1 Introduction

After the Roman defeats at Trebia and Lake Trasimene Hannibal demolishes the Italian countryside. Returning from Apulia, the Carthaginian general sets his mind on destroying the Campanian vineyards:

uertit iter Daunique retro tellure relicta

Campanas remeat notus populator in oras.

hic uero, intrauit postquam uberis arua Falerni

(diues ea et numquam tellus mentita colono)

addunt frugiferis inimica incendia ramis. (7.157–161)

He turns his course and leaving the land of Daunus he goes back to the Campanian coasts that already know this plunderer. But this time, after he entered the fields of fertile Falernus (this land is rich and has never betrayed its cultivator), his men set hostile fire to the fruit-bearing branches.

The fertility of the area is stressed (uberis, diues, frugiferis), which contrasts with Hannibal’s plans to destroy the Falernian vines with ‘hostile fire’ (inimica incendia). At this point, the narrator interrupts his martial epic narrative to tell the story of Falernus, who is presented as eponym of the local wine. This old farmer received the god Bacchus in disguise in his humble abode. As reward for this hospitality the god gave him wine, so far unknown to him, and covered the surrounding mountain slopes with vines. This aetiological story (7.162–211) stands out from the surrounding narrative, as several scholars have noticed. The “lightness of tone”¹ contrasts with Hannibal’s destruction of these god-given vineyards. When the narrator resumes the main narrative, the narratees are plunged right back into the darkness of the Punic Wars, as Hannibal is still continuing his devastation of the countryside: haec tum uasta dabat terrisque infestus agebat | Hannibal (‘this was the land which Hannibal then was destroying and treated violently’, 7.212–213).² It is not surprising that scholars have discussed this contrast between the embedded narrative and the surrounding main narrative in black-and-white terms of good and evil.³ The story of Falernus is consequently read as a ‘positive theoxeny’:⁴ the god Bacchus bestows the blessings of Falernian wine on Falernus and all inhabitants of Italy after him. Although Bacchus can certainly be viewed as benefactor and Hannibal as violator of the ager Falernus, this opposition is potentially undermined by an earlier scene in the Punica (3.101–105). In these lines, the narratees have already learned what happened after Bacchus’ visit to Italy: the god is portrayed as a violent conqueror, associated with fury and lust.⁵ This makes the exemplarity of Bacchus and of the Falernus episode as a whole more problematic than a reading at first glance would suggest.⁶

In order to explore the ambiguity of this narrative, I will first discuss its position in Book 7. Next, I have a closer look at the story itself, investigating the literary heritage of this otherwise unknown theoxeny. What can we learn from a comparison with similar stories from the Hellenistic age, Virgil, Ovid, and Lucan? After that, we examine the connections of this story to other parts of the Punica.

2 A New Beginning

The Falernus episode comes at a significant point in the Punica. Since Ennius’ Annales and Virgil’s Aeneid, readers of a Roman epic expect Book 7 to contain a new beginning.⁷ Book 7 is of course not the ‘mathematical’ middle of the seventeen-book Punica, but it does form one of the turning points in this “epic of many middles”.⁸ Book 6 ended with Hannibal’s destruction of the temple at Liternum, an attempt to eradicate the memory of Rome’s victory in the First Punic War. The first line of the next book makes clear, however, that Rome cannot be blotted out and that Hannibal is confronted with a formidable opponent: Fabius. Silius presents him as Rome’s ‘sole hope’ (spes unica, 7.1) in these dark hours, and ascribes a supernatural mind and power to him (mens humana maior, 7.5; sacra seni uis, 7.9).⁹ Fabius all by himself embodies Rome’s entire military power:

tot milia contra

Poenorum inuictumque ducem, tot in agmina solus

ibat et in sese cuncta arma uirosque gerebat. (7.6–8)

Against so many thousands of Carthaginians and their invincible leader, against so many battle arrays he alone went forth and carried in himself all weapons and men.

This one general is defending Rome and what it stands for against all its Carthaginian foes.¹⁰ The phrase arma uirosque obviously echoes the opening words of the Aeneid, but also the prooemium of the Punica itself:

ordior arma, quibus caelo se gloria tollit

Aeneadum patiturque ferox Oenotria iura

Carthago. da, Musa, decus memorare laborum

antiquae Hesperiae, quantosque ad bella crearit

et quot Roma uiros (1.1–5)

I begin the war, by which the fame of the Aeneadae was raised to heaven and fierce Carthage submitted to Oenotrian laws. Allow me, Muse, to recount the splendid toils of ancient Hesperia and how great and how many men Rome created fit for war.

Whereas this prooemium speaks of multiple Roman heroes (Aeneadum, uiros) who oppose the Carthaginians, in Book 7 Fabius is presented as the only person that embodies all Roman valour.¹¹ A few lines later the narrator apostrophizes Fabius as the saviour of Rome, who prevents a repetition of the sack of Troy:

summe ducum, qui regna iterum labentia Troiae

et fluxas Latii res maiorumque labores,

qui Carmentis opes et regna Euandria seruas,

surge, age et emerito sacrum caput insere caelo. (7.16–19)

Highest of leaders, you who are saving the kingdom of Troy that is collapsing for a second time, the weak power of Latium, the efforts of our forebears, the power of Carmentis, and the kingdom of Euander: stand up and raise your sacred head up to heaven because you have earned it.

Again the narrator links Fabius to the prooemium of the epic. The efforts of Rome in the First Punic War (maiorumque labores) are threatened to come to naught, due to Hannibal’s successes. Only Fabius’ tactics of delaying can prevent that these had been in vain and assure that the Romans can actually receive the honour from the current war which was promised in the prooemium (decus … laborum). Fabius is addressed as the most important Roman hero so far and is invited to claim the fame that in the first line of the epic was promised to all Romans.¹² By twice recalling the proem, the narrator signals that Book 7 is a ‘new beginning’.

The successful delaying tactics of Fabius unnerve Hannibal so much that he is led to rashness, as becomes apparent from the following exhortation to his soldiers: ite citi, ruite ad portas, propellite uallum | pectoribus (‘go quickly, rush to the gates, overthrow the wall with your chests’, 7.101–102).¹³ He is, however, unable to unleash this rage, as Fabius keeps avoiding a confrontation. At that moment Hannibal directs his anger towards the Campanian landscape. The narrator pauses his narrative and starts to apostrophize the god Bacchus:

haud fas, Bacche, tuos tacitum tramittere honores,

quamquam magna incepta uocent. memorabere, sacri

largitor laticis, grauidae cui nectare uites

nulli dant prelis nomen praeferre Falernis. (7.162–165)

It is not permitted, Bacchus, to pass over your honours in silence, although a great enterprise is calling upon me. You will be remembered, bestower of the divine liquid, in whose honour the vines, heavy with nectar, allow no other wine to have a name more renowned than the Falernian presses.

The narrator explicitly announces that he is putting his epic task (magna incepta) aside for the time being in order to praise Bacchus as the founding father of viniculture in this region. By stating that it is ‘not permitted’ (haud fas) to be silent on this topic, the narrator, once again, alludes to the prooemium. There, he claimed to have permission to disclose the war between Romans and Carthaginians: mandata nepotibus arma | fas aperire mihi (‘I am permitted to reveal the arms that are commissioned to descendants’, 1.18–19). Now that Hannibal is ravaging Italy, he interrupts his own epic enterprise for an aetiological digression, copying the delaying tactics of Fabius on a narrative level.¹⁴ That the primary narrator is emotionally involved can be deduced from the high frequency of apostrophes: four within the scope of fifty lines. Three times the narrator addresses Bacchus (7.163, 7.187, 7.205) and once Falernus (7.199).¹⁵

On an intertextual level, Silius’ interruption of his war narrative interacts with the mora of the Nemean episode in Statius’ Thebaid: when the Argive army has reached Nemea, the narrator apostrophizes Apollo and asks him to tell ‘whence came delay’ (unde morae, Stat. Theb. 4.650).¹⁶ Immediately hereafter, we learn that Bacchus is the reason for the drought that will delay the Argive army, which is heading for his native city of Thebes—it is only in Book 7 that they will continue marching.¹⁷ McNelis suggests that the drought in Nemea can be read as a diversion from heroic epic narrative: “Given that the similes of a raging river and of the ship setting out from port symbolize the commencement of martial themes, the parching dryness here may be viewed metaphorically, as a counter to that poetic agenda.”¹⁸ The Nemean episode symbolizes a poetic world that is rather ‘Callimachean’ than epic. In Silius, the pausing of the war narrative entails a generic change as well. In addition to the intertextual echoes of the Nemean episode in Statius, this is underscored by an allusion to the opening of Virgil’s Georgics 2, which is dedicated to arboriculture. There the narrator, too, apostrophizes the god of wine: nunc te, Bacche, canam (‘now I will sing of you, Bacchus’, Virg. G. 2.2). The narratees of the Punica know now that they are leaving the heroic epic behind and enter a world that is both ‘Callimachean’ and georgic.¹⁹

3 A Georgic World

The Falernian narrative has a distinctively different atmosphere from the surrounding main narrative. We enter a world in which warfare and destruction have no place. Its aetiological nature is signalled by the word nomen (7.165): the episode will explain how Falernian wine got its name. The narratees learn the answer already in the next lines, in which Falernus is presented as an old farmer:

Massica sulcabat meliore Falernus in aeuo

ensibus ignotis senior iuga. pampinus umbras

nondum uuae uirides nudo texebat in aruo,

pocula nec norant sucis mulcere Lyaei.

fonte sitim et pura soliti defendere lympha. (7.166–170)

In a better age, when weapons were still unknown, the old man Falernus ploughed the meadows of Mount Massicus. Not yet were vine-leaves casting green shadows over bare fields, and people did not know how to soothe their cups with the liquid of Lyaeus, but were wont to quench their thirst with pure spring water.

