Satire

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Satire

All Ours. “Satire is all ours,” wrote Quintilian, by which he seems to mean that this was a competitive arena in which the Romans beat even Greek writers hands down. And indeed, some of the most memorable Latin literature is in this genre. While scholars are not able to agree on the origin of the actual word “satire,” one is able to discern two major strains of Roman satire: the Lucilian, that stemming from the tradition established by the early Roman writer Lucilius, and the Menippean, that is, satire written in the style of the Syrian writer Menippus (third century B.C.E.). Menippus wrote in Greek, in a mélange of prose and verse, and taking a seriocomic narrative approach; writers such as Varro and the Greek author Lucian worked in this genre, and we might say that the Satyrica of Petronius falls into the Menippean tradition. The Lucilian tradition, by contrast, reflects the influence of Gaius Lucilius (circa 180-102 B.C.E.), a member of the Scipionic Circle, who wrote purely in verse. The satires of Lucilius, known only in fragments, were composed in dactylic hexameter, like Greek and Roman epics, and took the form of informal philosophical discourses; they show the influence of Stoicism. The most significant follower of Lucilius in Roman satire is, of course, Horace.

Human Foibles. Small targets representative of human foibles recur in Horace’s Satires. These poems aim to be “conversations” advocating common sense mixed with some Epicurean philosophy. Moderation and contentment are set forth as keys to human happiness, while greed, social climbing, adultery, and other excesses are gently made fun of. In Satire 1.9, for instance, the bore who tries to get an introduction to Maecenas from Horace vividly dramatizes the social climber who will sacrifice even his own defense in a court case in order to get the chance at making the right connections. But some humor is also aimed at the speaker. At pains to get away from the sycophant, Horace’s friend Fuscus leaves the poet in the lurch. Only the bore’s legal opponent manages to haul him away. Horace’s conclusion raises the encounter to the level of an epic fight: “Thus did Apollo save me” (78). The otherwise skeptical Horace, having been rid of a pest of epic proportions, humorously attributes his salvation to a divinity. Only a god could have achieved this! The often strong autobiographical element recedes in the second book where dialogue plays a significant role in which the poet seems to yield to his conversation partner. Paradoxically, each speaker has strong and weak points to make and a positive code of behavior is not always clear. Things become clearer again in the much later Epistles, which continue in the prosaic hexameter style of the Satires, but now Horace gives advice to friends and acquaintances. In the second book of this new genre of verse-letters, whose third letter is commonly called Ars Poetica, Horace extends his advice to the writing of poetry.

The Pumpkinification of Claudius. In Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis, or “Pumpkinification” of the dead emperor, Claudius, who is presented as asking to be admitted among the Olympians but is sent to Hades, ends up serving under a freedman. The work is a mixture of prose and verse satire in which Seneca makes fun not only of the emperor who had banished him in his youth but also of literary genres and styles, including possibly his own tragedies.

Arbiter elegantiarum. The date of birth of Gaius Petronius is unknown. He was consul before 66 C.E., which would put his birth in the 30s at the latest. Nero held him in high esteem as a judge of good taste (arbiter elegantiarum, hence “Arbiter”). He committed suicide in 66 C.E. It has been doubted whether he is the author of the work we know as Satyricon whose proper name is Satiricon or Satyrica. However, the work fits well in the middle of the first century C.E. and is therefore likely to be his. Of the Satyricon only some of books 14 and 16 as well as all of book 15 remain. What the reader has is a fantastic story of the adventures of a young man named Encolpius in successive homosexual triangle relationships. This work inverts the plot of Greek novels in which a pair of separated lovers overcome many hazards in order to be united. It is also written in the Roman tradition of Menippean Satire, a mixture of prose and verse passages like Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis. This form gives Petronius many opportunities to parody literary styles including Lucan and Homer. The most famous passage is the so-called Trimalchio’s Dinner Party, where riches and bad taste are satirized.

A NOUVEAU-RICHE HYPOCHONDRIAC

Petronius, author of the Satyrica, is a master of narrative and of mischievous humor. Of the portion of this work that remains, the most famous section is known as the Cena Trimalchionis —the “Banquet of Trimalchio.” Here Trimalchio, a freedman who has become vulgarly wealthy, has staged a party of unimaginable lavishness. After letting all his guests arrive, he stages a late and ostentatious entrance. His frank and crass conversation shows that it takes more than money to elevate one’s social class:

…Trimalchio waltzed in, mopped his brow, washed his hands in some scented water, and, after pausing a moment, said: “My friends, forgive me, but my stomach has been unresponsive for many days. The doctors are lost. Nonetheless, a concoction of pomegranate rind mixed up with pine sapboiled in vinegar has loosened things up a bit. I hope my stomach remembers its manners now; otherwise it’s as noisy as a bull. And if anyone of you wants to relieve himself, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. None of us was ever born solid inside. I don’t think there’s any greater torment than holding yourself in. This is the one thing Jove himself cannot deny us.…
I don’t object to your doing anything here in the dining room if it makes you feel better. Even doctors forbid holding it in. And if more comes out than you expected, well, there are facilities just outside—water, chamber pots, and little sponges. Believe me, those vapors go right into your brain and upset the whole body. I personally know many, many men who’ve died because they wouldn’t admit the truth to themselves.

