5 continuus septem per culmina Martis | it fragor, Sil. Pun. 2.417 it clamor ad auras (incidentally these parallels can explain the substitution of clamor for canor). The repetition of it in 166 adit should not be considered objectionable, as the two verbs refer to pointedly parallel situations (note that 165 canor, if Heinsius’s correction is adopted, and 166 concentus are likewise cognate).

ARGONAUTICA 6.389

Fighting for Perses, Ariasmenus commands his squadrons of scythed chariots into battle (386–9):

Despite Spaltenstein’s protestations, I find myself in agreement with Delz and Liberman who consider ab agmine corrupt: ‘les chars entraînent … leurs victimes hors des rangs, ab agmine’ is a rather bizarre way of describing the action of scythed chariots.Footnote ¹¹ Comparing 424 acies curuae secat undique falcis, Delz conjectured acumine, implying the blades; but Liberman seems right to object that ‘acumine employé dans ce sens sans détermination fait difficulté’; I also agree with Liberman that Heinsius’s turbine ‘whirlpool’ produces about the right sense: ‘L’expression turbine rapere … est en harmonie avec ce que suggère diffundit et avec la comparaison des v. 390–395’.Footnote ¹² But I think flumine, in the sense of OLD s.v. flumen 3 (‘a violent onrush, flood (of attackers)’), will be a tighter fit for the following flood simile (cf. Sil. Pun. 12.185 effusaeque ruunt inopino flumine turmae) and is somewhat easier in terms of palaeography (fl → ab, umine → amine = agmine).Footnote ¹³

ARGONAUTICA 6.422

As Ariasmenus’ chariots crush, Aeetes’ army proceed to slaughter their drivers caught in the wreckage (417–22):

The major corruption here affects 417, where Liberman seems right to adopt C’s reading and commend Renkema’s augescunt (even if he refrains from printing it).Footnote ¹⁴ A relatively minor issue concerns 422, where ω’s accipit is impossible. Strand is right (pace Fucecchi) to reject Pius’s excipit: excipere means ‘to catch’, whereas the required sense is ‘to assault’.Footnote ¹⁵ However, Strand’s own occupat, adopted by the majority of recent editors and commentators, is also less than ideal: he cites Forcellini’s explanation of the verb as ‘ferire, capere’ and ‘aggredi et conficere’, but OLD s.v. occupo 11b gives a more specific interpretation (‘to forestall with physical violence, catch first’), which does not fit the context well (the trapped deer are helpless anyway and can neither escape nor fight back). I propose arripit, which is as easy (if not more so) in terms of palaeography and produces an excellent sense: ‘To attack suddenly, fall upon, assail’ (OLD s.v. arripio 8); note the implication of surprise and helplessness inherent in this usage (cf. Verg. Aen. 9.13 turbata arripe castra, Stat. Theb. 9.844 turbatos arripit ense).

ARGONAUTICA 6.495

While the two armies fight, Juno decides to secure Medea’s help by making her fall in love with Jason, and takes her up the city walls to observe the battle, to Hecate’s displeasure (495–6):

This appears not to have bothered editors and commentators, but the use of the same pronoun at the heads of two coordinate clauses is conspicuous: one expects 495 hanc and 496 has to have parallel referents, but instead the former is anaphoric, the latter prospective. I can see no reason why Valerius would not have written quam at 495; the corruption could be caused by the omission of line-initial Q, after which the remaining uam could be read as, or corrected to, hanc.

ARGONAUTICA 6.537

Among other warriors, Medea can see Armes, dressed up as Pan (535–9):

A well-known problem affects 537: it appears likely that C’s nec preserves truth (against γ’s nexos), but spes is meaningless in the context. Liberman revives Salmasius’s saeps; however, the form (an alternative nominative of saepes) is only attested once in Varro (and as a fragment of Cicero), but more importantly it means ‘hedge’ rather than ‘(livestock) pen’.Footnote ¹⁶ The majority of editors and commentators print bos, which is questionable in terms of both palaeography (the ending of nexos is no doubt interpolated from magistros above it) and, more crucially, sense: Armes’ disguise as Pan, with the horns and legs of a goat, can be a reasonable strategy for stealing goats or sheep (note 537 pecus) but hardly cattle. I suggest we should read grex: non pascua nec grex will thus be picking up 531–2 stabula et … greges, while the implication is that what Armes finds himself facing is a battlefield and an army instead. It does not seem difficult to imagine grex being garbled so as to produce spes (or at least something for which spes might appear as a reasonable correction), while a short saut du même au même can perhaps account for nex(os).