The negations stress the blissful ignorance of this era: people did not now weapons (ensibus ignotis) and did not know wine (nec norant), but only drank water that nature provided.²⁰ That this latter situation is about to change by the god of wine is foreshadowed by nondum (‘not yet’). But an important question is: does this change Falernus’ world for the better? After all, this age is called ‘better’ before Bacchus’ arrival.

The phrase meliore in aeuo is intriguing. The comparative points to the deterioration of life in Campania since the arrival of Bacchus, of which Hannibal’s devastation will be the absolute climax. At the same time, it makes clear that Falernus lived in times close to, but not synchronous to, the Golden Age;²¹ Falernus and his fellow countrymen have to plough the fields for their sustenance, whereas in the Golden Age nature spontaneously provided men with food.²² Nevertheless, this agricultural society is set in a better time, which recalls Virgil’s praise of country life (G. 2.513–531). Farmers do have to till the land, but reap the profits of their labour: the land is so fertile that the farmer can sometimes even enjoy some rest. This Virgilian country life is associated with the rule of Saturn in Italy: aureus hanc uitam in terris Saturnus agebat (‘Golden Saturn lived such a life on earth’, G. 2.538). Virgil does not make explicit whether humans of this era were involved in agriculture, but the god himself apparently was.²³ This idealized Saturnian age also did not know weapons yet:

necdum etiam audierant inflari classica, necdum

impositos duris crepitare incudibus ensis. (Virg. G. 2.539–540)

Not yet did they hear the blaring of trumpets, not yet the clattering of swords that were put on hard anvils.

The absence of weapons in Falernus’ age and similar wording makes it clear that we are entering a world that has strong affinities with the Saturnian age of the Georgics.²⁴

Viticulture is an important subtheme of the second book of the Georgics, which has arboriculture as its main subject. The narrator praises many wines from other regions, but Campanian types take priority over these:

non eadem arboribus pendet uindemia nostris,

quam Methymnaeo carpit de palmite Lesbos.

(…)

quo te carmine dicam,

Rhaetica? nec cellis ideo contende Falernis.

sunt et Aminneae uites, firmissima uina,

Tmolius adsurgit quibus et rex ipse Phanaeus

(Virg. G. 2.90–91 and 95–98)

Not the same vintage hangs down from our trees as the one, which Lesbos gathers from Methymna’s branches. (…) How am I to praise you in my song, Rhaetic? But even so, do not contend with Falernian cellars! There are also Aminnean vines, producing very strong wine, for which the Tmolian and the Phanaean, himself a king, rise in respect.

This type of praise is also found at the end of Silius’ Falernus story. When Bacchus has covered the hillsides with vines, the Falernian wine is explicitly compared with three Greek wine regions that were also mentioned in the passage from the Georgics just quoted: Lydia, Chios, and Lesbos:

ex illo tempore diues

Tmolus et ambrosiis Ariusia pocula sucis

ac Methymna ferox lacibus cessere Falernis. (7.209–211)

From that time onwards, the rich Tmolus, Ariusian cups filled with liquid ambrosia, and the fierce Methymna yield precedence to Falernian vats.

The wine from Chios is referred to with the learned toponym Ariusia, corresponding to the equally learned circumscription rex ipse … Phanaeus in the Georgics.²⁵ Whereas that phrase marked the Chian wine as royal, Silius goes a step further: the wine even has divine qualities, as it is compared to ambrosia.²⁶ This of course also enhances the quality and fame of the Falernian wine, to which these other wines yield precedence. The focus on the Falernian wine is also emphasized by the absence of the Amminean, the only other Italian wine in the passage from the Georgics, and the order of the names: the Falernian wine is placed at the climactic end.²⁷

Silius’ praise of Falernian wine also corresponds to a later passage in the Laus Italiae, in which the wine is presented as one of the blessings of the Italian country: sed grauidae fruges et Bacchi Massicus umor | impleuere (‘but the land was filled with heavy branches and the Massic juice of Bacchus’, G. 2.143–144). The Falernian vines that grow on Mount Massicus are symbols of Italy’s fertility. Bacchus’ role in viniculture is also addressed in a passage later in the same book:

hinc omnis largo pubescit uinea fetu,

complentur uallesque cauae saltusque profundi

et quocumque deus circum caput egit honestum.

ergo rite suum Baccho dicemus honorem

carminibus patriis … (Virg. G. 2.390–394)

Hence every vineyard ripens with abundant produce; fullness comes to hollow valleys and deep glades, and every spot towards the god has turned his comely face. Duly, then, in our country’s songs we will chant for Bacchus the honour he claims …

In order to ensure the benevolence of Bacchus, the god has to be praised with songs (or poems). This literary aspect of worship also plays an important role in the Falernus narrative, as the narrator explicitly stops his epic story to honour Bacchus (haud fas, Bacche, tuos tacitum tramittere honores, 7.162). We can therefore see the Falernus episode as an example of a carmen patrium to sing praise of Bacchus.

In Silius, the honores refer not only to the honour brought to Bacchus by the narrator, but also to the honour that Bacchus bestowed on mankind—the reason for praising the god. Falernus is the first to receive these divine blessings, but in the final section of the episode the god makes wine available to the rest of Campania by covering the mountains with vineyards:

uuiferis late florebat Massicus aruis

miratus nemora et lucentes sole racemos.

it monti decus. (7.207–209)

The Massicus was widely overgrown with grape-bearing fields and the mountain looked in amazement at its forests and clusters that were shining in the sunlight. The splendour went up to the mountain.²⁸

This finale of the Falernus episode creates a ring composition with the beginning, where the narrator called Bacchus sacri | largitor laticis (7.163–164). Bacchus is presented here in his role of benefactor and civilizer, although we do not hear how Falernus’ life changed after this metamorphosis of the Campanian countryside.

Silius’ intertext, the Georgics, however, gives a more ambivalent message of viniculture. After the praise of Bacchus who bestows his blessings on the Italian countryside, Virgil emphasizes the ceaseless toils of the vinedresser (G. 2.397–419). The stress on labor in this passage of the Georgics contrasts with the discussion of the olive and other trees that grow effortlessly, a feature of the Golden Age.²⁹ The labour that viniculture creates does not fit well with images of a Golden or Saturnian Age. Although men are able to cultivate the vine through labor, the Virgilian narrator questions the purpose of all this toil in comparison with other trees. He even ends his section on viniculture with an invective of Bacchus and wine:

quid memorandum aeque Baccheia dona tulerunt?

Bacchus et ad culpam causas dedit; ille furentis

Centauros leto domuit, Rhoecumque Pholumque

et magno Hylaeum Lapithis cratere minantem.

(Virg. G. 2.454–457)

What have the gifts of Bacchus brought that they should earn equal fame? Bacchus even provided grounds for blame. He overcame the raging Centaurs with death, Rhoecus, Pholus and Hylaeus, when he was threatening the Lapiths with a great mixing vessel.

Wine is presented here as the cause of the famous battle between the Centaurs and Lapiths at the wedding of Pirithous and Hippodamia. The message that Virgil gives is therefore ambiguous: Bacchus is praised, but his liquid can also cause lethal fights.³⁰

Silius, on the other hand, stresses the fame of Falernian wine and includes no references to labor at all, as the vines cover the hills spontaneously. Nevertheless, the narratees of the Punica, who are invited to read the narrative of Falernus with the Georgics in mind, might question this sheer positive representation of Bacchus’ gift; the fact that Falernus has knowledge about wine indicates that we are already moving away from the ‘better age’ that Falernus is living in: from this moment onwards the people of Italy get acquainted with a product that stands for luxuria, which causes them to lose their previous innocence. In the Georgics only bulls still know this soberness:

atqui non Massica Bacchi

munera, non illis epulae nocuere repostae:

frondibus et uictu pascuntur simplicis herbae,

pocula sunt fontes liquidi atque exercita cursu

flumina, nec somnos abrumpit cura salubris. (Virg. G. 3.526–530)

Yet no Massic gifts of Bacchus, no repeated feasts harm them. They feed themselves on leaves and simple grass, their cups are clear springs and rivers spurred on by their stream, and no care breaks their wholesome sleep.

