Medea on Roman Sarcophagi

Myth as Consolatio: Medea on Roman SarcophagiAuthor(s): Genevieve GessertSource: Greece & Rome, Second Series, Vol. 51, No. 2 (Oct., 2004), pp. 217-249Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3567812 .Accessed: 12/05/2014 17:10

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Greece & Rome, Vol. 51, No. 2 ? The Classical Association, 2004. All rights reserved

MYTH AS CONSOLATIO: MEDEA ON ROMAN SARCOPHAGI*

By GENEVIEVE GESSERT

This paper discusses the use of myth on Roman sarcophagi of the second and early third centuries AD primarily from the city of Rome and its environs. As an introduction to the traditional methodologies of sarcophagus interpretation, this study looks first at corpora of sarcophagi typically interpreted as exempla virtutis, namely those depicting the stories of Alcestis and other consummate characters. In contrast to these conventional modes, the majority of the paper is devoted to a comprehensive consideration of the infamous exploits of Medea represented in this medium, a tale seemingly antithetical to permanent and favourable commemoration of the deceased. This examination of the visual representation of this infamous anti-heroine suggests some novel theories about the presence of Greek mythology in the Roman funerary context as a whole, from the commemorative motivations of the patron to the effect of the mythological frieze on descendants and mourners as they visited the tomb. To effect this innovative approach, this exploration relies fundamentally on developing techniques of visual analysis and new theories of funerary iconography, then necessarily transcends the sarcophagi themselves, looking not only to other visual media, but also to related literary genres such as eulogy, tragedy, and letters of consolation. In focusing on the powerful social processes that characterized both the Roman funerary context and Roman society in general, this study demonstrates that Greek mythology was not merely a set of traditional stories used as exempla or even as analogies, but an expressive medium in which Roman cultural requirements could be presented and explored.

*This paper was originally delivered in April 1999 under the title 'Medea on Roman Sarcophagi: exemplum or monstrum?' at the Gods and Monsters colloquium, Yale University. I would like to thank the colloquium organizers and participants for their questions and comments, which inspired substantial additions to the original text. I am also grateful to Kimberly Bowes, Susan Matheson, Claudia Zatta, and the faculty of Hood College for their helpful suggestions. I am profoundly appreciative of Alison Poe's detailed criticism and continued support throughout the lengthy revision process. Errors of fact and analysis remain mine alone.


MEDEA ON ROMAN SARCOPHAGI

Introduction: Sarcophagi and the Roman Funerary Context Ancient sources are conspicuously silent about sarcophagi and their decorative friezes. The word sarcophagus is barely used in classical Latin literature, and the authors provide only anecdotal information on the term. For example, the encyclopaedist Pliny describes a stone from the Troad called sarcophagus (NH 2.211, 28.140, 36.131), so named because it could dissolve a body in under 40 days (teeth excluded) - sarcophagus literally meaning 'flesh-eater'. But no ancient text provides any clues regarding the choice of a particular mythological sarcophagus by a patron (or why a patron might choose a mythological over a biographical sarcophagus, for example). Nor does any Roman author explain what these traditional stories meant to the Romans in the varied contexts in which they used them. Modern scholars are additionally at a disadvantage because the intricacies of Greek mythology are for the most part mastered through academic study. Legendary events of once- general knowledge are no longer part of our cultural fabric, and the visual motifs associated with them are likewise not contained within our collective memory. A more systematic and at times rather creative approach must be employed to reconstruct the ways in which myth- knowledge and visual memory influenced the creation and viewing of sarcophagi.

Mythological narratives on sarcophagus friezes have most typically been interpreted as exempla, as vehicles to represent one or more of the cardinal Roman values such as virtus, pietas, clementia, and concordia.1 Deceased individuals appear in the guise of legendary characters recognized for their exemplary behaviour, thereby depicting their own lifetime mores as equally commendable. According to this approach, mythological reliefs function not unlike biographical sarcophagi, em- phasizing that the deceased (and his or her spouse) acted in complete accordance with Roman social ideals during their lifetimes.2 It could be argued that the use of a mythological framework in this context glorifies its patrons even more than a straightforward biographical frieze, for it places the deceased pair within a recognizable narrative of ancient tradition and often impeccable literary pedigree. Though in general these friezes correlate closely with famous literary texts, aspects of the

1 This survey considers only the more recent scholarly theories dealing with mythological sarcophagi; for earlier theories and criticism see R. Turcan, 'Les sarcophages romains et le probleme du symbolisme fun&raire', ANRW 11.16.2 (1978), 1700-35.

2 N. B. Kampen, 'Biographical Narration and Roman Funerary Art', AJA 85 (1981), 45-58.

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'. ,.- ......"X

Fig. 1: Sarcophagus of Junius Euhodus and Metilia Acte with scenes from the story of Alcestis (c. AD 160-70): Vatican, Museo Chiarimonti; DAIR neg. no. 72.590

(Singer).

myth that might jeopardize a favourable commemoration of the deceased are delicately modified. That is, characters and the interaction between them are recast visually, scenes are omitted or altered to preserve the tragic and to excise the derogatory.

This construct works very well for certain myths such as the story of Alcestis, a character inherently associated with both tragic death and wifely virtue.3 On Alcestis sarcophagi, Alcestis is centrally located, lying pathetically on her deathbed, gesturing to her husband Admetus for whom she goes to Hades, as is visible in the centre of Fig. 1. She is instantly recognizable as an exemplum pietatis (paragon of familial piety), devoted to her husband at every point of life (including death), and as an ideal character to substitute for a deceased Roman matron. However, close examination of additional details emphasized within the corpus reveals that several of these monuments were intended for additional purposes. From the lid inscription and the portrait heads of the protagonists on the well-known example from Ostia (now in the Vatican, Fig. 1), it is clear that Junius Euhodus conummissioned this sarcophagus for his wife Metilia Acte and for himself, so the frieze is made to commemorate the favourable qualities of both partners.4 In

3 S. Wood, 'Alcestis on Roman Sarcophagi', AJA 82 (1978), 499-510; D. Grassinger, 'The Meaning of Myth on Roman Sarcophagi', in H. Goldfarb (ed.), Myth and Allusion: Meanings and Uses of Myth in Ancient Greek and Roman Society (Boston, 1994), 91-107; S. Mucznik, Devotion and Unfaithfulness: Alcestis and Phaedra in Roman Art (Roma, 1999), 31-55.

4 CIL XIV.371: 'To the Manes: C. Junius Euhodus of the tribe Palatina, quinquennalis of the twenty-first lustrum of thfabri tignuarii at Ostia, made this for himself and for his wife, Metilia Acte, priestess of the Magna Mater of the gods at the gods at the colony of Ostia, most virtuous wife.'

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order to accomplish this task, an unpleasant aspect of the myth, Admetus' cowardly behaviour at the prospect of his own death, is carefully avoided by recasting him as a heroic hunter, a typical exemplum virtutis (symbol of manly virtue).S His nude figure to the left of his wife's deathbed is a visual transition, marking his meritorious participation in two distinct spheres: the forest and the domus. Since hunting was considered an admirable pursuit for men of means since the time of Hadrian,6 Admetus, and by extension Junius Euhodus, is thereby remembered for his heroic attendance on his wife's deathbed and for his prowess as a kingly hunter; his less-than-admirable appeal to his parents is tacitly omitted.

While this revision of negative qualities of the myth allows particular virtues of the deceased to be portrayed, variation of traditional visual motifs emphasizes another value especially prized by the patrons of this sarcophagus. To the right of the deathbed scene, Herakles may be seen in dextrarum iunctio (joining of right hands) with his comrade Admetus and leading a heavily draped Alcestis back to the living world. Behind her stands Persephone with a torch, leaning on the shoulder of her husband Hades, who in turn gestures his assent to the departure before him. This unique formulation7 allows the Roman virtue of concordia (marital harmony) to be exemplified, since the return of Alcestis here bears strong resemblance to scenes of marriage on biographical sarcophagi (with Herakles taking the place of the goddess Concordia, and Persephone bearing the wedding torch typically carried by Hymenaeus, god of fertility).8

Overall, with its emphasis on exempla, the sarcophagus functions not unlike the Roman genre of eulogy, as described by both Polybius (Histories 6.53.2-54.4) and Dionysius of Halicarnassus: o'Jw ye 'AOTvaiot L LEv E7' Trots EK rroA4tCov Oa7Tro1edvots KaTacTr1aagOat TOVS, Er7TLTraiovs ayopeveaOcL Aoyovs OOKOVGLtV, EK Ut6ds T,,S 7rept TOrv Odvarov dpeTrfs, K?aV TaAAa fvAos yevwTraL

T'L, EerdTaELV oldt0EvoL OTLVEV r os yaOovs '

',,a- o o PrardL Troso evooo pIs avpdcav, Edv TE

7ToAeitcov 'r^yeeLovtas' Aagovres Edv TE 7rOAtLKUcV Epycov 7TpoOcracaOi crvveTa r ovAevJ!Lara Kat

5 Grassinger (n. 3), 97. 6 P. Zanker, 'Phadras Trauer und Hippolytos' Bildung: Zu einem Sarkophag im Thermenmu-

seum', in F. De Angelis and S. Muth (eds.), Im Spiegel des Mythos, Bilderwelt und Lebenswelt (Wiesbaden, 1999), 133-4. 7 Most sarcophagi within the corpus depict either the dextrarum iunctio of the male protagonists (examples at Saint Aignan, Genova, and formerly in Cannes) or Herakles' chaperoning of Alcestis (Velletri). The Vatican sarcophagus is unique in depicting a synthesis of the two scenes.