ARGONAUTICA 6.567

When her son Peucon is killed, the eponymous nymph of the Sea of Azov—the lacus Maeotis—laments over him (565–8):Footnote ¹⁷

Spaltenstein is no doubt right to take 567 ripas, 568 stagna and marmore all to refer to Lake Maeotis: its banks, its coastal marshes (especially those at the mouth of the Don) and its open space.Footnote ¹⁸ One difficulty concerns the applicability of curua as an epithet of stagna: the collocation is unparalleled, but admittedly marshes might count as ‘sinuous’ by virtue of being adjacent to ‘sinuous’ banks (cf. Luc. 1.397 castraque quae Vosegi curuam super ardua ripam, Sil. Pun. 9.228 Aufidus et curuo circum errat gurgite ripas). What I find more problematic is that the notion of ‘speeding’ over the marshes (uolantem) implies that they are imagined to be frozen, but there is no hint of it until the next clause, which is also linguistically inexplicit: marmor is a standard term for ‘sea’ tout court, and on both other occasions when it is used specifically of frozen sea, this is brought out in the context (Ov. Tr. 3.10.47 inclusaeque gelu stabunt in marmore puppes, Avien. Orb. 57 densata sali stant marmora). I believe we need such explication here as well, in the form of dura (for curua), which will evoke Ovidian idiom (Pont. 1.2.82 dura meant celeri terga per amnis equo, Tr. 3.10.39 durum calcauimus aequor, 12.28 quaeque lacu durae non fodiantur aquae, 5.10.2 facta est Euxini dura ter unda maris). The corruption may have involved miscopying dura as cura (subsequently ‘corrected’ to curua), but equally possible is that dura was turned directly into curua under the influence of ceruos at the end of the following line (a kind of phonetic contamination).

ARGONAUTICA 6.580, 582

Medea cannot look away from Jason, even if she does not know yet who he is (579–83):

I begin with an issue that apparently has not bothered any editors or commentators: as TLL 11.2.610.3 states, 580 huc has to mean ad Iasonem, but there are two obstacles. On the one hand, huc properly means ‘hither’ rather than ‘thither’, so it is less suitable for referring to a place or object explicitly acknowledged to be far away (579 longe); contrast, for instance, 8.144 medio refer huc ex aequore puppem, Stat. Theb. 9.558 refer huc oculos, ego uulneris auctor, in both of which huc means ‘towards me’. On the other, although the adverb can refer to persons rather than places, if still in spatial terms (TLL 6.3.3068.54–63), the present context is particularly confusing, because its message is precisely that Jason does not stay still in one place. I am not entirely certain these considerations rule huc out, but they should worry the reader; I wonder if huic may not be what Valerius wrote. It is true that oculos referre is unparalleled with the dative (contrast Ov. Fast. 4.580 huic Helice talia uerba refert), but similar expressions can be construed with that case (note Plin. Pan. 62.9 huic aures huic oculos intende). Reading huic will also make it slightly easier to supply the (masculine) subject in 581–3, after the ambiguity of 579 Aesonium … caput (is this merely an epic periphrasis, or is Jason’s head what catches Medea’s attention?). Given the ease of the corruption (it can be paralleled, for instance, at Verg. Aen. 10.769, 11.554, Culex 90, Sil. Pun. 3.322), the two alternatives should be judged on their intrinsic merits. The one universally recognized problem in this passage concerns the participle at 583: orantes is absurd (Medea would hardly be impressed by Jason’s massacring of opponents begging for their life), pace Wijsman, and errantes, favoured by most editors and commentators, is feeble at best (soldiers do not just wander over the battlefield); Liberman’s urgentes is therefore not unattractive.Footnote ¹⁹ More important for our present concerns, Liberman is also right to suspect ante at 582, the notion that Medea can foresee Jason’s every movement being quite incongruous; yet his tentative proposals, aduertens and intendens, seem strained.Footnote ²⁰ Sandström suggested tota, glossing it with tota mente (which I take to mean that he intended tota to agree with the implied subject), but that too is odd in both meaning and expression.Footnote ²¹ I suggest cuncta, the phrase no doubt being intended to evoke Verg. Aen. 8.18–20 quae Laomedontius heros | cuncta uidens magno curarum fluctuat aestu, | atque animum nunc huc celerem nunc diuidit illuc.Footnote ²² Assuming it was spelt as cunta to begin with (cf., for example, cunto [V^a.c.] at 5.180), and the line-initial C was then omitted, the corruption to ante could hardly surprise. What has apparently not been suspected in recent years is the meaning and articulation of the rest of the line. It is usually accepted that ‘horses and arms’ should mean either ‘horses and riders’ or ‘knights and soldiers’, but neither interpretation is linguistically easy.Footnote ²³ Heinsius replaced arma with ense, but the emphasis on Jason’s slaying horses, stressed (if reading ense) by the counterintuitive epanalepsis of quot, is odd in a context that should highlight his heroism.Footnote ²⁴ Baehrens’s more radical conjecture—quotque unus eques confunderet arua—involves the unparalleled use of arua for ‘battlefield’, but is diagnostic of the overall difficulty of the passage.Footnote ²⁵ I suggest writing equo and armis: ‘how many Jason singlehandedly kills with his horse and how many with his sword’.Footnote ²⁶ The line may be intended to evoke Verg. Aen. 9.269 uidisti, quo Turnus equo, quibus ibat in armis, though ‘horse and arms’ are often paired in references to warriors in general (cf. Aen. 10.181 Astyr equo fidens et uersicoloribus armis, 11.677–8 procul Ornytus armis | ignotis et equo uenator Iapyge fertur, Ov. Am. 2.3.7 non tu natus equo, non fortibus utilis armis, Stat. Theb. 10.6 illic arma et equos, ibant quibus ante superbi); for killing with the horse, cf. Sil. Pun. 7.612 impacto prosternit equo.

