Books by Anna Maria Wasyl
Alcestis barcelońską oraz centon Alcesta można bez przesady uznać za najważniejsze przykłady wyko... more Alcestis barcelońską oraz centon Alcesta można bez przesady uznać za najważniejsze przykłady wykorzystania mitu o Alcestis w literaturze łacińskiej, przynajmniej jeśli ograniczymy się do tekstów zachowanych do naszych czasów, a nie tych znanych nam jedynie z niewielkich fragmentów lub poświadczeń u innych autorów. Są to zarazem – jeśli weźmiemy pod uwagę czas powstania – poematy obrazujące sposób czytania tego mitu u schyłku antyku, w okresie już naznaczonym kulturą chrześcijańską, jakkolwiek, co nie mniej intrygujące, żaden z nich nie oferuje nam stricte chrześcijańskiej reinterpretacji historii Alcestis i Admeta. […] Te dwa niewielkich rozmiarów utwory w znakomity sposób egzemplifikują również cechy, które można uznać za typowe dla poetyki i estetyki literackiej późnego antyku. Chodzi tu właśnie o kwestie kompozycyjne, o właściwości estetycznoliterackie, o warstwę intertekstualną, ową grę z tradycją, pełną finezji, uczoności i tego, co często w studiach literaturoznawczych określane jest jako swoista ‘samoświadomość poetologiczna’. Jeśli dodamy jeszcze fakt, że być może przynajmniej jeden z tych utworów wprowadza nas w świat antycznej literatury kobiecej (zresztą ze względu na sam temat przynależą tu w jakimś stopniu oba), chyba nie trzeba już dalej przekonywać, że zasługują na większą niż dotąd atencję z naszej strony.
The Barcelona Alcestis and the cento Alcesta can be considered – with no exaggeration at all – two very important examples of the exploitation of the Alcestis myth in Latin literature. In addition – if we take into account the period when they were composed – they both show how the Alcestis myth was read in late antiquity, in a period already marked by the influence of the Christian culture, even though – and this is no less intriguing – none of them offers us a strictly Christian reinterpretation of the story of Alcestis and Admetus. […] The two minor poems on Alcestis exemplify remarkably well the features that might be considered typical of late antique poetics and literary aesthetics, with their compositional idiosyncrasies, rich intertextual texture, playfulness, finesse, learnedness, and an additional quality, often described in literary studies as ‘poetological self-consciousness’. If we add to all that the fact that at least one of the poems in question (possibly) introduces us into the world of ancient female literature (though, as a matter of fact, because of their specific topic this is peculiar to them both), we need not find further arguments to show that they deserve more scholarly attention on our part.
For the students of late antique poetry, in particular those who focus on the so-called Romano-Ba... more For the students of late antique poetry, in particular those who focus on the so-called Romano-Barbaric period, Maximianus the elegist (6th cent. A.D.) is not an unknown figure. Yet most non-specialists have simply never heard of him, which is a pity as he is a truly intriguing, brilliantly intelligent and subtle poet, even if (at times) quite provocative. Unfortunately, also in the contemporary classical scholarship he is too often considered a marginal, late Latin author, which stands in sharp contrast to his relative popularity among medieval and early-modern readers. Various allusions and paraphrases of his expressions and motifs he explored point to this quite clearly. The medieval readership was particularly fond of his vivid descriptions of the afflictions of old age. In the early-modern age his reception took a different stance as his elegies were falsely attributed to Cornelius Gallus and usually printed collectively with the books by other Roman love poets, Catullus, Tibullus and Propertius.
Another aspect of his reception is the fact that in the Middle Ages his text was often recommended as a reader at schools. In the Kraków Academy (established in 1364 and in 1817 renamed as the Jagiellonian University) he was on the reading list throughout the 15th century. Hence, it might be considered a happy coincidence that it is his sentence, Plus ratio quam vis, that is used as the motto of the University.
The present edition offers the first Polish translation of Maximianus’s elegies with introduction and ample commentary. In addition, it provides a transcription of Maximianus’s text as transmitted in two 15th-century Cracovian manuscripts, Cr (BJ 1954) and Cv (BJ 2141). The latter, erroneously classified as containing only an excerpt of Maximianus’s work, has never been studied so far and, interestingly, it conveys a distich interpolation unknown from other manuscripts.