The anaphoric negations underline that unlike bulls people are lethally harmed by luxury, of which the Falernian wine of Mount Massicus is mentioned as first example.³¹ Before the arrival of Bacchus, people in Italy were much like those bulls, in that they were used to drink water and knew of no wine (7.169–170). The Falernus episode marks this translation towards a life with more luxuria and further away from this ‘better age’. As in the Georgics, the non-georgic world is never far away. Falernus did not know of any swords (ignotibus ensibus), but right after the Falernus episode, the narratees are transported back to epic reality. Hannibal cannot bear the postponement of fighting: sicci stimulabant sanguinis enses (‘the fact that his swords were dry without any blood was vexing him’, 7.213). Due to the delaying tactics of Fabius, but also due to the mora of the narrator, Hannibal is unable to release his bellicosity. Unable to meet the enemy in combat, the Carthaginian turns his rage on to the Italian landscape. So even though Hannibal cannot use his swords against the Romans, his fire destroys the idyllic and weapon-free world of Falernus.³²

4 The Story of Falernus as an Ideal Theoxeny

Let us now turn to the story itself, which is clearly modelled on the theme of ‘the visit of a divine guest’ or theoxeny. The reception of a god by Falernus can be read as another sign of a time closer to the Golden Age. Before our Iron Age at least, gods and heroes are said to have roamed the earth and frequented the houses of men.³³ This theme of theoxeny is as old as Homer, but became especially popular from the Hellenistic Age onwards.³⁴ This theme is also frequently found in Latin literature, with Ovid’s story of Philemon and Baucis in Metamorphoses 8 as the most famous example.³⁵ The story of Bacchus’ visit to Falernus is not found in any other source and is generally taken to be Silius’ own invention.³⁶ Nevertheless, it is clearly modelled on these earlier theoxenies. These stories typically follow the same pattern:³⁷

1. Gods (or heroes) roam the earth in disguise and are looking for shelter at the beginning of the evening.

2. The gods are on a mission or about to perform an important task.

3. The gods are received by humble (and often old) people.

4. The meal and other signs of hospitality are described.

5. A miracle takes place during the meal or shortly afterwards.

6. The gods reveal their true identity.

7. The gods bestow a reward for the hospitality they received.

Of course, not every theoxeny contains every single element, and sometimes the order is slightly changed.³⁸ The story of Falernus, however, closely sticks to this basic outline.

(1) Bacchus is seeking hospitality at the end of the day (extremumque diem, 7.172) and is not recognized by Falernus: nec senserat hospes | aduenisse deum (‘the host did not notice that a god had arrived’, 7.176–177). (2) What the god is doing on earth is not made explicit. The narrator says that he is on his way to the ‘coasts of Calpe’ (pergentem ad litora Calpes 7.171), the rock of Gibraltar.³⁹ An intratextual allusion to Book 3 makes clear that the god is about to conquer Spain.⁴⁰ (3) The god enters the humble cottage of Falernus, which is metonymically referred to as ‘the small Lares’ and ‘a humble roof’ (paruosque Lares humilisque … tecti 7.173–174). The layout of the hut is simple, with the table standing before the hearth ‘as was the custom in this poor age’ (ritu pauperis aeui, 7.175). The narratees already know that Falernus is an older man (senior, 7.167), which is stressed again by senectae (7.178). (4) Falernus applies himself diligently to his task as host (7.177–185). He serves a purely vegetarian banquet (opes festas, 7.179) with fresh vegetables and fruit from his own garden. He ends his efforts by sacrificing a firstling to Vesta. (5) Bacchus is charmed by the industriousness of the old man (sedulitate senili | captus, 7.186–187) and causes the cups, milk pails, and mixing vessel to brim with wine (7.187–191). (6) The god then reveals his true identity: purple ivy-berries crown his head, long locks are flowing down from his shoulders, he holds a cup in his right hand and a thyrsus in the other (7.194–197). Together with the transformation of the god, the direct environment also undergoes a metamorphosis, with vines overgrowing the table of Falernus (7.198). The next morning all of Mount Massicus turns out to be overgrown with vines (7.205–208). (7) Falernus gets a double reward for his hospitality: Bacchus not only produces wine for instant consumption, but also promises the old man great fame as cultivator of the wine that is to be named after him: uiticolae nomen peruulgatura Falerni | munera (‘gifts that will bring fame to Falernus’ name as its cultivator’, 7.193–194). Falernus immediately drinks the wine presented to him, which causes him to become drunk and fall asleep (7.199–205). The reward of fame also proves to be correct, as the narrator ends the narrative with the statement that since that day Falernian wine is to be preferred above Greek vintages (7.209–211).

In conclusion, the story of Falernus meets all elements of a typical theoxeny. Let us now turn to two important theoxenical models for the Falernus episode. It will turn out that Silius has changed important elements of these models in order to create his ‘perfect’ theoxeny.

5 Lucanian Echoes

The story of Falernus also echoes two hospitality scenes in Lucan’s Bellum Civile. In the first, Caesar visits the dwelling of the poor fisherman Amyclas, in the second he is entertained with excessive splendour by Cleopatra.⁶⁴ These intertexts can be interpreted as foil to the benevolence of Bacchus and the hospitality of Falernus. But when reading the Falernus episode against these two scenes, the narratees can also discern some disturbing resemblances between the Bellum Civile and the Punica.

In the first scene, Lucan playfully incorporates elements of the theoxeny theme into his story.⁶⁵ Caesar wants to cross the sea from Dyrrachium to Italy in order to summon the troops under the command of Antony to join him against Pompey. In the middle of the night, he leaves his camp without notifying anyone and comes to the house of the fisherman Amyclas—a variant of the usual farmer. Like a god in a theoxeny, Caesar is in disguise, for we are told that he is dressed as a humble man (plebeio tectus amictu, Luc. 5.538). Nevertheless, his manner of speaking betrays his true nature—mirroring more or less the usual epiphany. Caesar asks Amyclas for no hospitality, but a crossing to Italy for which the poor fisherman will be generously rewarded:

ne cessa praebere deo tua fata uolenti

angustos opibus subitis implere penates. (Luc. 5.536–537)

Do not delay to present your destiny to the god who wants to fill your humble home with sudden riches.

Caesar seems to suggest that he himself is that god. Although this promise of instant wealth does not seem to impress Amyclas that much, he does comply with Caesar’s request (Luc. 5.557–558).

It may be clear that Amyclas echoes the humble host from other theoxenies. His poverty is stressed multiple times (e.g. pauper Amyclas, Luc. 5.539) and his home is even more simple than usual, lacking wooden beams for support and being partly covered by an upturned skiff (Luc. 5.516–518).⁶⁶ What connects Falernus with Amyclas more than with other hosts is the contrast between their peaceful life and the war in the surrounding main narrative. Despite the ominous knocking of Caesar upon his house, the fisherman feels no anxiety. This gives occasion for the narrator to praise a poor man’s life and to blame people who do not appreciate such a simple lifestyle:

securus belli: praedam ciuilibus armis

scit non esse casas. o uitae tuta facultas

pauperis angustique lares! o munera nondum

intellecta deum! (Luc. 5.526–529)

He has no anxiety for war: well he knows that in civil warfare huts are not the loot. O safe the lot of a poor man’s life and humble home! O gods’ gifts not yet understood!

The reference to Amyclas’ simple existence rings through in the Punica, as Falernus’ hut is described as paruosque lares (7.173) and his circumstances are called ‘poor’ twice (pauperis aeui, 7.175 and pauperis hospitii, 7.189). According to the Lucanian narrator, people fail to see this carefree life as the real present of the gods; this is picked up by Bacchus’ words to Falernus in the Punica when he calls the Falernian vine ‘gifts still not known to you’ (nondum tibi nota (…) munera, 7.192 and 194).

These intertextual echoes signal that Falernus’ life is exactly the condition that Lucan was praising, but also that it is even better than that of Amyclas. The fisherman is, after all, aware of the civil war raging around him: he knows that he will not be a victim of it and this makes him carefree. The arrival of Caesar nevertheless causes him to play a part in the civil war, as he becomes Caesar’s ad hoc helmsman.⁶⁷ Falernus, on the other hand, has no knowledge of warfare at all, as he is living in an age without weapons, let alone civil war: meliore Falernus in aeuo | ensibus ignotis (7.166–167).⁶⁸ His rustic life remains untouched by warfare or even any other forms of violence.

