The Camenae in Cult, History, and Song

This essay aims to redefine the place of the Camenae within the evolution of Roman carmen. It analyses the documented association of the purifying fons Camenarum with the cult of Vesta and by extension with the salvific prayer-carmina of her virgines; and it takes the Camenae from the archaic origins of their cult, with reflections on Etruscan and other territorial interests, to their appearance in the epic laudes of men in the third and second centuries BC. The identification of Camenae and Muses, it is argued, pre-dates Livius Andronicus’ “Camena,” and is best understood as a component of the Numa-legend as it emerged towards the end of the fourth century. Pythagorean Muse-cult, reflecting the Muses’ traditional interest in civic homonoia (concord) and law-making kings, played a part; and an agent of change was the reformist Appius Claudius Caecus, author of the first attested Roman carmen. The wider context lies in the cultural interplay of Rome, Etruria, and Greek southern Italy in the early and middle Republic. I: INTRODUCTION The Camenae are oddly remote figures in the Roman landscape. A collective without number or personality, they have left no trace in the iconographical record and few clues to the origins of their divine identity around the lower Tiber. We know that the name was attached to a sacred space and spring below the Caelian Hill, a space that came to be associated with Numa’s religious foundations; and that around 180 BC, the Camenae were formally identified with the Greek Muses *A version of this paper was presented at the Congreso “Lengua Poética y Religión en Grecia y Roma,” held by the Facultad de Filología at the Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 31 May-1 June 2012. I am grateful to the organizers for their kind invitation to participate, and to those present for stimulating discussion. I also thank Professor Denis Feeney, Professor Joshua Katz, and Professor Christopher Smith for comment and bibliographical advice, and the Editors and two referees of Classical Antiquity, for their help in getting the article into final form. For its conclusions, I remain solely responsible. Classical Antiquity, Vol. 35, Issue 1, pp. 45–85. ISSN: 0278-6656(p); 1067-8344(e) Copyright © 2016 by The Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press’s Rights and Permissions website at http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintinfo.asp. DOI: 10.1525/ca.2016.35.1.45

at the Aedes Herculis Musarum.1 But a large issue of Roman sacral-poetic history still lacks a satisfactory account:2 how did these landscape-deities come to be identified as patronesses of Latin carmina? Livius Andronicus’ address to a “Camena” as counterpart to Homer’s Mousa at the start of the Odusia (fr. 1 M.) is generally taken to be the first and decisive step towards assimilation with the Muses.3 But this “literary” reading leaves unexplored any possible association between the Camenae and earlier carmen, including the pre-poetic tradition.4 Moreover, as Ernst Badian observed, the Camenae “were connected with the most sacred mysteries of Roman religion.”5 For a professional poet, even one who helped systematize Roman divine genealogies, to take this ancient cult group and identify a single member with a Greek counterpart would have been a bold initiative.6 Indeed, the lasting stability of the identification might give pause for consideration of an alternative: that Livius was reflecting an established alignment of the Camenae not just with carmen, but with the Greek Muses as well. Fresh exploration in this territory is confronted by the scarcity of contemporary source material in the relevant periods, and by some well-known problems of methodology.7 There can be no easy answers, and in what follows there will be few certainties as to facts or conclusions. Yet items of underweighted evidence may be disinterred, and one neglected area where the Camenae played a distinctive role lies in the association of their fons with the Vestal Virgins. Direct attestation, to be sure, is vouchsafed in just one imperial-era source, Plutarch’s account of Numa’s religious foundations. The text in question, moreover, might well have been influenced by Greek Muse-cult; and Numa’s claimed encounters with Egeria and the Camenae exemplify a type of Greek sacral-civic myth in which territory is identified with the native wisdom of its landscape-deities.8 However, the presence of “Greek” perspectives can no longer be taken to vitiate the evidential value of a Roman legend for the circumstances in which it was enunciated (whether at a historical juncture or progressively, over time):9 the first narrative accounts of 1. Serv. Aen. 1.8; they become “nine” by association (Hor. CS 62; Mart. 3.47.3–4). 2. Earlier accounts: Wissowa 1884; Aust 1899; Waszink 1956; Radke 1965: 78–79; Suerbaum 1968: 303–304; 347–49; Badian 1972: 191–95; Flores 1995 (= 1998: 51–62); Camelloni 1998; Picklesimer Pardo 2004. 3. Thus, for example, Hinds 1998: 56–63, at 61n.15: “the probability that the Muse-Camena link originates with Livius himself is high”; cf. Suerbaum, ed., 2002: 101, 102 (h) (all citations from this volume are from items authored by Suerbaum). 4. Observed (with a different focus) by Sciarrino 2011: 88–89; cf. Sciarrino 2006: 453–54. 5. Badian 1972: 192. 6. Livius and divine genealogy: Rüpke 2012: 89; cf. Feeney 2007a: 130. 7. Smith 2007 cautions against writing off the archaic period as “unknowable.” I have benefited from reviews of Suerbaum 2002 by Gildenhard 2003 and Feeney 2005, and the review of Habinek 2005 by Feeney and Katz 2006; for problems of authenticity in Roman accounts of their early music, see also Horsfall 1994. 8. For the myth-pattern, Hardie 2010a: 13–28. 9. For mythological narrative as “history” and the “situation of the enunciation,” see Calame 1987: 176–77. For the narrative history of the kingship as product of an extended process of crystallisation, see Smith 2011: esp. 31–32, 34–41.

Rome’s early “history” were, after all, composed in Greek.10 And there is a growing consensus among scholars that by the fourth century, if not earlier, Roman civic leaders might articulate sacral issues in terms absorbed from patterns of contact with the Greek world.11 It is as products of this complex Greco-Roman cultural milieu, I shall submit, that the evolving role of the Camenae, and later accounts of it, can best be understood; and in what follows it will be argued that the assimilation of Camenae and Muses is to be associated with the Numa-legend as it crystalized towards the end of the fourth century. This essay does not, it must be stressed, set out to give a new account of Roman song. The aim is rather to trace those strands in the evolution of Roman carmen that led to the poets’ embrace of the Camenae as their patronesses. For this reason, little will be said about the carmina vatum; and irrespective of its merits, Nevio Zorzetti’s reconstruction of early Roman song will not be drawn into the present argument.12 This is not the first proposal to backdate the Roman cultic affinities of a Livian song-divinity: the relationship between “Moneta,” mother of the Camena (fr. 12 M.), and the cult of Juno Moneta is familiar to students of Roman memorialization; and on one view, Juno’s title was itself “a fourth century rendering of Mnemosyne, mother of the Muses.”13 There is some risk in this formulation of reading the literary associations of Livius’ Moneta back into the cult of Juno.14 Yet the essay of which it is part has helped open up analysis of Roman songnomenclature, in relation both to Greek analogues and to cult figures within the mainstream civic religion; there could be no more appropriate antecedent than “Moneta” (and the resources of Roman civic memory) for the present exploration of her daughter-Camenae. II: THE ARCHAIC CULT (A) ORIGINS The ancient cult of the Camenae as landscape-deities belonged to an area irrigated by a perennial water source, later called the vallis Egeriae.15 It lay just 10. Cf. Feeney 2007: 88–100. 11. Beard et al. 1998: 1.64–66, 69–71; Purcell 2003: 15, 21–34. For the late fourth/early third centuries (of greatest interest for present purposes) see Wiseman 1995. 12. Zorzetti 1991; contrast Suerbaum’s curt dismissal (2002: 50). 13. Purcell 2003: 26–27; cf. Linderski 1985: 213, with n.34. 14. Hardie 2007: 556–60 (written without knowledge of Purcell’s article) argues that (Juno) Moneta is quite distinct from Mnemosyne as a divine personality. 15. Livy 1.21.3 lucus erat quem medium ex opaco specu fons perenni rigabat aqua. quo quia se persaepe Numa sine arbitris velut ad congressum deae inferebat, Camenis eum lucum sacravit, quod earum ibi concilia cum coniuge sua Egeria essent. Ogilvie ad loc.; Richardson 1992: 63–64; LTUR I.216, s.v. “Camenae, Camenarum Fons et Lucus” (E. Rodríguez Almeida). For the so-called “Cave of Egeria,” findspot of a lost inscription to “Nymphs of the Camena-cave,” see Krammerer-Grothaus and Kocks 1983.

outside the southeast circuit of the Servian wall, under the Caelian Hill, and formed part of the earliest water-boundary of the septimontium.16 And while many minor water- and grove-cults are attested in and around Rome, the Camenae stand out by virtue of an archaic-era bronze aedicula (attributed to Numa) that originally marked their sacred site.17 This was evidently an exceptional cult of great antiquity.18 The name “Camenae” may well be Etruscan (there is late testimony to that effect).19 Yet investigation of archaic water-cults in Etruria has uncovered no evidence of early nymph-worship; and direct importation as Etruscan water deities is most unlikely.20 In any case, it should not be assumed that the Camenae were associated purely and simply with water. It is true that the element of water (described as “sacred,” or “living,” with reference to the numina immanent within it) becomes the focal point of the cult.21 But Livy and Plutarch speak of a “grove” and of surrounding fields as the object of Numa’s dedication, not of the fons;22 and there are well-known Greek antecedents for the identification of nymphs with the irrigated and fertile environment of water sources.23 Indeed it is just possible that “Camena” was originally a toponym that led to dedication of the locality to the (plural) “Camenae,” projected as territorial deities.24 At all events, they retained a territorial domain, marked later by the regionary name vicus Camenarum (CIL 6.975), that extended to the northeast of the Porta Capena.25 The aenea aedicula presumably comprised a wooden core covered in riveted bronze sheets, and if correctly identified with a substantial circular object marked 16. Van der Kraan 2001. Early water-boundary: Holland 1961: 59. 17. Serv. Aen. 1.8 his [sc. Musis] Numa aediculam aeneam brevem fecerat. . . . Water cults at Rome: Wissowa 1912: 219–25; Latte 1960: 76–79; Holland 1961: 3–7, 8–20, 21–28. Muthmann 1975: 25–55. The fons and local water supply: Evans 1994: 67, 87. 18. For early spring-cult in Etruria: Haynes 2000: 29; Giontella 2006: 21–74. Central Italy: Muthmann 1975: 25, with bibl. on bronze-age sources at n.3. Nymph cult (6th cent. BC): RE XVII.1581 (F. Heichelheim), XIII.2468 (W. Schur); Tels-De Jong 1959: 62–63. Egeria as nympha: Picklesimer Pardo 2002: 199–202. 19. Bottiglioni 1932; Ernout-Meillet 1967 s.v. “Camena”; cf. Macrob. Somn. 2.3.4: Musas. . . Etrusci. . . Camenas quasi canenas a canendo dixerunt (below, VI). Gagé 1974: 283 adduced Janus and “Camasene,” also associated with water-sources and topography, and suggested “influences sabines ou étrusco-sabines.” 20. Giontella 2006: 151: “non sono al momento note figure divine etrusche avvicinabili alle Ninfe del mondo greco e romano.” Contrast Colonna 2006: 149 and 165n.84, on nymphs in later female antefixes at Pyrgi. 21. Plut. Numa 13.2. Parallels are plentiful: Serv. Aen. 7.84 nullus enim fons non sacer. CLE 1504 13–15 (1st cent. AD, to Dryads and Naiads) convenite. . ./ quae sacrum colitis [ne]mus [pu]ellae / quae sacras colitis a[q]uas puellae. Holland 1961: 8–15; Muthmann 1975: 31. “Living water”: Serv. Aen. 2.719; cf. Sen Nat. 5.5.2. Holland 1961: 6n.10, 9n.4. For Greek “sacred,” “divine,” or entheos water, cf. Alc. 45.8 V.; Sim. 577a.2 PMG; Pind. Isth. 6.74–75, fr. 198b; Theocr. Id. 1.69, Id. 7.136–37; AP 9.64.5. 22. Livy 1.21.3; Plut. Numa 13.2. Contrast Varro ap. Serv. Ecl. 7.21, cited below, III. 23. Larson 2001: 10; cf. Hom. Od. 17.205–11; Plat. Phaedr. 230b, 278b. 24. For “deification of places,” see Palmer 1970: 102–10, esp. 106 (citing “the grove of the Albionae . . . from Albiona, the toponym of the field in which it lay”). Badian 1972: 165–66 observes an overlap with the local territory of Tutilina. 25. Cf. Mart. 2.6.16 (a traveller halting ad Camenas).

within the precinct of the Aedes Herculis Musarum in the Forma Urbis Romae (FUR), was either tholos-shaped or trapezoidal.26 The rarity of the bronze construction is underlined by the very fact that it is recorded. Bronze plating originated in the near east (NE), was largely confined to the archaic era, and is indicative both of conspicuous expenditure and of relatively advanced metalworking skills.27 Its use in temple construction is attested at Sparta and early Rome (Janus Geminus);28 and evidence for archaic ex-voto dedications at Olympia includes a substantial (1.6m high) trapezoidal object covered in riveted bronze-relief.29 We do not know what purpose the aedicula served and it may be that the Romans themselves were little better informed. One possibility is a “treasury” function (Greek nymph-cults were regularly marked by altars, sometimes with provision for offerings).30 But where the shrine was made, and who might have made it (Etruscan or travelling Greek?), remains beyond recovery. It has no obvious comparator in Italy.31 The calendar entry Camenis for 13 August in the pre-Julian Fasti Antiates maiores (FAm) is evidently the occasion of an annual offering, presumably marking continuity of water supply in summer.32 Sacral activity (whether annual or monthly is unclear) is also attested in Servius’ comment on Eclogues 7.21: eis non vino sed aqua et lacte sacrificari solet (“it is the custom for sacrifices to be made to them [sc. the Camenae] not with wine but with water and milk”). Wineless nephalia were offered to nymphs and Muses in Greek cult;33 and at Rome, the prohibition on wine-libations to “nymphs” evidently had pontifical authority.34 Horace plays on this in speaking of Camenae “stinking of wine in the morning”;35 and if 26. Tamm 1961: 164; Badian 1972: 192; cf. LTUR III.19 (A. Viscoglosi); if correct, it may have stood on a podium (the circle is some four metres in diameter). Coarelli 1997: 476 identifies the FUR circle as the temple altar; but the aedicula originally stood in the open air (it was struck by lightning: Serv. Aen. 1.8), and surely did so in the AHM (Aedes Herculis Musarum; for early Roman “hypaethral” shrines, Taylor 2000: 26n.108; Palmer 1970: 123n.1). Richardson 1977: 356 suggests “a tiny tholos or lararial cabinet” (cf. Petron. Sat. 29). 27. For the NE, and influence on Greek and Etruscan terracotta: Verzone 1951; cf. Borell and Rittig 1998: 9–24 (re-use of NE reliefs at Olympia). Mycenaean evidence: Hiller 1979: 191–94. In general, see Martin 1965: 155–57; Orlandos 1966: 102–107. 28. Sparta (Athena Chalkioikos): see, e.g., Stibbe 2000: 68–71. Janus Geminus: Guarducci 1966 suggests construction with Greek skills mediated through Tarentum. 29. My thanks to Professor Elizabeth Gebhard for awareness of the spectacular bronze panelling published in Borell and Rittig 1998. 30. Larson 2001: 10, 26 (on Hom. Od. 17.205–11), 158 (Olympia), 208, 250–51; Longfellow 2012 offers a valuable account of fountain construction from a 2nd cent. AD perspective. Water cult and offerings: Giontella 2006: 127–48. 31. For an aedicula at the source of the Aqua Virgo (1st cent. BC), see Front. Aqu. 1.10. 32. Inscr. It. XIII.2.496. Ogilvie 1965: 102. Cf. Holland 1961: 14, citing Serv. Aen. 12.139 huic fonti propter aquarum inopiam sacrificari solet. Cf. AP 9.384.15–16 (on August, in Roman months): ἐν δὲ Λέοντι / ἀτρεκέα τελέθει χεύματα Νηιάδων. 33. Nephalia: RE XV.2267 (S. Eitrem); XVI.2482–83, 2486–89 (L. Ziehen). For milk (not wine) in Roman cult, Plin. Nat. 14.88. Cf. Macrob. Sat. 1.12.25 (Bona Dea), Varro RR 2.11.4 (Rumina) and Varro ap. Non. p.167 L. (Canina). RE XVI.2489 (L. Ziehen); Picklesimer Pardo 2004: 306–307. 34. Junius Philargyrius on Verg. Georg. 4.380 nymphis libari vino pontifices negant. 35. Ep. 1.19.5: vina fere dulces oluerunt mane Camenae, where oluerunt plays on sacrificial adolere (cf. TLL I.793).