8 Wood (n. 3), 504ff. Cf. Grassinger (n. 3), 98, who interprets the friendship of Admetus and Herakles as a symbol of concordia in itself, and associates it with the social system of Roman patronage.

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a'ov dperrs olofLevoLt 3eLV eratve?aOat TOVS 'dyaoovs, OVK EK tags Ts' 7repL 0 Tov aOvaTOv evKAeLas.

While Athenians ordained that these speeches should be made only at the funerals of war heroes, believing that men are honourable based solely on the bravery they show at their deaths, even though they are otherwise no good, the Romans, on the other hand, give this honour to all distinguished men, whether as military leaders or as civil servants they gave sage advice and did their duties, and not just to those who died on the battlefield, but also to those who died in any other fashion, since they believe that men should be praised for their lifetime achievements and not solely for the glory they seized upon in dying. (5.17.5-6)

Like a eulogy recounting the deeds and accomplishments of the deceased, the sarcophagus epitomizes the virtues of Junius Euhodus and his wife within culturally accepted categories. However, the symbolic rendering of the couple's behaviour also exemplifies the changes in Roman representation since the late republic, when eulogy was still an important component of elite commemoration. As observed by Natalie Kampen in her study of the evolution of the Roman biographical sarcophagus, Roman funerary ideals shifted over the course of the second century AD from the representation of specific chronological events to 'an almost obsessive emphasis on one act which was fraught with symbolic value'.9 The achievement of the deceased was no longer understood in terms of a chronological narrative of the specific mile- stones appropriate for an elite career, rather the individual was valued for his/her embodiment of 'Virtue as a non-chronological, spiritual absolute'.10 On biographical sarcophagi, stock scenes of battle, sacrifice, marriage and so on reflected the concepts that defined a life in toto, rather than actual causative experiences.11 This abstraction in commemoration had certain advantages in the cultural climate of the second century, a period greatly characterized by both the development of imperial cult and the introduction of new religions. From a purely practical standpoint, this transition provided a context in which both specific religious attitudes could definitely be explored (see below) and

9 Kampen (n. 2), 58. 10 Kampen (n. 2), 58. 1 The biographical sarcophagus in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (47.8.9) is a

canonical example of the mid-second century. On the front of the sarcophagus may be seen, from left to right: a scene of battle on horseback (symbolizing virtus), a figure in a cuirass receiving a prostrate barbarian family (clementia), a sacrifice before a temple (pietas), and a marriage scene (concordia). The left side bears an arming scene, while the right shows a birth. See D. E. E. Kleiner and S. B. Matheson (eds.), I Claudia: Women in Ancient Rome (Austin TX, 1996), no. 162 for further analysis and bibliography.

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more generalized religious and/or cultural values could also be represented. In this way, the focus on emblematic virtues could simplify the delineation of religious affiliation in the funerary context, since the piety and rectitude of an individual were no longer dependent on the depiction of specific rites and events.

Similarly, the use of mythological exempla to portray virtue could be considered part of the same cultural phenomenon, but in place of standard images drawn from daily life, the medium took advantage of the functional elements of narrative to express even more meaningfully the value of the individual(s) commemorated. 'A crucial means for social recognition, narratives also provide us with ways to organize reality and construct meanings: we make sense of our experience by telling stories that draw from a common stock of knowledge, a cultural tradition that is intersubjectively shared.'12 This assessment is equally applicable to the commemorative ideals of the second century, which sought to place the individual within the matrix of culturally approved behaviour. The comparison of the two biographies, one mythological and one Roman, placed the life of the deceased within the continuum of collective consciousness. Further- more, as the mythological narrative brought the life story of the deceased into alignment with cultural norms, it also provided a framework of traditional religious understanding in which alternate beliefs could also be represented and legitimized. In the case of Junius Euhodus and Metilia Acte, the traditional story of Alcestis was varied not only to ensure favourable commemoration for both partners but also to present their particular aspirations for the afterlife as adherents of the cult of Magna Mater.13

Recognizing this Roman penchant for abstraction and analogy, Michael Koortbojian has pioneered a more complex and imaginative methodology in his study of the corpora of Adonis and Endymion sarcophagi.'4 Instead of seeking a single reductive correspondence for Greek mythology on Roman sarcophagi, which he deems the 'exemplary response', Koortbojian suggests that these monuments 'present analogies, not identifications: they do not merely equate the lives of those commemorated with the ancient stories but compel us to con- template those lives in terms of the fundamental truths the myths

12 S. Falasca-Zamponi, Fascist Spectacle: The Aesthetics of Power in Mussolini's Italy (Berkeley, 1997), 3.

13 Wood (n. 3), 500 and 504. 14 M. Koortbojian, Myth, Meaning, and Memory on Roman Sarcophagi (Berkeley, 1994). See also

the review by J. Elsner, AJA 100 (1996), 434.

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reveal.'15 In Roman culture, each traditional story was the elemental representation of a particular virtue, value, dichotomy, or mode of behaviour. In making use of these 'fundamental truths' within the funerary context, a convention of visual motifs was developed that correlated closely with the literary tradition, to facilitate identification and underscore correspondences. Knowledge of the textual representation came to include these visual motifs; image and story were fused together in the mind. Thus, motifs could be extracted from their conventional contexts to create a subtle association between different myths and the concepts they embodied; the visual correlation between representations of Endymion, Ariadne, and Rhea Silvia for example creates a complex analogy, since the representation of one recalls the fundamental truths of the others.16 Furthermore, the sarcophagi that make use of variants on the canonical myth imagery create a particular- ization or personalization of the sepulchral message, 'asserting the primacy of the images, and impelling beholders to decipher the sepulchral forms'17 anew. Koortbojian's approach is also valuable because it inte- grates sarcophagus symbolism into the cultural nexus of Roman thought, and views sarcophagi within the context of Roman art as a whole.18

While the modes of interpretation cited thus far have greatly broa- dened the understanding of mythological sarcophagi, they concentrate wholly on a single function of the monuments, namely commemoration, and take little notice of the physical and social context of their viewing. As noted recently by Paul Zanker, this oversight has fostered many overly complex scholarly interpretations of funerary and religious iconography that would have been of little value to the average Roman viewer."9 Zanker has also convincingly argued that the widespread use of mythological imagery in Roman funerary monuments, including those belonging to individuals outside of the traditional 'educated' class, implies a general cultural relevance rather than an exclusive literary or conceptual role for mythological friezes.20 Furthermore, undue emphasis has been placed on determining the religious and/or mystical backgrounds of the patrons and decoding their eschatological hopes in the stories and details chosen for sarcophagus decoration.2'

15 Koortbojian (n. 14), 9. 16 Koortbojian (n. 14), 85ff. 17 Koortbojian (n. 14), 13. 18 Elsner (n. 14), 434. 19 P. Zanker, 'Die mythologischen Sarkophagreliefs und ihre Betrachter', Sitzungsberichte, Verlag

der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Heft 2 (2000), 3-4. 20 Zanker (n. 6), 134. 21 K. Fittschen, 'Der Tod der Kreusa und der Niobiden: Uberlegungen zur Deutung grie-

chischer Mythen auf romischen Sarkophagen', SIFC III. 10 (1992), 1046.

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While the introduction of Christianity into the mainstream of Roman thought and practice certainly altered the pattern of sepulchral ritual and decoration, as it brought the rewards of the afterlife to the fore, other social and religious concerns were perhaps more influential within the traditional funerary context. Finally, the fact that these objects had active functions in Roman funerary ritual, and were not merely static symbols, influences their interpretation profoundly, for it is certain that these friezes were viewed and interpreted repeatedly under consistent circumstances no matter the religious affiliation. Zanker therefore proposes that inquiries regarding the intent of the patron and artist within this specific concrete context take precedence in scholarly analysis. This emphasis will strip interpretation of modern preconcep- tions and will allow the myths and images to function in the varied and even inconsistent relationships required by individuals in Roman funerary ritual.22

Acknowledgement and reverence of the dead were firmly integrated into the pattern of Roman life, and found expression in a variety of public and private activities. Of course, much of the surviving literary information on Roman funerary practices dates to the late Republic or first century AD,23 and some of the defining components of the republican funeral (such as the eulogy, as described above) had become relatively obsolete by the time sarcophagi began to be produced in mass numbers. However, the descriptions of burial provisions found in tomb inscriptions of the second and third centuries AD imply that the basic structure of the Roman funeral remained essentially the same throughout this period, following the general transition from cremation to inhumation over the course of the second century. Significantly this change in burial practice was also paralleled by a gradual transition in Roman attitudes towards the funerary process, which brought the funeral and attendant rites increasingly into the private sphere.24 During the extensive domestic rituals for the recently deceased, which could last up to seven days after death, the sarcophagus was undoubtedly chosen and installed inside the tomb or family mausoleum (if not before death). Once the rituals of the lying-in-state were completed, the corpse was brought in procession to the cemetery and installed in the casket, and a feast (silicernium) was eaten at the tomb in

22 Zanker (n. 6), 134 and 141-2. 23 Cic., Leg. 2.22-4; Varro, Ling.; Ov., Fast. 2.533-70, 5.419-93; Petron., Cena Trimalchionis et al. 24 J. Bodel, 'Death on Display: Looking at Roman Funerals', in B. Bergmann and C. Kondoleon

(eds.), The Art of the Ancient Spectacle (New Haven, 1999), 259-82; Zanker (n. 19), 5.