Falernus’ honest and simple hospitality finds its counterpart in Cleopatra’s extravagant reception of Caesar in Bellum Civile 10. Lucan makes it clear that Romans at that time were not acquainted with such Eastern luxury: nondum translatos Romana in saecula luxus (‘[she displayed] luxury that was not yet transferred to the Roman race’, Luc. 10.110). Her palace was entirely composed of precious materials (Luc. 10.111–126), and the meal she served up was excessive, consisting of every animal available in her kingdom (Luc. 10.155–159). Interestingly, the wine that is served is not Egyptian, but Italian: the precious cups are filled with Falernian—the only attestation of this wine in the entire Bellum Civile:

… gemmaeque capaces

excepere merum, sed non Mareotidos uuae,

nobile sed paucis senium cui contulit annis

indomitum Meroe cogens spumare Falernum. (Luc. 10.160–163)

… and huge jewelled cups received the wine, but not of Mareotic grape, but noble, fierce Falernian which Meroë had aged in not many years, compelling it to foam.

The heat of Egypt is able to make Falernian wine age quickly, which normally requires a long fermentation process.⁶⁹ In the Falernus episode, too, the wine foams immediately, when due to Bacchus ‘the beechen cups foamed with the juice of the vine’ (fagina pampineo spumarunt pocula suco, 7.188). But in this case, the miracle of the god was a ‘reward for poor hospitality’ (pauperis hospitii pretium, 7.189). The effect of this intertextuality with Lucan is therefore one of contrast: Cleopatra uses the Falernian wine, poured in precious cups, to tempt her guest into dealing with her brother. In fact, the unnatural aging of the Italian wine mirrors the corruption of Caesar by the Egyptian luxury surrounding him. Lucan claims that even great and sober Romans from the old days (nomina pauperis aeui, Luc. 10.151) would not have been unmoved by such wealth, let alone a general who was waging war against fellow citizens. The exact same verse ending is found in the Falernus episode, where it is stated that the farmer’s hospitality was ‘in accordance with the rites of a poor age’ (ritu pauperis aeui, 7.175). This allusion demonstrates that Falernus is one of those poor people of old, still untouched by decadence.

But the allusions to the Bellum Civile also lead to a more paradoxical reading of Bacchus’ gift to Falernus. Just as Caesar tempts Amyclas with promises of wealth and Cleopatra seduces Caesar with unrestrained luxury, the god of wine rewards the Campanian farmer with a drink he does not strictly need—as he was used to drinking spring water. After having received this gift, Falernus is not able to restrain himself and drinks several cups of the divine liquid, which causes him to become drunk. This inebriety can be seen as a departure from the sober lifestyle he had adhered to so far. Bettenworth observes that excessive drinking is exceptional in epic hospitality scenes. She underestimates, to my opinion, the possible negative undertone of Falernus’ inebriety. It is of course much more innocent than the reckless ambition of Caesar or the excessive luxury at Cleopatra’s palace, but it does signify a lack of restraint that Falernus had not known before: this is a victory of the eastern, decadent Bacchus over the farmer’s former Italic sobriety.⁷⁰

6 Falernus Overcome by Bacchus

Falernus’ transition from drinking water to drinking wine also ties in with metapoetical connotations of ‘water-drinkers’ and ‘wine-drinkers’. Since Hesiod, drinking spring water is a metaphor for poetic inspiration in general, but from the Hellenistic age onwards, it became associated with Callimachean poetry in particular. This can be traced back to Callimachus’ Hymn to Apollo, in which he suggests a similarity between creating refined poems and gathering small amounts of pure water from a sacred spring:⁷¹

Δηοῖ δ’ οὐκ ἀπὸ παντὸς ὕδωρ φορέουσι μέλισσαι,

ἀλλ’ ἥτις καθαρή τε καὶ ἀχράαντος ἀνέρπει

πίδακος ἐξ ἱερῆς ὀλίγη λιβὰς ἄκρον ἄωτον. (Call. Ap. 110–112)

Not from any source do bees carry water to Demeter, but what creeps up, pure and unpolluted, from a holy spring, a tiny drop, the choicest of waters.

After Callimachus, poets have associated Callimachean poetry with drinking water, whereas the opposite, especially the ‘masculine’ poetry of Homer or Archilochus, became associated with drinking wine; a famous example is a poem of Antipater of Thessalonica.⁷² Although the exact categories of water-drinkers and wine-drinkers vary, Roman poets use these same metaphors for discerning different poetic styles.⁷³ Horace, after having criticized the water-drinking poets, ranges epic poets with wine-drinkers:

laudibus arguitur uini uinosus Homerus;

Ennius ipse pater numquam nisi potus ad arma

prosiluit dicenda. (Hor. Ep. 1.19.6–8)

Homer, by his praises of wine, is convicted as a winebibber. Even Father Ennius never sprang forth to tell of arms save after much drinking.

Propertius claims that he is the first to follow the footsteps of Callimachus and Philitas and calls himself ‘priest from a pure spring’ (puro de fonte sacerdos, Prop. 3.1.3), clearly evoking the spring in the Hymn to Apollo.⁷⁴ Before Bacchus’ arrival, Falernus and his fellow Campanians were used to drink water: fonte sitim et pura soliti defendere lympha (‘they were wont to quench their thirst with pure spring water’, 7.170). When we read this as an allusion to both Callimachus and Propertius, we can understand it as yet another indication that we are entering a narrative with Callimachean overtones.

The arrival of Bacchus and the discovery of wine change Falernus from a water-drinker into a wine-drinker. At first glance, this change does not indicate a transition to the martial world of epic. On the contrary, the narrator describes the farmer’s first drunkenness with some humour, as the tottering old man can barely pronounce his words when he wants to thank the god:

nec facilis laeto certasse, Falerne, sapori,

postquam iterata tibi sunt pocula, iam pede risum,

iam lingua titubante moues patrique Lyaeo

tempora quassatus grates et praemia digna

uix intellectis conaris reddere uerbis,

donec composuit luctantia lumina Somnus,

Somnus, Bacche, tibi comes additus. (7.199–205)

It is not easy for you, Falernus, to contend with the joyful juice, and after you had a second cup, you raise a laugh, now with tottering feet, now with tottering tongue. With pounding temples you try to render father Lyaeus the thanks that he deserves with words hardly understandable, until Sleep closed your struggling eyes—Sleep that is joined to you, Bacchus, as your companion.

Commentators have called Silius’ description of Falernus ‘comical’, noting a change in style compared to the epiphany of Bacchus in the previous lines.⁷⁵ Besides comedy, these lines also conjure up the atmosphere of Roman love elegy, in which drunkenness is often a cure for the pangs of love.⁷⁶ In the perception of Roman poets, elegy is Callimachean poetry par excellence, and is the genre that is most strongly felt as the opposite of (martial) epic: it revolves around otium and amor instead of epic negotium and arma.⁷⁷ Although Falernus is obviously no elegiac amator, his throbbing temples recall those of the desperate lover in the opening lines of Tibullus’ second elegy.⁷⁸ The lover, who is not let in by his mistress, wants to drown his suffering in drinking and sleep:

adde merum uinoque nouos compesce dolores,

occupet ut fessi lumina uicta sopor;

neu quisquam multo percussum tempora Baccho

excitet, infelix dum requiescit amor. (Tib. 1.2.1–4)

Pour it neat, boy. Discipline fresh misery with drink, letting sleep invade these tired defeated eyes, and when Bacchus in his strength has hit me on the temples see that no one wakes me while unhappy love is at rest.

Silius carefully follows the language of Tibullus: the accusative of respect (tempora) with the participle ‘hit’ (percussum ~ quassatus) and the metonymy of the god’s name for the wine itself (Baccho ~ Lyaeo) are retained from the model. But whereas Tibullus’ lover wants to drink away his sorrows purposefully, the wine strikes Falernus unexpectedly. That Falernus’ temples are shaken by wine is also reminiscent of Ovid’s Remedia Amoris, in which the poet advises to abandon leisure (otia);⁷⁹ sleep and wine are, after all, a breeding ground for love and result in mental weakness:

Languor, et inmodici sub nullo uindice somni,

aleaque, et multo tempora quassa mero

eripiunt omnes animo sine uulnere neruos:

adfluit incautis insidiosus Amor. (Ov. Rem. 145–148)

Laziness, and immoderate sleep with no one to check you, and dicing, and temples shaken by much wine rob all people of their mental strength without a wound: insidious Love glides into those who are off guard.

