und C. Aurelius Cotta<fnref n="10" /> die Einziehung der Staatseinkünfte „verpachtet“. Für Asien ist das durch das Monumentum Ephesenum eindeutig belegt<fnref n="11" />, und für Achaia ist es ebenfalls vorauszusetzen. Die nächsten Zensoren gab es dann wieder 70 v. Chr.<fnref n="12" /> und die übernächsten 65 v. Chr.<fnref n="13" />. Wenn man Verhältnisse aus Asien auf Achaia übertragen darf<fnref n="14" />, dann durfte die Pachtgesellschaft, die 75 v. Chr. den Zuschlag erhalten hatte, ab dem 15. Januar 74 v. Chr. die Abgaben einziehen. Diese Pachtgesellschaft war es wohl auch, die illegalerweise in Oropos Geld verlangte. Denn hätte es schon früher Übergriffe gegeben, hätten sich die Oropier sicher schon früher beschwert.

Nun aber wandten sie sich die Oropier nicht an Gerichte, sondern direkt an den römischen Senat – und wurden auch gehört. Sie hatten einen Wortführer, der dort kaum missachtet werden konnte: den Amphiaraos-Priester Hermodoros, Sohn des Olympichos. Dieser war vom Senat selbst als einer von ganz wenigen Menschen als Einzelperson mit dem Titel eines *socius populi Romani* ausgezeichnet worden (dies ging sicher auf Sullas Krieg in Griechenland zurück)<fnref n="15" />.

Allerdings traf der Senat nicht sofort eine Entscheidung. Wie im erhaltenen Text erwähnt wird, fand im Jahre 74 v. Chr.<fnref n="16" /> zwar im Senat eine Verhandlung statt, aber beschlossen wurde lediglich, dass der Streit zwischen den Oropiern und den *publicani* zu untersuchen sei; es sollte also eine *cognitio extra ordinem* geben<fnref n="17" />.

Nach diesem ersten Senatsbeschluss passierte erst einmal – nichts. Wann die angeordnete Untersuchung tatsächlich zustande kam, wird im Text aus Oropos genau notiert: Sie fand erst im folgenden Jahr statt, und zwar am 14. Oktober (pr. id. Oct.) in der *basilica Porcia* auf dem Forum – also mindestens 10 Monate nach dem Einsetzungsbeschluss; es können aber bis zu 20 Monate gewesen sein. Die Leitung der Untersuchung hatten die damals amtierenden Konsuln M. Terentius Varro Lucullus und C. Cassius Longinus, und sie zogen nicht weniger als 16 Beisitzer hinzu.

Eigentlich war die Rechtslage ganz eindeutig und der Fall eigentlich nicht schwierig. Das zeigte sich sehr deutlich in den Verhandlungen vor den Konsuln und

<footnote n="10">¹⁰ *RE, Octavius* 26 bzw. *RE, Aurelius* 96.</footnote>

<footnote n="11">¹¹ Siehe Helmut ENGELMANN – Dieter KNIBBE, *Das Zollgesetz der Provinz Asia. Eine neue Inschrift aus Ephesos* (*Epigraphica Anatolica* 14), Bonn, Habelt, 1989 (Erstpublikation) bzw. Michel COTTIER – Mireille CORBIER *et al.*, *The customs law of Asia*, Oxford *et al.*, Oxford University Press, 2008 (Neuedition), §§ 31. 33.</footnote>

<footnote n="12">¹² C. Cornelius Lentulus Clodianus (*RE, Cornelius* 216) und L. Gellius Publicola (*RE, Gellius* 17).</footnote>

<footnote n="13">¹³ Q. Lutatius Catulus (*RE, Lutatius* 8) und M. Licinius Crassus Dives (*RE, Licinius* 68); damals gab es aber Konflikte, die hier nicht weiter interessieren.</footnote>

<footnote n="14">¹⁴ *Monumentum Ephesenum* (wie Anm. 11) §§ 56. 58. 61 (Zusätze von 8 oder 12 und von 19 n. Chr., die wohl nur den Brauch festschreiben); vgl. § 43 (Zusatz von 17 v. Chr.).</footnote>

<footnote n="15">¹⁵ Bekannt ist sonst nur der Fall des Makedonen Onesimos, Sohn des Python, der wegen seiner Parteinahme für die Römer 169 v. Chr. seine Heimat verlassen musste, die Römer weiter unterstützte und schließlich römisches Staatsland im Gebiet von Tarent erhielt, siehe LIV., 44, 16, 5–7.</footnote>

<footnote n="16">¹⁶ Siehe *IG, VII*² 2, 1, 308 Z. 3–4: τὸ τῆς συνκλήτου δόγμα τὸ γενόμενον ἑπι Λευκί|ου Λικινίου Μαάρκου Ἀὐρηλίου ὑπάτων (RE, Licinius 104 bzw. RE, Aurelius 107).</footnote>

<footnote n="17">¹⁷ Einen regulären Prozess vor einem Geschworenengerichtshof (*quaestio*) gab es offenbar nicht. Dort hatten die Provinzialen trotz der sullanischen Reformen offensichtlich kaum Chancen.</footnote>
ihren Beisitzern, die im Text recht ausführlich referiert werden. Die *publicani* hatten sich eine spitzfindige Argumentation ausgedacht: Im Pachtgesetz seien nur die Ländereien der *di immortales* („unsterblichen Götter“) ausgenommen; aber Amphiaraos sei kein unsterblicher Gott<fnref n="18" />. In der Tat war Amphiaraos<fnref n="19" /> ursprünglich ein Heros, der einmal als Mensch gelebt haben soll, bevor er von der Erde verschlungen wurde. Das war aber nicht relevant. Unter den Beweismitteln wird im Text das *senatus consultum* von 80 v. Chr. zitiert, mit dem Sulla hatte seine Maßnahmen ratifizieren lassen. Darin war ausdrücklich das Heiligtum des Amphiaraos und das Stadtgebiet von Oropos freigestellt worden, und Amphiaraos war vom Senat ausdrücklich „Gott“ genannt worden<fnref n="20" />. Damit erübrigten sich alle theologischen Grundsatzdiskussionen. Denn relevant war nur, wen die *res publica Romana* als Gott anerkannte<fnref n="21" />, und hier hatten die *publicani* den immer noch gültigen Senatsbeschluss gegen sich.

Bemerkenswert ist auch, wer als Anwalt für die *publicani* auftrat: Es war keiner der berühmten Redner der Zeit, nicht der große Q. Hortensius Hortalus, auch nicht der aufstrebende M. Tullius Cicero (er saß unter den Beisitzern), sondern L. Domitius Ahenobarbus<fnref n="22" />. Dies war der spätere Ädil von 61 v. Chr., Praetor von 58 v. Chr. und Konsul von 54 v. Chr. Er muss damals ein ganz junger Mann von Anfang Zwanzig gewesen sein. Für die Wahl eines solch unerfahrenen Anwalts mit noch geringem politischen Gewicht gibt es wohl nur eine Erklärung: Die *publicani* wussten, dass sie rein rechtlich keine Chancen hatten. Einen jungen Mann aus guter Familie konnte man in einen aussichtslosen Prozess schicken, ohne dass seine Reputation einen bleibenden Schaden erlitt.

Als das Untersuchungsverfahren einmal zustande gekommen war, ging alles sehr schnell. Das Gutachten fiel eindeutig zugunsten der Oropier aus. Und bereits zwei Tage später (am 16. Oktober 73 v. Chr.) trugen die Konsuln das Ergebnis im Senat vor. Der Senat bestätigte es eindeutig: Die *publicani* hatten kein Recht, in Oropos Abgaben einzuziehen<fnref n="23" />.

<footnote n="18">¹⁸ IG, VII² 2, 1, 308, Z. 27–29: ὅπτε ὁ Ἀμφιάραος ὀι αὖται αἰ χῶραι συνκεχωρημέναι | λέγονται, θεός ἐστιν, ὅπως ταύτας τὰς χώρας καρπίσξεσθαι ἐξῆ | τοὺς δημοσιώνας.</footnote>

<footnote n="19">¹⁹ Siehe als kurze Übersicht E. BETHE, *RE, I 2* (1894), Sp. 1886–1893, s.v. *Amphiaraos* (mit Zusammenstellung der Zeugnisse); I. KRAUSKOPF, *LIMC, I* (1981), S. 691–713, s.v. *Amphiaraos* (Zusammenstellung der bildlichen Quellen).</footnote>

<footnote n="20">²⁰ IG, VII² 2, 1, 308, Z. 52–57:</footnote>

<footnote>ἐπὶ Λευκίου Σύλλα Ἑπαφροδίτου, Κοῖντου Μετέλλου Εὐσεβοῦς (RE, Caecilius 98) ὑπάτων ἐπικεκυρωμένον δοκεῖ εἶναι | ὅπερ ἡ σύνκλητος ἐδογμάτισεν καὶ εἰς τοῦτους τοὺς λόγους· ὅσα τε θεῶι | Ἀμφιαράωι καὶ τῶι ἱερᾶ ἀὐτοῦ Λεύκιος Κορνήλιος Σύλλας ἀπὸ συβουλίου | γνώμης προσώρισεν συνεχώρησεν, τὰ αὐτὰ ἡ σύνκλητος τοῦτων τῶι θεῶι | δοθῆναι συνχωρηθῆναι ἡγήσατο.</footnote>

<footnote n="21">²¹ Wie die Anerkennung als Gottheiten durch den Senat verlief, zeigt in satirischer Weise SEN., *Apocol.* 1, 1–11, 4.</footnote>

<footnote n="22">²² *RE, Domitius* 27.</footnote>

<footnote n="23">²³ IG, VII² 2, 1, 308, Z. 65–67: ὡσαύτως τὴν Ὠρωπίων | χώραν ὑπεξειρημένην δοκεῖν εἶναι κατὰ τὸν τῆς μισθώσεως νόμον | μὴ δοκεῖν τοὺς δημοσιώνας ταῦτα καρπίζεσθαι.</footnote>
Interessant ist, wovon in dem langen Text nicht gesprochen wird: Es geht ausschließlich um die generelle Rechtslage. Es ist aber nicht davon die Rede, dass die *publicani* das zu Unrecht eingezogene Geld zurückzahlen mussten. Man wird schließen müssen, dass sie es behalten durften. Hätten die Oropier deswegen noch einmal im Senat vorstellig werden wollen, hätten sie von wohlwollenden Freunden sicher die gleiche ironische Bemerkung zu hören bekommen wie einst Polybios in einer vergleichbaren Situation, nämlich: Er wolle wohl wie Odysseus noch einmal in die Höhle des Kyklopen gehen, nur weil er dort Hut und Gürtel vergessen habe<fnref n="24" />.

Mit dem Senatsbeschluss waren die Oropier für die Zukunft gesichert. Aber der damaligen Steuerpachtgesellschaft blieb also trotz der juristischen Niederlage ein beträchtlicher Extra-Gewinn. Mit jedem Tag, den die Oropier länger auf die Entscheidung warten mussten, hatten die *publicani* vor Ort mehr Geld einnehmen können. Wenn man die oben genannten Daten zugrunde legt, summierte sich dies auf 22 Monate. Das war mehr als ein Drittel der Gesamt-Pachtzeit der damaligen Publikanen-Gesellschaft. Der Umstand, dass die Zeit für die *publicani* arbeitete, dürfte auch der Grund gewesen sein, warum der eigentlich ganz einfache Rechtsfall in Rom so lange hingeschleppt wurde<fnref n="25" />.

Ob es zu irgendeinem Zeitpunkt irgendwann geheime Absprachen im Hintergrund gab, darüber kann man allenfalls spekulieren. Es könnte zum Beispiel sein, dass die Oropier informell auf die Rückzahlungsforderungen verzichten mussten, um die faktische Blockade des Verfahrens zu beenden. Aber beweisen kann man nichts davon. Wir sehen nicht mehr als das, was damals der Öffentlichkeit bekanntgegeben wurde.

Ein Seitenaspekt bleibt noch zu erwähnen: Aus einer Stelle bei Cicero<fnref n="26" /> geht hervor, dass die *publicani* die Göttlichkeit des Trophonios genauso in Frage gestellt haben wie des Amphiaraos. Man muss wohl schließen, dass sie auch im Heiligtum des Trophonios bei Lebadeia ohne Rechtsgrundlage Abgaben eingezogen hatten. Und es ist nichts davon bekannt, dass man sich dort in ähnlicher Weise hätte wehren können, wie dies den Oropiern gelungen ist.

## LITERATUR

* BADIAN, Ernst, *Publicans and Sinners. Private Enterprise in the Service of the Roman Republic*, Ithaca, N.Y., Cornell Univ. Press, 1972.

* BASES, Spyridon, „Υπατικὰ γράμματα πρὸς Ὀρωπίους“, *Εφημερίς ἀρχαιολογική*, 1884, Sp. 97–120.

* BETHE, Erich, „Amphiaraos“, in *Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft*, I 2, Stuttgart, 1894, Sp. 1886–1893.

<footnote n="24">²⁴ POL., 35, 6, 4.</footnote>

<footnote n="25">²⁵ Zu der Bedeutung von Verschleppung, vgl. auch den bekannten Verres-Prozess von 70 v. Chr.</footnote>

<footnote n="26">²⁶ CIC., *Nat. deor.* 3, 19 (49): *An Amphiaraus erit deus et Trophonius? Nostri quidem publicani, cum essent agri in Boeotia deorum inmortalium excepti lege censoria, negabant inmortalis esse ullos, qui aliquando homines fuissent.*</footnote>
COTTIER, Michel – CORBIER, Mireille *et al.*, *The customs law of Asia*, Oxford *et al.*, Oxford University Press, 2008.

EHRHARDT, Norbert, „Strategien römischer *Publicani* gegenüber griechischen Städten in der Zeit der Republik, in Norbert EHRHARDT, Linda-Marie GÜNTHER (Hgg.), *Widerstand – Anpassung – Integration: die griechische Staatenwelt und Rom. Festschrift für Jürgen Deininger zum 65. Geburtstag*, Stuttgart, F. Steiner, 2002, S. 135–153.

ENGELMANN, Helmut – KNIBBE, Dieter, *Das Zollgesetz der Provinz Asia. Eine neue Inschrift aus Ephesos (Epigraphica Anatolica 14)*, Bonn, Habelt, 1989.