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honour of the deceased.25 On the ninth day after burial, a second ritual was conducted at the tomb, consisting of a funeral banquet (cena novendialis) and a libation poured on the body, which formally concluded the period of mourning.26 'The banquet, coming at the time when their grief will have been most intense, was meant to free the mourners from the painful expression of their misery.'27 With the mourning period concluded and the household cleansed, the deceased became part of the cycle of annual rituals. The festival of the Parentalia (February 13-21), which included the public celebration of the Feralia on the last day, was devoted to the acknowledgement of departed relatives and was celebrated with family banquets at the tomb and simple offerings to the Manes.28 Additional rites were seemingly also performed at the grave during the Rosalia (May or June), and family members were often expected to visit and make an offering on the dies natalis of the deceased.29 During these rites and festivals, the majority of the activity took place outside the tomb within a semi-public and convivial atmosphere; as described by Paul Zanker, the dead partici- pated in the festivities through their portraits and occasionally hailed their banqueting relatives in tomb inscriptions.30 The occasion would have taken on a somewhat different sentiment during the ritual visit to the interior of the mausoleum, a private event in which the sarcophagus friezes could be reconsidered outside the context of formal mourning.31 Finally, the wandering spirits of the dead were confronted during the Lemuria (May 9-13), a primarily domestic rite designed to assuage malevolent lemures or larvae (ghosts of individuals who had died inappropriately and/or had not been given proper funerary rites) and to rid the household of their taint.32 Though the Lemuria rituals obviously differed in terms of their location and execution, their

25 J. M. C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World (London, 1971), 44-50; D. Harmon, 'The Family Festivals of Rome', ANRW II.16.2 (1978), 1600-3.

26 Toynbee (n. 25), 51. 27 Harmon (n.25), 1602. 28 Ov., Fast. 2.533-70; Toynbee (n. 25), 64; A. Invernizzi, 'Il Calendario', Vita e Costumi dei

Romani Antichi 16 (1994), 29-30 and 32-3. 29 E. Champlin, Final Judgments: Duty and Emotion in Roman Wills 200 B.C.-A.D. 250

(Berkeley, 1991), 159-66. 30 Zanker (n. 19), 9-10. 31 Zanker (n. 19), 8. In the same section Zanker speculates whether sarcophagi actually could be

viewed in these post-funeral rites as tombs and mausolea became more crowded in later antiquity. In this hypothetical scenario, the viewing of the sarcophagus would have been restricted primarily to the sculptor's workshop. Lack of evidence regarding the mechanisms of sarcophagus workshops makes this hypothesis difficult to verify or dispute.

32 Ov. Fast. 5.419-93; Toynbee (n. 25), 64; Invernizzi (n. 28), 56-7; F. Muller suggests that the Lemuria was 'a special day in the year on which those who had died prematurely were remembered' (The so-called Peleus and Thetis Sarcophagus in the Villa Albani [Amsterdam, 1994], 103).

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fundamental connection underlines the ubiquity of funerary concerns; the accurate performance of both types of ceremony ensured a har- monious relationship between the living and the dead. 'What was critical for the avoidance of the creation of malicious corpses was appropriate burial.'33 Considering this varied and extensive list of events related to the dead, it is more than reasonable to judge that sarcophagi were created and standardized to have meaning and function at some level within these rituals, to contribute both to the physical processes (as receptacles for libations and offerings) and to guide the understanding and behaviour of the participants (through evocative imagery). This factor, combined with the prevalence of social practices dedicated to commemoration and glorification of the deceased, characterizes the Roman funerary context and is a significant concern in deciphering the scenes utilized on sarcophagi.

Medea on Roman Sarcophagi: Corpus and Scholarly Interpretations

The groups of sarcophagi depicting exemplary characters and the traditional methods of analysis present a neat package; the myths themselves, combined with the clues provided by inscription, portraiture, variation within the corpus, and correlation with other media make interpretation relatively easy. Unfortunately, not all corpora of sarcophagi are so conveniently supplied with interpretive clues, and therefore require a more oblique approach to elucidate their complex usage of myth. Such is the case with the corpus of Medea sarcophagi, a group that has no preserved inscriptions associated with it, no usage of portraits, and relatively little internal variation or external correlation with other visual media. Furthermore, Medea is not a character with an inherent abundance of admirable qualities like Alcestis. For the most part, Medea's biography does not lend itself easily to selective editing or character recasting, for her entire tale is fraught with scandal and the bad behaviour of all parties involved. The early episodes of her tale in Colchis may be considered in a somewhat favourable light, but these appear only in a small corpus of sarcophagi (2 intact, 1 fragmentary)

33 H. Lindsay, 'Eating with the Dead: The Roman Funerary Banquet', Meals in Social Context: Aarhus Studies in Mediterranean Antiquity I (1998), 74. Lindsay also observes some significant parallels in the details of the two rites, such as the importance of the number 9 and the prominent use of beans in both (75-6).

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catalogued in Vassiliki Gaggadis-Robin's study of the iconography of Jason and Medea in Roman art.34 In these pieces, termed here the 'Jason group', Jason is the primary focus of the composition, as may be seen on the front of the casket in Vienna: Jason battles the fiery bulls under the eyes of Aeetes on the left, then captures the Golden Fleece on the right. Medea appears in the guise of a 'helper-maiden' in the latter scene, using her magical abilities to aid her future husband. Both Jason and Medea may be viewed favourably for their strength and character in these scenes, even as possible exempla virtutis; the heinous crimes of genocide and betrayal have yet to be conceived, and at this point in the story marital harmony and fidelity are still a possibility. However, it is clear from the archaeological record that this favourable reading was not the dominant interpretation of Medea in the Roman funerary context. On the main group of sarcophagi that depict her, Medea's infamous exploits in Corinth are rendered complete, down to the very last detail as described by Euripides. Compared with the rather small number of surviving sarcophagi of the 'Jason group', this main group comprises 8 complete and 6 fragmentary sarcophagi, as well as one sarcophagus lid, two cinerary urns, and several other funerary monuments. The modest level of variation within the corpus is evidenced in the sarcophagi in the Museo Nazionale Romano and Basel; these examples frame the chronological span of the corpus (Figs. 2 and 3).35 Unlike the majority of other mythological sarcophagi, which tended to give primacy to a single defining image as the visual representation developed,36 the compositional focus of these sarcophagi changes little over time. The frieze of a 'Medea group' sarcophagus is generally divided into four scenes, from left to right. In the first, Medea's children (bearing the poisoned gifts) approach an enthroned Creusa, who is surrounded by male and female attendants. The figure on the far left, though beardless, has often been identified as Jason.37 In the second scene Creon, attended by two young

34 V. Gaggadis-Robin, Jason et Medee sur les sarcophages d'epoque imperiale (Rome, 1994), cat. nos. 5, 6, and 13. It is notable that Gaggadis-Robin does not differentiate between the sarcophagi that focus on Jason and those that may be described as 'Medea sarcophagi' - see the review of her study by Michael Koortbojian, AJA 100 (1996), 435-6. 35 Fig. 2: MNR inv. no. 75248; found in 1911 in Rome in a tomb north of the Porta Maggiore; fine-grained marble with traces of red paint; height: 55 cm (with cover 79 cm), length: 210 cm; Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), cat. no. 8, dated to c. AD 160. Fig. 3: Basel, Antikenmuseum BS 203; provenance unknown; marble probably from Asia Minor; height: 65 cm (95 cm with cover), length: 217 cm; Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), cat no. 24, dated to c. AD 200.

36 Kampen (n. 2), 57; P. Blome, 'Funerarsymbolische Collagen auf mythologischen Sarkopha- greliefs', SIFC III. 10 (1992), 1061-72.

37 Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), 131. Jason is often shown bearded in the 'Jason group', as is visible in the central scene of Fig. 9, which depicts Jason seizing the Golden Fleece with Medea by his side.

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Fig. 2: Sarcophagus with scenes from the story of Medea (c. AD 160): Museo Nazionale Romano, Rome (inv. no. 75248); DAIR neg. no. 63.545 (Koppermann).

E? . .