In order to free themselves from the consequences of love, men should instead occupy themselves with warfare, business in the forum or agriculture (Rem. 151–224). The Ovidian text also alludes to Tibullus 1.2 (multo percussum tempora Baccho ~ multo tempora quassa mero), resulting in a window allusion. That Silius alludes to Tibullus through the Ovidian intertext is flagged by the change of Tibullus’ percussum into quassatus. This indicates that the drunkenness of Falernus is an effect of this harmful otium that has replaced his former negotium as a farmer. Although the otium can be viewed positively as a relief from his heavy labour as a farmer, it can also be read in metapoetical terms and indicate a departure from a simple world towards (elegiac) luxuria.

The world of epic seems to be far away. The wine stands for otium and luxuria as we know it from elegy, so it seems. But there are signs that the wine actually does indicate a change towards the martiality of epic. Let us first have another look at Falernus and the elegiac lover in Tibullus. The latter wishes to be overcome by sleep and wine, using military metaphors: sleep will ‘occupy’ (occupet) his eyes so that they are ‘conquered’ (uicta)—he wants to numb his agony. Silius’ text contains similar military imaginary, but there is also an important difference: Falernus fights against the consequences of luxuria: the farmer is ‘contending’ (certasse) with the wine and his eyes are ‘struggling’ (luctantia) against Sleep, who is called the ‘comrade in arms’ (comes) of Bacchus.⁸⁰ Finally, however, Falernus has to give in. This is therefore not the carefree sleep that the Tibullan lover longs for, but rather one that forebodes danger.⁸¹ A parallel is the restless sleep of Thebans shortly after the arrival the army of the Seven in Statius’ Thebaid: si tenuis demisit lumina somnus | bella gerunt (‘if light sleep cast down their eyes, they were waging wars’, Theb. 7.463–464). The Thebans are already fighting future battles in their dreams.

Two scenes in the Punica of soldiers dying on the battlefield confirm the ominous connotation of Sleep mastering Falernus. The first is the Carthaginian Sychaeus, who was killed by consul Flaminius: longo componit lumina somno (‘he closes his eyes in a long sleep’, 5.529). The second example is the death of a Roman soldier, in a later passage in Book 7: erratque niger per lumina Somnus (‘black Sleep wanders over his eyes’, 7.633). Like in the case of Falernus, Sleep is here personified.⁸² The deaths of Eurydice in Virgil’s Georgic and Palinurus in the Aeneid are two other scenes that ring through. When Eurydice recedes into the underworld, she shouts to Orpheus: fata uocant, conditque natantia lumina somnus (‘fate calls me back, and sleep closes my swimming eyes’, G. 4.496). In the account of Palinurus’ death, the god Somnus plays an active role in the drowning of the helmsman:

ecce deus ramum Lethaeo rore madentem

uique soporatum Stygia super utraque quassat

tempora, cunctantique natantia lumina soluit. (Virg. A. 5.854–856)

Look, the god [i.e. Somnus] shakes a bough, dripping with Lethe’s dew and soporific by Stygian power, over his temples and frees his swimming eyes despite his efforts.

The sleeping Palinurus falls into the sea, while his sleeping comrades do not hear his calls for help: socios nequiquam saepe uocantem (‘he often called his comrades in vain’, A. 5.860). Falernus’ struggling eyes in Silius (luctantia lumina, 7.204) recall in sound and meaning both Palinurus’ ‘swimming eyes’ (natantia lumina) and his resistance against Sleep (cunctanti). Falernus, too, was not able to use his voice effectively anymore: grates et praemia digna | uix intellectis conaris reddere uerbis (‘you try to render [Bacchus] the thanks that he deserves with words hardly understandable’, 7.202–203).⁸³ Hardie observes on the Virgilian passage: “We have here a self-contained little episode, an encounter between a mortal and a god which is decisively concluded first by loss of consciousness, and then, as it appears, death by drowning.”⁸⁴ The same can be said of Falernus, only that he drowned in wine.

These intra- and intertextual parallels bring to the surface an association between Sleep and Death, which of course has a long literary and iconographical pedigree.⁸⁵ This makes the sleep of Falernus, the ‘comrade in arms’ of Bacchus, less peaceful and elegiac than a superficial reading might suggest. His excessive drinking therefore not only evokes the world of elegy, it also foreshadows the change from his ‘Callimachean’ world into the world of martial epic.⁸⁶

7 Foaming Cups: Intra- and Intertextual Ramifications

Whereas it is not made explicit that Sleep and wine kill Falernus, the narrative in Book 7 can be seen as a prefiguration of a morbid scene in Book 13: the collective suicide of the Capuan traitors during a dinner. This event takes place when the Romans are laying siege to Capua for having collaborated with Hannibal. Virrius, the leader of Capuans who decided to betray Rome, invites his supporters to his house. Drinking wine will make it easier for them to commit suicide, he claims:

dum copia noctis,

cui cordi comes aeterna est Acherontis ad undam

libertas, petat ille meas mensasque dapesque

et uictus mentem fuso per membra Lyaeo

sopitoque necis morsu medicamina cladis

hauriat ac placidis exarmet fata uenenis. (13.270–275)

As long as there is plenty of night, let him, who wants to have liberty as eternal companion at the water of the Acheron, come to my table and meal. And let him, whose mind Lyaeus has conquered by spreading through the limbs, thus having soothed the sting of death, take the medicine of defeat and disarm fate with peaceful venom.

The language of this banquet recalls the meal at Falernus’ hut, but now Bacchus has become an assistant in committing suicide.⁸⁷ In the final part of this sinister feast, cups foaming with venom replace the wine. The goddess Fides transforms into a Fury and serves these poisonous drinks in person:⁸⁸

ipsa etiam Stygio spumantia pocula tabo

porrigit et large poenas letumque ministrat. (13.294–295)

She herself hands them the cups foaming with Stygian poison and serves punishment and death in abundance.

These lines are a clear echo of the wine wonder in the Falernus episode: subito, mirabile dictu, | fagina pampineo spumarunt pocula suco (‘suddenly, wondrous to tell, the beechen cups foamed with the juice of the vine’, 7.187–188). The context of foaming cups in Falernus’ cottage has been changed drastically: from a cheerful epiphany in Book 7 to a collective suicide in Book 13, where the boundaries between Heaven and Hell have become blurred.⁸⁹

This intratextual echo also has an intertextual dimension: in the first book of Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica we find a very similar reversal. There, too, foaming cups of wine are foreshadowing a suicidal scene later in the same book. The first passage comes from the festivities of the Argonauts before their departure to Colchis. Achilles was sitting on the lap of his father Peleus, one of the crewmembers. The little child was not impressed by the cups of wine: illum nec ualido spumantia pocula Baccho | sollicitant (‘the cups foaming with strong Bacchus do not attract his attention’, V. Fl. 1.260–261). These Valerian lines are echoed in the wine cups of 7.188, not only on a verbal level, but also in word order and sound: fagina pampineo spumarunt pocula suco. The foaming cups of venom in Punica 13, in turn, are reminiscent of a scene at the end of Argonautica 1, where Jason’s father Aeson together with his mother commits suicide, aided by one of the Furies:

adstitit et nigro spumantia pocula tabo

contigit ipsa graui Furiarum maxima dextra;

illi auide exceptum pateris hausere cruorem. (V. Fl. 1.815–817)

The eldest of the Furies stands nearby and touches with her heavy hand the cups that are foaming with black venom. Eagerly they drank the blood taken from the bowls.

In this case, the cups are foaming with venomous bull’s blood.⁹⁰ However, the suicide, the role of the Fury, and other verbal and sound repetitions confirm that Punica 13 is a reworking of this scene.⁹¹

Silius repeats the order of the two Valerian scenes when referring to foaming cups: first in a positive, then in a negative context.⁹² In the case of Falernus, the foaming cups of wine are a divine miracle, but they return as a means of the Fury to bring about the suicide of the Capuan senators in Book 13. Likewise, the cups of wine were used in a happier context of feasting in the beginning of Book 1 of the Argonautica and in a much gloomier situation at the end of it, when Jason’s parents commit suicide at the instigation of the Furies. This second, negative use of the cups in retrospect also casts a shadow over its earlier use. The departure of his son on a heroic quest has at least contributed to Aeson’s decision to end his life: the threat of his brother Pelias urges him to meet the heroic standards of his son (mentioned first!), ancestors, and his own heroism in earlier wars:

magnos obitus natumque domumque

et genus Aeolium pugnataque poscere bella. (V. Fl. 1.769–770)

His son, his house, his Aeolian race and previous wars all demanded a glorious death.