When the food is served, the spectacle becomes more and more extraordinary. In his powers of phantasmagoric description, Petronius shows himself the rival of such authors as Rabelais and Lewis Carroll.

…looking intently at the pig, Trimalchio exclaimed, “What is this? Has this pig been gutted? No, it hasn’t, by god! Get that cook in here now!”
A contrite looking cook appeared in front of our table and admitted that he’d forgotten to gut the pig. “What? Forgotten!” shouted Trimalchio. “You’d think he’d forgotten to add the salt and pepper, the way he says it; off with his shirt!” In no time the poor man was stripped and flanked by two executioners. Everyone tried to get him off the hook saying: “This happens all the time. Please, let him go. If it happens again, no one will speak up for him.”
…[Trimalchio’s] face relaxed into an hilarious grin as he said, “O.K., since you’ve got such a bad memory, gut him right here in front of us.” The cook donned his tunic, again, grabbed his butcher knife, and sliced the pig’s belly every which way with a quivering hand. The slits immediately gave way to the pressure from inside and roasted sausages and giblets gushed out of the wounds!

Source: Petronius, Satyrica, translated by R. Bracht Branham and Daniel Kinney (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997).

Master of the Epigram: Martial. A totally different note is struck by the epigrammatist Marcus Valerius Martialis, known in English as Martial. From his pen we have twelve books of epigrams from the years 86-102 C.E. plus a separate, earlier one called Book about the Spectacles and two books of two-liners to accompany gifts (Xenia) or party-favors (Apophoretd). Epigrams started their life as Greek inscriptions but in Hellenistic times were cultivated as an art form, often associated with specific occasions. Catullus picked up the genre in the latter third of his collection and it is to him that Martial looks back. Unlike the Catullan epigrams we have, Martial’s poetry is of mixed meter and varied length. Martial aims mainly at giving lively impressions of contemporary Roman life. Although he provides celebrations of imperial events as well as funerary poems, he tends to be more humorous (and even satirical) about life in Rome than his Greek precursors and Catullus. He certainly cultivates the tendency to end an epigram with a witty final line, which had already been apparent in Hellenistic epigram, and which became the hallmark of this genre after him. Martial’s epigrams work rather like a joke: he starts by setting up the situation or character, thus heightening the reader’s suspense. This tension is then released at the end by a witty, unexpected, often paradoxical punch line called aprosdoceton (Greek for

“unexpected”): You ask me what I get / out of my country place. my country place. / The profit, gross or net, / is never seeing your face. (2.38, translation by Mitchie). However, witty and even salacious pieces are varied by more somber, serious, or encomiastic ones, thereby giving the reader interesting insights into all facets of late first-century life.

Satire: Persius. Verse-satire in this age was written by Aulus Persius Flaccus. Born on 4 December 34 C.E. into a family of Etruscan descent in Volterra, north of Rome, Persius went at the age of twelve to Rome for his education. At sixteen he joined the Stoic philosopher Cornutus, and got to know Seneca and Lucan. He died of a stomach ailment before turning twenty-eight on 24 November 62 C.E. He left his estate to his mother and sister, his books to Cornutus. In his writings, Persius aims at drastically reforming the morals as well as the literature of his day. In harsh and often cryptic terms he tries to shake his reader out of his complacency and turn toward the life of the Stoic sage.

Satire: Juvenal. Equally scathing but less obscure are the fifteen satires of Decius Junius Juvenalis. Born around 67 C.E. in Aquinum nearNaples, Juvenal made a living as a speech writer (declamator). His main creative period was under the emperor Hadrian (117-38 C.E.) to whom he dedicated satire 7. Accounts that he was banished in old age are highly suspect. He died sometime after 127 C.E. Juvenal chastises pretty much everything in his day, from declamation via legacy-hunting, social climbing, and sexual depravity to the life in the city in general: More deadly than armies, /luxury has fallen upon us, avenging the world we conquered. /Every crime and act of lust has become familiar / since the demise of Roman poverty (Sat. 6.292-5, translation by Rudd). Rather than attacking living contemporaries, he uses the dead as examples of vice. This attitude of rage mellows with satire 10, where he becomes a more detached observer of the irredeemable wickedness of the world. In his case, not even Stoic apathy can mend his disgust.