pontifical regulation was still in force, sacrificial observance may have continued at the fons. As will be seen (below, VII), this has a bearing on continuity of cult following the transfer of the aedicula out of the grove at the end of the third century. (B) EGERIA Egeria is closely associated with the Camenae. Augustan poets suggest she represented the same combination of aquatic and waterside domains as was noted above for the Camenae; and a degree of overlap (or perhaps ambiguity and puzzlement) is evident in accounts of the inspirational voice.36 But Egeria was not a “Camena”; and as a named goddess independently associated with other divinities, she is distinct from the Camenae in character and origin. Her name (Greek Ἠγερíα) was etymologized from ēgerere (“take way”), and was associated with removal of water from its source.37 As a character in prehistory, she has been quite plausibly identified as a familial/clan divinity of the Egerii, a name embedded in accounts of the Tarquin kings at Rome, and broadly identified with the southern extension of Etruscan influence.38 Expanding territorial interests of this sort may help in understanding Egeria’s appearance both on the Caelian, with its strong memory of Etruscan settlement, and at Aricia:39 thus, a historical connection has been surmised with the Tusculan Dictator Latinus Egerius Laevius who dedicated a grove to Arician Diana around 500 BC.40 At this time, Aricia was exercising politico-sacral influence towards the north and Diana’s image is found, in association with sacred water, in a late-archaic cult at Chianciano Terme in Etruria.41 At Rome too, Diana’s Aventine temple (third quarter, sixth century) was among early cult-foundations, and together with the choice of 13 August for her 36. Terrain: Verg. Aen. 7.763 (Virbius) eductum Egeriae lucis umentia circum litora; Ov. Fast. 3.261 (to Egeria) nympha, mone, nemori stagnoque operata Dianae (mone correlated to nemori); cf. also Plut. Fort. Rom. 321b (“Dryad”); Numa 8.6 (“mountain nymph”). “Overlap” of Egeria and Camenae: Livy 1.21.3; Ov. Fast. 3.275; Juv. 3.16–17; Mart. 6.47.3–4; cf. Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 2.60.5; Plut. Numa 8.6, 13.1–2. 37. Maltby 1991: s.v., citing Varro ap. Aug. CD 7.35 quod . . . aquam egesserit, id est exportaverit, Numa Pompilius, unde hydromantiam faceret, ideo nympham Egeriam coniugem dicitur habuisse. . .; cf. Vergil’s etymologising juxtaposition eductum Egeriae at Aen. 7.763 (cited above, n.36). 38. Egerius is transcribed Ἠγέριος at Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 3.50.4, but etymologized from ĕgēre (cf. Liv. 1.34.3). Tarquin dynasty: Schulze 1904: 162; Wissowa 1912: 248n.8; Ogilvie 1965: 102; Gantz 1975: esp. 543–44. Egeria as familial goddess (“Sondergottheit der Egerii”): Schulze 1904: 123; followed by Latte 1960: 171 (for other familial goddesses, ibid. 58). 39. Caelian as Etruscan settlement: Palmer 1970: 125–26; Gantz 1975: 550; Cornell 1995: 134– 35; LTUR I.208: s.v. “Caelius Mons” (G. Giannelli). 40. Cato Orig. II.28 C. (fr. 58 P.); cf. Fest. p. 128 L. See Cornell 1995: 297–98; cf. Ogilvy on Livy 1.38.1 (an Egerius Collatiae in praesidio relictus); and Wiseman 2004: 130–31, on the reconstruction of the Tarquin dynasty, with the nicknaming of Arruns Tarquinius Collatinus as Egerius. 41. On a speculative view, Lars Porsena brought this image from Aricia: Bonamici 2003; Giontella 2006: 28–30; yet for Etruscan production of archaic statuary for Diana at Aricia, see Riis 1966.

festival (as at Aricia), it looks very like an effort to supplant Latin Aricia as a federal center.42 That the annual offering to the Camenae also took place on 13 August seems unlikely to be coincidental, and it is tempting to connect that calendrical event with Arician Egeria.43 Yet it remains uncertain by what route Egeria originally came to Rome.44 Differing versions of Numa’s encounters with her (Rome or Aricia) would seem to bear on the mixed influences, indigenous and external, on the sacral and constitutional character of the city, and hence on the mix of Etruscan and Latin within the sacral constitutio ascribed to the second king of Rome.45 Thus, Ovid presents her as an Arician goddess (Fasti 3.261–76) who directs Numa (289–94) to Picus and Faunus on the grounds that “each is a deity native to Roman territory” (Romani numen utrumque soli, 292).46 Here, the external (Arician) Egeria directs a Roman (Sabine) king to oracular deities residing within an indigenous oak-grove under the Aventine (295–99). The archaic period thus offers glimpses, albeit hazy, of interplay between Camenae and Egeria, between the Caelian, Etruria, and Aricia, and perhaps also between an archaic Roman cult and Greek sacral practice. The Egerii look like credible candidates for the dedication of the aedicula Camenarum; and I would conjecture that the foundation of Diana’s Aventine temple, Egeria’s parallel advent on the Caelian, and the dedication of the aedicula Camenarum were in some way linked (though not necessarily contemporaneous) developments. Furthermore, the Vestals’ use of the fons Camenarum, to be considered in the next section, might find a distant resonance in later links between Aricia and the Caelian. Vesta, who is later identified at Aricia with Diana (in a dedication of AD 100 by a Roman pistor to “Diana Nemorensis Vesta”), may have acquired a parallel association there with Egeria;47 and a Caelian parallel, a mid-second century AD relief dedicated by the quaestor of the collegium pistorum and depicting Vesta as a healing 42. Beard et al. 1998: 2.15–17; Smith 2007: 36–37. 43. Wissowa 1912: 250; Green 2006: Index, s.v. “August, Ides of; festivals”; 231. 44. Altheim 1930: 93–172; Gordon 1932; Latte 1960: 169–73; Radke 1965: 104–107 (Diana) and 111–12 argues for Egeria’s move from Rome to Aricia. For a possible move from Aricia to Rome, Picklesimer Pardo 2002: 206 (concluding that the two Egeriae are independent, but ignoring the Egerii). Green 2007: 222–31 overplays Egeria’s Ovidian transformation at Aricia qua mourner for Numa. 45. Cf. Hardie 2010a: 23–27; Habinek 2005: 226–28. For patterns of external migration to Rome and ethnic diversity there, see Cornell 1995: 142–43, 157–58 (for comment on Cornell’s view of limited Etruscan influence on archaic Roman religious practice, see also Smith 2007: 38). 46. For divinized territory guiding a king, cf. Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 1.57.40 (ἐπιχώριος δαíμων advises Latinus to welcome Aeneas’ Trojans to the Latin chora). 47. CIL XIV.2213 (= ILS 3243). The stylobate of a small circular shrine, which has been identified as Vesta’s hearth, survives in the temple precinct: cf. Serv. Aen. 9.406: aedes autem rotundas tribus diis dicunt fieri debere Vestae Dianae vel Herculi vel Mercurio; Cook 1902: 376–77; RE VIIIA.1722 (C. Koch); Radke 1965: 328. Vesta/Egeria: Altheim 1930: 128–29, accepted by Koch, ibid.; the connection with Egeria and the Vestals’ use of the fons Camenarum (below, III) is noted by Morpurgo 1903: 348–50.

goddess, turned up in the 17th century near the Porta Capena.48 Beyond that, the “historical” Egeria, and any association with Vesta, is lost to view.49 III: THE FONS: HEALING, PURIFICATION, AND THE VESTALS (A) PLUTARCH’S ACCOUNT Two attested functions of the fons Camenarum, healing and purification, have strong claims to historicity: Frontinus (Aqu. 4.2) lists it among springs that were venerated as bringing salubritas to the sick;50 and Plutarch (Numa 13.2) supplies precious evidence of the use of the spring for purificatory purposes. Less credible is the notion that the historical Camenae fulfilled an oracular role.51 It is true that landscape features were sources of indigenous oracular wisdom, such that domestic territory might act as a guide to the divine will; and water carried elemental associations with truth and infallibility.52 It is also true that Livius’ attachment of the Camena(e) to “Moneta,” in association with the verb monere, carries oracular colouring.53 But the developed Greek association between prophecy and song is in play here, combined with second century literary polemic over Camenae and Muses (below, VII), and with the requirement of the Numa-legend for oracular communication between Egeria/Camenae and king (below, VI).54 The purifying function of the fons, and its use by the Vestal Virgins is attested in Plutarch’s account of the origins of the Salian priesthood (Numa 13): during a pestilence, a bronze shield fell from the sky to the spot where Numa claimed to have encounters with Egeria and the “Muses” (as Plutarch calls them), and under 48. LIMC V.1.415: s.v. “Hestia/Vesta” no. 30 (T. Fischer-Hansen); Greifenhagen 1967: 21 connects with the Vestals’ use of water from the fons Camenarum (below, III); Mekacher 2006: 98, with n.826. For the Vestals’ use of cake-shaping fictores, see Palmer 1970: 95–96. Egeria as a birth-divinity at Aricia and on the Caelian: Fest. p. 67 L. Egeriae nymphae sacrificabant praegnantes, quod eam putabant facile conceptum alvo egerere. Wissowa 1912: 248; Green 2007: 230–31; cf. Picklesimer Pardo 2002: 206–207. 49. Commenting on a fragmentary 1st cent. BC gable-end of Mars’ temple outside the Porta Capena, Simon speculates that a seated goddess in attendance on the god might be Egeria: LIMC II.1.534: s.v. “Ares/Mars” no. 277. 50. Front. Aqu. 4: fontium memoria cum sanctitate adhuc exstat et colitur; salubritatem aegris corporibus adferre creduntur, sicut Camenarum et Apollinis et Iuturnae. For healing Etruscan springs, see Giontella 2006: 129, 140–43. Vitr. 8.3.1 implies general accessibility, presumably with provision against casual pollution: cf. CLE 155.26–30: ille [sc. Priapus] fontibus arcet et scelestos, / improbo pede qui sacros liquores / transeunt faciuntque turbulentos, / qui lavant manus nec ante multa / invocant prece vos, deae pu[ellae. Cf. also Mart. 6.47 (expiation of the crimen of drinking spring-water associated with Egeria/the Camenae). 51. Camenae and prophecy: Gagé 1955: 337; Waszink 1956; Skutsch 1969: 5. 52. Ninck 1921: 1–46, 47–99 (“Wasser und Weissagung”); also Halliday 1913: 116–44. 53. Hardie 2007: 556–60, 578–81; and see below, VII. 54. For Greek “mantic poetry,” see González 2013: 219–35. Waszink 1956 misreads the Carmen Priami (veteres Ca<s>menas cascam rem volo profari) as evidence for oracular cult (below, VII); Latte 1960: 77n.2 and Guittard 2007: 230–31 are rightly skeptical.