Likewise, the foaming cups in Falernus’ cottage are foreshadowing the suicide of the Capuans in Book 13. The inhabitants of this city serve as a foil to Falernus, as they are living more or less in the same area, close to the ager Falernus, but are leading a life of unbridled luxuria. The wine of Bacchus has corrupted them in such a way that they changed it into a means of killing themselves.

8 The Falernus Episode and Hannibal’s Downfall

Capua is an important turning point in the epic. Its collaboration with Hannibal first seems to help the Carthaginians in weakening Rome even more after the destructive Battle of Cannae, but after their hibernation in Capua (Book 11), Hannibal’s soldiers and the general himself are enfeebled by the luxury of their hosts. The former vigour has disappeared and from this moment onwards the Romans will increase their military successes, which culminate in the Battle of Zama at the end of the Punica. So, paradoxically, the moral decay of Capua helps the Romans to overcome their archenemy. Hospitality in general and wine in particular play an important role in the weakening of the Carthaginians. In this light, the Falernus episode can be read as a foreshadowing of the defeat of the Carthaginian army, as I will argue in this section.⁹³

The desertion of Rome’s former ally is salient, because one of Aeneas’ companions, Capys, was its founder. Silius stresses this common Trojan origin of the two cities at the beginning of Book 11: Dardana ab ortu | moenia barbarico Nomadum sociata tyranno (‘[who could believe] that a city of Trojan origin would become an ally of a barbarian tyrant of Nomads?’, 11.30–31). The narrator’s explanation for the betrayal is the excessive luxury and wealth of the Capuans, which caused them to become morally depraved (11.32–43). An example is their ancient habit of gladiatorial fights during meals, which often resulted in a bloody spectacle: saepe et super ipsa cadentum | pocula respersis non parco sanguine mensis (‘often the combatants even fell on top of the cups and the tables were splattered by no small amounts of their blood’, 11.53–54). This is a first indication that we should view the Capuans as the opposite of Falernus. While their tables are covered in blood, Falernus’ table has not even been polluted by animal blood (nulloque cruore | polluta … mensa, 7.182–183). The moral depravity of the Capuans is in strong contrast with Falernus’ frugal dinner habits.

When Hannibal and his men are invited to enter the city, they are regaled with an excessive dinner party. This luxurious hospitality is again the opposite of the simple country dishes that Falernus serves ‘according to the habit of his ancestors’ (de more parentum, 7.177). The Capuans have diametrically opposed habits:

instituunt de more epulas festamque per urbem

regifice exstructis celebrant conuiuia mensis.

ipse deum cultu et sacro dignatus honore (11.270–272)

According to their habits they prepare meals and give banquets throughout the festive city with tables piled up in a regal manner. He [i.e. Hannibal] himself is deemed worthy the worship of gods and sacred honour.

The theoxenical character of the Falernus episode also rings through, as Hannibal is honoured as a god.⁹⁴ But instead of one sedulous old man, throngs of servants are serving the Carthaginian guests (11.274–276). The tough soldiers are looking at this splendour in amazement, unused to such refinement and wealth.⁹⁵ First, Hannibal frowns upon this display of luxury in his honour: tantos damnat honores (‘he condemns honour of such measure’, 11.283). But finally, he, too, gives in to the abundance of food and wine: pulsa fames et Bacchi munera duram | laxarunt mentem (‘the expulsion of his hunger and the gifts of Bacchus made his mind relax’, 11.285–286). The phrase ‘gifts of Bacchus’ recalls the reward of the god in Book 7, where the god himself speaks about wine as his munera (7.194). These echoes of the theoxeny in Book 7 invite a comparison between the characters of the two episodes. The Carthaginian general is indulging in the hospitality of the Capuans, just as Bacchus enjoyed the hospitality of Falernus. On the other hand, Hannibal mirrors Falernus, who was overcome by the gift of Bacchus; now the god of wine holds the Carthaginians firmly in his grasp.

The dinner at Capua almost becomes fatal for Hannibal, as the Capuan Perolla planned an assault on the general. The narrator apostrophizes this young man, stating that he cannot pass over his plan in silence:⁹⁶

neque enim, iuuenis non digne sileri,

tramittam tua coepta libens famamque negabo

quamquam imperfectis, magnae tamen indolis, ausis (11.304–306)

For I would not want, young man worthy to be mentioned, pass over your deeds in silence and I will not deny fame to the endeavours of great ingenuity, though they were unsuccessful.

This introduction is reminiscent of the opening lines of the Falernus episode, where the narrator apostrophizes Bacchus in a similar way:⁹⁷

haud fas, Bacche, tuos tacitum tramittere honores,

quamquam magna incepta uocent. (7.162–163)

It is not permitted, Bacchus, to pass over your honours in silence, although a great enterprise is calling upon me.

Perolla is in a way put on a par with Bacchus in Book 7, in that his story deserves to be told by the primary narrator. In this sense, it is surprising that the young man is the only person in Capua who has remained sober, as the narrator explicitly states:

mens una, inuiolata mero nullisque uenenis

potando exarmata decus (11.307–308)

He was the only one whose mind was untouched by wine and whose honour was not disarmed by drinking any of this poison.

Perolla is therefore the only person in Capua not under Bacchus’ spell. The narrator presents the ‘gift of Bacchus’ in a very negative way, calling it ‘poison’ that has the power to rob a person of his honour. The fact that Perolla was not intoxicated made it possible for him to plan the assassination of Hannibal. Finally, he did not manage to carry out his plan, as the narrator had already anticipated by the phrase quamquam imperfectis. His father Pacuvius, the leader of Capua, prevents Perolla from attacking Hannibal by imploring his son not to violate the rules of hospitality and not to cause a massacre:

absiste inceptis, oro, ne sanguine cernam

polluta hospitia ac tabo repleta cruento

pocula et euersas pugnae certamine mensas. (11.334–336)

Abandon your undertaking, I beg you, lest I see hospitality polluted by blood, cups filled with bloody gore and tables overturned by strife.

Pacuvius’ words sound as if they were those of Falernus, who truly had ‘a table not polluted by any blood’ (nulloque cruore | polluta … mensa, 7.182–183). The words of this father are, however, rather hypocritical when we take into account how bloody Capuan dinners often get: saepe et super ipsa cadentum | pocula respersis non parco sanguine mensis (‘often the combatants even fell on top of the cups and the tables were splattered by no small amounts of their blood’, 11.53–54).⁹⁸ Pacuvius convinces his son to abandon his plot against Hannibal.

When revealing his plans, Perolla had called them ‘greater undertakings’ (inceptis … maioribus, 11.323). This recalls the narrator’s reference to his own epic undertaking at the start of the Falernus episode: magna incepta (7.163).⁹⁹ The primary narrator continues his epic narrative after the ‘Callimachean’ Falernus episode. Perolla’s potential epic glory, however, yields to wine and sleep. Returning with his father to the dinner party, he drowns his sorrow in feasting until he is overcome by sleep (11.361–368). So, in Book 11 Hannibal is victim of Bacchus, but paradoxically his life is saved under the influence of the same god: Perolla, the one Capuan that up to now was unaffected by wine, falls victim to excessive drinking.¹⁰⁰

After this failed assassination plan, the deterioration of Carthaginian valour continues. This time the moving force is Venus, who plans to destroy the Carthaginians by luxury. The goddess is about to launch a new assault:

nec Venerem interea fugit exoptabile tempus

Poenorum mentes caeco per laeta premendi

exitio et luxu corda importuna domandi. (11.385–387)

Meanwhile Venus, too, did not miss out this welcome opportunity to oppress the minds of the Carthaginians with invisible destruction disguised as joy and to tame their savage hearts with luxury.

The goddess instructs her Cupids to break the fierceness of the Carthaginians, for which wine is an important weapon. After the enemy has been overcome by wine, other forms of indulgence will follow:

… discatque Lyaeo

imbellem donare diem. tum deinde madenti

post epulas sit grata chelys, segnisque soporas

aut nostro uigiles ducat sub numine noctes. (11.406–409)

… and let [Hannibal] learn to offer a warless day to Lyaeus. Then, let him enjoy the lyre when he is soaking drunk after meals and spend the night in lazy sleep or stay awake under my power.

After this exhortation the Cupids get to work. The Carthaginians embrace the luxury that is brought to them: Bacchi dona uolunt epulasque et carmina rursus | Pieria liquefacta lyra (‘again, they want the gifts of Bacchus and meals and songs that are made sweet by a Pierian lyre’, 11.414–415). This is an echo of the earlier drinking scene of the Carthaginians, when they indulged in ‘the gifts of Bacchus’ (Bacchi munera, 11.285). Due to Venus’ workings, the Carthaginians immerse themselves in luxury and wine again (rursus).