Dla badaczy zajmujących się poezją późnego antyku, zwłaszcza tzw. okresu rzymsko-barbarzyńskiego, elegik Maksymian nie jest postacią zupełnie anonimową. Większość miłośników kultury klasycznej nie zna jednak jego twórczości, a szkoda, gdyż jest to poeta nader intrygujący, subtelny i błyskotliwie inteligentny, choć czasem również prowokacyjny. Rozmaite nawiązania do motywów i wyrażeń zaczerpniętych z jego elegii świadczą o niemałym zainteresowaniu tym autorem, choć warto wiedzieć, że późniejsze epoki nie zawsze znały go właśnie pod imieniem Maksymiana. Co więcej, utwór, o którym mowa, należał przez pewien czas do kanonu średniowiecznych lektur szkolnych jako tekst odpowiedni zwłaszcza dla młodszych uczniów. Zalecano go szczególnie z uwagi na specyficzny walor edukacyjny: w sposób dokładny, nawet przejmujący opisuje bowiem udręki i nieszczęścia starości. W Akademii Krakowskiej był Maksymian czytany jeszcze w XV wieku. Co zaś najbardziej niezwykłe – gdyż zadecydował o tym zbieg okoliczności – to on właśnie jest autorem dewizy Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego, Plus ratio quam vis.
Wydany właśnie przez IBL PAN pierwszy w języku polskim przekład elegii Maksymiana ze wstępem i obszernym komentarzem uwzględnia również kwestię recepcji tego utworu, także w średniowiecznej praktyce dydaktycznej Akademii Krakowskiej. Zawiera bowiem transkrypcję tekstu elegii z dwóch krakowskich piętnastowiecznych rękopisów, nr. sygn. BJ 1954 oraz 2141. Istotne są zwłaszcza studia nad drugim z tych manuskryptów, ponieważ w dotychczasowych badaniach był on zupełnie pomijany. Błędnie uważano, iż zawiera jedynie krótki fragment utworu, podczas gdy można tam znaleźć tekst kompletny, co więcej, wzbogacony o dwuwersową interpolację niepoświadczoną w innych źródłach.
Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Piotr Niczyporu... more Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Piotr Niczyporuk; Anna Maria Wasyl; Piotr Kołodko; Przemysław Kubiak (księga/book 48); Anna Pikulska-Radomska (księga/book 48); Jarosław Reszczyński
Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Anna Maria Wasy... more Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Anna Maria Wasyl; Jan Zabłocki; Jerzy Krzynówek; Jarosław Reszczyński
Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Anna Maria Wasy... more Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Anna Maria Wasyl; Hubert Wolanin; Jan Zabłocki; Jarosław Reszczyński
Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Dariusz Brodka; Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska;... more Co-authored by: Tomasz Palmirski (ed.); Dariusz Brodka; Krzysztof Hilman; Magdalena Hładyszewska; Piotr Niczyporuk; Anna Maria Wasyl; Jarosław Reszczyński
A Polish Translation and Academic Edition of Petrarch’s Secretum meum (De secreto conflictu curar... more A Polish Translation and Academic Edition of Petrarch’s Secretum meum (De secreto conflictu curarum mearum). Translation by Maria Maślanka-Soro and Anna Maria Wasyl, introduction and commentary by Maria Maślanka-Soro A research project sponsored by Narodowy Program Rozwoju Humanistyki (the Republic of Poland National Programme for the Development of the Humanities) The Project’s aim is to translate Petrarch’s Secretum meum (My Secret Book) into Polish and publish it in an academic edition. This treatise in three books (1347-1353) is one of Petrarch’s best known prose works, but unfortunately not so well known in Poland. Our publication is its first ever Polish translation. In his introduction to the Secret, Petrarch wrote that he did not intend it for a wider audience, yet the meticulous form in which the pioneer of Italian humanism couches its manifold references to the Ancient Authors, the works of St. Augustine, and his own work, and above all, his attempt to write a spiritual autobiography that oscillates between confession and literary artifice elevating personal experience to the rank of universal and objective truth – all these features suggest the very opposite. Much of Petrarch’s Secret is a reference to the conversion of St. Augustine as told in the Confessions, and indeed Petrarch adopts him as his interlocutor and master. From beginning to end, the Secret takes the form of a dialogue modelled on Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, the source of its numerous quotes and crypto-quotes. Petrarch’s dialogue develops into an animated discussion on the moral crisis he is experiencing due to his false perception of himself and reality, with Augustine trying to bring him out of the dilemma. The dialogue assumes the form of a dispute, a clash of two lines of reasoning which may be read as an articulation of Petrarch’s inner conflict. Augustine personifies the ideals which Petrarch was endeavouring to attain, while Francesco represents the vices which had bedevilled and dashed all the efforts Petrarch had been making throughout his life. The Secret is more than just a philosophical and existential text. In it, Petrarch addresses other matters as well, especially his concept of poetry (as exemplified by Virgil’s Aeneid) on the quest for truth and the recipient’s role in deciphering its metaphorical meanings. He seems to be saying that the reader is free to seek the sense hidden in poetry, which does not mean he may indulge in interpretative anarchy.