Fig. 3: Sarcophagus with scenes from the story of Medea (c. AD 200): Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig (inv. no. 203); photo by Claire Niggli.

male figures, looks on distraught as his daughter's head bursts into flames. Next, Medea watches her children frolicking with her sword close at hand. Finally on the far right, Medea alights from a chariot drawn by winged serpents with one dead child over her shoulder and the

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other visible on the floor of the chariot. The other notorious episodes of Medea and Jason's career, such as the rejuvenation of Aeson and the death of Pelias, are not represented in Roman sarcophagi despite their associations with resurrection;38 the death of Absyrtus has been identified on a single (highly debated) lid in the Museo Nazionale Romano.39

All in all, the combination of subject matter and dearth of portraits in the corpus do not make the exemplum interpretation particularly appeal- ing. Despite these concerns, an analysis of this type has been attempted. In accordance with ancient philosophers' virtual obsession with Medea's fury/thumos (as described in lines 1078-80 of Euripides' play),40 Koortbojian has suggested that Medea on Roman sarcophagi be seen as an exemplum of feminine amor (passion), countering Jason's mascu- line virtus (manly courage or virtue).41 Conflating the two distinct groups described above, he theorizes that 'on the sarcophagus reliefs, despite his cowardice and perfidy, and only with the aid of Medea's magic, Jason is shown vanquishing his foes and attaining the Fleece; he appears, like so many other heroes, as an emblem of virtus. Thus, while the representations focus on Jason's and Medea's acts, those acts - regardless of their negative, indeed horrific, aspects - may be seen to evoke two of the great Roman themes, Amor and Virtus.'42 While it is true that this characterization of men and women was prevalent in ancient culture, this interpretation significantly dilutes the potential impact of a complex myth in this context. Furthermore, Jason is hardly identifiable in the main scenes of the 'Medea group' let alone an obvious symbol of virtus. Only in a few cases are scenes from the 'Jason group' used as side or lid decoration within the Medea corpus, and this combination need not be reduced to a simple binary opposition that serves neither the Roman conception of Medea nor the funerary context (see further below), even if it was a 'fundamental truth' at some level. Perhaps most importantly, while the association of Medea with

38 The death of Pelias at the hands of his own daughters may be the subject of the left side panel of the sarcophagus from the Catacomb of Praetextatus (see note 56 below); Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), 14 interprets this scene as 'un episode de Colchide'.

39 P. Blome, 'Der Tod des Apsyrtos auf einem r6mischen Sarkophagdeckel', MDAIR 90 (1983), 201-9. This lid is not included in Gaggadis-Robin's catalogue.

40 Kt fav0acdv) d Ev otla ToA fracO KaKa / v0o0S 8e' KpEtGoto) v T(1)V 0)V AovvaJTCov / o'TrEp E?yLt'aTrv ai'rtoc KaKW3V /po-rote. ('I am resolved in my evil designs and my anger is even stronger than any plan, an anger that wrecks the greatest havoc on mortals.') See J. M. Dillon, 'Medea among the Philosophers', in J. J. Clauss and S. I. Johnston (eds.), Medea: Essays on Medea in Myth, Literature, Philosophy, and Art (Princeton, 1997), 211-18.

41 Koortbojian (n. 14), 8-9 with earlier bibliography. 42 Koortbojian (n. 34), 436. This idea is somewhat similar to the assessment forwarded by R.

Turcan (n. 1), 1730.

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amor certainly works well for her characterization in Euripides' play, it is rather derogatory if used in direct correlation with the deceased, especially a female one. As a whole, this exemplum model is unlikely as a mode of commemoration.

Focusing on certain compositional elements of the corpus over abstract symbolism, Klaus Fittschen has suggested a completely different interpretation of the 'Medea group'.43 For Fittschen, the protagonist of these sarcophagi is not Medea and her dastardly exploits, but Creusa whose deception and fiery death are conspicuous in the frieze; this reading leads to his re-identification of the pieces as 'Kreusa-Sarkophage'. The Corinthian princess, as with so many other characters popular on Roman sarcophagi (Meleager, Adonis, the Niobids et al.), serves as a prime example of mors immatura, of early and unexpected death. Furthermore, with the addition of the implied or depicted demises of Creon and Medea's children, the overall theme of the monuments is mortality itself, its ubiquity, and concomitant grief. In this interpretation, Medea plays a relatively subordinate role as the agent of death (Todbringerin, Todesdamon);44 in this way, she is not to be assimilated to the deceased or the bereaved, and her departure in the dragon chariot is not associated with apotheosis. Thus, Medea's story in the Roman funerary context does not represent any hope for the afterlife or triumph over death, as was suggested by Margot Schmidt in her analysis of the late second-century example in Basel,45 rather it shows a resignation to mortality and the cruelty of fate. Fittschen's approach represents a more dogmatic understanding of the realities of the Roman religious climate during the Empire, which brought both specific beliefs regarding the afterlife (as seen on the Alcestis sarcophagus discussed above) to some Romans and increased uncertainty in the face of conflicting interpretations to others. Death was the one constant in all of these beliefs, and grief was an experience shared by all individuals, even heroic and semi- divine characters in the context of myth. Accordingly, Fittschen does not view 'Kreusa-Sarkophage' (or Niobid sarcophagi as a similar parallel) as instruments of commemoration through analogy or assim- ilation; they are instead to be seen as expressions of grief meant to

43 Fittschen (n. 21). Zanker (n. 19), 26 also supports this thesis. 44 Fittschen (n. 21), 1056. 45 M. Schmidt, Der Basler Medeasarkophag; ein Meisterwerk spatantoninischer Kunst (Tuibingen,

1968). This earlier interpretation sees the death's inevitable power in the conflation of Creusa and Medea; the deceased should be associated with both characters, one because of her early death and the other in her transcendental departure from earth.

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communicate primarily with the bereaved as universal symbols of death.46

Overall, while this theory appropriately brings some of the practical considerations of the Roman funerary context to the fore, certain criticisms must be levelled. Unlike the other mythological characters generally cited as emblems of mors immatura (and thereby associated with the deceased), Creusa is a completely featureless and voiceless figure in the tradition. She seemingly exists solely as a casualty of Medea's violence and grief, as one small component of her trail of destruction. In the same vein, although Medea is not featured personally in the first two scenes on the sarcophagus, she is the driving force behind the action; her boundless anguish is the constant that binds the composition together. While the death of Creusa is centrally located, it is the dragon chariot vignette that bears the most meaning in the Roman funerary context. This assessment is supported by the excerption of the scene for two cinerary urns; on one from Ostia, Medea's flight is combined with the death of Creusa, but on the other at Bowdoin College she is displayed as a pendant to Jason with the fiery bulls.47 Lastly, Fittschen convincingly refutes Schmidt's interpretation of this scene as Medea's apotheosis, but his argument does not totally preclude a metaphorical link between her escape from Corinth and the departure of the deceased from earth. As is explored below, the Roman conception of Medea, combined with key visual details, forges a meaningful connection between the deceased and the heroine that surpasses simple analogy, yet maintains the practical understanding of the afterlife proposed by Fittschen.

In discarding these interpretations the obvious question remains: why would a Roman patron choose this story for a sarcophagus, or perhaps more pointedly, why would someone wish not only to be associated with Medea's exploits but to be commemorated by them? Is commemoration the ultimate goal of these works? Certainly some conceptual contact was understood between the deceased and the figure of Medea, particularly as she escapes in her chariot. Flying chariot scenes are used in very restricted contexts on pagan sarcophagi; namely they are implemented as substitutes for direct representations of death. For example, in an important corpus of children's biographical sarcophagi, the deceased

46 Niobid sarcophagi have also been viewed as representing hopes for the afterlife (K. Schefold, 'La force cr&atrice du symbolisme fun&raire des Romains', RAII (1961), 183ff.); the arrows of Apollo and Artemis freed the children of Niobe from earthly troubles. Fittschen (n. 21), 1057-8 provides a convincing refutation of this theory, viewing the story more traditionally as an archetype of motherly grief.

47 K. Herbert, 'A Roman Cinerary Urn at Bowdoin College', AJA 64 (1960), 76-8.

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Fig. 4: Childhood sarcophagus (Antonine period): Museo Torlonia, Rome; DAIR neg. no. 33.11 (Faraglia).

departs from earth in a rising chariot led by Hermes Psychopompus,48 as is visible on the right side of Fig. 4. The correlation with the chariot scenes in the 'Medea group' is strengthened by the positioning of both images at the right side of the frieze; each event represents the relevant end of the narrative. In mythological sarcophagi, the usage of chariot scenes is equally specialized: they only appear driven by divinities moving from one realm to another. The sarcophagi depicting the Rape of Persephone provide an intriguing parallel to Medea's flight from Corinth, since Hades' capture of Persephone easily mirrors the death of the resident of the monument.49 Another interesting correspondence may be seen in later Endymion sarcophagi; for example, on the left side of a sarcophagus in the Museo Capitolino Selene is represented departing from Endymion's embrace and mounting her chariot as it ascends back to the heavens (Fig. 5).5? As demonstrated by Paul Zanker, contrary to conventional interpretation the deceased may be associated with Selene in these sarcophagi, visiting the unconscious beloved in dreams and then returning to her own realm.51 In all of these representations, the transition from earth is effected by the same visual signals: rising chariot, rearing horses, billowed garments, and a figure of Tellus (Earth) gesturing her farewell beneath the wheels. In each case, the flying chariot represents not apotheosis, but death as a vehicle of transition and separation, which carries either the deceased or a symbol

48 A. Borghini, 'Elogia puerorum: Testi, immagini e modelli antropologici', Prospettiva 22 (1980), 2-11; Kampen (n. 2), 53ff.; J. Huskinson, Roman Children's Sarcophagi: Their Decoration and its Social Significance (Oxford, 1996), 15 and 96-7; S. Dimas, Untersuchungen zur Themenwald und Bildgestaltung auf romischen Kindersarkophagen (Muinster, 1998), 48-52.