their guidance, Numa issued the following directions:55 “the place where it [the shield] fell, and the adjacent field, where the Muses usually had converse with him, must be consecrated to them, and that the spring which watered the place should be declared holy water for the use of the Vestal Virgins, so that they should take it every day and purify and sprinkle their temple with it.” The Vestals’ role as water-carriers is of course well attested.56 Literary accounts depict legendary Vestals drawing water from fontes in groves, in one case explicitly outside the city wall.57 But Plutarch alone associates the Camenae with the Vestal Virgins.58 ἀποδεῖξαι (Latin dicare) might reflect sacral regulation as authority for the statement;59 and since Plutarch’s account of Numa’s foundations (Numa 9–14) is framed by the Pontifices and stresses the Pontifex Maximus’ responsibility for the Vestals, pontifical law may underpin what he says about the fons Camenarum.60 Dionysius’ parallel account accentuates (sc. pontifical) regulation (Rom. Ant. 2.67.2): θυηπολούσας τε καì τἆλλα θρησκευούσας κατὰ νóμον (“performing sacrifices and carrying out their other ritual functions in accordance with law”; compare also the Pontifices’ role κατά νóμον in Vestal disciplines, ibid. 3). The four physical elements (earth, water, air, fire) are prominent in Plutarch’s account of the Vestals (at 9.5–8 and 11.1–2), in combination with elemental purity. The Suda also claims that Numa “gave the Vestals protective oversight over fire and water”;61 and Tertullian observes Roman identification of the element “fire” with Vesta, and the element “water” with “Camena.” Taken together, these items point to a Vestal association with elemental purity.62 Greek theology (specifically, purification through the elements, widely disseminated in mystery religion) may be 55. Numa 13.2: ἔτι δὲ χρῆναι Μούσαις καθιερῶσαι τò χωρίον ἐκεῖνο καὶ τοὺς περὶ αὐτò λειμῶνας, ὅπου τὰ πολλὰ φοιτῶσαι συνδιατρίβουσιν αὐτῷ. Τὴν δὲ πηγὴν ἣ κατάρδει τò χωρίον, ὕδωρ ἱερò ν ἀποδεῖξαι ταῖς Ἑστιάσι παρθένοις, ὅπως λαμβάνουσαι καθ’ ἡμέραν ἁγνίζωσι καὶ ῥαίνωσι τò ἀνάκτορον. My thanks to Professor Thomas Habinek for help in assessing this evidence. 56. Rizzo 1932: Tav. Agg. B3 (Vestal carrying urn); Prop. 4.4.15–16; Ov. Fast. 3.11–14; Pers. 2.60; Val. Max. 4.4.11; Serv. Aen. 11.339. See Mekacher 2006: 57–58; Edlund-Berry 2006: 169. For Isis ritual, cf. Juv. 6.526–29 with Courtney. Whether water carrying had a “domestic” origin is moot: Beard 1980: 13–17; contra: Radke 1965: 329–30; cf. H. Parker 2004: 565, 567 (cautious). 57. Livy 1.11.6 aquam forte ea [sc. Tarpeia] tum sacris extra moenia petitum ierat. Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 1.77.1; Ov. Fast. 3.11–18. 58. For Vestal restriction to a fixed source, cf. Serv. Aen.7.150 (Lavinium): Vestae enim libari non nisi de hoc fluvio [sc. Numicio] licebat (Brelich 1949: 51). In AD 70, the Vestals purified the Capitol with water from several sources (Tac. Hist. 4.53; for Greek procedure: R. Parker 1983: 226). For sacral brine (muries) the Vestals added to salt: aquam iugem, vel quamlibet, praeterquam quae per fistulas venit. . . (Fest. p. 161 L). 59. The verb appears frequently in Greek sacral law, with a wide range of application; for ἀποδεῖξαι of pontifical action, cf. Dion. Hal. 5.1.4. Sacral dicare: TLL V.1.964. 60. Kroppenberg 2010 offers an overview of civil and sacral legalities. On legal status, cf. H. Parker 2004: 572–74 (implications for Vestals’ representation of the city); 583–85 (in trial for incestum). For early publication of books “On Pontifical Law,” see Beard et al. 1998: 1.181. 61. Suda ν 515: τάς τε Ἑστιάδας παρθένους τοῦ πυρò ς καὶ ὕδατος τὴν ἐπιμέλειαν ἔχειν ἐπέτρεψεν. See Brelich 1949: 50–52. 62. Tert. Adv. Marc. 1.13 (from Varro? Waszink 1956: 146 n.2): ipsa quoque vulgaris superstitio . . . figurans . . . Vestam in ignem et Camenam in aquam et magnam matrem in terram. Ovid (Fast. 6.459–60, cf. 267–68) identifies Vesta and Tellus in recounting the live entombment of a

indirectly relevant;63 and Pythagorean influences from southern Italy and Sicily are not to be ruled out in approaching the imprint of the physical elements on Vestal ritual and on sacral purity at Rome. Water is of course a vital component of divinised mousikē (below, IV), and purity of water regularly coalesces with purity of song-content (a Pythagorean extension of elemental purity to Muse-inspired song was articulated by the fifth century).64 The fons Camenarum offers a Roman context for the reception of such ideas, as may be inferred from Varro’s treatment of water nymphs, Camenae, Muses, and cult (ap. Serv. Ecl. 7.21): secundum Varronem, ipsae sint Nymphae quae et Musae; nam in aqua consistere dicuntur, quae de fontibus manat, sicut existimaverunt qui Camenis fontem consecrarunt: nam eis non vino sed aqua et lacte sacrificari solet; nec immerito, nam aquae motus musicen efficit (“according to Varro, the Nymphs are also Muses; for they are said to exist in the water that flows from springs, as was the view of those who consecrated the spring to the Camenae; for it is the custom for sacrifices to be made to them not with wine but with water and milk; and not without reason, for the movement of water produces music”). With these “elemental” observations in mind, we turn in this section and the next to fuller consideration of the ways in which purity, water, and song might have coalesced in cult in the early-mid Republic. (B) CASTITAS The Vestals may be assumed to have held responsibility under pontifical regulation for sacral observance at the fons, including the attested offerings of water and milk.65 A requirement for absolute purity, and the avoidance of stagnation, entailed the drawing of fresh water each day and conveyance in an urn that could not stand upright on the ground. This was recens aqua, and it may have been felt to embody the Camenae even as it was being sprinkled at the temple of Vesta.66 The Vestals were priestly embodiments of castitas:67 on their freedom from physical pollution, and on the purity of the sacra in their care, depended the integrity Vestal convicted of incestum: sic incesta perit, quia quam violavit, in illam / conditur: est Tellus Vestaque numen idem; Kroppenberg 2010: 431. 63. Norden 1957: 28 (on elemental purgation at Aen. 6.739–43); cf. Seaford 1986. The physical theology of Empedocles is a primary influence (cf. fr. B 115 D-K; 11 In.). 64. See Hardie 2013a, on Empedocles. Cf. esp. Call. Hymn 2.110–12 (the water-carrying beepriestesses of Demeter as an analogue for Callimachean poetry). 65. RE VIIIA.1754–55 (C. Koch). 66. Cf. R. Parker 1983: 226–27. recens aqua: Verg. Aen. 6.635–6; Isid. Orig. 20.3.1: statim sublata de flumine et fonte vel puteo, foetescit enim vetusta; TLL II.357.8–13. Cf. Cagnat IGRRP 1498c.10 (collection of pure water from seven springs and sprinkling of houses with “pleasant nymphs”). 67. Castitas: Cic. Leg. 2.29 ei [sc. Vestae] colendae virgines praesint, ut . . . sentiant mulieres naturam feminarum omnem castitatem pati; cf. Dom. 144; Prop. 2.29b.27; Ov. Fast. 3.417, 3.698, 6.290; Val. Max. 8.1.5; Plin. Epp. 4.11.9. The honorific inscriptions catalogued by Mekacher 2006: 199–209 offer copious illustration, e.g. CIL VI.2134 (3rd cent. AD, to a virgo vestalis maxima): sanctissimae ac piissimae ac super omnes retro religiosissimae purissimae castissimaeque cuius

of state sacral observance, hence the salus urbis itself.68 Herein lies a further point of contact with the Camenae, whose name, on one ancient etymology, derived from castae mentis praesides (“champions of pure mind”).69 This is the ethical counterpart of physical absence of pollution, the moral condition that renders a worshipper fit to approach the gods and to attend sacral activity in a sacred space.70 Here is what Pliny says about casta mens at the start of the Panegyricus: “I observe that the man who brings a pure and chaste mind (puram castamque mentem) to their shrines is more pleasing to the gods than the one who brings a studied carmen.” Pliny’s point lies in true spiritual purity, alongside ritualized sacral observance and carmen; and the same ideal applied to the Vestals, for while the traditional taboo was physical pollution of the body through sexual contact, we find a Vestal pleading her “pure soul,” as revealed in the continuing efficacy of her administrations, in response to an unjust accusation.71 The use of moral terminology in honorific inscriptions for Vestals (typically, morum praedicabilem disciplinam, cited above, n.67) helps confirm.72 The etymology, whenever it was enunciated, arguably suggests that the Camenae represented the capacity of the Roman state, through its appointed sacerdotes, to approach the gods, address them in efficacious prayer, and secure their protection.73 This powerful capacity to negotiate between men and gods is in my view best understood in the context of their association with the Vestals, thus supplementing the use of fons water for physical purification. It provides a further pointer to a multi-layered relationship between the priestesses and the deities. IV: CAMENAE AND CARMINA (A) WATER AND SONG The etymological association of “Camenae” with canere and carmen (prayer, sacral chant and incantation) has several variants, and evidently represents an old religiosam curam sacrorum et morum praedicabilem disciplinam numen quoque Vestae comprobavit; Salus: Nisbet-Hubbard on Hor. Odes 1.2.27, citing Cic. Font. 48; Symm. Rel. 3.11; Prud. Contra Symm. 2.1104. 68. Nock 1930: 254; Beard 1980: 12–13; H. Parker 2004. 69. Paul. Fest. p. 43 L.: Camenae Musae a carminibus sunt dictae, vel quod canunt antiquorum laudes, vel quod sint castae mentis praesides. 70. Cic. Leg. 2.24: caste iubet lex adire ad deos, animo videlicet in quo sunt omnia; nec tollit castimoniam corporis, sed hoc oportet intellegi, quom multum animus corpori praestet, observeturque ut casta corpora adhibeantur, multo esse in animis id servandum magis. See Dickie 2001 and 2002. Cf. the couplet on the Epidaurian temple of Asclepius, “purity is to think holy thoughts” (with Bremmer 2002 on dating). 71. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 2.68.4 (appeal to Vesta): ψυχὴν ἔχουσα καθαράν. 72. For the converse (Vestals’ unsatisfied longing for sex), cf. Prud. Contra Symm. 2.1072: non mens intacta tenetur; cf. Sen. Contr. 6.8.1. 73. For praeses of tutelary deity, TLL X.2.875.29–57. For casta mens in a sacerdotal devotee cf. Man. Astron. 1.46–50. Was casta mens associated with archaizing form Casmenae (Varro LL 7.26; TLL Onomasticon Vol. II.116.59–71)?

perception of these deities as exponents of “song.”74 The widely-attested association of water, water nymphs, song, and dance was well understood at Rome (Varro’s formulation was cited earlier).75 It helps explain Ennius’ account of Egeria’s exchange with Numa at Annales 113 Sk. olli respondit suavis sonus Egeriai (“to him did the sweet sound of Egeria make response”) where, as Otto Skutsch saw, Egeria responds to Numa’s questioning from within the sound of the fons.76 In the same tradition, Horace describes himself (Odes 3.4.25) as vestris amicum fontibus et choris (“beloved of your springs and choruses”), where the chorus of Camenae resides in and around fontes.77 Two issues arise from the early association of Camenae with carmen: the first, to be considered here, is whether a connection existed between the Camenae, water, and song on the one hand, and the healing, purificatory, and protective functions of the fons Camenarum on the other; and the second, to be considered over this section and the next, is whether any connection is to be made between the song of the Camenae and Vestal use of the fons, and by extension the Vestals’ own prayer-carmina. (B) THE CAMENAE, WATER, AND HEALING IN POETRY The healing function of song was deeply rooted in medical practice, and at the level of civic song it is exemplified in the seventh-century curative paean-singing of the Cretan Thaletas, delivering Sparta from plague.78 In this context, purifying water acts both as a curative agent and as an adjunct to the curative function of music;79 and water operates together with incantation at and across the borders of immemorial medicinal “magic.”80 Augustan understanding of a connection between Camenae, water, song, and healing is illuminated by Horace.81 He addresses the Camenae thus (Odes 3.4.37–42): vos Caesarem. . ./ . . ./ finire quaerentem labores / Pierio recreatis antro. / vos lene consilium et datis et dato / gaudetis almae (“You are restoring 74. Etymology: Maltby 1991: s.v. “Camena” (Varro LL 7.26–7; Paul. Fest. p. 43 L; Serv. Ecl. 3.59; Aug. CD 4.11; Macr. Somn. 2.3.4). Carmen: Comerci 1977: 291–92; Putnam 2000: 135–50; Habinek 2005 74–82; Guittard 2007. 75. Hardie 1996: 225–26; 233–34; Hardie 2008: 99–102; Hardie 2010a: 47–51. 76. Skutsch 1985: 264. 77. For late antiquity, cf. Aug. de Mus. 3.2.3 ite igitur, Camenae, fonticulae puellae, quae canitis sub antris mellifluos sonores; Ven. Fort. Carm. 6.10.17 silet unda Camenae; Swerdlow 1967 traces the concept in medieval authors. 78. Medical incantation: Wille 1967: 42, 443–46; Dickie 2001a: 24–25, 133. Curative paeans: Rutherford 2001: 37–38. Thaletas: Ps.-Plut. de Mus. 1146c. 79. Ov. Met. 13.951–53: Oceanum Tethynque rogant: ego lustror ab illis, / et purgante nefas noviens mihi carmine dicto / pectora fluminibus iubeor supponere centum. 80. Kotansky 1991; Dickie 2001a: 24–25. For NE antecedents, Geller 2000: esp. 332–34; Böck 81. Cf. Tullius Laurea’s epigram (Plin. Nat. 31.8), prompted by medicinal springs (salubres oculis) on Cicero’s estate: “nymph-waters” (5, apparent lymphae) make an “epiphany”; and eye-healing is juxtaposed with the moral healing of Cicero’s writings (9–10).

Caesar in a Pierian glade as he seeks an end to his labours; you, caring goddesses, give gentle counsel”). This establishes a discreet parallel between Augustus and Numa, drawing on the foundation legend of the Camenae-cult and on the guidance (consilium) vouchsafed to the king, and now to the princeps, by the Camenae.82 Horace also suggests that the Camenae are “healing” the sick Augustus (recreatis). Advice and healing are thus juxtaposed in an Augustan hymn that celebrates the aquatic cult of the Camenae (and associates it with a Greek analogue, the purifying water of Apolline Castalia).83 The Camenae also feature in the Carmen Saeculare (62), assimilated to Muses and associated with the healing function of Apollo: Phoebus acceptusque novem Camenis / qui salutari levat arte fessos / corporis artus (“Phoebus, welcome friend to the nine Camenae, / He whose healing art can relieve the weary / Limbs of the body” [Trans. Lee]). This passage (the single most important reference to the Camenae in Augustan poetry) entails special issues of interpretation, and will not be considered further here. (C) MUSE-CAMENAE AND VESTALS IN THE NUMA-LEGEND For healing Camenae in relation to early Vestal lore, we return to the plague context of Plutarch’s Salian narrative (Numa 13.2–3). Numa, he says, related a “wondrous account” (θαυμάσιóν τινα λóγον) learned “from Egeria and the Muses”: the shield had come “for the salvation of the city”; there follow the directions for dedication of the land-spot to the “Muses” and for use of the spring by the Vestals; and at this point, Plutarch adds “they say that the immediate cessation of the plague testified to these matters.” Plutarch evidently saw a connection, presumably in the protective role of the Vestals, between the “Muses’” guidance (leading to cessation of the plague) and Vestal use of the fons. Plutarch does not however say how the “Muses” communicated with Numa, so that the aetiological chain linking them with Vestals through guiding “water-music” is incomplete. But he can be supplemented from Ennius’ location of Egeria’s guidance in the fons Camenarum, where the “sound” (sonus) of the goddess is musical and persuasive (suavis). Here, then, Numa receives guidance in the form of a water-carmen directed towards the city’s salvation from plague. And herein, surely, lies the legendary aetion for assigning the fons Camenarum to the cult of Vesta: the water supplying the guidance that saved Rome from plague would ensure the purity of Vesta’s temple and thereby preserve the city from all manner of threats and dangers in perpetuity.84 82. Borzsák 1960: 386; Hardie 2008: 108–109. 83. For the purifying role of Apollo and Apolline water in Odes 3.4, Hardie 2010: 238–44. 84. Professor Christopher Faraone refers me to an Athenian pattern of civic salvation by water, including water-carrying women and nymphs, dramatized by Aristophanes in Lysistrata: see Faraone 1997; for a magical parallel, Kotansky 1991: 112.