The Latin correspondence of A. A. Kochański SJ edited by B. Lisiak and L. Grzebień. Redaction of ... more The Latin correspondence of A. A. Kochański SJ edited by B. Lisiak and L. Grzebień. Redaction of Latin texts (ca 90% of the content) by A. M. Wasyl
Papers by Anna Maria Wasyl
SYMBOLAE PHILOLOGORUM POSNANIENSIUM GRAECAE ET LATINAE XXXIII/1 • 2023
Wasyl Anna Maria, 'Etsi peccaui, sum tamen ipse tuus'. O elegii pokutnej Drakoncjusza (i słówko o... more Wasyl Anna Maria, 'Etsi peccaui, sum tamen ipse tuus'. O elegii pokutnej Drakoncjusza (i słówko o pojęciu: barokowa 'elegia' pokutna) (Etsi peccaui, sum tamen ipse tuus. On Dracontius's Penitential Elegy [and a Hint at the Notion of Baroque Penitential 'Elegy']). Dracontius's Satisfactio, though complex as a literary work, can be safely labelled 'penitential elegy'. The term aptly indicates its metrical form as well as its major theme, i.e. the contrition of the sinner who recognizes his guilt before God and, in the second place, before the Vandal king Gunthamund. What is relevant is the fact that the poem is not merely composed in elegiac distichs, but also evokes motifs known from Ovid's elegies, in particular the general literary situation of Tristia II, where the punished poet openly addresses his punisher, the princeps. Yet in the Satisfactio the final message is religious rather than (only) poetic or socio-political: Dracontius and Gunthamund are 'fellow-Christians' and 'fellow-sinners', who are therefore obliged to ask for forgiveness and forgive one another. Additional references to the Psalms and to King David doing penance reinforce the impression that it is the motif of penitence that stands at the core of the poem. In Polish scholarship, the very term 'penitential elegy' is quite frequently used in reference to a sub-genre (as it is seen) of Polish baroque poetry. I do not question the existence of such a sub-genre, but what I additionally hint at in my article is the essential difference between vernacular and Latin poetry. In vernacular poetry, the word elegy does not denote any specific metre and, consequently, is applied mainly metaphorically, as a synonym of a certain 'mood'. In Latin poetry, however, 'elegy', meaning 'automatically' the elegiac distich, also means concrete intertextual associations, primarily with Ovid (precisely like in the Satisfactio). Hence, when used to describe Dracontius' text, the label 'penitential elegy' reveals its full hermeneutic potential.
SYMBOLAE PHILOLOGORUM POSNANIENSIUM GRAECAE ET LATINAE XXXII/2, 2022
Wasyl Anna Maria, Perypetie Maksymiana, czyli o paratekstach, zmienności gustów czytelniczych i ł... more Wasyl Anna Maria, Perypetie Maksymiana, czyli o paratekstach, zmienności gustów czytelniczych i łabędzim śpiewie elegii rzymskiej (Maximianus and his vicissitudes, or, on paratexts, changes in readerly tastes, and the swan song of the Roman elegy). Varied were the vicissitudes of Maximianus, whose unique opus elegiacum marks a swan song of sorts of the Roman elegy. No less interesting, however, are the changes in the reception of this text, i.e., following H.R. Jauss's understanding of the term, in the modes of its interpretation by readers through the centuries. They can be efficiently traced by analyzing varied codicological data and, in particular, some paratexts (introductory notes/ accessus, marginal notations, tituli, subscriptiones etc.) accompanying the author and his work as transmitted in a manuscript or an early printed book. Such data provide also us with a great deal of information concerning the generic classification of a text, as based on the Erwartungshorizont, or the horizon of expectations of its literary audience at a certain moment in history. As I demonstrate throughout my article, the historical flexibility of the interpretations of Maximianus's opus is an excellent example of the above-mentioned phenomenon.
