
Villa di Livia, Rome, credit Wikipedia
A Song that Descended from the Heavens
by Darrell Sutton
For those who wish to study the astrological content of Manilius’ Astronomica, it is derived from two sources: its Latin text and a much later published English translation. For the former, A.E. Housman’s efforts to establish a critical Latin text should be commended. As to the latter, students are indebted to G.P. Goold for his celebrated Loeb edition (1977; Rev. 1992,1997). He rendered the Latin text into cogently expressed English.
Through the centuries, people have sought to elucidate Manilius’ words. The various books and articles in English, French and German are often written in a manner that is harder to understand than the texts of Manilius or Housman’s Latin Commentary.
Manilius’ poem is incomparable. Not unlike the epic cycle, containing stories of an heroic age, Manilius’ heroes are ageless figures of the zodiac, shapechangers whose powers know no bounds, and whose configurations displayed and possessed mantic features. The only thing in antiquity which might rival it’s esoteric genius, in this writer’s opinion, is Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura. But as a literary creation, the Astronomica was spun by the poet’s imagination and is made up of delicate threads, both historical and mythic.
The ancient fable is a genre of study whose roots are firmly established in ancient Greek literature. These fabulous tales [i] were well known, the earliest mention of them being by Hesiod.[ii] No one prior to Aristotle[iii] (384BC-322BC) discussed them in at length, and their origins they remain – like most ancient things – subject to conjecture. It is believed by some scholars working in this field that there is direct linkage to ancient near Eastern maxims.[iv] This indeed may be true, but discussions hitherto have not established this intertextual link. As far as one is able to discern from reading the results of Oriental scholarship, there is little transcriptional evidence to confirm the manner in which these transferences of material were supposedly made. There are numerous instances, too, where tentative interpretations are later reassessed, proven to be correct or set aside on account of better analyses of a cuneiform document.
Obviously the beginnings of astral interests, namely a fascination with the sciences of astrology and astronomy, cannot be determined. From any literary perspective this interest is pre-historic, predating the recording of fables by no less than one millennium. But it was only a matter of time before someone with genius would be able to compose an original literary piece that merged these two disciplines in order to illustrate the role the heavens play in predetermining events on earth. And Manilius set out to do just that and he achieved his goal.
Manilius’ poem is a fabulous tale in both the strictest and narrowest sense of the terms. His illustrations of celestial bodies in animal and human forms are unique: not unique to zodiac studies; but unique from a literary point in the way his poem luridly depicts a world governed by fate.
In the sphere of translation studies, one encounters a myriad of possibilities for composing, interpreting and critiquing prose and poetry. The Latin text of Manilius’ Astronomica can still be improved. It is a ripe field for conjectural emendation, especially for scholars familiar with the details of primeval Greco-Roman and near eastern astral phenomena. The number of scholars regularly working on this text is small. G.P. Goold’s [GPG] classic translation for the Loeb series is incomparable, but not uncorrectable. In a book of such length there are various ways to say the same thing. Some of his glosses are better than others. Below I offer another rendering of the opening a lines vv.1-5.
Manilius commits himself, in writing, to the notion that Greco-Roman divinity is explicable and suitable for life and living. His assumptions are bold. The lyrics of his song direct readers to the source of his inspiration.
LATIN TEXT
Carmine divinas artes et conscia fati
Sidera diversos hominum variantia casus,
caelestis rationis opus, deducere mundo
Aggredior primus que novis Helicona movere
5 Cantibus et viridi nutantis vertice silvas
By the magic of song to draw down from heaven god-given skills
and fate’s confidants, the stars, which by the operation of divine reason diversify the
chequered fortunes of mankind; and to be the
first to stir with these new strains (astrological poetry) the nodding leaf-capped woods of Helicon. [trans. Goold]
Starry influences descended by divine song, fate’s artistry
and knowledge in different ways visiting people:
celestial reason’s effort to entice the world,
and [be] the first, using new canticles, to have drawn near to disturb Helicon’s swirling green timbers. [trans. Sutton]
COMMENTS
Of the Iliad, C.M. Bowra, in his posthumously published book Homer, wrote ‘a poet is under no obligation to set out his whole theme at the start; he is free to keep surprises in store…’ I believe him. The Astronomica begins as one would expect, with some sort of justification for undertaking this enterprise. The many issues that readers soon will encounter are kept in reserve in the beginning. The organization of it all is refined. Accidents are non-existent in Astronomica. Manilius believes in fate’s overall determination of the affairs of this world and its inhabitants. Hence he presumes his destiny involves inventing these lines of verse. He supposes, too, that they are inspired by gods whose control of celestial objects ensure that the writing of this song is his lot in life, i.e. by divine means the structure here and now descends into his heart and into print for readers’ enlightenment.
One feature of the broad plan of this sacred chant brings to mind the fervid but contemporary otherworldliness of W.B. Yeat’s Supernatural Songs.
Ribh at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night
With open book you ask me what I do.
Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar
To those that never saw this tonsured head…
Poets enjoy describing the cruel happenstances of life. Myth supplies a nifty canvas on which to portray strange characters. Discovered in ‘a pitch-dark night’? – Death is the black fluid in Yeat’s inkhorn when composing that line. New life turns up later as one reads on. Chance tells different stories than those conveyed by fate. There is always a story within a story to tell and reasons for the telling of it. And both Yeats and Manilius want their verses learned by readers whose interests are stimulated by such commissions. They contain messages that are to be carried forth. And so, the poetic cycle repeats itself, being reincarnated in individual hearts in each generation.
As a consequence, poems are read and retranslated. You also can see from the above two English renderings of Manilius’ opening lines that the Latin syntax affords different interpretations. My translation is a spontaneous rendering. I gave prominence to ideas that stood out to me. When formed and construed correctly, Latin figures of speech are expressive, sometimes answerable to more than one explanation, all the while radiating the author’s enthusiasm.
Goold employed the word ‘magic’, a term that in this context is inapt and conjures in the mind of modern readers all sorts of witch-wisdom or witchery, cogitations whose adverse overtones undermine Manilius’ literary impression of sideral might. This poem is not a composition of charming enchantments. Its verses take the reader step by step through the transcendent maze of horoscopy.
To be continued
Darrell Sutton[v]
[i] As defined by Aelius Theon (c.50AD):, “‘a fable is a fictional narrative which portrays a truth,” so N. Holzberg, p. 20, in An Introduction: The Ancient Fable(2002), Indiana Press. These comparative images make use of animals, humans, gods and other: from larger to smaller ratio in that order. And from such tales, stem a variety of moral dictums, at one time deemed useful for real life. See page 9 of ‘Theon and the History of Progymnasmata’ by M. Heath, in Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 43 (2002/3), pp. 129-160. For a much longer treatment, see Ethics in Aesop’s Fables: The Augustana Collection (2001) by C.A. Zafiropoulos, Brill.
[ii] Cf. Hesiod, Works and Days, 202-212, regarding the nightingale and the hawk.
[iii] Cf. Aristotle’s Rhetoric, 20th chapter of book 2. 1393a23-1394a18.
[iv] See the lengthy introduction in Babrius (Loeb), by B.E. Perry, Harvard.
[v] Scholarly friends scrutinized this paper. All conclusions represented are mine.