Ovid’s account of Numa and Egeria in Fasti 3 (again, in the context of the aetiology of the Salii) will help supplement. He opens with an appeal to Egeria, at Aricia (259–62): quis mihi nunc dicet, quare caelestia Martis arma ferant Salii Mamuriumque canant? nympha, mone, nemori stagnoque operata Dianae; nympha, Numae coniunx, ad tua facta veni. Who shall tell me why the Salii bear the celestial arms of Mars and sing of Mamurius? Nymph, do you advise, you who perform rites at the grove and lake of Diana; nymph, wife of Numa, do you come forward to [address] your own accomplishments. Ovid describes the grove and then says this (273–76): defluit incerto lapidosus murmure rivus; saepe, sed exiguis haustibus, inde bibi. Egeria est, quae praebet aquas, dea grata Camenis; illa Numae coniunx consiliumque fuit. A pebbly brook flows down with uncertain murmur; often have I drunk from it, but in little sips. Egeria it is who supplies the water, goddess dear to the Camenae; she was wife and councillor to Numa. Egeria supplies aetiological information through the incertus murmur of moving water and she thereby enacts a guiding role analogous to her guidance to Numa.85 In Plutarch, Egeria and the Camenae guide Numa’s response to the prodigium of a plague, whereas Ovid’s prodigium is a series of lightning strikes (285–88); but of course both prodigia signal divine anger which must be appeased by expiating the cause of the offence and purifying the city (289–91). The carmen of the water deities fulfils the process of procuratio, the discovery of the cause of divine anger. To return now to the question posed earlier: a connection may indeed be asserted, at least in the understanding of Augustan poets, between the Camenae/ water-carmina, and the healing and purificatory functions of the fons Camenarum, as also with the Vestals’ use of the fons. To this literary account should therefore be added a reference by Macrobius to Vestal cult realia, their invocation Apollo Medice, Apollo Paean (connected with the temple of Apollo Medicus and reflected in the Carmen Saeculare): the Vestals had a role in protecting the city from plague, and that role is reflected in Plutarch’s aetiology of the cult of the Camenae.86 85. Hinds 1992: 119–20 observes the parallel between the king and the poet of the Fasti (which arises from Numa’s calendrical interests: cf. Burkert 1961: 241–42). Cf. Pasco-Pranger 2002: 292–93 (I am not persuaded by her arguments for a “vatic” Numa). 86. Macrob. Sat. 1.17.15: sed et Lindii colunt Apollinem Λοíμιον, hoc cognomine finita pestilentia nuncupatum. eadem opinio sospitalis et medici dei in nostris quoque sacris fovetur, namque virgines Vestales ita indigitant: Apollo Medice, Apollo Paean. Millar 2009: 28–29. Cf. Gagé 1955: 22,

It may be relevant that Vesta too had a healing role, represented in her Caelian relief (above, II), and that the Arician cult of Diana was also strongly medical in character.87 V: VESTALS AND CARMINA In this section, I consider the precationes of the Vestals as represented in Augustan poetry. Precatio will of course be treated as a species of carmen, but (as will emerge over this section and the two that follow) one that was closely associated with the spatial and political unity of the city:88 the Vestals were identified with the common hearth and the intra-mural integrity of the civic space; their sacra were conducted on behalf of the people, pro populo Romano Quiritibus; and in uttering their carmina, they sang as representatives of the citizenry as a whole.89 (A) VESTAL PRECATIO AND WATER At the start of Fasti 3, Ovid depicts the legendary first Vestal, Silvia (Ilia), drawing purificatory water in a grove. She is lulled to sleep by trees, bird-song, and the murmur of the water (that is, by the natural “music” of the landscape, its airs and its water), 17–18:90 dum sedet, umbrosae salices volucresque canorae / fecerunt somnos et leve murmur aquae. She is discovered and raped by Mars. On waking she takes two actions simultaneously (39–40): she fills her urn with water from the spring; and she recounts a prophetic vision with prayer that it may portend well. The vision prefigures the birth of Romulus and Remus, Romulus’ founding role, and the threat to the twins’ lives. Silvia’s prayerful utterance is inspired by the extraurban landscape, including the noise of the water she draws from the fons; and Ovid thereby aligns the origins of Vestal carmen on behalf of the city of Rome with the sacred grove.91 But is the correlation of Vestal precatio and the drawing of water simply the product of poetic imagination? Or might it also reflect the realia of Vestal ritual? The Vestal Tuccia’s incesti deprecatio (Val. Max. 8.1.5; cf. Pliny Nat. 28.12), though a special case, may be relevant: arrepto enim cribro “Vesta” inquit, “si sacris tuis castas semper admovi manus, effice ut hoc hauriam e Tiberi aquam 87. Green 2007: 235–55. 88. Cf. TLL III.463.68–464.9. Precatio and carmen: Plin. Nat. 28.10–29; cf. e.g. Livy 5.41.3, 8.9.6, 39.15.1. Cf. also Sciarrino 2011: 117–60 (Cato and early carmen). 89. Well observed and documented by H. Parker 2004: 567–68, citing Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 2.66.1; Plin. Nat. 28.13. 90. Natural landscape music is an Augustan topic: Hardie 2010a: 37–38 on Aeneas’ musical land-spot on the Tiber at the opening of Aeneid 7. 91. In Hor. Odes 3.4, the grove of the Muse-Camenae evoked in the epiphanic scenario in the second stanza recalls Ennius’ treatment of Ilia’s dream-narrative of Mars’ rape (Ann. 38–40 Sk.), and both passages are imitated by Ovid in describing the epiphany of Mars Ultor at Fasti 5.549–

et in aedem tuam perferam” (“Taking up a sieve, she said, ‘Vesta, if I have invariably applied pure hands to your sacra, bring it about that with this I draw water from the Tiber and carry it all the way to your temple’”). For further help, we may turn to the augural practice of auspicia peremnia whereby a magistrate who has already taken the auspices for a given enterprise but then crosses a flowing stream, is required to scoop water from it with his hands to the accompaniment of “poured prayers” ( fusis precibus).92 This testimony to “pouring prayer” is of exceptional interest, in that a comparative study of the figure in Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin poetry by Leslie Kurke shows that it derives from the practice of accompanying the pouring of libations with prayer.93 The augural ritual involves the sympathetic correlation of (drawn) water with “poured prayer,” in circumstances where that same body of water has nullified earlier auguries.94 With Kurke’s comparative material to hand, we might hypothesize an analogous ritual for the Vestals, their precatio correlated sympathetically with the action of drawing water from the fons Camenarum, and perhaps also with the action of sprinkling the water over the shrine of Vesta. (B) HUSHED PRAYER Ovid’s Vestal spring-side scenario at the start of Fasti 3 anticipates his own encounter with Egeria in that the incertus murmur of Egeria’s water recalls the leve murmur aquae which lulled Silvia to sleep and which she then drew up. The Vestals prayed as a group on behalf of the state and the Roman people;95 and some of their prayers were recited in low voices (or, in a standard term for near-silent prayer, murmur).96 Ovid uses tacitum murmur of “hushed” prayer (Met. 6.203; cf. OLD s.v. “murmur” 4); and tacitus itself is often applied to the act of prayer.97 It is in this sense that Horace speaks of the Vestal as tacita virgo (Odes 3.30.9): she prays as she accompanies the Pontifex Maximus on the Capitol but her prayer is 92. Serv. Aen. 9.24: locus autem iste dictus est secundum augurum morem, apud quos ferat consuetudo, ut si post acceptum augurium ad aquam venissent, inclinati aquas haurirent exinde [et] manibus et fusis precibus vota promitterent, ut visum perseveraret augurium, quod aquae intercessu disrumpitur. 93. Kurke 1989; I am grateful to Professor Joshua Katz for sight of this paper. 94. Cf. perhaps Vergil’s account of Turnus’ response to the omen created by Isis’ intervention (Aen. 9.22–24): et sic effatus ad undam / processit summoque hausit de gurgite lymphas / multa deos orans, oneravitque aethera votis. For the pouring figure in fundere, TLL VI.1566.45–1567.41; for fundere preces, see Watson on Hor. Epod. 17.53. For taking up and then pouring to the accompaniment of prayer, cf. also Ov. Fast. 2.636–38 larga precaturi sumite vina manu / et “bene vos” . . . / dicite suffuso per sacra verba mero. For augurs, urns, and water for divination, see Holland 1961: 46 n.71, with bibl. 95. Nock 1930: 254; H. Parker 2004: 568, with n.19. 96. Prud. Contra Symm. 2.1108; TLL VIII.1676.82–1677.18. For an Italic ritual parallel at Iguvium, Porzio Gernia 2004: 220–22. Greek “silent prayer” may be literally unvoiced: Pulleyn 1997: 97. Sudhaus 1906 collects material on near-silent prayer, with extensive parallels for murmur and tacitus; cf. also Pease on Cic. Div. 1. 129; Bömer on Ov. Met. 3.18.

inaudible, in contrast to the noisy waters (violens obstrepit, 10) of the river Aufidus.98 The Vestal Ilia (Silvia) features in another Horatian poem, Odes 1.2, again in an aquatic context. This is a Roman “paean,” sung in response to prodigia and representing the process of procuratio, whereby the cause of divine anger and the means of expiation are determined.99 Among the prodigia is a Tiber flood which has inundated the regia and temple of Vesta (monumenta regis / templaque Vestae, 15). The goddess is offended, and the trail of offence leads back to Ilia, now “wife” of the Tiber following her submersion as punishment for her intercourse with Mars; the Tiber inundation has thus, we are to understand, brought the unchaste “water-goddess” Vestal into the temple, thereby polluting it (13–20). Vesta ignores the prayer-carmina of her present-day Vestals (26–28): prece qua fatigent / virgines sanctae minus audientem / carmina Vestam? (“with what prayer are the sacred virgins to weary Vesta, she hearkening less to their chants?”); and her unheeding response is thus linked in a causal chain to the incestum that produced the first king of Rome, to the punishment of the archetypal Vestal, and also to Vesta’s own implicit failure to heed Ilia’s prayers for salvation (thus, Iliae . . . querenti, 17).100 Vesta’s approval of her priestesses, the foundation of their supernatural, quasi-magical prerogatives and of their efficacious city-protection, is thereby withdrawn;101 and tainted by their archetypal predecessor, the Vestals are disqualified from communicating with their own goddess. Minus audientem combines the physical inaudibility of the Vestals’ hushed carmina with the goddess’ disinclination to heed them on the present occasion. They occupy the ode’s exact center (seventh stanza), however, and notwithstanding their inefficacy, they are analogous in civic-paeanic purpose to Horace’s own carmen (and cf., again, the Vestal invocation Apollo Medice, Apollo Paean; Macr. Sat. 1.17.15): that is, carmen as response to divine anger that presents a mortal threat to the city (cf. 25–26). The interplay of Vestals and (flood) water, and the throw-back to the transformation of Ilia into the aquatic “wife” of her river-husband, is of particular interest:102 the first Vestal became an indigenous water-goddess. This aquatic dimension will be considered in the next section. 98. Cf. Stat. Silv. 1.1.35–36 (following the execution of the Vestal Cornelia): an tacita vigilet face Troicus ignis / atque exploratas iam laudet Vesta ministras, where Vesta’s approval is understood from the “silent flame” that embodies the goddess. 99. Cairns 1971 (= Cairns 2012: 165–81); cf. Miller 2009: 49–50. 100. Pleas to Vesta: Plin. Epp. 4.11.7; Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 2.68.3–4, 2.69.2. Plin. Nat. 28.12; Val. Max. 8.1. For incestum and prodigia, H. Parker 2004: 583–85; 586. 101. Cf. Nock 1930: 254. For the positive concept, and clearly implying some symbolic token of divine approbation, CIL VI.2134 (cited above, n.67): cuius religiosam curam sacrorum . . . numen quoque Vestae comprobavit; cf. Stat. Silv. 1.1.35–36 (cited above, n.98). For the negative, cf. Sen. Contr. 6.8.1 (a Vestal’s [fictitious] carmen implying longing for nuptiae): te ad ultimum, Vesta, invoco, ut tam infesta sis sacerdoti, quam invisa es. recita carmen, dum quaero, quale sit. tu carmen scribas, tu. . .severitatem templo debitam modulatione frangas? 102. Water-goddess: Ov. Fast. 2.597–98: adnuerant nymphae Tiberinides omnes, / quaeque colunt thalamos, Ilia diva, tuos.