HEIL, Matthäus, *Ehrungen für Römer in Oropos, in Dagmar HOFMANN *et al*. (Hgg.), *Religion und Epigraphik. Kleinasien, der griechische Osten und die Mittelmeerwelt. Festschrift zum 65. Geburtstag von Walter Ameling*, Bonn, Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH, 2023, S. 313–326.

*Inscriptiones Graecae*, vol. VII (ed. altera), pars II, Oropus et ager Oropius, fasc. 1, ed. Basileios Ch. Petrakos adiuvante Matthaeus Heil, Berlin/Boston, De Gruyter, 2023.

KRAUSKOPF, Ingrid, „Amphiaraos“, in *Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae*, I, Zürich/München, Artemis Verlag, 1981, S. 691–713.

LAUFFER, Siegfried (Hg.), *Griechenland. Lexikon der historischen Stätten*, München, Beck, 1989, S. 496–498.

MOMMSEN, Theodor, „Der Rechtsstreit zwischen Oropos und den römischen Steuerpächtern“, *Hermes*, 20, 1885, S. 268–287.

PETRAKOS, Basileios Ch., *Τὸ Ἀμφιάρειο τοῦ Ὀρωποῦ*, Athens, Hesperos, 1992.

PETRAKOS, Basileios Ch., *Οι επιγραφές του Ὀρωποῦ*, Athens, Greek Archaeological Society, 1997.
CINQ INSCRIPTIONS FUNÉRAIRES DU NORD-OUEST
DE LA LYCIE

Guy LABARRE

Université Marie et Louis Pasteur

Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l'Antiquité (Besançon)

guy.labarre@univ-fcomte.fr

Ergün LAFLI

Université Dokuz Eylül - İzmir

elafli@yahoo.ca

**Abstract:** Five funerary inscriptions preserved in the archaeological and epigraphic collection of the Fethiye Museum in south-western Turkey are presented in this article. No. 1 that is already published has been revised, and nos. 2–5 are published for the first time. Provenance of three inscriptions is uncertain, and two of them originate from Telmessos and Sidyma. The article provides an iconographic, onomastic and historical analysis of five monuments from ancient Lycia.

**Keywords:** funerary inscriptions, Graeco-Roman period, north-western Lycia, Asia Minor

**Mots-clés :** inscriptions funéraires, période gréco-romaine, Lycie du nord-ouest, Asie Mineure

Alexandru Avram fut un excellent épigraphiste et historien avec lequel nous avions fait connaissance en 2012 lors du XIVe congrès international d'épigraphie grecque et latine à Berlin<fnref n="1" />. En sa mémoire, qu'il nous soit permis de présenter cinq inscriptions funéraires, dont une fait l'objet d'une révision (nº 1) tandis que les quatre autres sont, à notre connaissance, inédites<fnref n="2" />. Elles se trouvent parmi les nombreux monuments conservés au musée de Fethiye (province de Muğla) dont les provenances

<footnote n="1">¹ Son sujet portait sur la révision d'un décret honorifique d'Istros, voir Alexandru AVRAM, « Revision eines Ehrendekrets der Stadt Istros (SEG, 52, 724) », dans Werner ECK et Peter FUNKE (éd.), *Öffentlichkeit – Monument – Text : XIV Congressus Internationalis Epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae, 27.–31. Augusti MMXII – Akten, Corpus inscriptionum Latinarum, Auctarium, series nova* 4, Berlin/Boston, MA, De Gruyter, 2014, pp. 554–555.</footnote>

<footnote n="2">² C'est un plaisir de remercier Anca Dan pour sa sollicitation et Ioana Munteanu qui a bien voulu accepter cet article dans ce volume. Si sa mort soudaine n'en avait pas interrompu le projet, Alexandru Avram aurait dû faire partie du jury d'habilitation à diriger des recherches de Remus Mihai Feraru, à Besançon, le 2 décembre 2023. Il nous laisse l'image d'un homme à la démarche franche, directe, sincère et d'une haute exigence intellectuelle.</footnote>
sont diverses et pas toujours identifiées : certaines sont issues des vestiges de l'ancienne cité de Telmessos et de ses environs, d'autres, en revanche, ont été amenées de différents sites de Lycie, voire de Carie ou de Pisidie<fnref n="3" />. Ainsi parmi les cinq monuments ci-dessous, une vient des environs de Telmessos (n° 1), une autre de Sidyma (n° 2), tandis que la provenance reste incertaine pour les autres<fnref n="4" />.

<figure><img src="image_33.png" /><figcaption>Carte de la Lycie du nord-ouest</figcaption></figure>

# 1. Colonne funéraire du tombeau de Charas et Artémeis

N° Inv. 2389. Lieu de provenance : Balboura (moderne Karaçulha) d'après les indications du musée. Guirlande formant quatre méandres à laquelle des grappes de raisins sont suspendues. En dessous, sculpture du défunt debout de face, vêtu d'une tunique, la main gauche repliée sur la poitrine, la main droite le long du corps. À l'opposé, sculpture de la défunte. Sous un des méandres, inscription. Hauteur 218 cm, Diamètre 68,2 cm, Hauteur lignes 4-8,2 cm. Écriture de l'époque impériale.

<footnote n="3">³ Cette dispersion a été soulignée à l'occasion de la publication d'une dizaine d'entre elles, voir Guy LABARRE, Ergün LAFLI, « Dédicaces et inscriptions funéraires gréco-romaines du nord-ouest de la Lycie », DHA, 49-2, 2023, pp. 143-166, mais aussi pour des reliefs représentant des divinités épichoriques, voir Guy LABARRE, Ergün LAFLI, « Douze nouveaux témoignages sur des divinités épichoriques de l'arrière-pays lycien », dans Fabrice DELRIEUX et Laurent GUINCHARD (éd.), *Du Nil au Rhône. En mémoire de François Kayser*. Docere, Delectare, Movere, Chambéry, Presses Universitaires Savoie Mont Blanc, 2022, n° 3, 4, 7, 8.</footnote>

<footnote n="4">⁴ Nous remercions Madame Gökçe Çiçek Keskin, de l'Université Onsekiz Mart de Çanakkale (anciennement à l'Université Dokuz Eylül d'Izmir), qui avait un permis n° 43210214-155.03/SLO daté du 22/03/2017 pour étudier les monuments épigraphiques du musée de Fethiye. Nous lui exprimons d'autant plus notre gratitude qu'elle a pris en 2017 toutes les photos utilisées pour cet article.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_34.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 1a</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_35.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 1b</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_36.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 1c</figcaption></figure>

Χα[ρ]α[ν Κε]ν-
δηβου ἑαυτὸν
καὶ τὴν γυναῖ-
κα αὐτοῦ Ἀρ-
τεμειν μνήμης
ἔνεκεν.

1 – X[--- Kε]ν-, Bean.

Traduction : « Charas fils de Kendèbès pour lui-même et pour sa femme Artémis, en mémoire ».

George Ewart Bean a publié cette inscription trouvée à Çobanisa, à trois kilomètres sur la nouvelle route de Söğüt à Fethiye, à l'ouest de Bekçiler et 57 km nord-ouest de Seydikemer<fnref n="5" />. Il indique que le village est plein d'anciennes pierres et proche d'une colline surmontée d'un fortin nommée Hisar<fnref n="6" />, dont les murailles sont de bonne facture avec une trace de mur intérieur. Est-ce un mur de refend ? Il ne le précise pas. Il signale en tout cas l'inscription dans une maison ou un espace réservé aux invités de passage (misafir odası). Il fournit les dimensions de la colonne funéraire : il s'agit une base rectangulaire large de 40 cm, haute de 43 cm, surmontée d'une colonne de 97 cm de haut, dont il ne donne pas le diamètre. Il décrit assez sommairement les reliefs sculptés : un homme d'un côté et une femme de l'autre, avec une guirlande de grappes entre les deux. Son commentaire se limite à quelques remarques : le nom Kendebes lui paraît relativement sûr et il souligne qu'έαυτὸν dans la ligne 2 a été ajouté en petites lettres. En effet, le mot est coupé (έαυ|τὸν) et les

<footnote n="5">⁵ George Ewart BEAN, *Journeys in Northern Lycia 1965–1967*, Vienne, Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1971, p. 13, n° 18, photographie n° 15.</footnote>

<footnote n="6">⁶ Le toponyme est évocateur puisque le mot dérive de *ksar* désignant la forteresse.</footnote>
lettres sont superposées trois par trois à la fin de la ligne sur une hauteur équivalente aux autres lettres. G.E. Bean ne restitue pas le nom de la personne qui a fait élever le monument pour lui-même et pour sa femme. Pourtant, il est possible de restituer le nom Χαρά qui correspond bien aux lettres encore lisibles et à l'espace disponible. Ce nom est connu dans des inscriptions de Telmessos, mais également dans l'intérieur lycien, à Arykanda, sur son littoral au sud, à Myra, et à l'est, à Olympos<fnref n="7" />.

## 2. Cippe de Dokimos

Nº Inv. 5413. Lieu de provenance : Sidyma d'après les indications du musée. Hauteur 104 cm, diamètre 48,2 cm, hauteur lignes 6-8 cm. Écriture de l'époque impériale.

<figure><img src="image_37.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 2a</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_38.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 2b</figcaption></figure>

Ζώσιμ[ος Φιλ]αίτειρος
Δόκιμον • Μασας οἰκο-
νόμος [..... καὶ] Πία
τὰ τέκνα, μνείας χάριν.

Traduction : « Zôsimos, Philétairos (ont honoré) Dokimos ; Masas intendant [...et] Pia, ses enfants, en mémoire ».

Après la lacune, *T* et *E* sont ligaturés ligne 1. Un séparateur est bien marqué après le nom du défunt ligne 2. Il reste peu d'espace dans la lacune, ligne 3, pour restituer les noms correspondant aux enfants : il faut donc considérer que les trois lettres ΠΙΑ ne sont pas la fin d'un nom (Eukarpia, e.g.), ce qui laisserait une trop faible place dans la lacune, mais bien le nom d'une fille, Pia<fnref n="8" />. Par conséquent, il reste

<footnote n="7">⁷ LGPN, V.B, p. 436.</footnote>

<footnote n="8">⁸ LGPN, V.B, p. 351 (attestée à Arykanda dans l'intérieur lycien et en Pamphylie à Attaleia).</footnote>
à restituer un autre nom, court vu l'espace vacant, masculin ou féminin, mais les possibilités sont diverses. Les noms sont grecs sauf Masas<fnref n="9" /> et l'on remarque la graphie particulière pour *Φιλήταιρος*. Ni les rapports familiaux entre les deux premiers hommes cités et le défunt, ni le statut de l'intendant et de ses enfants qui pouvaient être libres ou serviles ne sont précisés. Ces deux groupes sont en tout cas associés à l'hommage funèbre, car tous membres de l'oikία<fnref n="10" />.

### 3. Épitaphe de Pamphilos

Le bloc est sculpté comme un autel funéraire. N° Inv. 11. Hauteur 79 cm, diamètre 44,3 cm, hauteur lignes 3–5 cm. Face A et B – Inscription dans le champ sous le relief représentant deux hommes en tunique, debout, de face, chacun sur un piédestal. Face C – deux serpents de part et d'autre d'une urne funéraire. Sigma lunaire puis carré. Écriture du IIe–IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.

<figure><img src="image_39.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 3a</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_40.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 3b</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_41.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 3c</figcaption></figure>

Face A :
Κτησ- Πάνφιλον
σίας

Face B :
Πάνφιλος καὶ Εγ-
... ΛΙΠΟΣ μνή-
[μης χάριν].

Face A : Pamphilos est à l'accusatif et il faut comprendre qu'il s'agit du défunt. Peut-être faut-il restituer [ήρωα] en dessous du nom. Les rapports entre les

<footnote n="9">⁹ Ladislav ZGUSTA, *Kleinasiatische Personennamen*, Prague, 1964, p. 301, §875–876. LGPN, V.B, p. 274.</footnote>

<footnote n="10">¹⁰ Sur le groupement familial au sens large, voir Anne-Valérie SCHWEYER, *Les Lyciens et la mort. Une étude d'histoire sociale*, Varia Anatolica XIV, Istanbul/Paris, Institut français d'études anatoliennes d'Istanbul, 2002, pp. 197–198.</footnote>
deux hommes représentés sur la pierre, frères ou amis, ne sont pas spécifiés. Face B : après Pamphilos, kappa et alpha sont certains. La pierre paraît ensuite abîmée ce qui expliquerait la dissociation avec iota. C'est sans doute un deuxième nom qu'il faut lire aux lignes 1–2.

### 4. Épitaphe d’Alexandrinè

Nº Inv. 5157. Le haut de la stèle/du bloc est brisé. Hauteur 99 cm, largeur 63,7 cm, épaisseur 48,1 cm, hauteur lignes 4,8–6,8 cm. Écriture du IIe siècle ap. J.-C.

<figure><img src="image_42.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 4</figcaption></figure>

[...]I IAN MAP[...]
[...]ΑΠΙΑ . Ἀλεξαν-
δρίνην σώσασα
4 ἔτη κβ΄
Τ. Φλαονίος Μάρκιος
Τιτιανὸς ὁ πάτρων
τὴν σύνβιον μνή-
8 μης ἔνεκεν.

La première lettre encore visible ligne 1 peut être un Π ou un N. Restituer
[Κρισπή]ναν Μάρ[κου] est sans doute un peu long. Après ΑΠΙΑ, ligne 2, on hésite à
reconnaître un N dont les hastes sont droites ailleurs.

Traduction : « [...] Alexandrinè, qui a vécu 22 ans ; T(itus) Flavius Marcius Titianus, l'oncle (a honoré) sa femme, en mémoire ».
Il est possible que la jeune Alexandrinè soit morte en couches, car c’était une des causes principales de la mortalité des jeunes femmes<fnref n="11" />. Malgré les incertitudes du début du texte, il apparaît que l’oncle paternel partageait sa vie avec sa nièce<fnref n="12" />. Le terme ὁ πάτρων pour désigner l’oncle n’est pas très répandu, mais on le trouve justement dans une autre inscription découverte à Söğüt, où un certain Armonanis élève un autel funéraire à son oncle Hermaios (τῷ πάτρωνι αὐτοῦ)<fnref n="13" />, et quelquefois aussi en Lydie<fnref n="14" />. T. Flavius Marcius Titianus, dont on remarque le gentilice impérial obtenu à la fin du Ier siècle ap. J.-C. sous les Flaviens, ne semble pas connu par ailleurs.