The word rursus is also an intratextual signpost to the Falernus episode: once more, Bacchus’ gifts have a destructive force. Therefore, the repetition of the names Bacchus and Lyaeus in Book 11 is not just a conventional metonymy for wine, but stresses the involvement of the god in the weakening of the Carthaginians. Hannibal is completely defeated by luxury: the narrator states that Capuan vices had a harmful effect on his character in contrast to his previous successes on the battlefield: intactumque secundae | fortunae ingenium uitia allicientia quassant (‘enticing vices shook his character that had remained untouched by his success’, 11.425–426).

From this moment onwards, the force of the Carthaginians is broken and they will achieve no major victories anymore. This becomes clear when the war narrative continues in Book 12:

sed non ille uigor, qui ruptis Alpibus arma

intulerat dederatque uias Trebiaque potitus

Maeonios Italo scelerauit sanguine fluctus,

tunc inerat. molli luxu madefacta meroque,

illecebris somni torpentia membra fluebant. (12.15–19)¹⁰¹

They did no longer have the vigour, which had broken the Alps and made way for armed combat, which had conquered Trebia, which had polluted the Maeonian streams with Italian blood. Their limbs were lax, drenched in soft luxury and wine, inactive by seductive sleep.

Wine and sleep have overcome the Carthaginians. They have become similar to the Capuans who invited them into their city and who had already been corrupted by luxury (11.32–54).¹⁰² The stay in Capua has turned out to be a crucial turning point in the war. It is as if Bacchus repays Hannibal for having destroyed the Falernian vineyards in Book 7, by subduing his army with wine.¹⁰³

9 Bacchus as an Unstable Exemplar in the Punica

Bacchus is often used for legitimizing divine rule and conquest. This paradigm has a long pedigree, going back to the time of Alexander the Great and frequently found in Augustan literature.¹⁰⁴ Like Hercules, with whom Bacchus is often paired, the god is no straightforward example of benevolence, but rather a two-faced divinity: on the one hand he is a cultivator, bringing viniculture to other parts of the world, on the other he stands for violent and suppressive autocracy.¹⁰⁵ In the Punica, too, we see reflections of this ambiguity. In this section I will explore this double image of Bacchus in the Punica in order to get a clearer view on his role in the Falernus episode.

From Book 1 onwards, we find references to Bacchus as a god of fertility. Spain is called ‘not inhospitable to Bacchus’ (nec inhospita Baccho, 1.237) and the mountains around Sorrentum are ‘fertile due to Bacchus’ (felicia Baccho, 5.465). In these cases, Bacchus stands for the viniculture of the areas mentioned.¹⁰⁶ In Book 7 Bacchus is presented as bestower of blessings (largitor, 7.164), contrasting with Hannibal who takes on the role of the aggressive violator of the Italian landscape. Bacchic fertility as opposed to Carthaginian destruction returns briefly after the Battle of Cannae. From the battlefield the enemy marches straight to Rome, laying waste to the Campanian countryside once again: hinc Allifanus Iaccho | haud inamatus ager nymphisque habitata Casini | rura euastantur (‘next they destroyed the farmland of Allifae, loved by Iacchus, and the countryside of Casinum, inhabited by nymphs’, 12.526–528). The use of Bacchus’ cult name Iacchus invites the narratees to connect this passage with the earlier Falernus episode, which contains the only other attestation of this name in the Punica (7.187).¹⁰⁷ Once more Hannibal’s troops are destroying an idyllic landscape that was dear to the god of wine—a rehearsal of the Carthaginian destructiveness in the same region in Book 7.¹⁰⁸ Once again, a Bacchic landscape falls victim to the aggression of Hannibal.

In other places in the Punica, Bacchus figures rather as a god of conquest. This is especially apparent from a short episode in Book 3, where the narrator tells about the god’s subjection of Spain:¹⁰⁹

tempore quo Bacchus populos domitabat Hiberos

concutiens thyrso atque armata Maenade Calpen

lasciuo genitus Satyro nymphaque Myrice

Milichus indigenis late regnarat in oris

cornigeram attollens genitoris imagine frontem. (3.101–105)

Since the time when Bacchus subdued the peoples of Spain, shaking Calpe to its foundation with his thyrsus and his armed troupe of Maenads, Milichus, born from a lustful Satyr and the nymph Myrice, held sway far and wide over his indigenous coasts, bearing horns on his forehead, like those of his father.

That Bacchus and his companions were aggressive invaders is apparent from words like domitabat, concutiens, and armata. The local nymph Myrice is victim of sexual aggression by one of Bacchus’ satyrs, as his epithet lasciuus seems to imply.¹¹⁰ The topography is relevant here, for Calpe is the place where Bacchus is heading in the Falernus episode: attulit hospitio pergentem ad litora Calpes | extremumque diem pes dexter et hora Lyaeum (‘a lucky step and hour brought Lyaeus at the end of the day to this hospitable home, while he was travelling to the coast of Calpe’, 7.171–172).¹¹¹ The repetition of this toponym makes clear that the story of Falernus has to be read as the prequel to Bacchus’ western campaign.¹¹² Vessey states: “His beneficent and creative activity in Campania is set in symbolic antithesis to the destruction and havoc caused by Hannibal, who had come from victory in Spain to further triumphs in Italy.”¹¹³ However, the beneficial role of Bacchus in Book 7 can be questioned, since the narratees have already learned about his violent conquest of Spain that follows after his departure from Italy.

The Falernus episode contains yet another allusion to the Spanish campaign of Bacchus. The thyrsus, the weapon of the Menaeds in 3.102, is echoed in the epiphany of Bacchus in Book 7:¹¹⁴

inde nitentem

lumine purpureo frontem cinxere corymbi,

et fusae per colla comae, dextraque pependit

cantharus, ac uitis thyrso delapsa uirenti

festas Nysaeo redimiuit palmite mensas. (7.194–198)

Next, his head, shining with a purple light, was wreathed with ivy-berries, his locks flowed over his neck, from his right hand a drinking cup hang down, and the vine descending from his green thyrsus wrapped the festive tables with branches from Nysa.

Bacchus ‘conquers’ Campania by introducing the vine from his native mountain Nysa in the East (Nysaeo … palmite), which takes over Falernus’ hut and later the whole countryside.¹¹⁵ This is much less aggressive than his conquest of Spain, where Calpe is shaking in terror due to Bacchus’ thyrsus and his Maenads.

But even this rather peaceful conquest of Campania in Book 7 is not unproblematic. The epiphany of the god alludes to two scenes from the Metamorphoses where the god shows his revengeful side. In Metamorphoses 3, the ship of the Tyrrhenian sailors was covered by the same ivy-berries (corymbi) before the crew was transformed into dolphins.¹¹⁶ Right after this Bacchic hijacking of the ship, the god transforms into his divine self, shaking a spear, while his forehead was wreathed with grapes:¹¹⁷

impediunt hederae remos nexuque recuruo

serpunt et grauidis distinguunt uela corymbis.

ipse racemiferis frontem circumdatus uuis

pampineis agitat uelatam frondibus hastam. (Ov. Met. 3.664–667)

Ivy hinders the oars, snaking up with winding bindings and decks the sails with heavy ivy-berries. The god himself, with his forehead garlanded with clusters of grapes, shakes a spear covered with vine-leaves.

An even clearer example is the punishment of the daughters of Minyas.¹¹⁸ Before they are transformed into bats, their loom is overtaken by Bacchic vegetation, even producing a purple glow:

resque fide maior, coepere uirescere telae

inque hederae faciem pendens frondescere uestis;

pars abit in uites et, quae modo fila fuerunt,

palmite mutantur; de stamine pampinus exit;

purpura fulgorem pictis accommodat uuis. (Ov. Met. 4.394–398)

Something beyond belief, their looms turned green and the hanging cloth was overgrown with ivy-leaves. A part became vine and what were just now threads changed into vine-branches. From the warp vine-leaves came down. The purple tapestry matches its brightness to the variegated grapes.¹¹⁹

These intratextual and intertextual allusions problematize a sheer positive appraisal of Bacchus’ arrival and epiphany in Book 7: he is not merely a benefactor, but can also be a violent and overpowering god, as Euripides had already made amply clear in his Bacchae.¹²⁰ The contrast between Bacchus and the Carthaginian general therefore also becomes less stark. They are both conquerors, the one heading to Spain, the other departing from there.