(C) VESTALS AND WATER NYMPHS? Aside from Plutarch’s Life of Numa, no text seems directly to associate Camenae and Vestals. Yet their common interests are not confined to drawing water, carmina, and purity of mind (casta mens). Like other spring-deities, the Camenae can be assumed to be virgines, and their association with the Vestals has Greek antecedents in choruses of young girls and the springs around which their musical and cleansing activities took place.103 Again, the Vestals were ministrae of Vesta, priestesses performing services which may have had domestic analogies, so that we might compare the virgines divae who feature in the Acta of the Fratres Arvales, paired with male famuli divi (the latter term a divine extension of famulus as sacerdos).104 We cannot speak of assimilation between Camenae and Vestals; yet the fact that the Vestal Ilia, transformed into a river-goddess, features alongside the carmina of her contemporary descendants in Odes 1.2 encourages a brief review of evidence for possible analogies between the two groups. Two passages of Augustan poetry may be cited. In Propertius’ Tarpeia elegy (4.4), the Vestal’s ritual water carrying, water motifs, nymphs, and magical song/ Muse are woven into the drama of the priestess’ infatuation for the enemy Tatius, her treachery, and her blasphemous carmen. One commentator has argued that Vestals and Camenae are correlated within Propertius’ Roman topography.105 This suggestion is in my view very much on the right lines; but it has yet to win general support and it will not be pressed further here. The other passage, from Aeneid 10, contains Vergil’s assimilation of seanymphs (the transformed ships of Aeneas’ fleet), to Vestals. The nymphs seek out Aeneas to warn him of an imminent threat from Turnus. Operating as a chorus (219), they recognize the “king” from afar and surround his ship with aquatic dance (224) agnoscunt longe regem lustrantque choreis; then Cymodocea ([?] “the wave that teaches”) addresses him through the medium of sea-water, which she moves by the “rowing” action of her submerged left leg; but within this exquisite musical-nautical figure, the waters remain (again!) tacitae - “hushed” - (227), so that Aeneas is unaware (ignarus [228], inscius [249]) at the conscious level, of the message being conveyed to him.106 Cymodocea’s address is nonetheless quoted thus: vigilasne, deum gens / Aenea? vigila (“are you awake, scion of gods, 103. Hardie 1996: 223–25. 104. Wissowa 1917: 325, 342; RE IXA.194–95 (E. Buchner). The two sets (virgines divae and famuli divi) are female and male serving deities (otherwise anculae/i); see helpful material in Jiráni 1924. Virgines divae may include spring deities (Muthmann 1975: 45n.75): the stress is on plurality as analogue for young women serving a parent deity. 105. King 1990: 237–43, noting Vestal use of the fons, and with reference to the Nymphs (25), Ausoniis . . . puellis (43), and interplay with the Porta Capena at 4.3.71. At 45–46, Pallados exstinctos si quis mirabitur ignes, / ignoscat: lacrimis spargitur ara meis, the tears sprinkling the altar are Tarpeia’s blasphemous, but elegiac, reversal of lustration by the waters of the fons (perceptive comment by Rutledge 1964–65: 70–71 on the centrality of lines 45–50, with the elements fire and water). 106. Cf. Ov. Fast. 3.652–54 sustinuit tacitas conscius amnis aquas. / ipsa loqui visa est “placidi sum nympha Numici: / amne perenne latens Anna Perenna vocor.”

Aeneas? Wake up”). Servius recognised that the phrasing echoes the Vestals’ ritual challenge to the rex sacrorum, “vigilasne, rex? vigila.” It is foreshadowed in line 224 (where agnoscunt longe regem arguably echoes Anchises’ sighting of Numa from afar, in his role as rex sacrorum, at Aeneid 6.808–809); and lustrant, of choric circling, retains a nuance of ritual purification. The reader is left to ponder the deeper resonances within Vergil’s combination of choric nymphs (formerly the wandering classis), assimilation to Vestals, and the Vestals’ ritual warning, here translated into the hushed sounds of water for the “unknowing” Aeneas. VI: THE HISTORICAL ASSIMILATION OF CAMENAE AND MUSES When was the assimilation of Muses and Camenae first publicly enunciated at Rome, and in what historical circumstances? In approaching this question, it is worth recalling some salient features of the period to which, as I hope to show, the main developments are to be assigned. The later fourth and early third centuries at Rome were characterized by more or less continuous warfare in Italy and by profound social and political tensions in the city. It was a time of rapid change, which found expression in, among other areas, religious innovation: new cults, revised ritual (with associated shifts in legendary aetiology), and an acceleration of sacral recourse to the cults of the Greek world.107 Not much of this activity will have been immune from partisan interests and allegiances, and politico-sacral competition may well have extended to the divinities of Roman carmen. Here, another indigenous goddess, whose name appears in the calendar, was imprinted on the topography of Rome, was etymologized from carmen, and was reproduced in a plurality of sub-divinities, enters the scene. This is of course Carmenta (with the two natal Carmentes), attached as mother (or partner) and oracular guide to the Arcadian Evander with the Greek identity “Themis.” Identified also as an Italian Sybil, she is placed by Eratosthenes at τò Κάρμαλον (? “the place of song”; that is, the future Cermalus by the Palatine), alongside Evander’s nearby foundation of the Lupercal;108 and her presence may be detectable, bearing her alternative Greek identity “Nikostratē” (“Victorious Army”), in the background to sacral innovations involving the Lupercal in 304 and the Palatine temple of Victoria, in the period after 307.109 Against this near-contemporary background, we might well wonder why the Camenae achieved pre-eminence as patronesses of Roman song, in the face of the (arguably prior) claim of another civic goddess with an interest in the carmen of birth; and in an age of political division, it may be worth asking (again with the 107. Wiseman 1995: 10–13, 13–15. 108. Clem. Alex. Strom. 1.108.3; cf. Wiseman 2004: 27–28. For Carmentis/Carmenta, Tels-de Jong 1959: 21–65; LTUR I.240–41(G. Pisani Sartorio). Evander is in some respects a proto-Numa (cf. Rees 1996 on his Vergilian palace as the Regia of the Pontifex Maximus). 109. Wiseman 1995: esp. 10–13 (a conjectural reconstruction).

prayerful state carmina of the Vestals in view) whether aspirations for civic unity might indeed find expression in sacral carmen. (A) THE NUMA-LEGEND Dionysius and Plutarch name Numa’s divine guides as Egeria and/or “Muses,” and do not refer to “Camenae.”110 Again, Servius’ reference to the Numan aedicula, vouchsafed within his summary account of the Muses, does not specify “Camenae” (ad Aen. 1.8: Musas multi novem, multi septem dixerunt. his Numa aediculam . . . fecerat). This may simply reflect the interchangeable value of the terms in the imperial era, but it leaves open a possible alternative: that the representation of “Camenae” as “Muses” was integral to the historical formation of the Numa-legend. The earliest explicit testimony to the relationship is Ennius’ juxtaposition of Muses and Camenae, in a much-debated line (Ann. 487 Sk.):111 Musas quas memorant nosce<s> nos esse <Camenas> (“you shall come to know that we Camenae are they whom the Greeks celebrate as Muses”). The Camenae are speaking in an epiphany, to reveal their identity with the Greek Muses to a mortal: but which mortal? Neither of the two addressees previously suggested, Ennius himself and M. Fulvius Nobilior, would require such divine guidance, given their obvious (extra-textual) awareness of the prior association of Camenae and Muses in Roman epic. A neglected candidate, Numa as addressed by Egeria (representing the Camenae) from within the waters of their fons (Ann. 113 Sk.), offers a more satisfactory context.112 Numa will of course have been “ignorant” of the spring-deities addressing him from within the sacred aquae (with their self-identification, compare Aeneas’ ship-nymphs at Aeneid 10.230–31). Ennius’ interest in sound-effects (as in nosce<s> nos esse) encourages the thought that Musas quas memorant links Muses and water (with a suggestion of aquas in -as quas), thereby integrating them with the “water-voice.”113 On this reading, Egeria’s revelation brings together Muses and Camenae at the solemn point where Numa is founding the state religion and laws of Rome (and its sacral music); the identification of Camenae and Muses is 110. Plut. Numa 8.6; 13.2. Dion. Rom. Ant. 2.60.5 names “the nymph Egeria” and adds ἕτεροι δὲ οὐ νύμφην, ἀλλὰ τῶν Μουσῶν μíαν. 111. For a review of scholarship, see Suerbaum 1968: 347–49; cf. Badian 1972: 191–94; Skutsch 1985: 649–50. That the subject of memorant was preceding Grai(i) is supported by Claud. Carm. Min. 30.15–16: hoc Grai memorant. Latiis movet ora Camenis / praescia fatorum Tanaquil (and observe speaking Camenae). 112. This view of Ann. 487 Sk. was reached independently. I may also have seen it somewhere in print, but cannot now trace it in any published account. 113. Much favoured by Ovid: Am. 2.11.18 (quas . . . quasve . . . aquas, with McKeown’s comment on sigmatic sound-effects), 3.5.12; Ars. 1.48, 1.220; Met. 3.189, 5.587–89, 15.281–82; Trist. 1.10.14, 3.12.28; Pont. 1.8.60; cf. Fast. 2.588–89 with 597–98; 3.275: Egeria est quae praebet aquas, dea grata Camenis. Cf. also Prop 1.11.29–30, 2.32.54; Hor. Odes 4.3.10; Tullius Laurea FRP 194.5–6 and 10 Hollis; Lucan 4.313, 9.750; Val. Flacc. 4.600; Silius 16.476; Mart. 9.18.3–4. For the etymology, see Maltby 1991: s.v. “aqua,” citing Paul. Fest. p. 2 L.: aqua . . . a qua iuvamur. For aquatic sigmatism, observe also Ann. 113 Sk.: olli respondit suavis sonus Egeriai.

integral to the “Numan” foundation of the Camena-cult; and again, Fulvius’ action in bringing the cult aedicula of the Camenae into the Aedes Herculis Musarum (below, VII) is sanctioned by the first epiphany of the indigenous goddesses. The conceptual underpinning for such a Camenae-king scenario may be detected in Plutarch’s reference to the Muses’ “oracular statements” (μαντεύματα) to Numa. Calliope’s attendance on law-making kings and on their resolution of disputes in Hesiod’s Theogony (79–93) was rightly understood by Carlo Brillante as something distinct from the Muses’ inspirational relationship with poets: it derives from landscape (and associated nymph-oracles) as a source of guidance to rulers; and it is reflected in attested Muse-cults that embrace kingship, the promulgation of just laws, oracular authority, and the ruler’s capacity to settle disputes by spoken persuasion.114 This is the tradition of attendance on kings, Hesiodic in origin, evoked by Plutarch’s “Muse-μαντεύματα.” The entire Numan nexus, it should be noted, is recreated for an Augustan audience, including the princeps, in Horace’s hymn to the Muses (Odes 3.4), where the poet invokes the inspirational Calliope, and the healing, aquatic, Camenae vouchsafe consilium to Caesar.115 There is therefore a prima facie case for connecting the identification of the Camenae and the Muses with the formation, and timing, of the Numa-legend. The latter is generally believed to have taken shape towards the end of the fourth century, timing that is consistent with a recent overview locating the crystallization of the canonical kings-narrative in the later fourth and early third centuries, as a component of “the history of the nation, embodied in the great kings.”116 Admittedly, the Numa-legend cannot have taken definitive form overnight: the many variant elements rather suggest development, diversity, correction, and re-mixing of components over time. But among the core influences were Pythagorean ideas emanating from their school in southern Italy (already in decline by the later fourth century).117 At some point, too, the claim was advanced that Numa himself had been a pupil of Pythagoras; and indeed on Diodorus’ account (8.14.1), it was Pythagoras who supplied the guidance for the sacral constitutio. Whatever the origin of this notion, it proved so toxic that direct refutation entered the tradition and is headlined in Livy’s treatment of the king, and again by Plutarch.118 Yet the attractions of such a model of outward-looking regal leadership are clear enough. 114. On Nymph-cults, and landscape wisdom: Hardie 2006: 57; Schachter 1986: 185–86; 187–88. Hesiod: Brillante 1994, citing the Mouseion at Troizen, associated with Pittheus, the Themides, and the art of rhetoric. 115. Hardie 2008; 2010; see above, IV. 116. Dating: Gabba 1967; Mele 1981; Rawson 1985: 292–94; Storchi Marino 1999: 109–56. Contra: Gruen 1990: 158–62, placing the process a century later. Overview: Smith 2011: 39–41. For similar dating of the Romulus and Remus legend, see Wiseman 1995: 72–76. 117. Cf. Porph. Vit. Pyth. 22, citing Aristoxenus fr. 17 Wehrli (later 4th cent. BC): προσῆλθον δ’ αὐτῷ . . . καὶ Λευκανοὶ καὶ Μεσσάπιοι καὶ Πευκέτιοι καὶ Ῥωμαῖοι. For an overview of Pythagoreanism at Rome, see Burkert 1961: 236–46. For the decline of the Pythagorean school in the later 4th cent., cf. Zhmud 2014: 88–91. 118. Liv. 1.18.2–4; Plut. Numa1.2. Russo 2005 argues that the connection was promulgated from Rome.

In Erich Gruen’s summation, “Numa, the gentle ruler who taught Rome the arts of peace, gave her laws, and established her religious institutions, had much in common with the renowned Pythagoras, who counselled abstinence, advocated concord and harmony, promoted religious precepts, and discerned the laws of the universe.”119 The timing and the political context for this Pythagorean back-projection to Numa have been extensively analyzed, most recently in Michel Humm’s monumental work on Appius Claudius Caecus, and in Federico Russo’s reconstruction of the public face of the gens Aemilia during and after the Samnite wars.120 Political interest in Pythagorean ideas towards the end of the fourth century is firmly attested by the statue of Pythagoras erected in the Comitium during the Samnite Wars; and the cumulative case for identifying Caecus with Pythagorean influences at Rome looks strong. 250 years later, tracing the penetration of Pythagoreanism at Rome, Cicero aligned reception of Caecus’ Sententiae as a Pythagoreum carmen with the Roman reception of Numa as Pythagoreus rex.121 For Cicero, Caecus was evidently a pivotal figure both in the reception of Pythagoreanism at Rome and also in the reception (or construction) of Numa as a “Pythagorean” king. That Caecus appealed to, and helped construct, this portrayal of Numa as a regal archetype for reformist actions (including tribal and calendrical re-organizations) remains an inference, but one that carries a high degree of probability.122 It is therefore on him and his associates that this analysis will focus; and later in this section (e) new evidence is offered to suggest that Caecus himself may have addressed the Camenae. (B) AEDICULA CONCORDIAE In 304 BC the curule aedile Cn. Flavius dedicated a bronze aedicula to Concordia in the part of the Comitium known as the Graecostasis.123 This controversial action, the first aedicilian dedicatio, was one of the earliest foundations to a divine abstraction (preceded only by the vow, in 311, of a temple to Salus, which however 119. Quotation from Gruen 1990: 158–59. 120. Humm’s work should be read with Bispham 2008, who concludes (189) “H.’s vision is . . . well thought out, but ultimately what we might be able to know of Caecus’ activity probably does not allow us to attempt reconstructions of this kind. What is important . . . is what we may learn about the ‘cultural universe’ of Mid-Republican Rome, and of its aristocracy.” Gens Aemilia: Russo 2007. 121. Tusc. 4.2–5. There is a neglected allusion to Caecus at 4.3: quis enim est qui putet . . . nostrorum hominum ad eorum [sc. the Pythagoreans] doctissimas voces aures clausas fuisse? The highlighted phrase, unparalleled before late antiquity (TLL III.1304.14–23), plays on oculos claudere (thus on “Caecus”) and again, on the derivation of “Claudius” from Clausus/clausus (Maltby 1991: s.v. “Claudius”); Caecus is thus implicitly pivotal both in “Pythagoreanising” processes, and for the view that Numa was a Pythagorean. 122. Gabba 1967: 157–58, 161–63; Storchi Marino: 1999: 30–31, 50–51, 218–19; Curti 2000: 84–89 (on Numa and the Quirinal); Humm 2005: 541–600, esp. 547–54. 123. LTUR I.320–21 (A. M. Ferroni); Coarelli 1985: 87–90; Humm 2005: 620–24.