## 5. Épitaphe d'Artémôn

Hauteur préservée 48,5 cm, largeur 51,1 cm, épaisseur 48,4 cm, hauteur lignes 5,5–6,2 cm. Bloc quadrangulaire brisé dont il ne reste que le champ inférieur inscrit et la base moulurée. Écriture du IIe siècle ap. J.-C.

<figure><img src="image_43.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 5</figcaption></figure>

[---]p
[... ca 8–11...ω]-
να Εὐπολέ-

<footnote n="11">¹¹ Aurélie Damet rappelle que l’accouchement et la période *post-partum* présentent les plus grands dangers pour les femmes et donne l’exemple des trente-huit femmes citées dans le traité hippocratique des Épidémies dont quinze meurent après avoir mis au monde leur enfant. Voir Aurélie DAMET, *Philippe MOREAU, Famille et société dans le monde grec et en Italie du Ve siècle av. J.-C. au IIe siècle av. J.-C.*, Paris, Armand Colin, 2017, p. 81.</footnote>

<footnote n="12">¹² Pour d'autres exemples dans les inscriptions lyciennes, voir A.-V. SCHWEYER, *op. cit.*, p. 193.</footnote>

<footnote n="13">¹³ G.E. BEAN, *op. cit.*, p. 17, n° 32. Sur l'autel funéraire destiné à recevoir les sacrifices en l'honneur du mort, voir A.-V. SCHWEYER, *op. cit.*, pp. 33-34.</footnote>

<footnote n="14">¹⁴ SEG, 32, 1231 ; 35, 1160 ; 53, 1341 ; TAM, V 2, 840.</footnote>
4 μου Ἀὐρ. Ἀν-
τιόχια τὸν εὐ-
εργέτην
ἔρωα.

Traduction : « Aur(elia) Antiochia (a honoré) [...-ô]n fils d'Eupolémos, le bienfaiteur défunt ».

Artémôn fils d'Eupolémos est connu par une inscription funéraire datée par ses premiers éditeurs de la période romaine<fnref n="15" />. Cette dernière provient du village de Kınali, dans la chôra de Telmessos, qui a révélé une continuité d'établissement de l'époque classique à l'époque impériale<fnref n="16" />. Elle indique qu'Artémôn et sa fille semble-t-il, dont le nom est incertain, ont construit le tombeau pour eux-mêmes, leurs enfants et leurs descendants. À moins de croire à l'existence de plusieurs monuments funéraires dédiés à un même défunt ou d'envisager une éventuelle homonymie<fnref n="17" />, il faut certainement rechercher un autre nom avec une terminaison en -ων, mais les exemples sont nombreux<fnref n="18" />.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Sources primaires/Corpus

I.Mylasa : Wolfgang Blümel, *Die Inschriften von Mylasa*, vol. 2, IGSK 35, Bonn, Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH, 1988.

LGPN, V.B : *A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names*, volume V.B : *Coastal Asia Minor : Caria to Cilicia*, edited by Jean-Sebastien Balzat, Richard W.V. Catling, Édouard Chiricat and Fabienne Marchand, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 2013.

SEG : *Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum*.

TAM II : Ernst KALINKA, *Tituli Asiae Minoris*, vol. II : *Tituli Lyciae linguis Graeca et Latina conscripti*, fasc. 1 : *Pars Lyciae occidentalis cum Xantho oppido* (nºs 1–395), Vienne, Verlag Alfred Hölder, 1920.

TAM V 2 : Peter HERRMANN, *Tituli Asiae Minoris*, vol. V : *Tituli Lydiae linguis Graeca et Latina conscripti*, vol. 2, Vienne, Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1989.

<footnote n="15">¹⁵ TAM, II 1, 125. LGPN, V.B, p. 165.</footnote>

<footnote n="16">¹⁶ Werner TIETZ, *Der Golf vom Fethiye. Politische, ethnische und kulturelle Strukturen einer Grenzregion von Beginn der nachweisbaren Siedlungen bis in die römische Kaiserzeit*, Bonn, 2003, pp. 331–332. Sur l’histoire de Telmessos au IIe siècle ap. J.-C., membre de la confédération lycienne et peut-être un des cinq chefs-lieux de *conventus* de la province de Lycie-Pamphylie avec Patara, Tlos, Xanthos et Myra, voir pp. 317–318. Voir aussi <http://asiaminor.ehw.gr/forms/fLemmaBodyExtended.aspx?lemmaID=9254>.</footnote>

<footnote n="17">¹⁷ Le nom d'Artémôn fils d'Eupolemos est connu aussi par des baux d'Olymos en Carie datés de la 2ème moitié du IIe siècle av. J.-C., *I.Mylasa* n° 808, 6 ; n° 810, 4 ; n° 811, 4 ; n° 812, 4 ; 813, 3 ; 816, 3.</footnote>

<footnote n="18">¹⁸ Cf. Reverse Index du LGPN, V.B <https://www.lgpn.ox.ac.uk/online/downloads/reverseindexvb.pdf>.</footnote>
Littérature secondaire/Exégèse

AVRAM, Alexandru, « Revision eines Ehrendekrets der Stadt Istros (SEG, 52, 724) », dans Werner ECK et Peter FUNKE (éd.), *Öffentlichkeit – Monument – Text : XIV Congressus Internationalis Epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae, 27.–31. Augusti MMXII – Akten, Corpus inscriptionum Latinarum, Auctarium, series nova* 4, Berlin/Boston, MA, De Gruyter, 2014, pp. 554–555.

BEAN, George Ewart, *Journeys in Northern Lycia 1965–1967, ETAM* 4 ; Denkschr. ÖAW, phil.-hist. Kl. 104, Vienne, Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1971.

DAMET, Aurélie, MOREAU, Philippe, *Famille et société dans le monde grec et en Italie du Ve siècle av. J.-C. au IIe siècle av. J.-C.* , Paris, Armand Colin (Horizon), 2017.

LABARRE, Guy, LAFLI, Ergün, « Dédicaces et inscriptions funéraires gréco-romaines du nord-ouest de la Lycie », DHA, 49–2, 2023, pp. 143–166.

LABARRE, Guy, LAFLI, Ergün, « Douze nouveaux témoignages sur des divinités épichoriques de l’arrière-pays lycien », dans Fabrice DELRIEUX et Laurent GUINCHARD (éd.), *Du Nil au Rhône. En mémoire de François Kayser*. Docere, Delectare, Movere, Université Savoie Mont Blanc, Laboratoire Langages, Littératures, Sociétés, Études Transfrontalières et Internationales, Collection *Sociétés, religions, politiques* 56, Chambéry, Presses Universitaires Savoie Mont Blanc Laboratoire LLSETI, 2022, pp. 385–410.

SCHWEYER, Anne-Valérie, *Les Lyciens et la mort. Une étude d’histoire sociale*, Varia Anatolica XIV, Istanbul/Paris, Institut français d’études anatoliennes d’Istanbul, De Boccard, 2002 <https://www.persee.fr/doc/anatv_1013-9559_2002_mon_14_1>

TIETZ, Werner, *Der Golf vom Fethiye. Politische, ethnische und kulturelle Strukturen einer Grenzregion von Beginn der nachweisbaren Siedlungen bis in die römische Kaiserzeit*, Antiquitas, series I : Abhandlungen zur alten Geschichte 50, Bonn, Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH, 2003.

ZGUSTA, Ladislav, *Kleinasiatische Personennamen*, Československá Akademie ved. Monografie orientálního ústavu 19, Prague, Verlag der Tschechoslowakischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1964.
ACHILLES' SHELL – AN IMAGO MUNDI
IN SEARCH OF A BODY

Cătălina POPESCU

Texas Tech University
catalina.popescu@utexas.edu

**Résumé** : Dans les *Métamorphoses* d'Ovide, des héros comme Hercule et Achille survivent à la mort et transcendent les frontières terrestres après que leurs corps aient été incinérés. La situation d'Achille est néanmoins particulière. Après sa mort, ce héros laisse derrière lui un souvenir unique de soi-même : une armure, moule fidèle de son corps, et un bouclier qui est une copie miniaturée de l'univers. Tandis qu'Ajax revendique le bouclier en raison de sa puissance physique, cet article tente de prouver que le véritable héritier des armes d'Achille ne peut être qu'Ulysse, en raison de son polytropisme et de son interaction unique avec Achille à Skyros. À travers des comportements kourotrophiques, et homoérotiques, Ulysse peut se vanter qu'Achille est son invention. Plus important encore, l'esprit pénétrant d'Ulysse est le seul capable de comprendre la complexité cosmique du bouclier. À la fin, il subira sa propre métamorphose, devenant un guerrier semblable à Achille, prêt à prendre Troie, une fois qu'il aura acquis les armes d'Achille.

**Abstract:** In Ovid's *Metamorphoses*, heroes like Hercules and Achilles survive death and transcend earthly boundaries after their bodies are cremated. Achilles' situation is nevertheless special. After his death, this hero leaves behind a unique memory of himself: an armor, a faithful mold of his body, and a shield which is a miniature copy of the universe. While Ajax claims the shield due to his physical power, this article attempts to prove that the true heir to Achilles' weapons can only be Ulysses, due to his polytropism and his unique interaction with Achilles on Skyros. Through kourotrophic and homoerotic behaviors, Ulysses can boast that Achilles is his invention. More importantly, Ulysses' penetrating mind is the only one capable of understanding the cosmic complexity of the shield. In the end he will suffer his own metamorphosis, becoming an Achilles-like warrior, ready to take Troy, once he acquires Achilles' weaponry.

**Mots-clés** : Achille, bouclier, Ulysse, Ajax, cosmos

**Keywords:** Achilles, shield, Ulysses, Ajax, cosmos

The bodies of the characters in Greek and Roman epic poems constitute a treasure trove for the scholarship on memory. The body in literature can have its own
memory and imprint (Fuchs, 2000). Some see it as a canvas inscribed with scars (Assmann, 2010; Erll, 2008; Sutherland, 2005), others as a “locus of violence” (Curley, 2013, p. 168) and even “a suit” which can accommodate for different roles (Zimmermann, 2019)<fnref n="1" />. Regarding Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*, Charles Segal asserted that “[a]lthough the poem is all about bodies, the body, ultimately, is only a trope for something else, that is, the instability and vulnerability of the human condition” (Segal, 1998, p. 9)<fnref n="2" />. My paper aims to discuss the status of a hero’s body in Ovid and the interactions between the world as *locus* for heroic deeds and the heroes’ bodies as recycled *loci memoriae* of their own kind<fnref n="3" />.

The heroes’ bodies fuse themselves with the world, by creating *loci memoriae* of their deeds and adding their memory to locations in the form of *heroa* (tombs of heroes). Achilles does not cover many places in his heroic career since his field of action is focused on Troy, but he is in a special contact with the entire world through the forged metal of the blacksmith god. Achilles’ body is, thus, unique. He already wears the World on his shoulders, in the form of the traditional Homeric shield fashioned by Hephaestus to be an *imago mundi*. In this paper I will try to show that the reason why Ulysses was able to secure his succession in the legacy of the armor is due largely to his understanding of its cosmic relevance, his unique kourotrophic relationship to Achilles’ body, and his predisposition for polymorphism. Ulysses understands the armor as cosmos, he appreciates its architectural intricacies, and is closer to Achilles in body than others give him credit.

By the end of Book XII (604–612) of Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*, Achilles is killed. Once his body dissolves in the fire, there is a fear of the complete dissolution

<footnote n="1">¹ The complete sources are quoted in another chapter of my project, entitled “*Ta Klea Andron*, (Dis)embodiment and Heroic Peregrinations at Ovid”, paper published in the proceedings volume of the International Colloquium *Aproape, departe, pretutindeni, nicăieri. Glose perpetue la tema exilului* (Close, Far, Everywhere, Nowhere. Perpetual Glosses on the Theme of Exile), eds Theodor Georgescu and Alexandru M. Călin, Bucharest University Press, 2021, pp. 115–146. The sources are: Thomas FUCHS, “Das Gedächtnis des Liebes Phänomenologische”, in *Forschungen*, 5, 2000, pp. 76–89, Aleida ASSMANN, “Canon and Archive”, in *Cultural Memory Studies, An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook*, ed. Astrid Erll, Ansgar Nünning, Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 2008, pp. 97–106, Astrid ERLL (ed.), *Cultural Memory Studies: An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook*, Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 2008, Elisabeth H. SUTHERLAND, “Writing (on) Bodies: Lyric discourse and the Production of Gender in Horace *Odes* 1.13”, in *Classical Philology*, Volume 100, No. 1, January 2005, Dan CURLEY, *Tragedy in Ovid: Theater, Metatheater, and the Transformation of a Genre*, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2013, and Erika ZIMMERMANN DAMER, *In the Flesh: Embodied Identities in Roman Elegy*, Madison, Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press, 2019.</footnote>

<footnote n="2">² Charles SEGAL, “Ovid’s Metamorphic Bodies: Art, Gender, and Violence in the *Metamorphoses*’, in *Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics*, Third Series, Vol. 5, No. 3 (Winter 1998), pp. 9–41. The quotation comes from page 9.</footnote>

<footnote n="3">³ This paper is part of a book project on Ovid, mythical heroes, and their bodily metamorphosis. For this larger project I had the generous help of the Eugen Lozovan Foundation, Denmark, and the Society of Classical Studies, USA. Their fellowships helped me travel to Copenhagen and Rome to consult the library of Saxo Institute at the University of Copenhagen and the “Black Diamond” Royal Library. In Rome I had access to the Capitoline Museum and the Vatican Museum, experience that greatly helped my bibliography and my research. This is a work in progress and the final format might be further enhanced with references and sub-chapters.</footnote>
of the hero. Ovid suggests that once dead, Achilles might vanish into nothing (XII, 615–616 *iam cinis est, et de tam magno restat Achille / nescio quid paruum, quod non bene conpleat urnam*)<fnref n="4" />. So dangerous and so extraordinary in his physical might, he is now reduced to a pile of ashes at the hands of a cowardly womanizer, Paris, an unworthy adversary. There is a subtle implication that the memory of Achilles, once his body is gone, might vanish into nothing as well. His armor remains as his life’s testimony, but it is in danger of degenerating into an empty receptacle, a hollowed mold. Ovid specifies that Achilles’ frame is completely lost to the fire. *Arserat* in enjambement (XII, 612), the poet’s insistence on the small quantity of ashes, Achilles’ impossibility to even fill an urn with his now reduced substance (XII, 616), all these push the reader to think of the so-called “heroic exceptionalism” as a perishable condition. Heroes’ relevance appears prone to futility. It is so tempting to read the discarded armor in the same terms as the half full urn containing now only traces of Achilles. The weaponry and armor left behind would now look for many like discarded, molted *exuuiae*, emptied carriers of a once magnificent body, now reduced to residue.