Les Etudes Classiques 90 (1-4), 2022
Résumé. ― L’Orestis tragoedia de Dracontius, malgré son titre contestable, appartient sans nul do... more Résumé. ― L’Orestis tragoedia de Dracontius, malgré son titre contestable, appartient sans nul doute au genre épique, comme l’auteur lui-même l’affirme : s’adressant à Melpomène, le poète lui demande d’ôter ses cothurnes tragiques, puisqu’il faut à présent remplacer les iambes par l’hexamètre dactylique (v. 13-14). Il n’en est pas moins vrai que l’Orestis tragoedia se réfère nettement à la tragédie. Une analyse attentive révèle en outre que le poète s’inspire non seulement de la tragédie en tant que genre littéraire, mais aussi des spectacles mythologiques (ou pantomime tragique), si appréciés du public romain. On ne s’étonnera donc pas de trouver dans ses autres épyllions des renvois à la pantomime ; dans Médée, ils sont même explicitement désignés. En fait, on peut dire que Dracontius rivalise avec la tragoedia saltata ; il veut, semble-t-il, persuader ses lecteurs que, grâce aux descriptions verbales et aux indications (de mise en scène) du sujet parlant, ils parviendront à se représenter la scène aussi bien, ou même mieux, que s’ils l’avaient vue au théâtre.
Abstract. — Dracontius’s Orestis tragoedia, despite its disputable title, is a poem clearly defined by the author himself as epic, as the appeal to Melpomene to step down from her tragic cothurns since the iambics are to be replaced by the dactylic meter ( l. 13-14) is unambiguous enough. At the same time, however, it is true that the OT is composed with an eye on tragedy. Even, upon a closer look one can notice that the poet’s inspirations are not only in tragedy understood as a literary (i.e. ‘textual’) genre and repository of motifs but also in the most important and popular mythological spectacle known to the Roman public, i.e. the tragic pantomime. It is hardly surprising considering that pantomimic references are noticeable also in other epyllions and in the Medea they are openly declared. In fact, Dracontius’s approach to the tragoedia saltata
turns out to be emulative as he apparently aims at making his readers believe that through the verbal description and the speaking ego’s directions they can see the image not worse (possibly better) than in the theater.
A part of the 10th book of Apuleius’s Metamorphoses, often defined as his liber de spectaculis, i... more A part of the 10th book of Apuleius’s Metamorphoses, often defined as his liber de spectaculis, is devoted to a description of a pantomimic spectacle. Set in a theater in Corinth and narrated by Lucius the ass, this performance relates the story of the judgment of Paris. The very fact that Apuleius inserted a similar motif into his novel is hardly surprising as pantomime was by far the most important mythological spectacle known to the Roman public. In North Africa, its popularity continued throughout late antiquity. Saint Augustine (among others) referred to such shows many times and even mentioned iudicium Paridis as their typical subject. Lucius the ass as the viewer of the performance (and, from our perspective, its main teller) styles himself as an objective
‘connoisseur’ of the art of pantomime, emphasizing its alluring beauty, but also the artificiality of the staging. Upon a closer look, however, one realizes that Lucius has been absorbed by the scenic illusion, to the extent that he takes it for his own reality. Paris’s story, in his view, is an excellent excuse for all human faults, including his own. Thus, rather than reflecting upon all his misdeeds that have deprived him of his human status, he merely lectures his audience and eventually insults
them as ‘sheep of the courts’ and ‘vultures in togas’. Yet if, in his opinion, all humankind is just beasts, the reader (especially if s/he does feel offended) can conclude that Lucius the ass, for all his philosophizing, should perhaps be more accurately described as an asinine philosopher.
It is undeniable that in late antique literature, next to long hexametric compositions, there is ... more It is undeniable that in late antique literature, next to long hexametric compositions, there is a strong tendency toward miniaturization, and indeed within various narrative forms. At the same time, most such poems, despite their minor format, have quite major ‘ambitions’, so to speak, aiming to explore themes so far reserved for grand genres. The two texts on Alcestis, i.e. the one referred to as Alcestis Barcinonensis and the cento Alcesta, are representative of this trend. Both are extremely short (122 and 162 hexameters, respectively), and yet concern themselves with a (par excellence) tragic protagonist, presenting her story in extenso, though understandably with major shortcuts. Both are composed in narrative mode, and yet show similarities with dramatic forms, thus provoking intriguing questions concerning their performative contexts. In addition, one of these texts, the Alcesta, happens to be a Virgilian cento. This material provides excellent grounds for a discussion on late antique approaches to genres and generic divisions, on the applicability of certain generic labels (those coined in antiquity and those invented by modern scholars), and – last but not least – on the reinterpretations of a classical myth in a culture that was already, if not wholly Christianized, at least strongly permeated by Christian concepts of familial love, sacrifice, and (im)mortality.