was dedicated later, in 302).124 Flavius had been scriba pontificius to Caecus, and his actions no doubt remained in broad alignment with the latter’s interests.125 Concordia had a Greek analogue in the cult of Homonoia which had appeared in southern Italy by the mid-fourth century, and was closely associated there with Pythagorean doctrine.126 Arnaldo Momigliano observed a direct link between Concordia and Homonoia:127 “Cn. Flavius, by dedicating his aedicula in Graecostasi, seems to have presupposed that the cult of Concord was not only new, but of Greek origin.” Extraordinarily, the aedicula carried an inscription dating the dedication “204 years after the dedication of the Capitoline temple.”128 A new indigenous dating mechanism for the city was thus promulgated in association with a divinized political ideal;129 and as an aspect of the Capitoline god, the new “goddess” will have carried the ultimate sanction of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.130 Concordia thus advertises her Greek affinities, for Zeus is the Olympian god most frequently joined with Homonoia;131 yet at the same time she articulates the ideal of national harmony within a historical frame created by the temple of Rome’s principal protecting deity. In Pythagorean doctrine, civic homonoia was allied to musical harmony, itself institutionalized in the Pythagorean Mouseion at Croton.132 Iamblichus’ account of 124. First aedilician foundation: Clark 2007: 54–57. Salus: Clark 2007: 50–54. 125. On the historiographical record, see Rawson 1976: 712–13 (= 1991: 266–67). Flavius as scriba pontificius: Rüpke 2012: 101–102. On Caecus’ likely interest in Flavius’ publication of the calendar: ibid. 107–108. 126. Porph. Vit. Pyth. 22, citing Aristoxenus (later 4th cent. BC): ἀνεῖλεν δ’ ἄρδην στάσιν . . . καθόλου ἀπò τῶν ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ τε καὶ Σικελίᾳ πόλεων πασῶν πρός τε ἑαυτὰς καὶ πρò ς ἀλλήλας. Storchi Marino 1999: 40–43, 139–42; Humm 2005: 541–600; Curti 2000 observes a topographical parallel between the siting of the Syracusan shrine to Homonoia in front of the new bouleuterion, and Flavius’ shrine in the new Comitium. Clark 2007: 31, 54–55 accepts the likely priority of the Greek cult, but is agnostic on direct derivation. She agrees (55, with n.82) with Momigliano 1942 that Camillus’ attributed temple of Concordia belongs to “the legendary phase of Camillus’ life.” Cf. also LTUR I.317 (A. M. Ferroni), and, in a full survey of Roman shrines to Concordia, Heyworth 2011: 59–60. 127. Momigliano 1942. 128. Plin. Nat. 33.19: Flavius vovit aedem Concordiae, si populo reconciliasset ordines, et, cum ad id pecunia publice non decerneretur, ex multaticia faeneratoribus condemnatis aediculam aeream fecit in Graecostasi, quae tunc supra comitium erat, inciditque in tabella aerea factam eam aedem CCIIII annis post Capitolinam dedicatam. For the text, see below, n.135. 129. On the Capitoline era represented by Flavius’ dedication, see the important comments of Purcell 2003: 27–33; cf. Feeney 2007: 89–90. 130. Purcell 2003: 28–29 makes a similar point, referring to Homonoia as an “offspring of the Olympian cult” whose cult helps articulate the international pursuit of “common understanding between city-states.” For “divine qualities,” including Fides, as epithets of deities, see Clark 2007: 22–23; also Wissowa 1912: 133–34. A shrine to Concordia was dedicated in 216 in Capitolio: LTUR I.321 (G. Gianelli). The Aventine shrine of Iuppiter Libertas recalls Zeus Eleutherios (next n.). 131. Homonoia and Zeus: see the “Zeus” entries at Thériault 1996: 227, especially “Zeus Eleuthérios.” Homonoia is juxtaposed with Zeus Homonoios at Mytilene (330s BC): Heisserer and Hodot 1986; Thériault 1996: 20; see also Clark 2007: 55 with n.81 for the “combination of a divine quality and a god with the same quality in its epithet.” On one “genealogy,” Homonoia was offspring of Zeus Soter and “Praxidike”: Thériault 1996: 1. 132. Humm 2005: 564–72; cf. Boyancé 1972: 237. For a Greek analogy between civic order and musical instrument, see Wilson 2004: 280 (citing Sicilian Kamarina, laid out on the model of lyrestrings; see also Cordano 1994: 304).

this shrine dwells on the unanimity of the Muses as a model for the homonoia of the well-regulated polis.133 In the archaic background lies Hesiod’s treatment of the harmonizing Muses and the resolution of disputes by law-making kings; and an early association with homonoia is further attested in the Pythagorean Epicharmus’ Muse-epithet ὁμονοούσας (fr. 222 K.). In this context, the Muses were the primary divine representatives of homonoia, a harmonizing role that was enshrined in the Pythagorean Mouseia of southern Italy. Leading on from that, an outline rationale for the early association of Numa with the Camenae as “Muses” begins to emerge, in conjunction with his appeal as a “Pythagorean” regal archetype: Numa is acknowledged as a champion of concordia (homonoia), and figuratively “harmonizes” the city;134 he is also the favored beneficiary of oracular guidance from indigenous landscape-deities, the priestly founder of the Vestal order, and the author of Rome’s sacral song. Might we even at this distance in time identify a role for Flavius’ aedicula Concordiae in bringing together the different sides of this exemplary figure? When public funding for a conventional aedes was refused by the Senate, Flavius elected to use bronze, and to dedicate a modest aedicula financed from fines on usurers.135 Bronze was a rare construction material, patently archaizing (though later found in roof tiling); and the only other bronze shrine attested in our sources is the aedicula Camenarum, with which the scriba pontificius will certainly have been familiar. And so the possibility arises (to put it no more strongly) that Flavius’ shrine was an overt reference to the old shrine of the Camenae. If that was the case, then in addition to promulgating a new “Capitoline” era, it will have evoked its early counterpart’s association with the Vestals; and so at one remove, it might have brought the Greek hinterland of concordia, the Muses as exponents of homonoia, into proximity with the Camenae. At all events, it would be difficult to hypothesize a more appropriate context in which to bring the Numa-legend together, to credit the king with dedicating the aedicula Camenarum, to frame his re-founding of Rome around the guidance of indigenous goddesses, and to 133. Iamb. Vit. Pyth. 45: Ὁ δὲ πρῶτον μὲν αὐτοῖς συνεβούλευεν ἱδρύσασθαι Μουσῶν ἱερóν, ἵ να τηρῶσι ὑπάρχουσαν ὁμóνοιαν· . . . καὶ τò σύνολον ἕνα καὶ τò ν αὐτò ν ἀεὶ χóρον εἶναι τῶν Μουσῶν, ἔτι δε συμφωνíαν, ἁρμονíαν, ῥυθμóν, ἅπαντα περιειληφέναι τα παρασκευάζοντα τὴν ὁμóνοιαν. This derives, perhaps through Timaeus, from earlier Pythagorean applications of musical theory to the polis: Humm 2006: 566–67. 134. Numa/concordia: Cic. Rep. 2.27: ad humanitatem atque mansuetudinem revocavit animos hominum studiis bellandi iam immanis ac feros. sic ille cum undequadraginta annos summa in pace concordiaque regnavisset. . .excessit e vita duabus praeclarissimis ad diuturnitatem rei publicae rebus confirmatis, religione atque clementia. Fest. p. 372 L.: tunc rem divinam instituerit Marti Numa Pompilius pacis concordiae obtinendae gratia inter Sabinos Romanosque. Cf. Dio Chrys. 49.6 (ὁμονοίας καὶ εἰρήνης); Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 2.76.3 (ὁμόνοιαν). For Numa “harmonizing” the city, Plut. Num. et Lyc. Comp. 4.8; cf. Numa 17.3. See Gabba 1984: 84; Storchi Marino 1999: 24, 37. For Numan mousikē, see Zorzetti 1991; and cf. Ov. Fast. 3.288 (Numa as author of the Carmen Saliare). 135. Text cited above, n.128. Heyworth 2011: 57n.58 queries whether aeream (of the aedicula) “is the doublet of aerea” (of the tabella recording the dedication). The rarity of bronze in shrineconstruction, in contrast to bronze plaques, might suggest that if duplication were involved, it was from aeream to aerea. In my view, the text is sound.

identify the latter in Pythagorean terms with the Muses. Behind all this, however, may be detected the progressive articulation of a Roman national identity: a new narrative “history” of exemplary kings; an emerging ideology of civic unity, projected as an extension of the founding cult of Jupiter OM; and perhaps also a growing awareness of the Vestals’ carmina pro populo Romano as a force for sacral cohesion. These developments, it will be suggested (below VII) are later reflected in the first national epic, in Naevius’ invocation of concordes goddesses at the start of the Bellum Poenicum (fr. 1 M.). (C) POLITICAL CONTEXT The Greek content of Numa’s regal personality proved toxic. Thus, on Gruen’s reading, the discovery and destruction of Numa’s “books” in 181 BC “represents renunciation not of Numa but of Numa’s Hellenism. The event signified avowal of native values inherent in the community.”136 In his Comparatio of Lycurgus and Numa, Plutarch speaks (1.3) of the two kings “tuning” their respective cities, like the strings of a lyre, and adds this assessment (1.4): Ἥμερος μέντοι καὶ φιλάνθρωπος ἡ τοῦ Νομᾶ μοῦσα πρò ς εἰρήνην καὶ δικαιοσύνην μεθαρμοσαμένου καὶ καταπραΰναντος ἐξ ἀκρατῶν καὶ διαπύρων ἠθῶν τοὺς πολíτας. . . μακρῷ τινι τò ν Νομᾶν ἑλληνικώτερον γεγονέναι νομοθέτην φήσομεν (“But gentle and humane was the Muse of Numa, as he turned his fellow-citizens in harmony and calmness towards peace and justice and away from their violent and fiery ways. And. . .we may claim that Numa was far more Hellenic as a lawgiver”). The combination of political harmony and “Muse” with Numa (Νομᾶς) as Hellenising νομοθέτης (the name speaks of Greek “law”) reveals just how closely the “Pythagorean” Numa could be identified with Greek influence. Herein lies the political significance of the Camenae as indigenous territorial deities, of their ancient bronze aedicula as its focal point, and of Egeria as a Latin-Etruscan goddess: the legend of Numa’s secret commerce was projected as a “Roman” consultation of an elemental source of wisdom embodied within the physical territory of a mixed-origin community, one already associated in Vestal cult with territorial cohesion and protection. In making them the source of the Roman constitutio, those who promulgated the fiction were ascribing authority to a landscape feature: the king’s reforms were not imported from the Greek south; they were the indigenous product of domestic territory and the Roman genius. The contemporary relevance of this back-projection lies in the historical analogue which, as I see it, was brought into play with the domestic reforms of Caecus and his associates. Allowing for the obvious hazards of reconstructing mid-republican politics at any given juncture, a defensive position on the part of Caecus and Flavius may be hypothetically outlined: whereas (following Russo’s reconstruction) the gens Aemilia, pursuing familial interests that arose from the Samnite Wars, can be identified as 136. Gruen 1990: 163–70 (quotation from 170).

champions of Pythagoras’ statue (with Alcibiades) in the Roman Comitium, the posture adopted by Caecus and others was perhaps less overtly Hellenizing. In other words, within the political context of sustained discordia outlined earlier, Flavius championed Concordia as a new divine quality at Rome, but as a “Romanized” equivalent of Greek Homonoia (a cult already associated with resistance to stasis).137 Plutarch implies that the Vestals’ use of the fons Camenarum arose from an oracular carmen conveyed by the “Muses” to Numa. In reality, it may have been the other way round: the Vestals’ use of the purifying fons, allied to their prayercarmina for the preservation of the city may have supplied the true basis for the cult’s extension into the world of Roman song. Music, like the purifying water of the fons Camenarum, could cure the city, purify it, and protect it from plague, internal discordia, and external aggression.138 (D) ETRURIA The Etruscan hinterland to the presence of Egeria and the Camenae in early Rome is intriguing but elusive. From late antiquity, however, Macrobius’ commentary on Cicero’s account of the music of the spheres (Somn. 2.3.4) adds something new: Musas esse mundi cantum etiam Etrusci sciunt, qui eas Camenas quasi canenas a canendo dixerunt (“The Etruscans too know that the Muses are the song of the world; they called them ‘Camenae’ a form of ‘Canenae’ from singing”).139 The point arises from the theological identification of the Muses with performed song, and the argument hinges on the existence of two Muse-equivalents (Sirens, Camenae) whose names reveal that they too are divine “singers.” This Etruscanized version of a Latin Camenae/canere etymology is unique, as is the explicit statement of the Etruscan origin of the “Camenae” themselves. Whether Macrobius’ source cited Etruscan authority for the assimilation of Camenae to Muses (and if he did, whether he delved further into archaic antecedents) cannot be known; but it can scarcely be doubted that the Etruscans, who were evidently familiar with the Muses, and who retained their indigenous tradition of divinatory carmina, retained some influence in this area.140 Patterns of contact between Roman families and the Etruscan elite are known only in bare outline.141 Yet evidence for Etruscan interests among the patrician 137. Clark 2007: 55–56; Thériault 1996: 7–13, 178. Cf. Heisser and Hodot 1986: 113, 116–17. 138. The medical/musical traditions considered earlier (III) intersect also in the Pythagorean society of southern Italy: Boyancé 1972: 185–87; Burkert 1972: 292–98. 139. With mundi cantum in this context, cf. Cic. Nat. Deor. 3.27: nisi. . .putamus. . .ad harmoniam canere mundum ut Pythagoras existimat. 140. Overview: Suerbaum, ed., 2002: 20–24. Muses in Etruria: LIMC. VI.1.681–85: s.v. “Mousa/ Mousai (in Etruria)” (M. Bonamici). Divinatory carmina: see North 2000. Candidates for Macrobius’ source should include the first century BC antiquarian and politician, C. Fonteius Capito: Weinstock 141. Livy 9.36.2; Cic Div. 1.92; Rawson (1977), 340 (= 1991: 228).