ARGONAUTICA 6.600, 602–3

Having explained to Medea who Jason is, Juno makes him even more attractive (600–3):

Liberman dismisses Madvig’s objection against bare intendere at 600 in the sense of ‘paying attention to’ (‘Intendere libro de attenta lectione Plinius minor dixit (VIII,19) usu perraro; … intendere loco, campis de intente contemplando qui dixerit, novi neminem’), but the fact remains that there are no good classical parallels.Footnote ²⁷ Madvig’s aciem for magis finds a Valerian parallel (3.572 intendens aciem) and may have a palaeographical explanation (ciem could have been omitted before campis, after which magis would have been added to fill in the gap). But animum I think will be easier to explain: having lost the initial a after effata, nımu(m) could easily be misread as mınus, which then would be corrected to its antonym (cf. Lucr. 2.533 minus [Lambinus: magis codd.], Man. 4.110 minus [magis v.l.], Maxim. 5.80 minus [magis v.l.]; for the opposite polar error, cf. Maxim. 3.70 magis [minus v.l.]). For animum intendere, compare, for instance, Ov. Met. 6.5 Maeoniaeque animum fatis intendit Arachnes. The last two lines of the quoted passage host several difficulties that do not seem to have been sufficiently appreciated; the text is usually taken to mean something like ‘and at the same time Juno propels her with words and him with military success and brings new strength into his chest’. To begin with, while it is seemingly clear how the first verb should be taken in reference to Jason (he becomes even more active on the battlefield; though see below), the text gives no explanation as to how Medea is affected, and if we assume that the implication is that she is moved emotionally, this will involve a rather different meaning of the verb (and not in fact an easily paralleled one). A related issue is that ac simul should introduce an action complementary to the one described in the preceding text, but dictis must refer to Juno’s speech of 591–9, not some new speech. Both difficulties can be eliminated by writing ac (et?) simul his dictis, no doubt intended to echo Verg. Aen. 5.357 et simul his dictis (cf. also 11.827 simul his dictis). It is, however, in fact less than certain that impulit is a suitable verb for the context, even when used of Jason alone. It seems that the notion of external compulsion is at the semantic core of the verb: military success can be said to encourage one to go on fighting but hardly to force one to do so. It also seems that the verb normally requires some specification of direction or purpose—‘propels’ where or to do what?—and, while the implication can be inferred from the context in general terms, the vagueness contributes to the sense of unease. I admit that these qualms might not suffice to condemn impulit on their own, but there is a good chance that it is merely a conjecture: γ’s intulit is the lectio difficilior, meaningless in the context, and it is quite possible that impulit is a scribal correction intended to restore some semblance of sense. Assuming that intulit was the reading of the archetype, I suggest that it is an error for sustulit (line-initial S could be confused for I, after which uſtulıt could be read as [a corruption for] ntulıt). Taken in the sense of OLD s.v. tollo 9a (‘To lift the spirits or morale of, hearten; to rouse’), it will produce a fitting sense and find good parallels: the verb can be used in reference to success (Verg. Aen. 10.501–2 nescia mens hominum fati sortisque futurae | et seruare modum rebus sublata secundis, Tac. Hist. 4.63 Ciuilis et Classicus rebus secundis sublati: note secundis in both passages), in particular military success (Caes. BGall. 