49 S. Wood, 'Mortals, Empresses, and Earth Goddesses: Demeter and Persephone in Public and Private Apotheosis', in D. E. E. Kleiner and S. B. Matheson (eds.), I Claudia II: Women in Roman Art and Society (Austin TX, 2000), 77-100, especially figs. 5.1 and 5.2.

50 Earlier sarcophagi of the type typically depict only Selene's arrival alongside the familiar figure of the comatose Endymion; Koortbojian (n. 14), plates 28, 29 et al.

51 Zanker (n. 19), 32-7.

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~-~.,...j ^.

._ ...

. _.

- r

-":** * . * % 3.-W

Fig. 5: Sarcophagus with scenes from the story of Selene and Endymion (Antonine period); Museo Capitolino, Rome; DAIR neg. no. 67.32 (Singer).

of the deceased beyond contact with earthly concerns. More importantly, in the mythological sarcophagi the chariot scene is the lynchpin binding the actual experience of the deceased to the surrounding narrative; it is the means by which the story is made to express the particular funerary sentiment favoured by the patron.

That Medea's flight is also to be associated conceptually with the departure of the deceased from earth is confirmed by a small elaboration in later examples of the type. These monuments comply with a trend in later sarcophagi generally described as 'staffage', in which additional personifications and characters serve as both decorative elaboration and visual explanation of themes subtly implied in earlier sarcophagi within the corpus.52 On a second example in the Museo Nazionale Romano53 and on the Basel sarcophagus (Figs. 6 and 3 respectively), a figure of Tellus may be glimpsed just under the wheels of Medea's chariot as it rises, bringing her departure into alignment with the other representations of ascending chariots cited above.54 This visual link makes clear that while Medea's departure from Earth in the myth is physical and temporary, within the funerary context it is intended as a medium for considering spiritual and final departure. The sarcophagus from Basel

52 Koortbojian (n. 14), 68-70 with earlier bibliography. 53 MNR inv. no. 222; provenance unknown; fine-grained marble, perhaps Pentelic; height: 60

cm, length: 220 cm; Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), cat. no. 21, dated to c. AD 180. L. Musso, Museo Nazionale Romano: Le sculture 1.2 (Roma, 1981), 138-43.

54 Tellus also appears on both of the Medea cinerary urns, positioned prominently beneath the inscription fields on the obverse side. Herbert (n. 47) conjectures that on the um at Bowdoin College Tellus is catching one of Medea's children as he falls from the chariot; the damaged object in her arms is perhaps better interpreted as a cornucopia.

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Fig. 6: Sarcophagus with scenes from the story of Medea (c. AD 180): Museo Nazionale Romano, Rome (inv. no. 222); DAIR neg. no. 69.2502 (Singer).

Fig. 7: Detail of Fig. 3; photo by Istvan Racz.

verifies this interpretation, for the Basel Tellus makes the benedictio Latina, a gesture associated with the eschatology of the cult of Sabazios (Fig. 7).55 This complex and controversial Eastern deity, worshipped at Rome from the second century BC, was further linked with death and resurrection through his many other attributes - scales, caduceus, snake- lizard, frog or toad, tree, pinecone etc. - commonly found as attach- ments on the bronze 'pantheistic' hand figurines used in the cult (Fig. 8). The details of Sabazian beliefs in the afterlife are difficult to

55 R. Turcan, The Cults of the Roman Empire, trans. A. Nevill (Oxford, 1996), 315-25.

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Fig. 8: Bronze hand of Sabazios (2nd-3rd century AD) front view: Walters Art Museum, Baltimore (inv. no. 54.2453).

determine, but ascent to a more blissful plane under the guidance of divine will is prominently represented on the tomb of Vibia, a female worshipper of Sabazios, in the Catacomb of Praetextatus outside Rome.56 Significantly, Vibia's death is depicted through mythological analogy: she appears as Persephone carried off by Hades in his chariot. In the context of Medea sarcophagi, the Sabazian customization of the Basel sarcophagus does not imply a comprehensive connection between the cult and the corpus; it merely confirms the understood connection of this particular image to the deceased. The chariot scene, and not the death of Creusa, was recognized as the appropriate vignette for expressing the patron's particular eschatological beliefs. Tellus' gesture suggests that the flight of Medea was from the beginning implicitly associated with the death and possible afterlife of the deceased, only finding explicit articulation when personifications became part of the

56 A. Ferrua, 'La Catacomba di Vibia', RAC 47 (1971), 7-62. It is interesting to note that in the vicinity of this catacomb was also discovered an important and unusual sarcophagus depicting the adventures of Jason and Medea, which combines motifs from both the 'Jason group' and the 'Medea group'. See M. Giitschow, 'Das Museum der Pratextat-Katakombe', AttiPontAcc ser. III, vol. IV (1934-1938), 29-78; Gaggadis-Robin (n. 34), cat. no. 12 and Fig. 9.

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medium. In this way, Medea may be understood to correlate with the deceased not in life, as in the exemplum interpretation, but in death and departure from earth.

Mors matura: Ideals of Death in Roman Poetry and consolatio

The Roman genre of consolatio (letters and treatises of consolation) is extremely relevant to the discussion of Medea sarcophagi at this point because it combines the cultural concerns of commemoration and the afterlife so important in the Roman funerary context, and therefore can explain the concepts at work in a commemorative depiction of death. Just as the genre of eulogy expresses the ideals of Roman behaviour in life, letters of consolation reveal ancient ideals about death. The tradition of consolatio has a long history from the Hellenistic period (Crantor's lost essay On Griej) to the Christian adaptations of the genre in late antiquity (Ambrose, Jerome et al.),57 with the zenith of the Roman practice in the two centuries from the late Republic to the second century AD. During this time the genre was highly conventionalized for general application and thereafter moulded to support a wide variety of rhetorical, religious, and philosophical stances.58 Therefore, while each author tailored the sentiment to the particular circumstances of the deceased and the mourner, Roman letters of consolation typically included variations on standard themes (adapted from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.76-82): first, that death brings release from the miseries of life, that is specifically marriage, children, and politics, by allowing the deceased to ascend to a more blissful (or less tormented) plane; and secondly, that the deceased had been on earth for his/her allotted time and had left at the appropriate moment. These general concepts describe the quintessential death for a Roman: calm, detached, and in accordance with social expectations. To

57 D. Ochs, Consolatory Rhetoric: Grief, Symbol, and Ritual in the Greco-Roman Era (Columbia SC, 1993), 111-15; Muller (n. 32), 91ff.; J. H. D. Scourfield, 'Consolation', in Oxford Classical Dictionary 3rd ed. (Oxford, 1996) for further bibliography.

58 Some of the most important examples of Roman consolation epistles include: Cic., Fam. 4.5 (written by Sulpicius Rufus at the death of Cicero's daughter Tullia) and Fam. 5.16; Sen., Ad Marciam, Ad Helviam, Ad Polybium, and Ep. 63 and 99; Plutarch, Consolatio Ad Uxorem; and [Plut.], Cons. ad Apoll. The themes of consolatio are also taken up in non-epistolary form in Cic., Tusc. (which may be used to reconstruct his now lost Consolatio) and in works of poetry including Hor., Carm. 1.24 (to Vergil on the death of Varus), Prop. 4.11, Stat., Silv. 2.1, 2.6, 2.7 et al., and even Juv. 13 (with a suitably mocking tone). For the influence of the Greek consolatory tradition on Roman consolatio, see Muller (n. 32), 91ff.

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emphasize the perfect state of the deceased's departure, juxtaposition is frequently employed in letters of consolation; negative cases, both historical and theoretical, are contrasted with the situation of the deceased. The portrayal of death in these terms is a form of commemoration in itself, for it provides appropriate closure to a superlative life and ensures smooth transition to the next one. It is reasonable to assume these simple concepts worked as the basis for the commemorative representation of death on sarcophagi as well. By extension, mythological characters or narratives could be extremely evocative towards this end, presenting both positive exempla and negative comparanda for the funerary context. It will be argued here that, like a negative case in consolatio, Medea's Corinthian episodes in the visual medium function as a vibrant antithesis to Roman funerary ideals, portraying the death of the patron as perfect and transcendent by comparison.