*A Special Anatomy and a Special Geography: Armor between Exoskeleton, Automaton, and Map*

When Achilles is cremated, Ovid mentions Vulcan to remind the reader of forged breastplates, molds, and shields, but also of the destructive force of fire and the fragility of human flesh (XII, 612 *arserat: armarat deus idem idemque cremarat*). In Segal’s words,

[t]he body is the constant reminder of our creatureliness, our kinship with other living, and dying beings, and so our distance from the undying gods, who, in Ovid’s highly anthropomorphic world, have physical bodies with the needs, desires, and satisfactions of our bodies, but with limitless power and without death or decay (Segal, 1998, p. 13).

Hephaestus’ dissolving of Achilles’ body is even more interesting when one thinks that he forged in the same fire an armor meant to keep it intact in war. Achilles’ remains are now pulled apart though the same craft which constructed his armor and shield. The blacksmith’s fire fashions solid weaponry for heroic frames, but also equally demolishes any such structure, be it metal or bone. In the blazing fire the two structures now look interchangeable, as the limits between Achilles’ body and his armor blur. His body appears to be just another automaton forged and ultimately melted down by the god. Dan Curley has similar thoughts about the shirt of Hercules and his body: “The personification of the peplos also entails the

<footnote n="4">⁴ The Latin text used belongs to a Latin edition of Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*, ed. Elizabeth Styron, University of Virginia, http://etext.virginia.edu/conditions.html.</footnote>
depersonalization of Heracles: the body, which should ideally be the subject of all action, has been reduced to an object, a place in which to dwell, mere fodder”<fnref n="5" />. Similarly, Achilles’ corpse was only a container for his departed spirit.

By mentioning Vulcan, the poet sends us back to Book IX of the *Metamorphoses*, and the funerals of Hercules<fnref n="6" />. This hero once claimed that the only valid identifier of heroic worth is the might of his body (IX, 30–31). Yet, at the end of Book IX (161–169), the body that carried the World on its shoulders turns to ashes. The fusion between body and heroic identity becomes less obvious, as his frame is now only *materies*, consumable tissue or “wood” for the pyre (*robur*). A similar fate awaits Achilles in Books XII–XIII. Ovid is quick to notice, though, that neither Achilles nor his weapons are truly endangered by the “great equalizer” that death is (XII 617 *at uiuit totum quae gloria conpleat orbem*). In similar fashion, Hercules’ body, who carried the World on his shoulders, was melted down to ashes, only for Hercules to finally be free. Vulcan is thus a purifier, an ally force, releasing the true force of heroes, setting them free from their bodily bonds to now roam the world and permeate the universe with their superhuman vitality. The pyre is once more the vehicle for heroic apotheosis, the one that eliminates unnecessary fleshy residue to reveal the divine essence. Achilles will not even go underground (XII, 617–619 *at uiuit totum quae gloria conpleat orbem/haec illi mensura uiro respondet, et hac est / par sibi Pelides nec inania Tartara sentit*) but continues to live, acquires size (*mensura*) in death, covers and fills (*conpleat*) the whole world with his fame. He remains a great presence in absence, at the same time ponderous and fluid. *Conpleat* (XII, 617) gives the impression of a liquid, subtle substance permeating the universe. In a paradox, heroes have to spend themselves somatically in order to fill the world like a suit. Hercules and Achilles meet each other in this paradox of immortality through immolation, through their ability to fill and dominate the World postmortem, when there is not enough residue of them to fill a small urn<fnref n="7" />.

Achilles’ weapons, his shield, javelin, and armor have a similar glamorous fate. They become treasured *memorabilia*. Even more: unlike Hercules who left behind only arrows and a bow, Achilles gives the world a unique reminder of himself. He leaves behind an armor, a faithful item bearing the shape of him, and a shield depicting the world through equally impressive sculptural means (XII, 110 *clipeus uasti concretus imagine mundi*). Curley sees heroes’ clothes as anthropomorphic (and even personalized) entities<fnref n="8" />. Here, Achilles left behind an actual body print – a hollowed glyph of himself fused with the World. After his death, other heroes are fighting for these arms, as they would for the legitimacy to inherit Achilles’ “mold”, to bring forward his legacy and perhaps hold a palpable piece of him. The discarded

<footnote n="5">⁵ D. CURLEY, *op. cit.*, p. 168. This work was quoted in another chapter of my project (C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, pp. 122–125).</footnote>

<footnote n="6">⁶ More about this particular chapter is detailed in C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, pp. 115–146.</footnote>

<footnote n="7">⁷ C. SEGAL, *Tragedy and Civilization: An Interpretation of Sophocles*, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1981, p. 289, sees a paradox between the presence of Orestes’ strong, living body next to the small urn fictitiously containing his remnant ashes, in Sophocles’ *Electra*. Also, in C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, p. 116.</footnote>

<footnote n="8">⁸ D. CURLEY, *op. cit.*, p. 168. Also quoted in C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, pp. 122–125.</footnote>
armor of a hero is not a simple bodily cover. In the commerce of honor between
heroes, this prized relict carries Achilles' worth. His armor and weapons are his
heroic "identification documents" and wearing them means wearing Achilles. Through
such prosthetics, his heir will literally re-embody Achilles inside the *imago mundi*,
partake in an act of transhumanism, and "recycle" his memory.

Ovid plays with volume, receptacles and cores. It plays with the solid, the
empty form, and the fluid. It makes his reader question which one is the cover, and
which one is the content. Solid bodies and empty armors are just concentric
receptacles of each other. As mentioned before, Achilles' body, empty of his soul,
was perhaps nothing more than hollow armor. The reciprocal is also true: if Achilles
body melted down like a breastplate, his empty armor, the one that escaped such fire,
is now a living body. Once their master is dead, his weapons are capable of replacing
him, endowed with a will of their own: Ovid specifies that Achilles weapons can
wage wars of their own (XII, 620-621 *ipse etiam, ut, cuius fuerit, cognoscere
posses, / bella mouet clipeus, deque armis arma feruntur*). Like automata, they seem
to have their own destiny, once separated from Achilles' form. Once treated like
bodies and complex organisms, such weapons can get wounded (see Ajax testimony,
XIII, 117-118), and many of them are constructed of other bodies, which the hero
seems to be adding to his own. For example, Ajax carried in his own right hand the
backs of seven oxen (XIII, 346-347 *Telamone creates / gestasset laeua taurorum
tergora septem*), in the guise of an impressive tower shield made out of their hides.
His shield thus reunites the architectural and the organic, in one act of power and
display. Armors act as bodies and bodies act as mere vessels for the untamable and
elusive heroic essence. Thus, both bodies and armors are also *places*. Armors in
general are protective enclosures, safe spaces against the violence outside, they are
*loci*, particularly when they carry miniature representations. This armor however is
not only a hollowed mold of Achilles' body, but also a detailed image at scale of the
World that his spirit now infuses. Even when alive, Achilles' body carried on the
shoulders the Earth (like once Hercules) as well as the sea and the sky, albeit in a
miniature format. Owning Achilles' armor is owning a shell that is a *locus* by
excellence, a vast place with a unique geography. Any hero inheriting such weaponry
will contain a piece of Achilles while at the same time, will be contained by him:
inheriting Achilles means replacing a now cosmic being.

The passage reminds us of Augustus' Earth-encompassing ambitions when he
wore the armor and posed for the youthful heroic look of the statue of Primaporta<fnref n="9" />.
The body of the emperor is similarly fused with the World in a stone representation
where the marble medium mixes the "true" body lines and the sculptural, "fictitious"
additions adorning it. On his breastplate, the World is again recomposed and
personified with the Sky (Caelus) and the Sun (Sol) resting gracefully on his chest

<footnote n="9">⁹ As Ioannis ZIOGAS (“Introduction: Power, Puns, and Politics From Horace to Silius Italicus”, in P. MITSIS and I. ZIOGAS [eds], *Wordplay and Powerplay in Latin Poetry*, Boston/Berlin, De Gruyter, 2016, p. 8) asserts, it is not surprising that Achilles, a hero with such complex and problematic character should be compared indirectly to Augustus in literary texts of the time: “Achilles is an excellent model for composing poetry that can be interpreted both as apparent praise and veiled criticism of Roman emperors”.</footnote>
while other deities are nodding at his new political arrangement<fnref n="10" />. His ambitions were never far from epic. As Julia Fischer (2020) noticed, Augustus is youthful in his statuary representations, in an athletic-heroic “contrapposto pose”: “So far the message of the Augustus of Primaporta is clear: he is an excellent orator and military victor with the youthful and perfect body of a Greek athlete”. Like many other heroes, including the competing Ajax and Ulysses, Augustus told his story and spoke about his ancestry through his armor. He is supported by Diana and Apollo as well as connected to Venus through his relationship to Julius Caesar; the statue makes sure to reveal such affiliations, but also reveals his world pacifying ambitions with Sol and Caelus represented at the top of the cuirass, and bountiful Mother Earth at the bottom. One might read the message that Augustus’ empire was so successful because Octavian, like the ancient mythical hero, was able to carry on his shoulders the World in symbolism: “At the very bottom of the cuirass is Tellus, the earth goddess, who cradles two babies and holds a *cornucopia*. Tellus is an additional allusion to the Pax Romana as she is a symbol of fertility with her healthy babies and overflowing horn of plenty” (Fischer, 2020).

To return to the *Metamorphoses*, the shield and armor are still only a shell of the complex hero that Achilles was, in spite of their intimidating cosmic associations. Patroclus died while wearing one of Achilles’ breastplates, unable to reproduce Achilles’ greatness. At best, this armor is a faithful print of his body. Curley elevated Heracles’ shirt to the level of a true *locus* of Hercules’ greatness, intimately connected to him, like a second skin<fnref n="11" />. In my view, the armor is similar and yet different from this viewpoint. It is at the same time more and less connected to Achilles, because of its material, form, and rigidity. Tailored around the hero’s exceptional shape and able to maintain it even in its absence, the armor is a more faithful mold than a shirt, but also less intimately connected to the hero’s skin and warmth. Since its job is to protect from harm and keep blows at a distance, such contraption is defined by stiffness and coldness. It can preserve its shape under pressure and resist harshness, but such rigidity makes it rather alien to the body it protects. Of all the garments, the armor is the closest to a statue in terms of artwork and likeness to its owner. While not as intimate to the hero’s skin as the undergarments, this protective layer is the closest connected to the heroic aspect of its owner, for it is solely worn in the battle; it is splattered with blood and covered in blows and speaks volume about how one is perceived in war. This garment itself concentrates the warrior role, ignoring all other more domestic moments of a hero. Most of the men in the Achaean camp would fight to be cladded in something that bears the memory of Achilles’ war success. It is interesting that much like Hercules after death, Achilles does not need to turn into a reminder of his worth, a flower or a tree. As a paradox, physically intact heroes like Cycnus (XII, 106–121), are in fact lesser to Achilles and easily morph into animal forms once they die, thus,

<footnote n="10">¹⁰ Julia FISCHER, “Augustus of Primaporta”, in *Smarthistory*, November 6, 2020, accessed October 31st, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/augustus-of-primaporta/.</footnote>

<footnote n="11">¹¹ D. CURLEY, *op. cit.*, p. 168: “Heracles’ description of the actual robe shares this somatic interest. As a covering for the human body, the peplos is already anthropomorphic; in the hero’s account it becomes personified and embodied”. Also quoted in C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, pp. 122–125.</footnote>
diminishing the memory of their human identity. When Achilles' body is gone, his weapons (like those of Hercules) are left behind as faithful prints and true receptacles of memory.

## Ajax: The Armor, between an Honorary Item and a Companion

Being inside the personal space of a hero is a rather intimate experience. The winner will have to show that he has a somatic claim to the armor, a special connection to Achilles' memory, and a true grasp of the miniature world depicted on the shield. Only then, this exoskeleton will become his second skin.

Ajax is the first who claims it. His idea is that his valiant body is most compatible to such a fierce shield. He was always brave and acted in the open while Ulysses succeeded through cunning and smooth words (sometimes calumny, too, when he accused Palamedes, XIII, 56–62), or by sneaking into cities and temples under disguise (XIII, 99). Ulysses' body is not worth the shield of Achilles, first because he never does jobs that need a shield; in fact, his own shield is still intact (XIII, 118–119 *integer est clipeus: nostro, qui tela ferendo / mille patet plagis, nouus est successor habendus*). Also, a shield of this weight and magnitude can only hinder and crash his meek frame when he tries to sneak around through stealth or run under the cover of the night (XIII, 105–112). According to Ajax, what unites him and Achilles, besides courage and an impressive stature (since they are compatible in size and strength), is their consanguinity: Achilles and Ajax are, in fact, cousins (XIII, 21–33), so it is only natural that the former's armor stay in the family, thus continuing its heroic, warrior destiny. Ajax strongly believes that he and Achilles are heroic “twins” supposed to match each other in stature and worth. If he is not an identical Achilles, he comes quite close.