Most of Dracontius’s narrative poems are composed with an eye on tragedy. Even, upon a closer loo... more Most of Dracontius’s narrative poems are composed with an eye on tragedy. Even, upon a closer look one can notice that his inspirations are not only in tragedy understood as a literary (i.e. ‘textual’) genre and repository of motifs but also in varied performing arts practiced in his age. Indeed, tragic themes as evoked by Dracontius are frequently associable with tragic pantomime. If we add to that his overt interest in (if not fondness for) other theatrical forms, like mime and, especially, aquatic mime, to which many specific scenes vividly described by the poet allude, we can realize how much Dracontius seems to have been open to what might be labeled an example of ‘pop’ art of his time. This tells us quite much about his aesthetic preferences and his willingness to embrace variety in style and level. In fact, in his reluctance to differentiate between ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture as a source of inspiration, Dracontius appears to be interpretable as a poet rather far from ‘academism’ in his approach to the classical tradition. Yet the problem of the message encoded in his mythological (re)narrations is still open to question. It might be tempting to imply, in his attitude, some kind of similar inclusiveness, especially if one reads Dracontius’s poetry through the lens of his famous line on Barbarians and Romans rubbing shoulders in Felicianus’s school. But Dracontius visualizes classical myths not simply to make them look and sound more attractive to his mixed (Romano-Barbaric) readership. If his visual effects at times point to the aesthetics of grace and charm, they too often emphasize horror and cruelty. This makes one suppose that Dracontius’s mythical stories represent his reality, or maybe rather theatricalize it, indeed like pantomime and other performing arts usually do, by alluding to a fact rather than naming it.
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Books by Anna Maria Wasyl
The Barcelona Alcestis and the cento Alcesta can be considered – with no exaggeration at all – two very important examples of the exploitation of the Alcestis myth in Latin literature. In addition – if we take into account the period when they were composed – they both show how the Alcestis myth was read in late antiquity, in a period already marked by the influence of the Christian culture, even though – and this is no less intriguing – none of them offers us a strictly Christian reinterpretation of the story of Alcestis and Admetus. […] The two minor poems on Alcestis exemplify remarkably well the features that might be considered typical of late antique poetics and literary aesthetics, with their compositional idiosyncrasies, rich intertextual texture, playfulness, finesse, learnedness, and an additional quality, often described in literary studies as ‘poetological self-consciousness’. If we add to all that the fact that at least one of the poems in question (possibly) introduces us into the world of ancient female literature (though, as a matter of fact, because of their specific topic this is peculiar to them both), we need not find further arguments to show that they deserve more scholarly attention on our part.
Another aspect of his reception is the fact that in the Middle Ages his text was often recommended as a reader at schools. In the Kraków Academy (established in 1364 and in 1817 renamed as the Jagiellonian University) he was on the reading list throughout the 15th century. Hence, it might be considered a happy coincidence that it is his sentence, Plus ratio quam vis, that is used as the motto of the University.
The present edition offers the first Polish translation of Maximianus’s elegies with introduction and ample commentary. In addition, it provides a transcription of Maximianus’s text as transmitted in two 15th-century Cracovian manuscripts, Cr (BJ 1954) and Cv (BJ 2141). The latter, erroneously classified as containing only an excerpt of Maximianus’s work, has never been studied so far and, interestingly, it conveys a distich interpolation unknown from other manuscripts.
Dla badaczy zajmujących się poezją późnego antyku, zwłaszcza tzw. okresu rzymsko-barbarzyńskiego, elegik Maksymian nie jest postacią zupełnie anonimową. Większość miłośników kultury klasycznej nie zna jednak jego twórczości, a szkoda, gdyż jest to poeta nader intrygujący, subtelny i błyskotliwie inteligentny, choć czasem również prowokacyjny. Rozmaite nawiązania do motywów i wyrażeń zaczerpniętych z jego elegii świadczą o niemałym zainteresowaniu tym autorem, choć warto wiedzieć, że późniejsze epoki nie zawsze znały go właśnie pod imieniem Maksymiana. Co więcej, utwór, o którym mowa, należał przez pewien czas do kanonu średniowiecznych lektur szkolnych jako tekst odpowiedni zwłaszcza dla młodszych uczniów. Zalecano go szczególnie z uwagi na specyficzny walor edukacyjny: w sposób dokładny, nawet przejmujący opisuje bowiem udręki i nieszczęścia starości. W Akademii Krakowskiej był Maksymian czytany jeszcze w XV wieku. Co zaś najbardziej niezwykłe – gdyż zadecydował o tym zbieg okoliczności – to on właśnie jest autorem dewizy Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego, Plus ratio quam vis.