Claudii commands attention.142 Caecus campaigned in Etruria as Consul in 296, and on one assessment progressed the construction of the Via Clodia and Forum Clodii.143 To earlier evidence for Claudian clientelae in Etruria has been added a ring depicting Salian rites presented, with an Etruscan inscription, by an “Appius.”144 Mario Torelli’s identification of “Appius” with Caecus would, if correct, bring into focus membership of the Salian order and with that, an interest in its regal (“Numan”) origins and its carmen and dance (on one account, derived from the Lydians via the Etruscans).145 The distinctive blend of south Italian and Etruscan elements in the long story of the Camenae may have owed a good deal to Caecus, the reforming patrician, political heir to an archetypal Pythagoreus rex, and author of the first recorded Roman literary carmen. (E) CAMENAE AND CARMEN: CAECUS’ SENTENTIAE At this point, a large question must be registered: how might a backdated identification of Muses and Camenae have been articulated? I would offer one new item of evidence, concerning Caecus’ Sententiae (a title which, used of a Pythagoreum Carmen, it is tempting to connect with Aristoxenus’ Πυθαγορικαì ἀποφάσεις, the “Pythagorean Pronouncements”).146 The plural “sententiae” is of course metrically incompatible with much of Latin (elegiac and hexameter) poetry, but it does appear in Horace’s hymn to the Muses (Odes 3.4), immediately following a gnomic stanza inspired by the Camenae (69–70): testis mearum centimanus Gyges/sententiarum (“witness to my pronouncements is hundred-handed Gyges”). This poem, as I have tried to show elsewhere, celebrates the inspiring Camenae and Muses from a historical perspective, together with the entire body of Latin poetry produced under their joint tutelage (proven intertextual allusions extend at least as far back as Naevius’ Bellum Poenicum).147 To that account I would add that the monumental mearum . . . sententiarum should be assumed to operate within the same literary-historical framework and may be taken as a reference (accentuated by mearum) to the Sententiae that founded the Latin literary carmen. As “witness,” Gyges has no relevance for Caecus; but the juxtaposition of sententiarum with centimanus surely connects with the jocular cognomen “Centemmanus” recorded by the second-century AD jurist Sextus Pomponius with reference to 142. For a (possibly) late 4th cent. inscription for a “Clautie,” see Rawson 1977: 340–43 (= Rawson 1991: 227–30). 143. Campaign: sources in MRR I.176. Via Clodia: RE Suppl. XIII.1633: s.v. “Viae Publicae Romanae” (G. Radke); contra, Rawson 1977: 242 (= 1991: 229). 144. Torelli 1999. 145. Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 2.71; Zorzetti 1991: 316, 320. 146. Sententiae (Fest. p. 418 L.); carmen (Cic. Tusc. 4.4); carmina (Sall. Epist. 1.1.2); I take it, with Humm 2005: 521 and others, that this was composed in Saturnians. For a survey and bibl., see Suerbaum, ed., 2002: 82. Aristoxenus: see Huffman 2008; for the impact of this work in Samnium and beyond, see Horky 2011.

Caecus’ skill in jurisprudence; taken together, then, the two words confirm the reference to Caecus.148 Horace had access to Caecus’ text; and within the inspirational dynamics of Odes 3.4, it can be inferred that he had grounds for thinking that Caecus’ Sententiae (like those of the ode’s speaker), were inspired by the counselling Camenae. Such an appeal to divine authority would hardly surprise in a Hellenizing work with markedly gnomic content, evidently an exposition of Romani mores;149 and in fact a reforming politician at Athens, Solon himself, had prefaced at least one of his civic elegies (13 W.) with an address to the Muses. Horace thus appears to offer grounds for crediting Caecus with linking the Camenae (as Casmenae?) both to carmen and to the Greek Muses.150 If that inference is indeed on the right lines, then it may be appropriate to reconsider where the boundary lies between the “preliterary period” and the “beginnings of Latin literature.” VII: CAMENAE AND MUSES IN THE THIRD AND SECOND CENTURIES What might the subsequent history of the Camenae and Muses at Rome look like on the back-dating proposed here? This final section offers an outline approach, and an overview of some well-known landmarks:151 Naevius’ invocation of inspiring deities in the Bellum Poenicum; the successive transfers of the aedicula Camenarum to the Temple of Honos and Virtus and to the Aedes Herculis Musarum; and the polemical programmes in Latin epos of the second century. (A) NAEVIUS An early witness to the Roman association of concordia and Muse-Camenae survives from the opening of the Bellum Poenicum (fr. 1 B.): novem Iovis concordes filiae sorores (“Jupiter’s nine concordant daughters, sisters”).152 Assessment of this invocation has been hampered by inconclusive debate as to whether Naevius retained the name “Camenae” for his goddesses or introduced “Musae.” In my view, briefly stated, he did neither: rather, he may have deployed divae in the preceding 148. Pompon. Dig. 1.2.2.36 (a survey of those outstanding in iuris civilis scientia; thus, highly appropriate for Horace’s testis) Appius Claudius. . .maximam scientiam habuit. Hic Centemmanus appellatus est. . .; patently with original play on cognomen Centumalus (TLL Onomasticon II.324–25), as first attested in a contemporary, Cn. Fulvius Centumalus (cos. 298). 149. For Hellenizing content, and Romani mores, cf. Suerbaum 2005: 82. 150. “Casmenae,” the priscum vocabulum (Varr. LL 7.26) implies a pre-Ennian source: not Livius or Naevius (below); arguably, Caecus’ carmen. 151. I hope to offer a full treatment of these matters in a study of the Muses at Rome, currently in preparation. 152. For an overview, see Suerbaum 2002: 115. With Latacz 1976, I take the citation to come from the first prooemium, but not from the first line: no Muse-invocation can have opened with the numeral novem/ἐννέα (observe the closest available parallel, Aristoph. Frogs 875–76: Ὦ Διò ς ἐννέα παρθένοι, ἁγναὶ / Μοῦσαι).

(opening?) line, leaving his audience to identify the “goddesses” for themselves.153 They are of course akin to Muses in number and paternity, and they patently recall Hesiod’s record of the Muses’ birth (Theog. 60–61, of Mnemosyne): ἡ δ’ ἔτεκ’ ἐννέα κούρας, ὁμόφρονας (“and she bore nine daughters, of one mind”);154 but the suggestion that they were explicitly “Muses” seems to be formally inconsistent with the burden of Ennius’ Muse-invocations (below, d). Similarly, the suggestion that Naevius specified “Camenae” is at odds with the way he echoes Livius fr. 12 M., diva Monetas filia (“goddess daughter of Moneta”), but replaces a distinctively Roman Camena-mother (Moneta) with Graeco-Roman Jupiter as father.155 The Camenae, on this view, were neither repudiated nor endorsed in Naevian epic. Rather, the poet has drawn upon a preexisting and authoritative Roman association of Camenae and Muses, and, eschewing choice between the two, has marked that sacral-political context with the key word concordes. The epithet, applied to the Muse-Camenae here alone in extant Latin poetry, sound-links (Greek) genealogy (concordes filiae/κόραι) with (Roman) familial unanimity (concordes . . . sorores).156 At the intertextual level, concordes reflects Hesiod’s ὁμόφρονας, and takes us back to early Greek antecedents of Roman Concordia, to the “political” role of the Hesiodic Muses (above, VI), and thus to their Pythagorean association with Homonoia.157 Naevius’ invocation offers, in addition, a programmatic statement about his subject matter, the war between Carthage and Rome, as international discord on the grand scale.158 Thus, the juxtaposition of Iovis and concordes projects the supreme god as the author of a harmonious cosmic dispensation, and the Camenae-Muses as his musical agents, ideas which had been part and parcel of Greek musical theology since the fifth century.159 Yet Naevius’ Jupiter is not the remote Zeus; rather, as Denis Feeney has shown, he is Iuppiter Optimus Maximus, the god of the Capitoline 153. For audience-requirement to identify an invoked “goddess,” cf. Eustathius on Il. 1.1: σεμνότερον ὀνόματι γενικῷ τῷ θεά χρῆται καὶ ἀφίησι ζητεῖν τò ν συνετò ν ἀκροατήν, τίς ἄν εἴη αὕτη. . . 154. Mariotti 1955: 53–56; Barchiesi 1962: 511–12; Hinds 1998: 60n.14; cf. also Courtney 1993: 85. 155. With suggested divae cf. esp. Aen. 7.41 (to Erato, with Camena-colouring; Hardie 2007: 580–81): tu vatem, tu diva, mone; also 641 deae, 645 divae; Val. Flacc. 3.216. For divae Camenae in Naevius’ “epitaph” (Poet. 64.2), see below, d. 156. For the latter, cf. Barchiesi 1991: 7; Thériault 1996: 131–41 (but cf. Dio Chrys. Or. 38.15 for homonoia of children and siblings). TLL IV.90.23–32, offers instances of concordes fratres (for a full account, see Akar 2015). Explicit reference to the Muses as “sisters,” uncommon in extant Greek (but cf. Call. Aetia fr. 43.57 H., [Eur.] Rhesus 977), is frequent in Latin poetry: see Clausen on Verg. Ecl. 6.65: una sororum. Cf. also the made-up verses in Ter. Maur. Lit. Syll. Metr. 2514–15: ut si vocet Camenas quis novem sorores. / et Naevio poetae sic ferunt Metellos. . . 157. Naevius’ putative “goddesses” will also have brought omniscience as to all that happened in the bellum, in contrast to the poet, who advertised his participation (cf. Gell. 17.21.44), but will have pleaded the limitations of mortal knowledge, even for one who was “there”; for this topic in Homer and later, Hardie 2013: 13–14; 32–33. The question of whether Porcius Licinus’ Musa refers to Naevius (thus Courtney 1993: 84–85; Welsh 2011: 40–42 is cautious) cannot be pursued here. 158. For the BP’s place in the development of Roman epic as universal history, Elliott 2013: 270–73. 159. Pindar’s first Hymn offers a comparison (universal history, Theban perspective, articulated by Muses as agents of Zeus’ universal harmony): Hardie 2000.

temple at Rome:160 Livius had shown the way, in projecting the mother of the Camenae as “Moneta,” a derivation from the benign, “warning” Juno Moneta (above, I); but Naevius goes a step further, to make his goddesses the offspring of the supreme deity as tutelary god of Rome. Their “concordant” character is colored by this paternal commitment to the city and its safety; and in line with the divinized Roman Concordia as an aspect of Capitoline Jupiter (above, VI), Naevius’ concordes may be read as an echo of the Roman cult. Thus, the presiding goddesses of the Bellum Poenicum place the war with Carthage within a “universal” (or “cosmic”) epic setting, yet from a distinctively Roman perspective. (B) THE TEMPLE OF HONOS AND VIRTUS At the end of the third century, reportedly following a lightning strike, the aedicula Camenarum was transferred to the nearby Aedes Honoris et Virtutis, adjoining the Porta Capena (Serv. Aen. 1.8). The double temple, extending a Fabian shrine to Honos, had been vowed by M. Claudius Marcellus on winning the spolia opima at Clastidium (222), re-vowed after the capture of Syracuse (211) then finally, after his death, dedicated by his son in 205. The temple represented the public reward by Honos of Virtus manifested in state military service.161 An unresolved question is whether the transfer of the shrine was merely an improvised response to the lightning strike, or whether it was a Marcellan manoeuvre, part and parcel of an ideological design for the temple, and facilitated by sacerdotal arrangement.162 The history of the aedicula Camenarum as reconstructed here is germane to the question, in that it would supply a sacral-political context for what amounts to a strategic extension of the goddesses’ song-domain: they are now moving beyond their sacral role at the musical interface between city and gods, towards the celebration of great viri, Roman exemplars of virtus, and the creation of a national narrative.163 This is an instance where poetry and cult may well have proceeded hand in hand: the re-location of the shrine will have been legitimized by reference to the new joint-“goddesses,” while owing much to recent developments in poetry; and the aedicula will have conferred an aura of ancient sanctity to the modern temple-ideology. The new temple will not of course have functioned as a shrine to the goddesses of poetry; and yet for a period of perhaps 25 years, the ancient aedicula was co-located with the modern divine pairing at the focal point 160. Feeney 1991: 111–16; cf. Purcell 2003: 28–33; Elliott 2013: 265–66. 161. Cic. Sest. 116: in templo Virtutis Honos habitus esset Virtuti. Observe Symmachus’ juxtaposition of Camenarum religio and sacred fons with a summary of the cult ideology of the Marcellan temple (Ep. 20.1): bene ac sapienter maiores nostri . . . aedes Honori atque Virtuti gemella facie iunctim locarunt conmenti . . . ibi esse praemia honoris, ubi sunt merita virtutis. sed enim propter etiam Camenarum religio sacro fontis advertitur, quia iter ad capessendos magistratus saepe litteris promovetur. For the contemporary context, see the excellent account in McDonnell 2006: 212–35. Cult: Wissowa 1912: 149–51; Bieber 1945: 31–33. Iconography: LIMC V.1.498–502 (C. Lochin). 162. The transfer will have been made with pontifical participation, following assessment of the prodigium by Decemviri or Haruspices: cf. Macbain 1982: 52–53, with Appendix A (82–106). 163. Roman virtus (viri, laudes): a large subject, now treated by McDonnell 2006.