After presenting his genealogy, Ajax emphasizes his body and bodily worth above anything else. And while constantly alluding to the vulnerability of heroes during war, he subtly avoids presenting himself as prone to wounding. On the contrary, he presents himself as undefeatable, indispensable and invulnerable, always in demand for those comrades in need of help. Ajax is, thus, twice as worthy: he is courageous enough to risk his skin, but also skilled enough to not be actually wounded or weakened in any way. He protects his companions, and the Achaean ships (XIII, 93–94). He even offered help to Ulysses, when he was completely lost, shaking in a ditch and in need of protection. Ajax simply came and covered him with his huge shield:

*...adsum uideoque tremente
pallentemque metu et trepidantem morte futura;
opposui molem clipei texique iacentem
seruauique animam (minimum est hoc laudis) inertem.
Si perstas certare, locum redeamus in illum:
redde hostem uulnusque tuum solitumque timorem
post clipeumque late et mecum contende sub illo! (XIII, 73–79)*
For him, a heroic body is always glamorous, performs extraordinary acts of
might in the sunlight, with the armor being both its trusted companion and its natural
protective cover. For Ajax, the shield is a heroic tool, an extension of his body, a badge
of honor, but the relationship between his shield and his body is ambiguous.
Preoccupied with emphasizing his agency in the fight, he rarely presents what his
shield does for him, how he prevents his body from being hurt, wounded, disfigured
or desecrated. The shield is presented in action in order to emphasize his stature and
his dutiful help to others. The shield appears rather as a protective capsule for a fallen
ally than as a cover for Ajax. When in such circumstances, the difference between the
safe space of the shield covering a distressed ally and Ajax' physical strength in action
blur. Ajax is not only a body, but also a protective vault himself. The hero even
suggests that it was in fact his body (his chest, in particular, *pectus*) that morphed into
a shield for others. His armor is completely ignored in such descriptions of superhuman
strength (XIII, 93 *nempe ego mille meo protexi pectore puppes*). Ajax gives the
impression that he protected the ships with his bare chest. The shield and armor fully
disappear in such moments under the impressive presentation of heroic might. It is
either because the armor is as comfortable to Ajax as his own skin (and its gleaming
shine is somewhat consubstantial to his own radiance), or because Ajax really thinks
of himself as impenetrable. *Pectus* which can designate so many things, beginning
with “seat of emotions” (much like *phren*), represents here valor and physical strength.

Ajax appreciates intactness and impenetrability when it comes to warrior
bodies. He would not be an isolated case in this sense: "If the female body in the
*Metamorphoses* is characterized by its status as a visual object, its passivity, its
appropriation by the male libidinal imagination, and its role as a vessel to be 'filled'
by male seed to continue a heroic lineage, the ideal of the male body is impenetrability.
The stories of Cycnus and Caeneus, both in Book 12, are paradigm cases" (Segal,
1998, p. 23). A. Everett Beek also suggests that the theme of gender, sexuality, and
virility is essential in the story of Achilles in Ovid, given his brush with femininity
while disguised as a girl in Skyros and his subtle concern of emasculation when he
cannot plunge his sword in the impenetrable body of Cycnus (XII, 106–121)<fnref n="12" />. This is
not an abnormal view regarding men in Latin poetry. It even permeates the bodily
identities in Latin elegies, as Erika Zimmermann Damer points out:

> Traditional Roman masculinity, by contrast, required active maintenance
> of bodily integrity and sexual, physical, and emotional mastery and autonomy

<footnote n="12">¹² A. Everett BEEK, in his “Manus est mea debilis ergo? Deliberative Soliloquies and Gender-Bending in Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*”, North-West University, paper presented at SCS 153rd Meeting, 2022, mentions that Achilles fails to wound Cycnus, whose skin is naturally impenetrable and questions his weapons and abilities in a soliloquy, a “stereotypical feminine speech”:</footnote>

<footnote>> "This display of feminine mannerism plays into a larger picture of Achilles' gendering: though
> Achilles is a nigh-unconquerable warrior, and himself mostly impenetrable (and he does, in this episode,
> defeat Cycnus by crushing him to death), his masculinity is complicated by feminine behaviors. Not only
> did he attempt to avoid fighting in the Trojan War, but he did so by disguising himself as a girl (as is alluded
> to at *Met*. XIII, 162–170)".</footnote>
in social and public settings. Roman society distinguished social status and full integration into the position of citizen on the basis of bodily impenetrability, and Roman manhood needed to be jealously guarded. A Roman man who suffered bodily vulnerability – by being penetrated sexually or by being beaten or wounded – faced social diminution from fully male to not-man: he became socially feminized<fnref n="13" />.

For Ajax the armor has an architecture, a bright space for opened and fearless performance when Ulysses only looks for a shady place to hide. Thus, the armor functions as a space with its own architecture. Here Ovid thinks like a Roman. Paul Connerton asserts:

> Nowhere, in fact, was the mimetic projection of bodily attributes onto topographical features more elaborately developed, more geographically diffused, or more long-lasting in its historical influence than in the case of the classical Roman city, where architectural method was conceived of as the transposition into stone of the body's favourable states, its balanced articulation, its symmetry and its standards of proportion<fnref n="14" />.

While being an enclosure, the armor is also a stage for display and showmanship. It offers the hero to the world. Its flashing tones are attractive to avid performers: *ipse nitor galeae claro radiantis ab auro / insidias prodet manifestabitque latentem* (XIII, 105–106). In his speech, he asserts that heroes are not only fearless, but also highly social creatures, naturally prone to showmanship and best covered in these gleaming metal suites, through which they communicate their worth to the world. From second skin and protective layer, the armor becomes an interface between a hero and the world, whether as a protective layer or as a tool of social interaction. It is inscribed with symbols, itself sign to be read by enemies and friends alike, a document of identification. Within this commerce of virtue and manly worth, the armor is not only a social token, but a complex tool of communication, an intricate glyph telling the story of its owner through its sculpted stories and through its cuts and bends. The armor follows the body frame and at the same time, fits the character. Ajax emphasizes the powers of his towering shield, its mass and weight that are a double of Achilles': even their weapons are twins.

Ajax' shield once worked for Ulysses, though he only used it as a protective amorphous mass (*molem clipei*, XIII, 75); from conspicuous prop, it turned into a place of concealment where light cannot penetrate, emphasize any shape or reveal any pattern. The shield lost its shape and glamour when protecting Ulysses, for its beauty and radiance were lost on a coward who prefers darkness and invisibility. He himself seemed crushed by his fear (*trementem... pallentem metu... trepidante...*

<footnote n="13">¹³ E. ZIMMERMANN DAMER, “Introduction: Embodied Selves and the Body in Elegy”, in *op. cit.*, p. 15.</footnote>

<footnote n="14">¹⁴ Paul CONNERTON, *The Spirit of Mourning: Memory, History and the Body*, Cambridge, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2011, p. 157.</footnote>
morte futura... inertem... iacentem..., XIII, 73–76), reduced to an inert hype of wounded flesh, hiding underneath a mound of ox skin. *Locum redeamus in illum* (XIII, 77), says Ajax jokingly, referring both to this episode as a *locus memoriae*, and to the cavity of his shield as a place of respite for the “photophobic” Ulysses. Thus, Ajax concludes, Achilles’ bodily traits, mimicked by his shield, are completely incompatible with Ulysses’ weak and timid frame. Physical incompatibility, as an expression of a weaker character, is what advocates for the shield to be in the hands of Ajax.

When he asks for Achilles' weapons while emphasizing his own invulnerability, it almost looks like Ajax wants a tool he does not need for self-protection. Even when he talks about the need to replace his shield, presenting the logistics which recommend him for the weapons of Achilles, he talks about his shield as being the one wounded, almost personifying it, turning it into a trusted, but vulnerable companion, in need of timely retirement: *nostro, qui tela ferendo / mille patet plagis, nouus est successor habendus* (XIII, 118–119). The shield suffered wounds, but Ajax never specifies that it was done when protecting his body from violence and maiming. It is the shield, not him, that the audience contemplates as weakened and violated. Thus, Ajax talks about his courage in facing dangers, without depicting himself in a debile position.

By bringing in his old shield covered in wounds, Ajax does not only turn armor and shields from protective layers into members and organs of a one's body, but also treat them as living bodies and even humanizes them: much like the heroes themselves, the weapons can suffer wounds, they ache, they grow old and need successors for the noble arts they perform. Weapons are both part of bodies, ID cards, and fellow soldiers, with a personality of their own. Since weapons can have will and preferences, Ajax asserts that it is not him who chooses Achilles' arms, but rather that the weapons choose him: *atque Aiax armis, non Aiaci arma petuntur* (XIII, 97). The armor is vulnerable to predation as it can be lost in the battlefield. Ajax suggests that the best way to test the might of Achilles' true heir is thus to toss the armor back in the middle of the enemies and see who is able to fetch it.

Heroism is exposure, whether as glory or risk. Heroes do everything in the open, use the power of deeds, not words, and need only the protection of weapons, not that of the night. A hero is thus a self-sufficient mechanism, and only needs an armor and his courage when in the throes of war. Ulysses shies away from any such prominent role: he delayed arriving in Troy, attacked others only through the power of his words and calumnies, went into the enemy camp at night, shied away from some battles, and also could not partake in that holy camaraderie other heroes have. Nestor called him in vain to be his defender, when his old body was wounded and weakened, for Ulysses did not appear (XIII, 65–70). In opposition to Ajax' bright ubiquity in war, Ulysses' body effaces himself in the landscape. Ajax is everywhere, Ulysses is nowhere. The only time when we see Ajax' weapons saving someone's skin, it is to protect this lesser companion. When he is not invisible, Ulysses is inert somewhere in a ditch, in an inconspicuous location, always in need of an ally, always
in need of a protective cover. The way Ajax sees it, a worthy heir of Achilles’
weaponry has to mimic the characteristics of the shield and of the World represented
there: for him the world is round, huge (*uastus*, XIII, 110), heavy (*onerosa grauisque*, XIII, 108), and full of shine (*nitor*, XIII, 105); he too strives to be wider-
than-life, ponderous, bright, and omnipresent. Thus, Ajax suggests that his body
could mimic the weight of the World and is thus worthy of a shield representing it.
That is his vision of the cosmos: first and foremost, the World has mass and size and
is conspicuous. So is his shield, impossible to ignore and ready for display with its
mass and roundness. The world is big and heavy, but he is able to carry it. He, too,
has weight and mass, is conspicuous and not afraid to embrace its splendor on a
worldwide stage. Conversely, there is nothing worse than hiding in the shadows.
Men like Ulysses are meant for spy work in the dark, away from the gleaming light
of the shield and the shine of glory. Achilles’ armor can only slow him down by its
weight when he tries to run or give him away by its conspicuous form, when he
attempts to hide:

ipse nitor galeae claro radiantis ab auro
insidias prodet manifestabitque latentem;
sed neque Dulichius sub Achillis casside uertex
pondera tanta feret, nec non onerosa grauisque
Pelias hasta potest inbellibus esse lacertis,
nec clipeus uasti caelatus imagine mundi
conueniet timidae nataeque ad furta sinistrae:
debilitaturum quid te petis, inprobe, munus... (XIII, 105–112).

A hero’s armor implies splendor which is the natural enemy of a lover of
shade. The gleaming implies also a form of moral transparency, where everything is
in the open, whatever is concealed becomes manifest and whatever is treacherous
lies exposed. If Ulysses is comfortable with such practices, Philoctetes perhaps
deserved more in Ajax’s eyes. Due to Ulysses’ treacherous words, he now lies in
squalor away from the glory of Troy and withers in misery and festering. It is not
only physical decay that Ajax is worried about, but the slow degradation of
Philoctetes’ heroic *persona*. One can notice that the cruel fate of Philoctetes is
described from the perspective of his weaponry:

pars una ducum, quo successore sagittae
Herculis utuntur, fractus morboque fameque
uelaturque aliturque auibus, uolucresque petendo
debita Troianis exercet spicula fatis (XIII, 51–54).

His bow and arrows carried with them the rich legacy of Hercules and now they
are robbed of their destiny in Troy. Location is everything once more. A hero, who
should be a traveler by vocation, is thus forced to lay in one dull location. His weapons
only serve to level his name and to blend the memory of a worldwide hero into the flat
and unkept landscape of Lemnos. Philoctetes who could have tied down his glory to
many lands in the Trojan world, is now confined to a tiny place of quarantine, and the weapons that were a sign of Herculean virility and civilizing force, now devolved into archaic tools of primitive hunting, contributing to his meager sustenance. He is not even seen as a hunter: the birds, the usual victims of hunters, are depicted here as agents of nursing, caring for the fallen hero (XIII, 52–53). Philoctetes is fed by nature like a helpless cub or a chick. This imagery of the idle weapons and their incapacitated owner fully emasculates Philoctetes in Ajax’ eyes: he concludes with a focus on his weapons that are “owed” a better destiny at Troy.

Heroic bodies and weaponry are memorable and essentially unreplaceable. The words of memory in Ajax speech are quite intense and Ajax constantly replies by indicating that everyone remembers the good warrior and the coward. Ajax keeps invoking memory of great deeds, genealogies, and also scenes where Ulysses performed poorly (*nec memoranda tamen uobis mea facta / esse reor*, 47, *ut memorant*, 58, *memor iste*, XIII, 13–14). His memory is narrowed down on the war of Troy and the generations that led to it. Since Ulysses always operated in the dark, Ajax implies that he is forgettable, easily effaced from the cultural memory, since there are never witnesses for his deeds. Ulysses belongs to the obscurity of forgetfulness, as he is *latens*, hiding in the crepuscule that oblivion (*lethe*) is<fnref n="15" />. Since his deeds are disreputable, Ajax assumes that visibility, public awareness, and memory can only harm Ulysses. The armor, through its brilliance (metaphorical and literal), can only expose him as unfit and unworthy.

## Ulysses: Heroic Fluidity and the Armor as a World

*Polytropos* Ulysses believes there is more versatility to heroes than meets the eye of Ajax. Heroes are not exact copies of each other, and armors are not necessarily their exact bodily molds. Rather, heroes have complementary traits that help them become matches for each other. One such example was Patroclus. He was no Achilles, but he helped out by temporarily filling out his impressive armor to face Hector (*reppulit Actorides sub imagine tutus Achillis / Troas ab arsuris cum defensore carinis*, XIII, 273–274). As Nagy suggests, Patroclus was a double of Achilles, but a sacrificial double, a lesser twin<fnref n="16" />. And he fulfilled his role exemplarily. So, other

<footnote n="15">15 Marcel DETIENNE, *The Masters of Truth in Archaic Greece*, tr. Janet Lloyd, New York, Zone Books, 1996, pp. 81–83.</footnote>

<footnote n="16">16 Regarding the *therapon* function of Patroclus, as “subservient to Achilles and to none else”, see Gregory NAGY, “Achilles and Patroklos as Models for the Twinning of Identity”, in *Gemini and the Sacred: Twins and Twinship in Religion and Mythology*, edited by Kimberley C. Patton, London, Bloomsbury Academic, 2022, https://chs.harvard.edu/curated-article/gregory-nagy-achilles-and-patroklos-as-models-for-the-twinning-of-identity/; “Such a meaning, ‘ritual substitute’, must be understood in the context of a Hittite ritual of purification that expels pollution from the person to be purified and transfers it into a person or an animal or an object that serves as a ritual substitute; the act of transferring pollution into the victim serving as ritual substitute may be accomplished either by destroying or by expelling the victim, who or which is identified as another self, *un autre soi-même*. According to the logic of this Hittite ritual of substitution, the identification of the self with the victim serving as the other self can take on a wide variety of forms: the victims range from humans to animals to figurines to ceramic vessels”.</footnote>
lesser warriors can share a hero's armor without improper use of it. At first sight, that would imply that the armor recedes in worth, as a mere tool, an empty shell without its own memory or imprint. It can be stolen, discarded, reused, returned home to the hero's father, and when valued, it becomes a symbol of the man who once owned it. Ulysses explains that the armor is fully transmissible and easy to wear by one who is not the exact match of the original. But this not the whole extent of his belief system.