Wydany właśnie przez IBL PAN pierwszy w języku polskim przekład elegii Maksymiana ze wstępem i obszernym komentarzem uwzględnia również kwestię recepcji tego utworu, także w średniowiecznej praktyce dydaktycznej Akademii Krakowskiej. Zawiera bowiem transkrypcję tekstu elegii z dwóch krakowskich piętnastowiecznych rękopisów, nr. sygn. BJ 1954 oraz 2141. Istotne są zwłaszcza studia nad drugim z tych manuskryptów, ponieważ w dotychczasowych badaniach był on zupełnie pomijany. Błędnie uważano, iż zawiera jedynie krótki fragment utworu, podczas gdy można tam znaleźć tekst kompletny, co więcej, wzbogacony o dwuwersową interpolację niepoświadczoną w innych źródłach.
Papers by Anna Maria Wasyl
Abstract. — Dracontius’s Orestis tragoedia, despite its disputable title, is a poem clearly defined by the author himself as epic, as the appeal to Melpomene to step down from her tragic cothurns since the iambics are to be replaced by the dactylic meter ( l. 13-14) is unambiguous enough. At the same time, however, it is true that the OT is composed with an eye on tragedy. Even, upon a closer look one can notice that the poet’s inspirations are not only in tragedy understood as a literary (i.e. ‘textual’) genre and repository of motifs but also in the most important and popular mythological spectacle known to the Roman public, i.e. the tragic pantomime. It is hardly surprising considering that pantomimic references are noticeable also in other epyllions and in the Medea they are openly declared. In fact, Dracontius’s approach to the tragoedia saltata
turns out to be emulative as he apparently aims at making his readers believe that through the verbal description and the speaking ego’s directions they can see the image not worse (possibly better) than in the theater.
‘connoisseur’ of the art of pantomime, emphasizing its alluring beauty, but also the artificiality of the staging. Upon a closer look, however, one realizes that Lucius has been absorbed by the scenic illusion, to the extent that he takes it for his own reality. Paris’s story, in his view, is an excellent excuse for all human faults, including his own. Thus, rather than reflecting upon all his misdeeds that have deprived him of his human status, he merely lectures his audience and eventually insults
them as ‘sheep of the courts’ and ‘vultures in togas’. Yet if, in his opinion, all humankind is just beasts, the reader (especially if s/he does feel offended) can conclude that Lucius the ass, for all his philosophizing, should perhaps be more accurately described as an asinine philosopher.
The Barcelona Alcestis and the cento Alcesta can be considered – with no exaggeration at all – two very important examples of the exploitation of the Alcestis myth in Latin literature. In addition – if we take into account the period when they were composed – they both show how the Alcestis myth was read in late antiquity, in a period already marked by the influence of the Christian culture, even though – and this is no less intriguing – none of them offers us a strictly Christian reinterpretation of the story of Alcestis and Admetus. […] The two minor poems on Alcestis exemplify remarkably well the features that might be considered typical of late antique poetics and literary aesthetics, with their compositional idiosyncrasies, rich intertextual texture, playfulness, finesse, learnedness, and an additional quality, often described in literary studies as ‘poetological self-consciousness’. If we add to all that the fact that at least one of the poems in question (possibly) introduces us into the world of ancient female literature (though, as a matter of fact, because of their specific topic this is peculiar to them both), we need not find further arguments to show that they deserve more scholarly attention on our part.
Another aspect of his reception is the fact that in the Middle Ages his text was often recommended as a reader at schools. In the Kraków Academy (established in 1364 and in 1817 renamed as the Jagiellonian University) he was on the reading list throughout the 15th century. Hence, it might be considered a happy coincidence that it is his sentence, Plus ratio quam vis, that is used as the motto of the University.
The present edition offers the first Polish translation of Maximianus’s elegies with introduction and ample commentary. In addition, it provides a transcription of Maximianus’s text as transmitted in two 15th-century Cracovian manuscripts, Cr (BJ 1954) and Cv (BJ 2141). The latter, erroneously classified as containing only an excerpt of Maximianus’s work, has never been studied so far and, interestingly, it conveys a distich interpolation unknown from other manuscripts.