To support this assessment of Medea's presence in Roman funerary monuments, it is necessary elucidate the particular themes that Roman authors associated with this infamous heroine, and to examine the roles that she was made to play in Roman culture in general. In this discussion, the most notable interchange between Medea's story and the ideals presented in letters of consolation is in the focus on the appropriate moment of death, for this concept finds expression in other genres of literature. Significantly, this confluence is most vividly depicted in two early imperial poems dealing with Medea herself, Ovid's elegiac epistle Heroides 12 and Seneca's tragedy Medea. Both poems focus on the events surrounding the infanticide at Corinth and therefore, in their own ways and for their own purposes, seek to recast Euripides' famous heroine within a Roman idiom. Thus, in recognizing Euripides' version of the myth on Medea sarcophagi, consideration of Roman elaborations of the tradition are highly relevant. The significant chronological gap between the production of these poems and the appearance of the first Medea sarcophagus must certainly be admitted. Nevertheless, the works of both Ovid and Seneca remained part of the Roman educational curriculum well into the second century and beyond and were included in contemporary rhetorical and ethical debates.59 Thus, the Roman poets' characterizations continuously influenced the Roman conception of Medea, alongside that of Euripides, as the myth began to receive visual expression in the funerary context.

59 C. D. N. Costa, Seneca: Medea (Oxford, 1973), 10-11; G. M. Ross, 'Seneca's Philosophical Influence', in C. D. N. Costa (ed.), Seneca (London, 1974), 116-22; S. F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome (London, 1977), 217, cites a revival of pedagogical interest in Ovid during the first century AD.

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Heroides 12 is one of Ovid's least appreciated heroine epistles, largely owing to his departure from the Euripidean mould with his purportedly inappropriate characterization of Medea as a creature of circumstance, brought down not by inherent cruelty but by her unfortunate associations.60 However, in using a new poetic genre for the exploration of Medea's illustrious career, Ovid's goal was undoubtedly not a strict translation of Euripides into elegiac couplets. As with each poem in the collection, Heroides 12 instead sought the creation of a Roman (or at least Ovidian) nuance to a well-known character,61 acknowledging and at times even parodying its poetic predecessors, namely Euripides and Apollonios Rhodios. To achieve this innovation, Ovid placed Medea and her boundless grief within a Roman milieu, using particular images and relationships to appeal to a Roman audience. Most significantly, Ovid fastened upon one of Medea's traditional attributes, namely her black or funereal aspect, and developed it into an essential framework for understanding her character and her actions. From the beginning of the poem, Medea imparts that she missed her chance to depart this life with dignity and without pain to others:

At tibi Colchorum, memini, regina vacavi, ars mea cum peteres ut tibi ferret opem.

Tunc quae dispensant mortalia fata sorores debuerant fusos evoluisse meos.

Turn potui Medea mori bene! Quidquid ab illo produxi vitae tempore, poena fuit.

But for you I gave up the Colchian kingdom, I remember, and my art was at your disposal when you needed it.

At that moment the Fates who measure the lengths of our lives should have cut short my twisted thread.

At that moment Medea could have died well! From that point on my every living action became a punishment. (1-6)

As described by Ovid, her survival creates a domino effect of crimes and earthly troubles which succeed one another without any chance of cessation. Jason's encounters with the fiery bulls and the dragon's- teeth warriors should have resulted in his death, but instead heaped

60 See F. Verducci, Ovid's Toyshop of the Heart (Princeton, 1985), 67-8 for a summary of some of the scholarly objections to the poem.

61 Medea was certainly one of Ovid's favourite characters. Her tale is treated at length in his Metamorphoses (7.7-424) and was the subject of his only completed tragedy, Medea (now lost). It seems likely that Seneca was influenced by this latter work in the composition of his own play on Medea; see Costa (n. 59, 1973), 8; A. G. Nikolaidis, 'Some Observations on Ovid's Lost Medea', Latomus 44 (1985), 383-7; H. M. Hine, Seneca: Medea (2000), 17; and further considerations below.

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multa mala on Medea and everyone who would come into contact with the (un)happy couple.

Quantum perfidiae tecum, scelerate, perisset, dempta forent capiti quam mala multa meo!

How much falsehood would have perished with you, dirty scum, and how many evils would have been lifted from my shoulders! (19-20)

As the poem approaches its climax, Medea's remorse over Apsyrtos' death is expressed in the same terms (116: sic ego, sed tecum, dilaceranda fui, 'Likewise I should have been torn to pieces with you'). Her survival again consigns her and her hapless husband to further guilty deeds and a life of constant wandering. The outcome might have been mitigated if she and Jason could have perished at least before reaching Greece, but this too was thwarted and further problems immediately ensued.

Numen ubi est? ubi di? Meritas subeamus in alto, tu fraudis poenas, credulitatis ego!62

Compressos utinam Symplegades elisissent, nostraque adhaererent ossibus ossa tuis;

aut nos Scylla rapax canibus mersisset edendos - debuit ingratis Scylla nocere viris;

quaeque vomit totidem fluctus totidemque resorbet, nos quoque Trinacriae supposuisset aquae!

Where is divine will? Where are the gods? Let us get our deserts from the waves: your punishment for your guile, mine for my gullibility.

If only the Symplegades had shattered us as we embraced, and our bodies were fusing bone to bone,

or if only hungry Scylla had chewed our bodies with her canines - Scylla, who must punish shameful mortals;

and she who regurgitates the flowing waters and slurps them back up again, if only she too had let loose the Sicilian waters upon us! (119-26)

With every missed opportunity,63 Medea's involvement in worldly troubles becomes more embroiling, so that by the close of the poem a destructive end is inevitable. She is pursued by her emotions of grief and love (136: qui me sequitur semper, 'which always dog me') and can find no resting place and no solace, even in her words of confession.

62 See Verducci (n. 60), 68-71 on the debate over the suggested replacement of credulitatis with the unmetrical (and much less interesting) crudelitatis. I have used Verducci's reading and punctuation throughout.

63 To this list of missed opportunities may be added Hypsipyle's fantasy of Medea's violent death in Heroides 6. See Verducci (n. 60), 56-66 for a reading of Heroides 6 and 12 as companion pieces.

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Medea's quasi-funereal characterization becomes even more meaningful and complex at the dramatic pinnacle of the poem, with the arrival of Jason and Creusa's marriage cortege. Following her litany of crimes and suffering, accompanied by several expressions of desire for death, Medea (and indeed the audience) yearns to experience another type of procession, namely that of her own funeral. The flutes and torches of the wedding party indeed take on this aspect as Medea wallows in her grief:

Ut subito nostras Hymen cantatus ad aures venit, et accenso lampades igne micant,

tibiaque effundit socialia carmina vobis, at mihi funerea flebiliora tuba . . .

But suddenly Hymen's song pricks my ears. Wedding torches flicker with dancing flame.

For the happy couple the flute pours out a marriage melody, but for me it drips a dreadful dirge. (137-40)

Recognizing Jason within the procession, Medea's weeping servants turn away as though viewing the corpse of their mistress. Once Medea realizes the import of their reactions, she undergoes a revealing transformation, venting on her own person the violence of her pain. Medea beats and rends herself like a mourner at a funeral (153-4), and therefore appears not as a necessary component of the simultaneous rite, but as an inappropriate and disruptive force (155-8). Because she missed her proper time of death, committed numerous crimes, and lost her single sanctified connection (her marriage to Jason), Medea emerges at the end of the poem as an unsettled evil spirit, a larva.

This sepulchral characterization was used to great effect by Seneca in the opening to his play Medea, which took as its models Heroides 12 and perhaps Ovid's lost play. Building upon the dramatic impact of Ovid's cortege scene, Seneca made use of the procedural similarities in Roman nuptial and funerary rituals to mirror the dangerous inversions associated with his heroine. As the play opens, Medea invokes the deities of traditional marriage and union (di coniugales) to witness Jason's fracture of their wedding vows. But as easily as the procession in Ovid's poem is transformed from festive to funerary, Medea's invocation here soon turns to darker gods:

Hecate . .. . . noctis aeternae chaos,

aversa superis regna manesque impios dominumque regni tristis . . .

... voce non fausta precor

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With ill-omened voice I call upon Hecate, the chaos of the underworld, those kingdoms despising the living and the evil spirits of the dead, and the lord of the ghostly realm. (11. 7-12) As these sepulchral spirits replace the attending marriage gods, Medea's speech subtly inverts the impending rites. This dark transformation gives hidden meaning to the initial choral ode, which takes the form of an epithalamium, a song initiating Jason and Creusa's nuptials. 'The two utterances (Medea's monologue and the choral parodos) may be taken as "parallel passages", because both invoke ... the same gods, and both are a species of prayer; both speak of the forthcoming marriage, and both are filled with images of torches and light.'64 The chorus' incantation to the di congiugales is in vain; instead of Lucina, Medea's Hecate will preside over the ceremony, accompanied by the atriface (black torch) of the Furies (15) rather than the facibus legitimis (proper torches) of the celebrants (67).65

The choral song also serves to solidify Medea's role within this new context; as the inappropriate non-wife of the marriage celebration, she once again becomes the malingering larva of the quasi-funerary framework. The fact that Medea did not come to a timely demise is taken up by the chorus in their last phrase, who characterize her as a corrupting presence and wish to cast her from their midst.