of Marcellan memorialization.164 The juxtaposition of Camenae with public honors gains further significance for the patronage of Latin laudes if, as argued by Harriet Flower and Gesine Manuwald, Naevius’ fabula praetexta “Clastidium” (co-titled “Marcellus”) was performed at the Ludi associated with the temple dedication, thereby recalling the battlefield occasion of the original dedication.165 The new direction is reflected in the twin etymology of “Camenae” vouchsafed in Paulus’ epitome of Festus (p. 43 L.): Camenae Musae a carminibus sunt dictae, vel quod canunt antiquorum laudes, vel quod sint castae mentis praesides (“The Camenae are Muses named from ‘songs,’ either because they sing the praises of men of old or because they are the champions of pure mind”). Here, side by side, are the sacral function of the Camenae, the mediation of prayerful access to the divine (above, III), and their developed association with the laudes of men.166 But whatever the intentions behind the Marcellan annexation of the aedicula, it was not to last: an altogether more substantial sacral investment in the national epos was to trump it in the shape of M. Fulvius Nobilior’s Aedes Herculis Musarum. (C) THE AEDES HERCULES MUSARUM Fulvius removed the aedicula Camenarum to the Aedes Herculis Musarum (AHM), presumably at the time when construction started, in 179.167 There, it was co-located with nine Muse statues brought by Fulvius as booty from his Ambracian campaign; and it was in this context that the Camenae were formally assimilated to the Muses. The sacerdotal procedures that supported the second transfer of the aedicula are quite unknown, as indeed are the ceremony and route by which this sacred object of immemorial antiquity was conveyed to the Circus Flaminius. Livy is silent about the AHM, and refers only (40.51.6) to a Fulvian porticus constructed ad fanum Herculis. The temple’s history remains the subject of sharp and unresolved controversy. On one view, championed by Coarelli, Fulvius created the AHM in its entirety to house the Greek cult of Heracles Musagetes, and 164. Asconius 12 C.: idem cum statuas sibi ac patri itemque avo poneret in monumentis avi sui ad Honoris et Virtutis, decore scripsit III Marcelli novies coss; for Marcellus’ centrality to Roman laudes/memorialization, see Flower 2003 (and observe Hor. Odes 1.12.45–6, with n.166 below). Similarly, Marius’ separate temple of Honos and Virtus was a Marianum monumentum: Richardson 1978: 242–43. 165. Flower 1995: 184; 2000: 38–39, 41. Manuwald 2001: 137, with bibl. Contra, but unpersuasive, McDonnell 2006: 232–33; likewise, Gruen 1990: 93–94 (“Clastidium” as patriotic work performed soon after the event, in the national interest). 166. Cf. Hor. Odes 1.12, combining Clio (2) with insignis Camena (39), both of praise poetry (and cf. Gildenhard 2003a: 104–108, on Ennius and kleos). The concluding reference (59–60) to Jupiter’s lightning directed upon parum castis lucis alludes to the strike on the aedicula. Like Odes 3.4, the poem is a far-reaching exploration of the Roman cult-history of the Muses and Camenae, here with reference to laudes of men and gods. 167. LTUR I.216 (Rodríguez Almeida). I accept the dating to Fulvius’ censorship implied by Eumenius Pan. Lat. 9.7.3; Coarelli 1997: 459; Rüpke 2011: 88–90; cf. Aberson 1994.

dedicated it to Hercules Musarum.168 Others argue that Fulvius did not vow or dedicate a new temple, but made additions to an existing temple of Hercules in the Circus Flaminius and housed the Muse-statuary (and the aedicula Camenarum) in the new space.169 Further uncertainty surrounds the question of cult observance. The calendar entry Camenis for 13 August in the first-century (pre-Julian) Fasti Antiates maiores (FAm) suggests continuity (presumably preserving the date of the old annual offering) over a century later than Fulvius’ enterprise;170 and indeed Jörg Rüpke has connected this entry with the text of Fulvius’ own calendar, the commented Fasti known to have been displayed within the precinct.171 The outstanding issues call for closer consideration than can be given to them here; but we are, I think, compelled to allow the possibility that cult activity at the aedicula of the Camenae did not cease in 205 (or 179), and that it was sustained through its sojourn in the temple of Honos and Virtus and then maintained within the Fulvian precinct.172 To state this as a possibility is not, of course, to assume that it is the only possibility (were the annual offerings to the Camenae made at the fons or the aedicula?). But if the aedicula did indeed retain an active cult identity in the Roman calendar, and in its new location (rather than being subordinated to, or absorbed into, the foreign cult of Heracles Mousagetes), then two cults, that of Hercules (whether or not amalgamated with a pre-existing shrine) and that of the Camenae may have co-existed for a time. Such an arrangement would have a parallel, albeit later in date, in the shrine to the Muses in the upper sanctuary of Apollo Maleatas at Epidaurus (where, moreover, the god is recorded as “Mosagetes”).173 Among other matters arising is the cult-status of the Muse statues brought from Ambracia, and their positioning in relation to the aedicula (nine pedestals which, on the evidence of the Forma Urbis Romae, stood at the north end of the portico, outside the main temple area, have been plausibly identified as the statue bases).174 It seems unlikely that the imported Muses can themselves have been identified as “Camenae,” yet 168. Coarelli 1997: 452–84. 169. Aberson 1994: 199–216; cf. Rüpke 2011: 87–95 (who does not deal with Coarelli’s refutation [1997: 452–53] of reuse of a temple of Hercules Custos). For a summary of issues and proposed approaches with older bibl., LTUR III.19: s.v. “Hercules Musarum, Aedes” (A. Viscogliosi). 170. FAm: above, n.32. The entry natalis Musarum for 13 June in the fourth-century Fasti Philocali cannot in my view refer to the AHM in the republican period. The natalis of L. Marcius Philippus’ restored AHM appears to have been 30 June (inferred from Ovid Fasti 6.797–812). 171. Rüpke 2011: 89–90, 99. The nature of that connection remains controversial: Feeney 2007: 287–88. For the (probably wall-painted) display of Fasti, cf. Coarelli 1997: 480 (with the reconstruction at 479). 172. Cf. also Hinds 1998: 62: “The cultural and religious negotiations involved in these manoeuvres are complex, and it should be evident that they are just as much in need of properly dynamic and wary construal as are the moves made in the poetic texts.” 173. This Muse shrine was the object of discrete dedications (IG IV2 1.541–43). “Mosagetes”: Peek 1972, no. 1. SEG XXX.390 contains fragments of what may have been a hymn to Apollo and the Muses or even Apollo Musagetes: Bonefas 1989: 52–53. 174. Pedestals: Coarelli 1997: 483.

later testimony suggests that nomenclature was pretty fluid;175 and especially striking is Lucilius’ figurative reference to an unnamed poet as priestly temple key-holder (kleidouchos) of the Camenae (1068 K., cui sua conmittunt mortali claustra Camenae), one of a series of such “temple” images that enters Roman poetry in the second century.176 (D) ENNIUS AND HIS CRITICS Fulvius’ introduction of the physical Muse-statues to Rome is reflected (or anticipated) in Ennius’ invocation of the Muses in the first line of the Annales (Ann. 1 Sk.), Musae, quae pedibus magnum pulsatis Olympum (“Muses, you who beat great Olympus with your feet”).177 The Muses’ dancing feet embody the hexameter as the new medium of epos, as Ennius returns to the meter of Homer.178 Then, at the start of the Second Macedonian War, Ennius asks his Greek Musa to sing of Roman power (Ann. 322–23 Sk.): insece, Musa manu Romanorum induperator / quod quisque in bello gessit cum rege Philippo (“pursue, Muse, what by might and main the Romans’ every commander achieved in war with king Philippus”). In doing so, he subverts Livius’ pairing of Roman Camena and Greek subject and his Saturnian meter, as presented at fr. 1 M.:179 virum mihi Camena insece versutum (“Pursue, for me, Camena, the man of many wiles”). Earlier in the Annales, Ennius had directed overt mockery at Naevius’ Saturnians, as the medium of Italian landscape gods’ oracular caroling (Ann. 207–208 Sk.): scripsere alii rem / vorsibus quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant (“others have written of the subject [sc. the First Punic War], in verses that Fauns and seers once used to sing”). Ennius knew very well that in creating a universal, yet Romanocentric, epic with a level of divine authority appropriate to the undertaking, he was following where Naevius had led.180 The polemical battleground was of course the new meter, the hexameter versus Saturnians. Crucially, Ennius projects his meter as the mighty product of Olympian landscape: the Muses’ feet beat Mount Olympus itself, a majestic belittlement of the “Fauni” of the Italian wild places. At Ann. 322–23 Sk., the Olympian hexameter is the medium in which the Muse is to vouchsafe the narrative of Roman power as it extended over a Macedonian regime that had once annexed the Olympian Muses to projection of its own territorial expansion.181 Again, in enumerating the actions of each individual Roman induperator, the 175. Cf. Eumenius Pan. Lat. 9.7.3 (Fulvius) novem signa . . . Camenarum ex Ambraciensi oppido translata sub tutela fortissimi numinis consecravit; Plin. Nat. 34.19 in Camenarum aede. 176. Cf. perhaps Enn. Ann. 210 Sk.: nos ausi reserare; Hardie 2007: 581–83. 177. Ennius and the AHM: Skutsch 1985: 6, 649–50; Gildenhard 2003a: 94–97. 178. Hexameter/pedibus: Hinds 1998: 56–57. 179. Meter: this assumes a Livian reference to versus in versutum; for another suggestion, Hinds 1998: 61–62. 180. “Universal, Romanocentric epic”: see Elliott 2013: 233–94. On Ennius’ debt, cf. Cic. Brut. 76: “scripsere,” inquit, “alii rem vorsibus” - et luculente quidem scripserunt. . .; nec vero tibi [sc. Ennio] aliter videri debet, qui a Naevio sumpsisti multa, si fateris, vel, si negas, surripuisti. 181. Macedonian kings and the Muses: Hardie 2006: 59–61.

Greek Muse is to abandon her old allegiance to Greek kings (cf. rege Philippo): she is now to align herself with a series of generals who derive their command from magisterial authority; and her omniscience will be brought to bear on each and every one of them.182 Powerful though this conception of a Muse (and her meter) annexed to the narrative of Roman heroes and Roman expansion certainly is, its validation at the expense of Italian landscape deities (Ann. 207–208 Sk.) prompts an obvious question: does it not undermine the ancient territorial foundations of Roman carmen, as embodied in the Camenae? To this, there could have been no clear answer, had Ann. 113 Sk. (olli respondit suavis sonus Egeriai) and 487 Sk. (Musas quas memorant nosce<s> nos esse <Camenas>) not survived. As it is, we can be certain that Ennius treated Egeria and the Camenae with respect.183 His approach to the “Roman landscape” issue was evidently to acknowledge these goddesses’ ancient authority, to project them as Roman manifestations of the universal (panhellenic) Muses, and by verbal echo (Musae quae [Ann. 1 Sk.] / Musas quas [Ann. 487 Sk.]) implicitly to incorporate their voice into his new hexameter.184 For this procedure, there were Greek antecedents, in particular, Simonides’ identification of a Delphian water-nymph cult with the Heliconian Muses (a manoeuvre which also carried metrical and prophetic resonances).185 But what Ennius says about the Camenae cannot be read in exclusively literary terms. He was reflecting, or anticipating, Fulvius’ cultic initiative in bringing the aedicula Camenarum to the Aedes Herculis Musarum; and in articulating the sacral programme of the new temple in high poetry, he was putting innovative artistry at the service both of his patron’s temple design and of the emergent civic/national epos. Unsurprisingly, Ennius’ new epos provoked hostile reactions. The alliance of Muse and hexameter prompted polemical ripostes in Saturnians and invoking the Camenae. Thus, the author of the archaizing Carmen Priami (Varro LL 7.86) returned to the old meter, appealed to the veteres (that is, pre-Ennian) Casmenas in terms redolent of prophecy, and re-asserted their (sc. Livian) capacity to take an old Greek myth as subject of their carmen.186 Naevius’ “epitaph” (Poet. 64) sought similar effects, again in Saturnians and again invoking the Camenae.187 In that poem, however, the likelihood as I see it is that in writing flerent divae 182. Ennius further subverts the Roman Odyssey (insece Camena, modelled on Od. 1.1 ἔννεπε Μοῦσα) by turning to the catalogue invocation of Iliad 2, and its enumeration of each individual Greek commander, by name (485–93); the further Homeric Muse invocation (760–69; observe ἔννεπε Μοῦσα again at 761), where the poet seeks the identities of best leader and best horses is, I suspect, echoed in Ennius’ “horse”-play in Philippo: for an identical name-play in Ibycus fr. S151 PMGF, see Hardie 2013: 21. 183. Cf. Badian 1972: 192. 184. Musae quae . . . echoed at Ann. 487 Sk., Musas quas . . .(above, VI, with n.113); the combination in Muse invocation not in Latin high poetry, but cf. Aristoph. Frogs 876. 185. Sim. frr. 577(a) and (b) PMG (Clio in the Cassotis); cf. AP 9.505.11–12; Hardie 1996: 232–34; Parke 1981. 186. Overview: Suerbaum 2002: 285–86. 187. For the polemical strategy behind this poem, see Krostenko 2013.

Camenae Naevium poetam (2) the author was interpreting divae (as restored) in Naevius’ proem on his own authority, and bringing the Camenae into the frame for polemical purposes. There is, in short, nothing in the post-Ennian reaction to alter the general picture presented here. There is however more to be said about the Camenae at Rome, not least in the Augustan era where the literary sources are so much fuller than in the period covered here. And there again, it is safe to predict, critical understanding of both text and context will be enriched by close reading of the interface between the goddesses’ presence in poetry and their embodiment in civic cult. Edinburgh University ahardie1@staffmail.ed.ac.uk BIBLIOGRAPHY Aberson, M. 1994. Temples votifs et butin de guerre dans la Rome républicaine. Rome. Akar, P. 2015. “La concordia des frères aux deux derniers siècles de la République romaine.” Latomus 74: 73–94. Altheim, F. 1930. Griechische Götter im alten Rom. Giessen. Aust, E. 1899. “Camenae.” RE III.1427–28. Badian, E. 1972. “Ennius and his Friends.” In Ennius. Entretiens Hardt 17: 151–208. Geneva. Barchiesi, A. 1991. “Discordant Muses.” PCPS 37: 1–21. Beard, M. 1980. “The Sexual Status of Vestal Virgins.” JRS 70: 12–27. Beard, M., J. North, and S. Price. 1998. Religions of Rome. Cambridge. Bieber, M. 1945. “Honos and Virtus.” AJA 49: 25–34. Bispham, E. 2008. Review of Humm 2005. JRS 98: 188–89. Bispham, E., and C. J. Smith. 2000. Religion in Archaic and Republican Rome and Italy: Evidence and Experience. Edinburgh. Böck, B. 2003. “‘When You Perform the Ritual of Rubbing’: On Medicine and Magic in Ancient Mesopotamia.” JNES 62: 1–16. Bonamici, M. 2003. “I bronzi del Santuario di Sillene a Chiancano Terme.” In G. Paolucci, ed., L’acqua degli dei. Immagine di fontane, vasellame, culti salutari e in grotto, 44–55. Montepulciano. Bonefas, S. 1989. “The Musical Inscription from Epidauros.” Hesperia 58: 51–62. Borell, B., and D. Rittig. 1998. Orientalische und griechische Bronzereliefs aus Olympia: Der Fundcomplex aus Brunnen 17. Berlin and New York. Borzsák, I. 1960. “Descende caelo. . .” Act. Ant. 8: 369–86. Bottiglioni, G. 1932. “Nota etimologica (camillus, calo, cacula, cacus, camenae, ecc.).” Glotta 21: 52–56. Boyancé, P. 1972. Le culte des Muses chez les philosophes grecs. 2nd ed. Paris. Brelich, A. 1949. Vesta. Zurich. Bremmer, J. N. 2002. “How Old is the Ideal of Holiness (of Mind) in the Epidaurian Temple Inscription and the Hippocratic Oath?” ZPE 141: 106–108. Burkert, W. 1961. “Hellenistische Pseudopythagorica.” Philologus 105: 226–46.

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