Dla badaczy zajmujących się poezją późnego antyku, zwłaszcza tzw. okresu rzymsko-barbarzyńskiego, elegik Maksymian nie jest postacią zupełnie anonimową. Większość miłośników kultury klasycznej nie zna jednak jego twórczości, a szkoda, gdyż jest to poeta nader intrygujący, subtelny i błyskotliwie inteligentny, choć czasem również prowokacyjny. Rozmaite nawiązania do motywów i wyrażeń zaczerpniętych z jego elegii świadczą o niemałym zainteresowaniu tym autorem, choć warto wiedzieć, że późniejsze epoki nie zawsze znały go właśnie pod imieniem Maksymiana. Co więcej, utwór, o którym mowa, należał przez pewien czas do kanonu średniowiecznych lektur szkolnych jako tekst odpowiedni zwłaszcza dla młodszych uczniów. Zalecano go szczególnie z uwagi na specyficzny walor edukacyjny: w sposób dokładny, nawet przejmujący opisuje bowiem udręki i nieszczęścia starości. W Akademii Krakowskiej był Maksymian czytany jeszcze w XV wieku. Co zaś najbardziej niezwykłe – gdyż zadecydował o tym zbieg okoliczności – to on właśnie jest autorem dewizy Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego, Plus ratio quam vis.
Wydany właśnie przez IBL PAN pierwszy w języku polskim przekład elegii Maksymiana ze wstępem i obszernym komentarzem uwzględnia również kwestię recepcji tego utworu, także w średniowiecznej praktyce dydaktycznej Akademii Krakowskiej. Zawiera bowiem transkrypcję tekstu elegii z dwóch krakowskich piętnastowiecznych rękopisów, nr. sygn. BJ 1954 oraz 2141. Istotne są zwłaszcza studia nad drugim z tych manuskryptów, ponieważ w dotychczasowych badaniach był on zupełnie pomijany. Błędnie uważano, iż zawiera jedynie krótki fragment utworu, podczas gdy można tam znaleźć tekst kompletny, co więcej, wzbogacony o dwuwersową interpolację niepoświadczoną w innych źródłach.
Abstract. — Dracontius’s Orestis tragoedia, despite its disputable title, is a poem clearly defined by the author himself as epic, as the appeal to Melpomene to step down from her tragic cothurns since the iambics are to be replaced by the dactylic meter ( l. 13-14) is unambiguous enough. At the same time, however, it is true that the OT is composed with an eye on tragedy. Even, upon a closer look one can notice that the poet’s inspirations are not only in tragedy understood as a literary (i.e. ‘textual’) genre and repository of motifs but also in the most important and popular mythological spectacle known to the Roman public, i.e. the tragic pantomime. It is hardly surprising considering that pantomimic references are noticeable also in other epyllions and in the Medea they are openly declared. In fact, Dracontius’s approach to the tragoedia saltata
turns out to be emulative as he apparently aims at making his readers believe that through the verbal description and the speaking ego’s directions they can see the image not worse (possibly better) than in the theater.
‘connoisseur’ of the art of pantomime, emphasizing its alluring beauty, but also the artificiality of the staging. Upon a closer look, however, one realizes that Lucius has been absorbed by the scenic illusion, to the extent that he takes it for his own reality. Paris’s story, in his view, is an excellent excuse for all human faults, including his own. Thus, rather than reflecting upon all his misdeeds that have deprived him of his human status, he merely lectures his audience and eventually insults
them as ‘sheep of the courts’ and ‘vultures in togas’. Yet if, in his opinion, all humankind is just beasts, the reader (especially if s/he does feel offended) can conclude that Lucius the ass, for all his philosophizing, should perhaps be more accurately described as an asinine philosopher.
Apparently, epigrammatic poetry was quite popular in Vandal Carthage. Anthologia Salmasiana includes several single poems and two other epigrammatic collections quite safely datable to the Vandal period. They all seem to have been composed by Luxorius’s fellow-literati. The Unius poetae sylloge (90-197 R) is in certain aspects similar to Luxorius’s Liber, whereas Anonymi versus serpentini (38-80 R) constitute a specific kind of epigrammatic poetry: two-verse pieces based on the figure of epanalepsis.
Quest’articolo è dedicato al De excidio Thoringiae, un poemetto scritto da Venanzio Fortunato con la voce della regina Radegonda, l’ex-moglie del re Clotario I e, nel momento che ci interessa, una monaca presso l'Abbazia di Santa Croce di Poitiers. Come è solito, anche in questo testo Fortunato si ispira alla poetica di uno dei suoi modelli letterari preferiti, Ovidio. Qui si tratta della poetica dell’héroïde, cioè la lettera di un'eroina mitica al suo amante assente. Ma ciò che rende particolare il De excidio di Fortunato è il fatto che il paradigma ovidiano non è riapplicato con precisione ma solo 'riecheggiato': l’ 'amore' tra la protagonista femminile e il suo destinatario (l'unico cugino superstite di Radegonda, Amalafrido) è descritto non come un’esperienza reale, ma come un passato remoto, quasi mitico, un rapporto mai realizzato, perché i due amanti erano all’epoca troppo giovani. Allo stesso modo, la figura di Radegonda quale protagonista del De excidio è del tutto fittizia (quindi non viene meno alla reputazione di cui deve godere in quanto monaca) e serve solo da 'costume' letterario: un lettore attento può facilmente notare che l’io parlante non si immedesima pienamente nel suo ruolo di ‘fanciulla abbandonata’. Ė proprio questa letterarietà ostentata a rendere l’intera situazione giustificabile ed attraente per i lettori.