. .. tacitis eat illa tenebris, si qua peregrino nubit fugitiva marito. Let that woman go into the silent shadows whoever runs away to marry a foreign husband. (114-15)

Though the reading and interpretation of these lines have been debated,66 the chorus' apparent desire seems clear - they would prefer Medea resided permanently in the underworld. But in the inverted environment of Medea's incantation this catty comment has profound implications, since it unwittingly consigns Creusa to the shades, as it is the Corinthian princess who will wed the peregrinus Jason. The state- ment also provides an important ironic contrast to the scenes that follow, which again emphasize Medea's unfortunate survival. As Medea herself describes the situation to the nurse, it is the fact of her continued existence that gives her power and necessitates her action.

64 A. L. Motto and J. R. Clark, Essays on Seneca (Frankfurt am Main, 1993), 229. 65 The well-known quotation from Prop. 4.11 is highly relevant here (line 46): viximus insignes

inter utramque facem ('I lived respectfully between both torches') - that is, from the torch that was carried in the wedding procession to the one that marked her funeral.

66 Motto and Clark (n. 64), 229-33.

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M: Medea superest: hic mare et terras vides ferrumque et ignes et deos et fulmina. N: Rex est timendus. M: Rex meus fuerat pater. N: Non metuis arma? M: Sint licet terra edita. N: Moriere. M: Cupio. N: Profuge. M: Paenituit fugae.

M: Medea is still alive: I have here at my power the sea and earth and iron and fire and gods and thunder. N: You should fear the king. M: My father was a king. N: You do not fear the sword? M: Not even if soldiers sprang from the earth. N: You will die. M: I wish to. N: Flee! M: I cannot. (166-70)

Medea 'becomes herself' (171) and realizes her malevolent potential as both a rejected wife and a funerary figure. Further confirming her metamorphosis, Creon recoils at her presence and addresses her as an aberrant evil entity: vade veloci via / monstrumque saevum horribile iamdudum avehe (190-1) - 'Get away from here right now, and take away that horrible deviant evil with you.'

This characterization of Medea in the opening of Seneca's work has a fundamental function within the action of the play, since her larval presence during the nuptial procession further foreshadows the bride's demise. Taken in the context of Roman nuptial rites, it as though the wedding of Jason and Creusa has unluckily fallen on a dies nefas devoted to the dead, a situation Ovid warns against in the Fasti (2.551-62, 5.487-90).67 Certainly this coincidence also allowed Seneca to present a general thesis about the vagaries of life, namely, that a moment of joy can easily be transformed into pain and loss by unforeseen forces. As explained by Martha Nussbaum in her reading of the play, Seneca recognized in Medea the potential extremes of human passion and violence. 'Given the nature of the beliefs that ground the passions, and given the contingencies of life, one can never safely guarantee that love will not give birth to murder.'68 In forming this characterization of Medea, Seneca's ostensible purpose was to explore specific aspects of Chrysippan Stoic doctrine through evocative mythological narrative. But in doing so, Seneca also confirmed Medea's concrete funerary association in Roman thought, as a tragic figure caught in tenebris between existence and death, whose aberrant survival leads her to violent action.

67 Ov. Fast. 2.561-2: conde tuas, Hymenaee, faces et ab ignibus atris / aufer! Habent alias maesta sepulchra faces. ('Put away your torches, Hymenaeus, and avoid the black fires! Other flames fit gloomy tombs'.)

68 M. C. Nussbaum, 'Serpents in the Soul: A Reading of Seneca's Medea', in Clauss and Johnston (n. 40), 221.

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The Roman characterization of Medea as created by Ovid and Seneca is fairly consistent. Not only is she associated with dark and unknown forces, as in Euripides and Apollodoros, she is also described as a specific entity in Roman eschatology, namely as a larva or lemur. In an ideal world Medea would have died judiciously at Colchis as a faithful daughter and unspoiled maiden, thereby preserving her integrity and preventing all of the resultant suffering and death. Instead, as elaborated fully on the sarcophagi, she continued to experience earthly pain and in turn caused others around her to share in it. Thus, while Medea was fundamentally associated with death throughout classical antiquity, the Roman poets used specific ideals to describe her character, ideals that had profound meaning in consolatio and in the Roman funerary context as a whole. Significantly, Seneca himself explores a similar concept of timely and honourable death in Consolatio ad Marciam (20.4-6) but with a historical slant:

Cogita quantum boni opportuna mors habeat, quam multis diutius vixisse nocuerit. Si Gnaeum Pompeium, decus istud firmamentumque imperii, Neapoli valetudo abstulisset, indubitatus populi Romani princeps excesserat. At nunc exigui temporis adiectio fastigio illum suo depulit .... M. Cicero si illo tempore, quo Catilinae sicas devitavit, quibus pariter cum patria petitus est, concidisset, si liberata re publica servator eius, si denique filiae suae funus secutus esset, etiamtuncfelix mori potuit.... Nihil ergo illi mali immatura mors attulit; omnium etiam malorum remisit patientiam. Think how much benefit a timely death holds, how many have been harmed by living too long! If illness had disposed of Gnaeus Pompeius, that pride and support of the empire, at Naples [50 BC], he would have departed as the clear leader of the Roman people. But instead, a miniscule extension of time removed him from his position of dignity. ... If Marcus Cicero had fallen at that time when he escaped the daggers of Catiline, which were equally seeking the demise of the fatherland, if he had fallen as the preserver of the freed Republic, if finally his funeral had trailed that of his daughter [45 BC], even then he could have died happy.... Therefore, premature death has brought no evil to your son; in fact it has afforded him release from all evils.

Here it is not the mors immatura that is lamented, but the mors permatura, the virtuous life marred by an untimely end. Medea's story on the sarcophagus functions in the same way as the historical anecdotes in the letter; the deceased in both cases is presented in contrast as departing at the best time possible, at the time that allowed his or her life to maintain its respectability. The juxtaposition with Medea as the epitome of an ignominious life culminating in an untimely departure implies the opposite for the deceased: a life of dignity and virtue capped by a solemn and timely death.

In this way, Medea's story functions primarily as an antithesis to the

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cultural ideals surrounding death and the afterlife, as a sort of complex negative exemplum. This indirect exploration of death and departure from earth harmonizes nicely with the visual norms of the period. Neither funerary rites nor mourning find direct and thorough representation in the art of the second century. Thus Medea's story provides a workable model in which to explore these activities and aspirations through antithesis. However, the same effect could be gained with a positive or heroic mythological model, such as the rape of Persephone or the death of Adonis. The exploration of consolatio in relation to Medea sarcophagi therefore generates an essential question: if the funerary application of the Medea myth can be seen as an antithesis to the ideals presented in consolatio, a genre that made considerable usage of antithesis to mitigate grief, were Medea sarcophagi intended to function as consolations as well? The extreme contraposition of Medea's story and the elaborate rendering of the earthly events leading to her departure perhaps imply that the antithesis between Medea and the deceased could work beyond negative exemplum.

Consolatio, in addition to expressing funerary ideals, is characterized by philosophical maxims intended to soothe the grief of a mourner: for example, all are born mortal; time heals all grief (in other words, life goes on); one should be grateful for what one possessed of the deceased and for what one possesses on earth; and finally, the death of a loved one is but a minor vicissitude compared with other things. The overall purpose of the genre was to assist the mourner in achieving a consummate state of grief that would both serve as a model to others and commemorate the deceased and the family through proper public behaviour. Another quotation from the genre is instructive to illustrate the primary function of myth related to these goals: daroOavovorns yap Trj! yvvaLKoS, avT-r Av58rqs, rrpos ]v (tAoaropywco E'LX, rapa!vOLtov TA 7vTrrs avct-w E77roL'rfe 7rTv AAEyctav Tr'V KaAovftEvrl AvS6lv, ecaptpOfLrqgadLEvo0 Tas rpWCLtKaLs oUvL)opds, Tros adAAOTpoiOit KaKOIS EAdrra) 7TV Cavrov Oi 7TrotV vtrv. aore KaTra(aveSg EtvaL OT 6O

7Tapa[LvOovELvogI rov A0EAvrrTqlEVOV KatL OfLKVVUV KOlVOV Kal rTTOAA\(v r6 Fav[tfi?r)Kos Kal rcv Kat ETEpotL UV/fi/e/K7KOTrWV Aa E rTTOV v Tv oav tov AEAvr7YfIje1vov tLeO?LrT)Ut Kat TroavTrT]v rtva 7TOLtE TTirIv avTr), OTt EAarTrov 1 'A'KOV "ero TO 9VELEU-KOS TL1)TV.