1.15.3 quo proelio sublati Heluetii). What is more, sustulit can be supported with a later passage pointedly evoking the present lines: 609–10 nec sua Crethiden latuit dea uimque recentem | sentit agi membris ac se super agmina tollit, where uimque … agi echoes egit … uires and se super agmina tollit can be seen to pick up Marte secundo | sustulit, albeit with a somewhat different sense of the verb. This parallel also brings us to one last issue: according to TLL 1.1377.15–21, there are altogether four passages, including these two, in which agere means ‘adducere, adferre’, but the other two do not belong in this category.Footnote ²⁸ I believe agere does not mean ‘to add, to bring to’ in Valerius either. At 610 this interpretation depends on construing membris as a dative, and it is only at 603 that it appears unavoidable in view of sub pectora; I suggest the verb should in both passages be taken in the sense of OLD s.v. ago 7 (‘To set in motion, stir up, agitate’, a meaning we have already encountered in Valerius at 163, albeit in a literal context), while interpreting membris as a local ablative and reading sub pectore with some humanist manuscripts (cf. Verg. Aen. 6.101 stimulos sub pectore uertit Apollo, 9.717–18 hic Mars armipotens animum uiresque Latinis | addidit et stimulos acres sub pectore uertit, Gratt. 254 non alio maior sub pectore uirtus, Stat. Theb. 8.183 quanta sacro sub pectore uirtus).

ARGONAUTICA 6.607–8

Jason is described with an astronomical simile (607–8):

Liberman is no doubt right to adopt Schenkl’s correction at 607, but there are at least two further issues that have not been sufficiently appreciated. First, uocati is a rather strange choice of word for the context: surely Jupiter does not merely ‘invoke’ or ‘summon’ comets, but actually sends them; Liberman’s suggestion that uocati stands for euocati does not change the matter, and Baehrens’s locati is a dubious improvement.Footnote ²⁹ I suggest citati, ‘set in motion’ or perhaps more pointedly ‘hurled’ (cf. OLD s.v. cito ² 1); although this literal sense of the verb is relatively infrequent, note, for instance, Stat. Achil. 2.132 Macetae sua gaesa citent, Sil. Pun. 4.536 citat improbus hastam, Lactant. Diu. inst. 7.6.4 uentorum spiritus citent nubes. While it is not impossible that uocati originates as a gloss on (or a synonym substitution for) citati taken in the more common sense of the verb (OLD s.v. 3–4), I think it more likely that it results from iratoquecitati being misdivided and read as iratoq(ue) uocitati, the latter word subsequently corrected to uocati. The other problem is the preposition ad in 608: Liberman gives an awkwardly periphrastic translation to render its nuance (‘envoie aux règnes injustes en signes avant-coureurs de leur fin’), while Spaltenstein implausibly suggests that the prepositional phrase should be construed with fatales rather than with uocati.Footnote ³⁰ It seems far more likely that ad is a substitution for in: Jupiter sends comets against wicked kingdoms, not towards them; while the confusion between the two directional prepositions is far from infrequent (see, for instance, Verg. Aen. 3.108, 425, 5.257, 740, 782, 7.757, 9.524, 11.455, 731), here it was no doubt facilitated by the participle being taken to mean ‘summoned (to)’ (whether it still read citati or was already corrupted to uocati).