Maximianus’s elegiac oeuvre (since Pomponius Gauricus’s 1501(/1502) edition unnecessarily divided into six separate elegies and, needless to say, for quite a long time attributed to Cornelius Gallus) is too rich in themes, too intertextual, too intergeneric to be summed up with one simple label. But it is a fact that for his medieval readers Maximianus was particularly attractive for his vivid descriptions of mala senectutis. Hence, it was mainly the so-called ‘elegy’ 1 to be read and imitated.
In the present paper I first discuss some most influential Maximianus’s passages treating of the afflictions of old age and later show their interpretations and reinterpretations by Columbanus (543 – 615), Eugenius of Toledo († 657), and the anonymous author of the ninth century Imitatio Maximiani. I also point out Maximianus’s presence in vernacular medieval literature, namely English. Last but not least, I demonstrate how Maximianus’s image of an old man praying to Mother Earth inspired one of medieval scribes copying his text.
Significativo pare il fatto che fra i generi della poesia romana ‘classica’ riscoperti – per così dire – dai poeti attivi al crepuscolo dell’antichità si può trovare anche l’elegia amorosa, una forma – sembrerebbe – esiliata dalla coscienza dei romani insieme al suo ultimo maestro dell’epoca augustea, Ovidio. Grazie a Massimiano, un autore latino probabilmente del VI secolo, il genere elegiaco ricomincia a parlare. Nel caso di questa un po’ misteriosa figura (i dati biografici sono più che incerti) non abbiamo a che fare con un mero epigono: al contrario, l’elegia che egli propone ai suoi lettori esprime in modo eccellente le tensioni e le inquietudini dei suoi tempi, anche se – naturalmente – lo fa usando il linguaggio dei richiami e allusioni letterarie molto sottili ed erudite. Infatti, l’opera massimianea costituisce un ottimo esempio di “mixing of genres”, il principio compositivo che dominava la poetica tardoantica, postulando la giustapposizione degli elementi non di rado eterogenei per ottenere un’unità nuova, diversa che ispirasse una lettura pluridimensionale a seconda delle varie chiavi interpretative.
Il personaggio letterario creato da Massimiano unisce in sé le caratteristiche sia dell’amante elegiaco che del saggio sabrio, sia del giovanotto bello e dotato di valori che del vecchio miserabile, se non, a volte, ripugnante. Nel contempo, l’opera nel suo complesso è dominata da un certo tono autobiografico: l’io scrivente sembra raccontare al suo lettore la propria storia di vita, e specie le sue esperienze amorose, non celando certi dettagli drastici nel loro realismo. Un segno ben chiaro di questo autobiografismo quasi ostentato potrebbe essere la dichiarazione fatta già nella parte iniziale dell’opus: carmina nulla cano, non blanda poemata fingo. La frase suggerirebbe che l’ego, una volta poeta, oggi non è più capace di comporre, di indovinare (fingere) le poesie – si sottintende: quello che dice non è più una creazione letteraria o, in altre parole: non è una finzione. Tuttavia, un lettore attento noterà subito che un tale – ostentato infatti – rifiuto della posa per dire la verità non è che un’intelligentissima allusione alla topica che pure fa parte della tradizione dell’elegia romana.
For the students of late antique poetry, in particular those who focus on the so-called Romano-Barbaric period, Maximianus the elegist (6th cent. A.D.) is not an unknown figure. Yet most non-specialists have simply never heard of him, which is a pity as he is a truly intriguing, brilliantly intelligent and subtle poet, even if (at times) quite provocative. Unfortunately, also in the contemporary classical scholarship he is too often considered a marginal, late Latin author, which stands in sharp contrast to his relative popularity among medieval and early-modern readers. Various allusions and paraphrases of his expressions and motifs he explored point to this quite clearly. The medieval readership was particularly fond of his vivid descriptions of the afflictions of old age. In the Kraków Academy (established in 1364 and only in 1817 renamed as the Jagiellonian University) he was on the reading list throughout the 15th century. Hence, it might be considered a happy coincidence that it is his sentence, Plus ratio quam vis, that is used as the motto of the University (yet only since mid-twentieth century, in fact).