After the death of his wife Lyde, whom he adored, [Antimachus] composed, to console his grief, the elegy called Lyde, in which he listed the misfortunes of the heroes, to reduce his own grief by examining the sufferings of others. Therefore when one tries to console a mourner, and demonstrate that his grief is a common affliction, and less than that experienced by others, one can change the mind of the mourner and give him a similar understanding - that his grief is really less terrible that he thought at first.69

69 [Plut.], Cons. ad Apoll. 106B-C.

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The calamities that characterize Medea's tale are certainly common to many in general terms - loss, betrayal, death - but are so extreme in their details as to provide a vivid model that would be unquestionably worse than any death or loss. This juxtaposition would not only serve to commemorate the deceased in their moment of ideal death, but could also provide some solace for the mourner, performing the task of a visual consolatio. As noted by Mtiller, similar uses of mythological antitheses abound in funerary inscriptions of the second century AD70 - Medea's story simply provides an unequivocal representation of the same sentiments in visual terms.

Imagine a mourner visiting the tomb of a deceased family member buried in a sarcophagus depicting the exploits of Medea, such as the most complete example in the Museo Nazionale Romano (Fig. 2). According to the argument presented here, the mythological narrative figures in the process of mourning by providing an image and a story on which to meditate in contemplating the death of a relative. For whereas Medea overstayed her welcome on this earth and exited in the worst possible way, the deceased person in the sarcophagus went to the next world at the right time without a trail of destruction. The miseries of life, of marriage and children, are given vivid depiction in the episodes of the life of Medea, and the deceased is certainly beyond all their vicissitudes now (and with any luck never experienced them in this fashion). Furthermore, the mourner is no Jason; the death of a single family member does not decimate the family as Medea's departure did, and the state and society are still intact, whereas the state of Corinth in the bodies of Creusa and Creon were utterly destroyed.71

In combination with the lid decoration, this particular sarcophagus (along with at least one other example) also correlates meaningfully with consolatio in the idea of the continuity of life and inevitability of death. The use of the narrow frieze of the sarcophagus lid for pictorial decoration was a uniquely Roman innovation, as Paul Zanker has observed,72 and often contained scenes or motifs intended to elucidate or qualify the casket iconography. Here the Corinthian episodes of

70 Muller (n. 32), 89-90. 71 The situation has a meaningful resonance with Sulpicius Rufus' words to Cicero at Tullia's

death (Fam. 4.5.3): At vero malum est liberos amittere. Malum; nisi peius sit, haec sufferre et perpeti. ('But truly it is a terrible thing to lose a child. It is terrible, but it would be undoubtedly worse to experience and endure the present situation.') In this case, Sulpicius Rufus uses the actual collapse of the republic to compare with Cicero's loss, and to make the orator thankful that Tullia was spared the grief of experiencing it.

72 Zanker (n. 19), 11-12.

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Medea's biography on the casket are paired with a lid depicting the seasons, a motif signifying the inevitable movement of time and the cycles of life: birth, growth, marriage, death.73 The potent symbolism and emotional effect provided by the mythological narrative clearly had some lasting meaning for the descendants of the deceased: this particular sarcophagus contained three skeletons, most likely from separate burials.74 Confronted with this mythological spectacle, the mourner would perhaps consider himself and his family lucky by comparison and, as Seneca advises in Letters to Lucilius 99.20-1, would let [lacrimae] salva sapientis auctoritate fluxerunt tanto temperamento, ut illis nec humanitas nec dignitas deesset .... est aliquis et dolendi decor ('. . . tears flowed with a sage-like composure maintained and such great self- restraint that neither sympathy nor dignity was lacking in him . . . since even grief holds some beauty').75 The commemoration of the deceased would thus be twofold, in the visual memorial of virtuous and ideal death and in the lasting honour created by appropriate public behaviour of descendants, both achieved through the antithesis presented by Medea's mythological narrative. In this way, the traditional myths did not merely symbolize cardinal virtues and abstract notions important to the society at large, as seen in Alcestis sarcophagi. In some cases, they also aided in reasoning through complex and difficult emotional situ- ations, such as death and loss, on an individual level.

Conclusion: Reinterpreting Myth on Roman Sarcophagi

Overall, this study has sought to expand the view of sarcophagi as multivalent objects in Roman society. The interpretation of sarcophagi has often been overwhelmed by the meticulous decipherment of features related to public commemoration and/or religion, without taking into account the social processes that bound them in the funerary context, namely the cycles of death, mourning, and restoration. The process of grief and renewal was not restricted to the period immediately after death but profoundly and cyclically integrated into Roman culture, and even institutionalized in the festival calendar. The week-long festival of

73 G. Koch and H. Sichtermann, Romische Sarkophage (Muinchen, 1982), 217-23. 74 NSA (1911), 395-6. 75 The nurse's description of Medea in Seneca's play provides an appropriate contrast (lines

387-90): flammatafacies, spiritum ex alto citat, / proclamat, oculos uberifletu rigat,/ . . . haeret minatur aestuat queritur gemit ('Face enflamed, she hurls her voice forth from the depths, / she shouts, her eyes wet with copious tears, / . . . she clings, threatens, seethes, complains, groans').

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the Parentalia (described above), focused on the dead and the past, was immediately followed by the Caristia, in which living relatives were honoured:76

scilicet a tumulis et, qui periere, propinquis protinus ad vivos ora referre iuvat

postque tot amissos, quicquid de sanguine restat, aspicere et generis dinumerare gradus.

It is pleasant to return from the realm of tombs and dead relatives, to focus one's attention again on the living,

and to recognize, after so many have died, that the family persists, and to count the generations past and present.77

Funerary rituals and consideration of the dead permeated all aspects of the festival calendar, from the selection of appropriate marriage days and traditional domestic rites to military celebrations and public ceremonies, extending far beyond the cemetery into residences and civic centres. Thus the cycle of grief, mourning, and return to daily life present in the rituals of the funeral were repeated on an annual basis, and the ideals of consolatio were constantly revisited within this context.

Additional questions bear consideration here. To what extent were sarcophagi intended to be public memorials? Were sarcophagi viewed by individuals outside the immediate family and mourners? While it is true that the funerary context was largely public, perhaps too much emphasis is placed on the object as public memorial. The conduct of one's relatives, from the celebration of funerary rites and rituals to actual behaviour in grief, was also a fundamental aspect of the funerary process. In many ways, it could be argued that the observable virtue and piety of the mourners was more significantly communicative to the outside world than the symbolic narratives inscribed on sarcophagus friezes. The symbolism used on sarcophagi, whether mythological or not, could contain basic cardinal virtues writ large - virtus, concordia etc. - but more multivalent forms of commemoration are also to be considered, especially if the audience for the object was expected to be more exclusive. 'Like Medea's rejuvenating brew . . . myths are elusive, shifting bodies of knowledge that offer partial truths in their particular context.'78 In literature, Roman authors clearly did not view complex myths as simple polar dichotomies, but as realistic and unresolved

76 Motto and Clark (n. 64), 229-33. 77 Ov., Fast. 2.619-22; see also the discussion of this contrast in C. E. Newlands, Playing with

Time: Ovid and the Fasti (Ithaca NY, 1995), 161-2. 78 C. E. Newlands, 'The Metamorphosis of Ovid's Medea', in Clauss and Johnston (n. 40), 208.

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narratives for considering conflict and individual experience. As largely familial or at least private monuments, sarcophagi may have also sought an equally personal and complex application of myth. Knowledge of particular versions and variations of the stories is visible within the corpora of several myths (as in Junius Euhodus' Alcestis sarcophagus above). As has been demonstrated by both Miiller and Zanker in their analyses of individual sarcophagi, even stories with traditionally negative associations, such as that of Phaedra and Hippolytos, could be visually customized to reflect both personal emotions and Roman cultural ideals.79 It is therefore problematic to assume that, just because these pieces were funerary, this sophisticated knowledge and interest only viewed these narratives as representations of 'fundamental truth'.

In the same vein, this study suggests that mythological narrative was not applied for exclusively positive comparison, but instead was understood in a much more complex fashion, as it reflected and refracted the personal narrative of the deceased. The admission of antithesis allowed for a more sophisticated expression of character and a more nuanced depiction of the deceased, primarily within the memory and imagination of the mourner. Furthermore, this multifaceted understanding of myth perhaps also implies that the bereaved was not constrained to identify the deceased with any particular character within the story. In the Medea corpus for example, some viewers may have considered an antithetical link between the deceased and Creusa (thus as the opposite of Fittschen's proposed mors immatura) or between themselves and Medea (as the converse of the prototypical mythological character who deals with profound grief badly). In admitting antithesis into the interpretation of Roman funerary imagery, the lack of portrait heads within particular corpora (or even on a single sarcophagus) takes on a meaningful function. While portraiture assigns interpretations and complementary correlations to certain characters, the absence of it can also be purposeful, in that it allows multiple imaginative readings both negative and positive. The understanding of the customization of lid friezes and side panels is also expanded by the admission of antithesis into the interpretation. For example, the unusual sarcophagus from the Catacomb of Praetextatus (Fig. 9), which combines and contrasts scenes from the 'Jason' group and the 'Medea group' on lid and body respectively, is much more comprehensible

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Medea on Roman Sarcophagi