Bacchus’ destination of his western campaign is highly symbolic. Calpe is not only a metonym for the most western extremity of the world, but also the location where Hercules—on his way to the monster Geryon in Gades—is thought to have erected the pillars that were named after him. That Bacchus is following the footsteps of Hercules is made clear at the beginning of the Falernus episode. The initial word of 7.171 (attulit) is one of the allusions to Hercules’ arrival at Euander’s dwelling, as the king tells his guest Aeneas: attulit et nobis aliquando optantibus aetas | auxilium aduentumque dei (‘time once brought to us the help and arrival of a god, when we were wishing for it’, Virg. A. 8.200–201).¹²¹ Hercules came to Pallanteum when he was driving Geryon’s cattle back from Spain, while Bacchus is still heading for Spain. Hannibal also portrays himself as a successor to Hercules in travelling this route.¹²² This is for example apparent in the speech to his men just before the Battle of Cannae: Herculeis iter a metis ad Iapygis agros | uincendo emensi (‘you have traversed victoriously from the Pillars of Hercules to the Iapygian fields’, 9.185–186). Hannibal portrays himself as a powerful conqueror, like Hercules and Bacchus before him.

In the second part of the Punica, after the Battle of Cannae, Scipio rather than Hannibal is the character most readily associated with Bacchus and Hercules.¹²³ Two passages in particular bring this to the fore. The first is Virtus’ speech in Book 15, when the goddess promises the Roman general eternal glory:

at quis aetherii seruatur seminis ortus,

caeli porta patet. referam quid cuncta domantem

Amphitryoniadem? quid, cui, post Seras et Indos

captiuo Liber cum signa referret ab Euro,

Caucaseae currum duxere per oppida tigres? (15.77–81)

For those in whom the issue of heavenly seed is preserved, the gate of heaven stands open. Why should I mention the son of Amphitryon, who tamed everything? Why should I mention Liber, who, after subduing the Chinese and Indians, brought back military standards from the conquered East, whose chariot was brought through cities by Caucasian tigers?

According to Virtus, Scipio is the rightful successor to Bacchus and Hercules. This is affirmed by the primary narrator at the end of the entire epic. In the triumphal procession, images of the conquered areas are shown, among them Calpe: laudibus olim | terminus Herculeis Calpe (‘Calpe, once the limit of Hercules’ honour’, 17.637–638). Scipio is therefore following in the footsteps of Hercules, assuming the honour that once belonged to the Greek hero. After the Roman citizens have looked in amazement at a picture of Hannibal fleeing from the battlefield, the focus turns to Scipio. His appearance in the triumphal procession is explicitly compared to that of Bacchus and Hercules:

qualis odoratis descendens Liber ab Indis

egit pampineos frenata tigride currus,

aut cum Phlegraeis confecta mole Gigantum

incessit campis tangens Tirynthius astra. (17.647–650)

So looked Liber, when he came down from the fragrant Indians, driving his chariot, that was wreathed in vine-leaves and drawn by tigers, and so looked the Tirynthian when he drove over the fields of Phlegra after having killed the huge Giants, reaching with his head the stars.

These lines are the realization of Virtus’ prophecy: Scipio has become as triumphant as Bacchus and Hercules once were. The image of Bacchus riding on a chariot drawn by tigers is exactly as Virtus had pictured the triumph of the wine god in Book 15. But we should also recall Anchises’ prophecy in Aeneid 6. There, Aeneas is told that Augustus will surpass the conquests of Hercules and Bacchus:

nec qui pampineis uictor iuga flectit habenis

Liber, agens celso Nysae de uertice tigris. (Virg. A. 6.804–805)

Not [did] Liber [cover so much of the earth], who steered his chariot with reins of vine-branches, driving his tigers from the lofty peak of Nysa.

Apart from the similar imagery of a chariot drawn by tigers, there are two more resemblances. The first are the vine-leaves on the chariot, as the repetition of the rare adjective pampineus in the same metrical sedes underlines.¹²⁴ This detail of Scipio’s chariot was also subtly foreshadowed in the Falernus episode.¹²⁵ The second similarity is Bacchus’ route: in the Aeneid he descends from Mount Nysa in India, where he was born, in the Punica he descends ‘from the fragrant Indians’ (odoratis … ab Indis). This phrase suggests that Bacchus introduced viniculture to the Indians, too. Again, we can see a subtle reference to the Falernus episode, where we read about the miraculous wine that comes from ‘fragrant grapes’ (odoratis … ab uuis, 7.191). The fact that both Roman leaders are compared to Bacchus in a very similar way makes it plausible to see Scipio as a prefiguration of Augustus.¹²⁶

The other Roman that is compared to Bacchus in the Punica (and is actually said to surpass him) is Domitian.¹²⁷ Jupiter prophesied that the emperor’s conquests in the East will outdo those of Bacchus:

hic et ab Arctoo currus aget axe per urbem,

ducet et Eoos Baccho cedente triumphos. (3.614–615)

From the North Pole he [i.e. Domitian] will drive his chariot through the city and he will lead triumphal processions for victories in the East, to which Bacchus yields.

Again, we see a leader driving a chariot, although the tigers are absent.¹²⁸ Another difference is that Domitian will celebrate his triumphal processions in the only urbs that really matters: Rome; Bacchus did so through anonymous oppida (15.81). Just like Augustus in the prophecy of Anchises, Domitian will surpass the conquests of his divine counterpart.¹²⁹

The Falernus episode might also implicitly refer to another association between Domitian and Bacchus. Around AD 91, Domitian issued the so-called vine edict. Suetonius (Dom. 7.2) informs us that the emperor ordered that no more vines were to be planted in Italy and that the existing vineyards were to be cut down by half.¹³⁰ This measure was taken because of a shortage of corn, according to Suetonius, but Statius frames it as a moral, rather than an economic decision in his Silvae:

qui castae Cereri diu negata

reddit iugera sobriasque terras (Stat. Silv. 4.3.11–12)

[Domitian] who [as censor] restores to chaste Ceres acres long denied to her, sober fields.

It seems as if Silius is commenting on this Statian text when he says that a ‘chaste’ Falernus ‘brought gifts of Ceres’ to his table (castus … Cerealia dona | attulit, 7.183–184); Domitian is bringing the landscape of Italy back to the time before Bacchus’ arrival in the region, returning almost to a Golden Age.

If we only read the Falernus episode, Bacchus would be considered a potent but innocent divinity, bestowing his vines on Italy. As such he is the antithesis of Hannibal the destroyer. Narratees who remember the god’s violent invasion of Spain can question this black-and-white interpretation: Bacchus and Hannibal, both conquerors of Spain, have perhaps more in common than the text in Book 7 at first glance suggests. In the second half of the epic, after Cannae, it is Scipio who assumes the role of Bacchus and Hercules, with the final triumphal procession as the climax.

10 Conclusion

The Falernus episode stands out in an epic that deals with the greatest defeats of Roman history. Silius creates for a moment a world in which people were simple farmers and where a god acts as a cultivator, instead of a destructive force. The story serves as a georgic antithesis to the destruction of the Campanian countryside by Hannibal. The epic narrative and thus Hannibal’s destruction is paused. This narrative pause is mimicking the confrontation-avoiding tactics of Fabius in the main narrative. This mora can only be temporarily: after the theoxeny, Hannibal continues his devastation of the Italian land.

Nevertheless, the Falernus episode will appear to be an overture for themes that are elaborated in the ensuing books of the epic. The gift of wine that Falernus receives is ambiguous. It means a removal from the ‘better age’ of Falernus towards excessive luxury in later times. Capua, not far from the ager Falernus is an example of the harmful effects of luxuria, of which wine is an important element. Paradoxically, the vices of the Capuans will save Rome, as their sumptuous lifestyle infects Hannibal and his soldiers during their stay in Capua. In this respect, the Falernus episode foreshadows the weakening of Hannibal by Venus and Bacchus in Book 11.

The contrast between Bacchus and Hannibal is, however, less great than the Falernus episode at first glance suggests. In other parts of the epic, the god is a symbol of conquest. The Falernus episode is the prequel to Bacchus’ western campaign, in which he conquers Spain, as was told in Book 3. The god also subdues Falernus by making him drunk and changing his life drastically; the military metaphors employed in the episode also point in that direction. Hannibal is of course also a conqueror: having subdued Spain, he sets out for an eastward campaign, which will lead him to Campania.

In the later books of the Punica, Scipio takes over this role of a new Bacchus, following in the footsteps of Aeneas. Scipio is here portrayed as the predecessor of Domitian: the emperor is the only other Roman in the epic that is equalled to Bacchus. Jupiter even prophesies that the emperor will surpass the god’s conquests in the East. The mirroring between Bacchus and these Roman leaders seems to confirm the antithesis between Bacchus and Hannibal in Book 7. But Bacchus, as we have seen, is an unstable model. Are Scipio and Domitian to be seen as cultivating forces, bringing back Rome to something that resembles a Golden Age? Or do they rather stand for conquest and autocratic rule? The Falernus episode contributes to the ambiguity of Bacchus and the gift of wine, without providing definite answers.