Since he claims the armor, Ulysses first wants to show that he has indeed a body. If Ajax' speech only allowed him the visibility of one body part, the infamous left hand (*timidae nataeque ad furta sinistrae*, XIII, 111), Ulysses wants to prove that he has more: shoulders (284), arms (176 *dextra*, 170, 230, 262, 264 *manus*), and chest, in particular (264–265 “*aspicite! en*” *uestemque manu diduxit et “haec sunt / pectora semper”* ait “*uestris exercita rebus!*”, also 369), since his opponent cannot stop talking about his own *pectus*. But Ulysses changes his somaticism into something more. He claims to have not just a mere body, but a canvas inscribed with scars and memories of war: *sunt et mihi uulnera, ciues, / ipso pulchra loco; nec uanis credite uerbis, / aspicite!* (XIII, 262–264). Ulysses seems to have inscribed his chest as *locus memoriae* (263–264 *ipso pulchro loco*), thus charging it with a myriad of functions, from vessel of his spirit, to weapon, and to social signifier. He has also inscribed more than a few other bodies himself (238–262). For Ulysses, unlike Ajax (266–267 *at nihil inpendit per tot Telamonius annos / sanguinis in socios et habet sine uulnere corpus!*), memory does not travel through paraphernalia and shiny tokens of honor, but through painful inscriptions directly on the skin. It is Ulysses' body, not his shield, that dared to endure blows. In fact, through blows and pains, his skin is now a hide, a shield in its own right, fit for display. When he speaks such words, Ulysses pulls his shirt and reveals the harm which was previously concealed, unashamed to face the light of scrutiny, despite Ajax' accusations. His skin is now a communicator. As Connerton asserts:

> There is an outside-facing skin and an inside-facing skin, and these two sides form an indivisible structure. The outside of the skin creates a boundary between the self and the world, a boundary that is especially sensitive to the world, and one which over time accumulates a complex texture of marks which remain as witness to the ways in which external forces have impinged upon the skin (Connerton, 2011, p. 133).

Ulysses believes that heroes are more than solid, impenetrable bodies: they are vulnerable, covered with meaningful scars<fnref n="17" />. Heroic bodies are meant for inscription through war wounds. Thus, he contests the idea of heroic intactness and even heroic invincibility. They all deal blows and harm, and disfigure, but are also exposed to such violations. Heroes do not always succeed in harming the enemy

<footnote n="17">¹⁷ A similar vision of soldiers appears in elegy; see E. ZIMMERMANN DAMER, “Naked Selves: Sex, Violence, and Embodied Identities”, in *op. cit.*, https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctvfjczk3.11, pp. 145–147.</footnote>
bodies. Sometimes the target is missed (*Hector abit uiolatus uulnere nullo*, XIII, 279, with all the sexual puns of *uiolatus*). Heroes lay down defeated and wounded, *procubuunt*, suffer violation, are fully penetrable and completely inert once killed. Achilles, too, finally succumbed to a blow. They all descend into the humble ground. Achilles, the model they fight to emulate, was no different, and Ulysses brings about the rushing scene of his devastating demise: *Graium murus, Achilles / procubuit! nec me lacrimae luctusque timorque / tardarunt, quin corpus humo sublime referrem* (XIII, 281–283). Through the poignant imagery of his untimely entombment, Ulysses displays what Phillip Hardie called “the pressure of the mourner’s desire in the Metamorphoses to create illusions of presence against the fact of loss” (Hardie, 2002, p. 62)<fnref n="18" />. We see once more Achilles as a wonderous body (sublime corpus) and even as a wall (murus). Once more, his body embraces both architectural and organic elements in a mixture which turns him superhuman, intense, present… yet lost and irreplaceable. Before mixing himself with the soil of the land, Achilles is once more his impressive bodily frame. Regardless of this brief and personal homage to Achilles’ physical strength, Ulysses is aware that heroes are more than their bodies and more than their tales of glory. They can also hide and lay low in the domesticity and anonymity of “inglorious” lands, when family relationships and love call for it (*me pia detinuit coniunx, pia mater Achillem*, XIII, 301). If Ulysses cannot mimic Achilles in bodily might, at least he echoes some of his actions when it comes to non-heroic acts: Achilles hid on the island of Skyros, for the sake of his mother, while Ulysses pretended insanity in Ithaka for the sake of his wife. Achilles is thus not only a twin of Ajax, but also a double of Ulysses. They both covered their true selves at some point. When it comes to the heroic *persona*, Ulysses once more allows for fluidity. In his view, heroes are not born pillars of strength like it seems to Ajax, but they grow into such roles. They are flexible entities who can be molded, fashioned, and layered. Achilles was no valiant hero at the beginning of the war, but was hiding in the guise of a girl inside the female quarters of the king on Skyros. And in such process, Ulysses was there to make Achilles change his clothes, physically and symbolically (XIII, 198–204). This is a unique relationship that has nothing to do with bloodline or bodily resemblance.

*arma ego feminineis animum motura uirilem*
*mercibus inserui, neque adhuc proiecerat heros*
*uirgineos habitus, cum parmam hastamque tenenti*
*“nate dea”, dixi “tibi se peritura reseruant”*
*Pergama! quid dubitas ingentem euertere Troiam?”*
*iniecique manum fortemque ad fortia misi.*
*ergo opera illius mea sunt* (XIII 165–171).

<footnote n="18">¹⁸ Phillip HARDIE, *Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion*, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2002, p. 62. Also, see C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, p. 145.</footnote>
Ulysses suggests that while his ancestry and abilities are far from Achilles', he contributed to the creation of his valiant body. He brought Achilles to Troy as an immature (even virgin!) boy in female clothes (167 *uirgineos habitus*). He took him by the hand and taught him his worth. The gesture appears rather intimate: Hardie even believes that Ulysses “claims Achilles as if he were an elegiac *puella*”<fnref n="19" />. In my view, the scene echoes wedding iconography as well as traces of Greek pederastic love. Ulysses was removing him from the *gynaikeion* of Skyros, by holding his right hand (as if he was a *nupta*). In the meantime, he was inviting him to capture Troy (“virginal” itself), like an *erastes* would guide an *eromenos* into physical and emotional maturity (*iniecique manum fortemque ad fortia misi*, XIII, 170). Ulysses helped Achilles trade the silky attire for the exoskeleton of a breastplate: he even offered him weaponry to encourage his emergence from such a chrysalis. His actions symbolically hardened Achilles' gentle skin into the tough mold of an armor: he fashioned Achilles's body which later filled the impressive breastplate. He asserts that he has found Achilles: and in this act of discovery (*inuenire*) one can also see an act of conscious construction. Simply put, he was not only a useful proxy to Achilles; he rather “invented” Achilles (pun intended). Such acquisition in body and spirit was different than any proximity Ajax could claim: it involved a *kourotrophic*, paternal, and even homoerotic relationship. As an artisan who fashioned the body of the young hero, he is now entitled to keep its memorabilia. Ajax negotiates the armor with the other Greeks, treating it like an object of commerce in an exchange for the saved ships (*date pro tot nauibus arma*, XIII, 94). The exchange is simple: he desires a foreign object, Achilles' weapons, in return for his services in saving the Greek fleet. As for Ulysses, he requests an object that is essentially his. He contributed the weapons that formed Achilles' warrior lifestyle, so any of Achilles' weapons are essentially loans due to him (*arma peto: uiuo dederam, post fata reposco*, XIII, 180). Ulysses is a life-giving force with kourotrophic abilities who was there to introduce this hero to war and to remove him from war at the end of his natural life. Achilles' warrior life started and ended with Ulysses. The echoes of Achilles are further visible in Ulysses' behavior, as they appear to have shared a deeper bodily connection. Achilles is sent to glory in a way that reminds one of the fetching of a bride who keeps herself (*se reseruat*) for her groom. It is a wedding, but a deadly one, because the conquered land lies dead after such “nuptial” encounter: “*tibi se peritura reseruant / Pergama!*” (XIII, 168–169). If Achilles was encouraged to take Troy as a bride, Ulysses anticipates the act by snatching the statue of Minerva, capturing this virginal feminine representation, and carrying it away in an act of maiden abduction. Without saying it, he paved the way and modeled to Achilles the manly behavior expected from him. While not always obvious, in truth, they formed a deadly pair.

<footnote n="19">¹⁹ Philip HARDIE, in *A Commentary on Ovid’s Metamorphoses*, edited by Alessandro Barchiesi and Gianpiero Rosati, Volume 3, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2024, pp. 28–29, argues for a more playful scene with erotic undertones, while I see in this a rite of passage where eroticism meets legitimate union.</footnote>
In fact, Ulysses claims to have been acting through Achilles all along and even speaks of Achilles' deeds as his own (XIII, 171–178 ergo opera illius mea sunt... *per me iacet inclitus Hector!*). Thus, through his protégé, Ulysses “laid down” in a gesture of virile aggression numerous cities and lands (*mea concussa putate / procubuisse solo Lyrnesia moenia dextra, / utque alios taceam*, XIII, 175–177) and inscribed his deeds into the register of cultural memory (*este mei memores!* XIII, 380, he shouts). Once more, like in the case of Cadmus, we see the ambiguous relationship between a hero and a piece of conquered land: military and erotic tones overlap<fnref n="20" />. Minerva's statue, now a symbol of the Trojan city, is finally in the Greek camp and duly receives Ulysses' devoted attention: he even wants to dedicate her the disputed weapons, almost in a gesture of spousal affection (“*aut si mihi non datis arma, / huic date!*” *et ostendit signum fatale Mineruae*, XIII, 380–381). War changes the customary rules of courtship and treatment of “brides” from sweet and lawful nuptial rituals to maiden abduction. In the end, Ulysses claims the ultimate “bride,” initially reserved for Achilles, since he knows that Troy is a good as taken due to his intellectual efforts (*obstantia fata remoui, / altaque posse capi faciendo Pergama, cepi*, XIII, 373–374). Once more, the similarities between the two heroes become manifest, since Achilles in death passed the symbolic torch back to his former mentor. If Ajax treats the armor as part of a living body, or at least as an extension meant to enhance, flatter, and advertise a physique that is already exceptional, Ulysses, too, treats it as part of one's body. When Paris shot Achilles dead, Odysseus carried in his arms his corpse encapsulated inside that miniature version of the World on his shield. To contradict Ajax's view on him, he emphasizes their weight and the labor he had to endure to bring Achilles' corpse to safety:

> his umeris, his inquam, umeris ego corpus Achilles
> et simul arma tuli, quae nunc quoque ferre laboro.
> Sunt mihi, quae ualeant in talia pondera, uires,
> est animus certe uestros sensurus honores (XIII, 284–287).

Thus, in one Herculean feat, he contained Achilles weight and the heft of the world itself in his embrace. In a way, his deed is compatible to that of Ajax who covered Ulysses by his shield and would not let him forget the favor. Ulysses had the chance not only to redeem himself to Ajax, but to surpass his act by carrying a greater hero on his shoulders. Ajax might have thought that Ulysses' body was too weak for such weapons, but he shows that he had already succeeded in wearing the armor on his shoulders, even when it was still containing Achilles' body. Covered by these layers of metal, flesh, and bones, Ulysses appears consubstantial with

<footnote n="20">²⁰ Genevieve LIVELEY, *Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’: A Reader’s Guide*, London/New York, Continuum International Publishing Group, 2011, p. 43, as well as others (see C. POPESCU, *op. cit.*, 2021, p. 118) assert that conquered lands are treated as virgins, “a common metaphor in colonial contexts”.</footnote>
Achilles' body and the cosmic order on his shield. Once he proved that he had a body of his own and also “fashioned” Achilles', Ulysses seems more comfortable to embrace his more subtle nature and extoll it. His logos is unmatched, and his sharp art of negotiation has its own weight and is a weapon in itself. He persuaded Clytemnestra (184–188), he discussed with the elders in Priam's court (Mittor et Iliacas audax orator ad arces, / uisaque et intrata est altae mihi curia Troiae, 196–197), he convinced Philoctetes to take his rest on an island (313–318) and persuaded Achilles to come to Troy (165–171), he convinced the soldiers not to abandon fight when Agamemnon tested their loyalty (216–237) and Ajax shamefully joined them, turning his back (237 *tergum*) to the war, instead of his valiant chest. He also denies that he is only in charge with shady, covert, one-man operations. His deeds are connected to the noble and very public art of speech, persuasion and politics, all done in the open: his work is performance, in front of a serious audience. When speaking of his embassy to the Trojans, he uses the term *curia* (197) to denote the respectability of his audience and the official and opened nature of his mission. His work was done in a bright hall, in plain view (in full light, even, *lux*) where nothing was concealed and the danger was real (*primaque lux nostri tecum fuit illa pericli*, XIII, 204). Ulysses wants to prove that he was just as transparent and solar as any other hero. He too had friends and witnesses to his worth. If his acts did not permeate Ajax' memory is because Ajax himself is oblivious and faulty. Ulysses has no problem reminding him that he forgot of his war duties at least once and needed reminding from him. Ulysses is not only a memorable hero, but also one who remembers and reminds everyone any act of cowardice. In such context, Ajax appears forgetful and even emasculated in his inability to remember his duty, when Agamemnon tested the soldiers' loyalty to war. As a result, Hector's body was left inviolate by Ajax' oblivion and “impotency” (XIII, 275–279 *oblitus regisque ducumque meique, / nonus in officio et praelatus munere sortis. / Sed tamen / euentus uestrae, fortissime, pugnae / quis fuit? Hector abit uiolatus uulnere nullo!*). Additionally, if Ulysses' body might be imperfect, his mind is better than any of Ajax' body parts:

> ...tu tantum corpore prodes,
> nos animo; quantoque ratem qui temperat, anteit
> remigis officium, quanto dux milite maior,
> tantum ego te supero. nec non in corpore nostro
> pectora sunt potiora manu: uigor omnis in illis (XIII, 365–369).

In his denigration of Ajax, Ulysses plays with volume, weight, and consistency, to show that contrary to stereotypes, his softness is ultimately more substantial than Ajax' physical impenetrability. He reevaluates the meaning of body parts to capture their subtle essence which escapes Ajax' description of worth. He now emphasizes the importance of heroic fluidity in mind and spirit. He uses the word *pectus* to emphasize the spirit and the dominance of the spirit
over the body Ajax idolatrizes. The physical frame of Ajax seems now just a
contraption, a boat or even a raft (*ratis*, 366) void of a captain which the spirit is.
Ajax is a hand, while Ulysses is the heart and mind inside one's body. It is plastic
that he explains such abstract concepts using metaphors from the concrete world.
The body truly becomes a place which the spirit inhabits and leads. *Pectus/pectora*
(369) are now the seat of intelligence, not just the center of vital force, physical
strength and courage. The core is now the true agent and not the outer bodily
layers Ajax relied on. Even *uigor* (369), earlier meant to define physical power or
vitality, is now fully an intellectual strength, the spiritual core guiding the body.
The automaton that Ajax wanted to emulate earlier appears now as an inert
machine void of spirit. Ulysses even believes that his own chest (the harbor of his
intellect) did the heavy work and ordered around the plans of war, while Ajax
contribution was only *in rebus* (326). The weaponry extolled before converts from
essential identity cards to indefinite "things". After earlier affirming his physicality,
Ulysses is now busy denying Ajax his. By recharging *pectus* with a different
meaning, he denies Ajax one of his dearest qualities: Ulysses has a heart in his
chest while Ajax loses his. If Ulysses' physical frame earlier vanished in front of
Ajax' mighty chest, Ulysses makes sure that Ajax's *pectus* vanishes now in front
of his much more substantial spiritual core. According to him, his adversary has
not real "chest" (*rudis et sine pectore miles*, XIII, 290, *uires sine mente*, 363).
To further devalue the relevance of Ajax' objects of honor, he makes "light" of
Ajax' shield (347 *laeua taurorum tergora septem*) which the owner earlier deemed
prominent and heavy. Instead of being consubstantial to his body the way Ajax
wanted, his shield is simply a patch of borrowed *tergora* from oxen (346-347).
It is interesting if we notice that he refuses to use the word *clipeus* for Ajax' shield,
reducing it instead to an amorphous slice of animal skin. In a grotesque imagery,
Ajax carries on his right arm just some light pelts from the skinned backs of docile
beasts of burden (346-347, *Frustra Telamone creatues / gestasset laeua taurorum
tergora septem*). The heroic scene is thus ridiculed, even more so, if we remember
that Ajax bragged about protecting the ships with his courageous "chest", only for
Ulysses to underline that he only had seven "backs" (*septem tergora*) and no true
*pectus* whatsoever. Ulysses intentionally uses the word "back" to echo furthermore
that at some point Ajax turned his back on the army and wished to return home
with many others. After he tried hard to prove that he had a physical and even a
canonical heroic body, Ulysses now fully embraces his evanescence. Contrary to
being a fault, Ulysses' reproached invisibility is a precious asset which can be
weaponized, since it increases his chances to cross thresholds and boundaries.
His stealth technique led to the capture of the statue of Pallas, and the safe return
of Achilles body, as well as of his weapons, in a situation where no one else could
have succeeded. His own body, through its ability to morph, change, adapt and
erase itself from view, has pulled off some of the greatest tricks in capturing Troy
and inscribing the war in the cultural memory of legends. His fluidity and ability
to blend in his environment makes him a successful agent who can penetrate any
walls and pave the route to military success for others. Just like his ancestor, the
messenger of Jupiter, Ulysses will always be mercurial, defying thresholds in body
and mind, and switching the fate of the war in favor of the Greeks. If Ajax is only
identifiable by his body as the exact match of Achilles' splendid frame, Ulysses
shows everyone that such identification is a limitation. Achilles' flesh disappeared
in the fire, proof that it is not essential for heroic worth. His fluidity and adaptability
can find forms of military success that the heavy frame of courageous Ajax cannot.
Ulysses weaponizes his exceptional mercurial mind. Through such invisible asset,
he can penetrate not just halls and temples, but invisible thresholds between
worlds. He also pushes it beyond the limits of the Trojan war, in contemplation of
higher realities:

...neque enim clipei caelamina nouit,
Oceanum et terras cumque alto sidera caelo
Pleiadasque Hyadasque inmunemque aequoris Arcton
diuersosque orbes nitidumque Orionis ensem (XIII, 291–294).

Ulysses understands the intricacies of the armor of Achilles, which are in
fact the intricacies of the cosmic order, the secret mechanisms of the sky, the earth
and the sea. Achilles' mother (290) surely cannot approve of Ajax as his heir, since
such intricate designs can only be appreciated by a spirit that can permeate
everything without being bordered by the body. If for Ajax the shield is a mass
(moles), emulating the world just through size (ingens) and shape, Ulysses sees
their extraordinary details and intricacies: Pleiades, Orion, Ursa, etc. (293–294).
Ulysses is not myopic to all these shapes, unlike Ajax who detects only weight,
and broad strokes. If for Ajax anything hidden from immediate view was fit for
cowards, in Ulysses' cosmic view, *caelamina* (291) reveal hidden wonders that the
mind is called to contemplate and decipher. Such concealed treasures should not
be a repellent for heroes, but an invitation to a sidereal quest totally appropriate for
those who want to emulate the ethereal destiny of Achilles and Hercules. Far from
representing humble artisanal details, the reliefs of the shield reveal great heroes
and their weaponry hidden in the intricacies of this miniature world (294). What
initially appears obscure, upon closer inspection, proves to be radiant (Ulysses uses
*nitidus*, 294, from the same family as *nitor*, a word Ajax used to earlier describe
the shield and armor, XIII, 104). The secrets of the universe are no longer
incompatible to light, glamor or heroic quest, as long as the huge and shining sword
of Orion lays there in the folds of the micro-universe. To Ajax' simplification of
the *vastus imago*, Ulysses replies with the complex *diuersi orbes* (294) where the
minute and the gigantic embrace and contain each other. Through his unique
weapon, his omnipotent *logos*, Ulysses tries to turn Achilles paraphernalia into a
narrative of memory. As Barbara Boyd notices:

> The more familiar of the two, memory, has a long history as the subject
> of ancient ideas about the organization of thought and the preservation of
> identity; the development of these ideas over millennia allows us to recognize
memory as something that helps us to define our existence as participating in
a network of shared language and experience<fnref n="21" />.

Indirectly, through such speech, Ulysses confirms that heroes should not hide
under shells, or limit themselves to one land. But heroes reach their potential when
their spirit (rather than their body) permeates the world and *orbis* becomes their *urbs*.
Ulysses covers such space by becoming elusive and fluid, permeable and
shapeshifting in his efforts to fill with his inquisitive mind the secrets of the shield.
Achilles' name permeated the universe, and his spirit filled the *oikoumene*,
immediately after his death. Ulysses, still alive, tries to mimic this post-mortem
survival with the aid of his extraordinary skill, so that he may prove that one does
not need to wear his weaponry, in order to follow Achilles' cosmic extension (*orbem
conpleat*, XII, 616). Ajax insisted on weight and size, but the correct answer to wear
the World as a suit is to allow oneself to be fluid. Ulysses' adjustability in body and
mind makes him a suitable bearer of Achilles' memory. As a *polytropos* of many
identities, he is the ideal medium for heroic memory and the best carrier of this
miniature cosmic mold in the likeness of Achilles.

Once he wins the weapons, Ovid intentionally depicts Ulysses metamorphosed
into the protagonist who deals Troy its fatal blow: such dynamic portrait is carefully
constructed to single out his agency in Athenian fashion, all the way to his brutal
removal of Hecuba clasping the ashes of Hector (XIII, 399–428). Achilles passed his
fierce legacy back to his mentor once he passed Ulysses his bodily *exuuiae*.

## Instead of Conclusion

In the end, Ulysses will secure the weaponry and Ajax will kill himself. While
the winner's mind and soul will embrace the cosmic realm of the shield, the loser's
body will recede into earth under the shape of a small flower, a tender (and unlikely!)
terrestrial memento of his sorrow and demise (XIII, 382–398). Much like we saw
before, this flower is not uniquely Ajax' (*tellus* / *genuit de caespite florem*, / *qui prius
Oebalio fuerat de uulnere natus*, XIII, 394–396). Heroic *memorabilia* are often
recycled, and this hero, too, (who fell short of being Achilles) will not earn a token
of his own.

Ajax stabbed himself in the chest, the body part he was most proud of, as if
confirming through his gesture the futility of his might. His body, once a symbol of
impenetrability, is now a hollowed mass with a gaping wound. The sword intended
for display and visibility is now buried deep into his heart. Through such
impalement, his body is finally pinned to the ground, the earth absorbing his blood
into the Underworld (*tellus*). While Achilles could fly through the world,
embracing higher heights, Ajax' ponderous frame is now reduced to dead weight and
stuck at ground level. His last image is one of heaviness and hollowness, the opposite

<footnote n="21">²¹ Barbara W. BOYD, “Still, She Persisted: Materiality and Memory in Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*”, in *Dictynna*, 17, 2020, pp. 1–17. The quoted text is on page 2.</footnote>
of his living self. Yet, one takes comfort in the fact that only Ajax was mighty enough
to kill Ajax (*dixit et in pectus tum demum uulnera passum, / qua patuit ferrum,
letalem condidit ensem. / Nec ualuere manus infixum educere telum*, XIII, 391–393).
To emphasize an even brighter silver lining, Earth herself responds with life to this
untimely sacrifice, preserving a piece of his vitality, and even commemorating in
writing his name for years to come, through the delicate symbol of floralinscription.
The last word about Ajax is his immortal name echoed in the sighs of Hyacinthus
and etched for eternity into the pigment of petals: *littera communis mediis pueroque
uiroque / inscripta est foliis, haec nominis, illa querellae*, XIII, 397–398. Once more,
the subtle essence wins in front of bodily might, for memory thrives in physical
evanescence.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL REFERENCES

Primary Sources

P. OVIDI NASONIS *Metamorphoses*, ed. R.J. Tarrant, Oxford, Oxford University Press (*Oxford Classical Texts*), 2004.

- *Metamorphoses*, Vol. I & II, tr. Frank Justus Miller, revised by J.P. Goold, Harvard, Harvard University Press (Loeb Classical Library), 1984.

- *Metamorphoses*, ed. Hugo Magnus, Leipzig, Teubner (Perseus Digital Library), 1892.

- *Metamorphoses*, ed. Elizabeth Styron, University of Virginia, http://etext.virginia.edu/conditions.html (text quoted in the corpus of the paper), 1999.

Secondary Sources

ASSMANN, Aleida, “Canon and Archive”, in *Cultural Memory Studies, An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook*, ed. Astrid Erll, Ansgar Nünning, Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 2008, pp. 97–106.

- *Cultural Memory and Western Civilization. Functions, Media, Archives*, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2011.

BARCHIESI, Alessandro and ROSATI, Gianpiero (eds), *A Commentary on Ovid’s Metamorphoses*, vol. 3, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2024.

BEEK, A. Everett, “Manus est mea debilis ergo? Deliberative Soliloquies and Gender-Bending in Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*”, North-West University, paper presented at SCS 153rd Meeting, 2022.

BOYD, Barbara W., “Still, She Persisted: Materiality and Memory in Ovid’s *Metamorphoses*”, in *Dictynna*, 17, 2020, pp. 1–17.

CONNERTON, Paul, *The Spirit of Mourning: Memory, History and the Body*, Cambridge, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2011, pp. 125–147.

CURLEY, Dan, *Tragedy in Ovid: Theater, Metatheater, and the Transformation of a Genre*, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2013.

DETIENNE, Marcel, *The Masters of Truth in Archaic Greece*, tr. Janet Lloyd, New York, Zone Books, 1996.
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FISCHER, Julia, "Augustus of Primaporta", in *Smarthistory*, November 6, 2020, accessed October 31st, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/augustus-of-primaporta/

FUCHS, Thomas, "Das Gedächtnis des Liebes Phänomenologische", in *Forschungen*, 5, 2000, pp. 76–89.

HARDIE, Philip, *Ovid's Poetics of Illusion*, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2002.

LIVELEY, Genevieve, *Ovid's 'Metamorphoses': A Reader's Guide*, London/New York, Continuum International Publishing Group, 2011.

NAGY, Gregory, "Achilles and Patroklos as Models for the Twinning of Identity", in *Gemini and the Sacred: Twins and Twinship in Religion and Mythology*, edited by Kimberley C. Patton, London, Bloomsbury Academic, 2022. https://chs.harvard.edu/curated-article/gregory-nagy-achilles-and-patroklos-as-models-for-the-twinning-of-identity/

SEGAL, Charles, *Tragedy and Civilization: An Interpretation of Sophocles*, Cambridge, Mass., Published for Oberlin College by Harvard University Press, 1981.

– "Ovid's Metamorphic Bodies: Art, Gender, and Violence in the *Metamorphoses*", in *Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics*, Third Series, Vol. 5, No. 3 (Winter 1998), pp. 9–41.

SUTHERLAND, Elizabeth H., "Writing (on) Bodies: Lyric discourse and the Production of Gender in Horace *Odes* 1.13", in *Classical Philology*, Volume 100, No. 1, January 2005.

ZIMMERMANN DAMER, Erika, *In the Flesh: Embodied Identities in Roman Elegy*, Madison, Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press, 2019.

ZIOGAS, Ioannis, "Introduction: Power, Puns, and Politics from Horace to Silius Italicus", in *Wordplay and Powerplay in Latin Poetry*, eds P. Mitsis and I. Ziogas, Berlin/Boston, De Gruyter, 2016, pp. 1–12.
LA MACHINE HYDRAULIQUE À SCIER LES PIERRES
DE HIÉRAPOLIS DE PHRYGIE

Michel SÈVE

Émérite de l'Université de Lorraine

Centre de Recherches Universitaire Lorrain d'Histoire (site de Metz)

seve-michel@orange.fr

**Résumé** : Le petit côté d'un couvercle de sarcophage découvert à Hiérapolis de Phrygie montre un relief bien connu des historiens des techniques, mais resté presque ignoré chez les autres spécialistes de l'Antiquité. Il figure une machine à scier les pierres mue par la force de l'eau (deuxième moitié du IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.), et est accompagné de la signature de M. Aur. Ammianos. Ce personnage se réclame de Dédale, mais on ne peut déterminer avec certitude s'il est l'inventeur du système ou s'il se flatte simplement d'avoir réussi à fabriquer une machine à la réalisation complexe. La sentence métrique qui complète la signature et se rattache à un courant de réflexions désabusées sur la mort assure qu'il est bien le titulaire du sarcophage : la face principale de la cuve, qui portait normalement l'épitaphe, n'a pu être retrouvée.

**Mots-clés** : énergie hydraulique, épitaphe, Hiérapolis de Phrygie, sciage des pierres, signature d'ingénieur

**Cuvinte-cheie** : energie hidraulică, epitaf, Hierapolis din Phrygia, tăierea pietrei, semnătura meşterului

Les recherches archéologiques menées à Hiérapolis de Phrygie (aujourd'hui Pamukkale) ont permis de découvrir en 2005, dans la nécropole Nord, à environ 800 m de l'enceinte<fnref n="1" />, un relief représentant une machine hydraulique à scier les pierres qui a suscité l'intérêt immédiat des spécialistes de l'histoire des techniques. Il ne semble pas avoir beaucoup dépassé ce cercle assez restreint. Ce document mérite pourtant une audience plus large, et c'est pourquoi j'en reprends l'examen de deux points de vue, archéologique et épigraphique, à la mémoire de notre savant ami Alexandru Avram si précocement disparu, qui était entre autres épigraphiste et archéologue.

Le relief qui nous occupe est sculpté sur le petit côté d'un couvercle de sarcophage dont il subsiste la moitié, actuellement conservé au musée de Hiérapolis (fig. 1). Il est traité en forme de fronton muni à chaque extrémité d'un

<footnote n="1">¹ Pour la localisation exacte de la découverte, voir le plan de la nécropole Nord-Ouest dans Tullia RITTI, Klaus GREWE, Paul KESSENER, « A relief of a water-powered stone saw mill on a sarcophagus at Hierapolis and its implications », JRA, 20, 2007, p. 138.</footnote>
gros acrotère en huitième de sphère avec, en son milieu, un tenon en saillie vers
le bas dont le rôle peut avoir été de faciliter la manutention de l'objet, mais qui
a subsisté parce qu'il pouvait permettre d'assujettir le couvercle avec la cuve
proprement dite. Ni l'autre moitié du couvercle, ni la cuve du sarcophage n'ont
pu être retrouvés dans un environnement très encombré. L'objet est dit de
dimensions moyennes, mais les mesures précises n'ont pas été publiées. D'après
les échelles graphiques de la photo et du fac-simile, on peut les évaluer ainsi :
largeur 1,08 à 1,10 m ; hauteur totale (tenon compris) 43 à 44 cm ; dimensions
du tenon, largeur 25 cm, hauteur 15,5 cm (mais seulement 13 cm pour la partie
inscrite)<fnref n="2" />. L'essentiel de la surface disponible est occupé par le relief qui sera
décrit ci-dessous. Une première inscription est gravée au-dessus du relief, et sa
mise en page implique qu'elle l'a été quand le relief était déjà sculpté ; une
inscription complémentaire est gravée sur le tenon, au-dessous du relief (fig. 2).
L'écriture et la typologie du sarcophage permettent de le situer dans la deuxième
moitié du IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.<fnref n="3" />.

Dans le fronton, au-dessus du relief :

Μ(Δρκος) Αύρ(ήλιος) | Άμ[μι]α[v]ὸς Ιεραπολ|είτης τροχοδέ|δ]αλος ἐποίησεν
Δεδάλου τέχνη.

Sur le tenon :

Καὶ νῦν ὦ|δε μένω.

« Marcos Aurelios Ammianos citoyen de Hiérapolis, un Dédale des roues, est l'auteur (de l'appareil représenté), avec un art digne de Dédale. Et à présent, je demeure ici »<fnref n="4" />.

L'inscription appelle quelques remarques. Le texte est apparemment, mais
trompeusement, simple. Comme il est gravé sur un sarcophage, on peut être tenté
d'y voir une épitaphe : il n'en a pas le formulaire, il n'en a pas l'emplacement, et de
fait Tullia Ritti, qui l'a édité, évite d'utiliser ce terme. La première partie, au-dessus
du relief, présente le formulaire d'une signature : le verbe employé, ἐποίησεν, est
constant dans ce cas et ne laisse aucune place au doute. Il est très vraisemblable
qu'une épitaphe au formulaire plus habituel était gravée sur la face principale de la

<footnote n="2">² Les dimensions indiquées dans *AE*, 2007, 1398 – largeur 1,15 m, hauteur totale 0,45 m – sont donc légèrement surévaluées.</footnote>

<footnote n="3">³ Pour la typologie des sarcophages de Hiérapolis, voir l'étude de Hannelore VANHAVERBEKE et Marc WAELKENS, « The Northwestern Necropolis of Hierapolis (Phrygia). The Chronological and Topographical Distribution of the Travertine Sarcophagi and Their Way of Production », in *Hierapolis, scavi e ricerche*, IV. *Saggi in onore di Paolo Verzone*, ed. Daria De Bernardi Ferrero, Roma, G. Bretschneider (*Archaeologica* 137), 2002, pp. 119–145.</footnote>

<footnote n="4">⁴ Je reprends ici l'édition donnée par Tullia RITTI, *Storia e istituzioni di Hierapolis*, Istanbul, Ege Yayınları (*Hierapolis di Frigia IX*), 2017, pp. 28–31, mais en maintenant pour le dernier mot ma suggestion de l'AE, 2007 (le présent μένω plutôt que le futur μενῶ conservé par l'éditrice, qui la signale en apparat). Tullia Ritti traduit : « M. Aur. Ammianos, cittadino di Ierapolis, abile come Dedalo nel lavorare ruote, fece con l'arte di Dedalo ; e ora qui rimarro ».</footnote>
cuve, qui n'a pas été identifiée. Si l'on pousse la comparaison des premières lignes avec les autres signatures, il faudrait reconnaître, avant le verbe ἐποίησεν, la profession de l'intéressé : si elle n'est pas indiquée dans les signatures de sculpteurs, de loin les plus nombreuses, elle l'est parfois dans celles d'architectes, et elle l'est à cet endroit, c'est-à-dire juste avant le verbe ἐποίησεν<fnref n="5" />. À la place de cette indication, le terme qui désigne l'activité d'Ammianos est en partie rongé, mais la référence à Dédale qui le suit rend vraisemblable la lecture τροχοδέδαλος. Ce terme nouveau, bien formé, peut s'intégrer à une série assez fournie de composés en -δαίδαλος qui indiquent l'habileté dans un art<fnref n="6" /> : Ammianos se flatterait donc d'avoir été un ingénieur et un expert de l'agencement des roues. L'objet de la signature n'est ni le sarcophage, ni le relief (Ammianos n'était pas sculpteur) : c'est l'appareil représenté qu'il revendique comme un sculpteur fait d'une statue ou d'un relief.

Les deux lignes gravées sur le tenon sont d'un autre ton. Ces quatre mots quelque peu désabusés marquent le contraste entre le passé brillant d'Ammianos et la réalité de ce qu'il est devenu. Même s'il n'est pas nommé, il ne peut s'agir que de lui<fnref n="7" />, et ces mots lèvent toute incertitude sur le destinataire du sarcophage : les dimensions relativement petites du couvercle détournent d'y voir un tombeau familial. Ces quelques mots s'inscrivent dans un courant de réflexions sur le sens de la vie et de la mort constant tout au long de l'Antiquité (Sève, 2005). Parmi les nombreux exemples disponibles, on peut en citer deux où le mot ὀδε désigne explicitement le tombeau : à Éphèse, un sarcophage porte un relief montrant trois jeunes gens courant vers un but que leur montre leur maître avec l'inscription « Δίωκε. Μέχρι ποῦ; μέχρις ὦδε. – Cours. Jusqu'où ? Jusqu'ici », c'est-à-dire jusqu'au sarcophage qui porte le relief ; sur une « stèle à porte », d'Orkistos plutôt qu'Ammorion, se lit un texte très voisin : « [Τρέ]χε, τρέχε· μέχρι ποῦ; μέχρι δ' ὀδε. – Cours, cours. Jusqu'où ? Jusqu'ici »<fnref n="8" />. Peut-être peut-on voir dans ces quelques mots un précurseur de la formule initiale si fréquente des épitaphes paléochrétiennes « Ἐνθάδε κατακεῖται ὁ δεῖνα, ici repose Untel ». Un autre point est à remarquer : ces quatre mots forment la moitié d'un pentamètre (un spondée, un dactyle, une syllabe indifférente). Il y a là une recherche qui s'accorde bien avec le vocabulaire lui-même recherché de la signature<fnref n="9" />.

Le relief occupe presque toute la largeur du champ disponible ; plus exactement, l'appareil qu'il représente occupe lui-même l'espace compris entre les deux acrotères,

<footnote n="5">⁵ Voir Marie-Christine HELLMANN, « Les signatures d'architectes en langue grecque : essai de mise au point », ZPE, 104 (1994), pp. 151-178, spécialement p. 155, n° 12 (Abonouteichos) et 158, n° 2 (Palmyre).</footnote>

<footnote n="6">⁶ Voir ma notice de la *Chronique d'Étymologie grecque*, 17 (2019), *Revue de Philologie*, 93.1 (2019), p. 206, s.v. *δαιδάλλω*.</footnote>

<footnote n="7">⁷ Malgré les doutes de Tullia RITTI et alii, op. cit., 2007 : « Ammianos is not referred to as the owner of the sarcophagus, but as the maker of a technical device ».</footnote>

<footnote n="8">⁸ Voir Denis FEISSEL, « Notes d'épigraphie chrétienne (X) », BCH, 119, 1995, pp. 386-389 : XXXII. « Jusqu'où ? Jusqu'ici ». Pour Éphèse, SEG, 35 (1985), 1118 : pour Orkistos, Marc WAELKENS, *Die kleinasiatischen Türsteine*, Mainz am Rhein, P. von Zabern, 1986, p. 226, n° 579, d'après MAMA, VII, 284c.</footnote>

<footnote n="9">⁹ Je dois la remarque à Charles de Lamberterie. Si la formule semble banale, on ne lui trouve de parallèle exact ni dans l'épigraphie, ni dans la littérature.</footnote>
soit environ 70 cm, pour une hauteur qui ne dépasse pas 14 cm. Il consiste, de droite
à gauche, en une grande roue à dix rayons ; une très longue barre horizontale qui
la déborde un peu vers la droite et la relie, plus loin à gauche, à un système de
deux roues superposées sensiblement plus petites qui engrènent l'une dans
l'autre ; de la roue inférieure, la plus petite, partent deux barres obliques reliées
chacune à une scie constituée d'un large cadre rectangulaire muni d'une barre
transversale de consolidation et d'une lame engagée dans un bloc parallélépipédique
qu'elle entame à mi-hauteur. L'acrotère de gauche est laissé nu, sur une longueur
de 22 cm. Sur celui de droite, figurent deux listels parallèles en légère surépaisseur
dirigés en oblique, du haut vers le bas, en direction de la grande roue qu'ils
approchent vers son milieu : c'est la représentation très reconnaissable d'une
canalisation d'alimentation en eau.

L'ensemble constitue donc, sans ambiguïté, la représentation d'un système de
sciage du marbre actionné par l'eau. La force motrice de l'eau était connue et
maîtrisée depuis l'époque hellénistique : parmi les curiosités du palais de Mithridate
à Cabeira, Strabon signale un moulin à eau, ὕδραλείτης, dont la construction ne peut
pas être postérieure à 71 av. J.-C.<fnref n="10" />. Vitruve décrit en détail la construction et le
fonctionnement d'un moulin à eau, qu'il ne semble pas considérer comme une
rareté<fnref n="11" />. Cette technique s'est bien répandue dans l'Orient romain à la période du
Haut-Empire : un édit du gouverneur de Macédoine L. Mummius Rufus relatif au
gymnase de Beroia, datant probablement de la première moitié du IIe siècle ap. J.-C.<fnref n="12" />,
mentionne à quatre reprises les revenus importants que produisent des ὕδρομηχαναί
qui sont très vraisemblablement des moulins à eau. À Hiérapolis même, sur le
sarcophage de Marcos Aurelios Apollodotos Kalliklia(nos), probablement de la même
époque que celui d'Ammianos, l'épitaphe prévoit une amende funéraire de 300 deniers
à verser à l'association des meuniers utilisant les moulins à eau, τῇ συντεχνίᾳ τῶν
ὑδραλετῶν<fnref n="13" />. Les ressources en eau de Hiérapolis sont abondantes, et il n'est pas
surprenant qu'il y ait là beaucoup de moulins à eau. L'utilisation de cette technologie
pour le sciage des pierres à cette époque, telle qu'elle est représentée, est en revanche
un fait nouveau : elle suppose la maîtrise du système bielle-manivelle qui permet de
transformer un mouvement rotatif en mouvement alternatif, et l'on pensait jusqu'à
une date récente que ce système n'était pas connu avant le XIIIe siècle (Kessener, 2010,
p. 285). Le grand développement des décors en plaquis de marbre dans l'architecture
romaine rendait nécessaire une production de plaques en grande quantité par un
processus sur lequel nous sommes mal informés. Ces plaques étaient minces, et leur
production délicate. À Hiérapolis, ce type de décor se répand surtout à partir de l'époque
sévérienne, mais il est largement attesté ailleurs, et souvent plus tôt : ainsi au forum

<footnote n="10">¹⁰ STRABON, *Géographie* 12, 3, 30, C 556.</footnote>

<footnote n="11">¹¹ VITRUVE, *De architectura* 10, 5, § 1–2. L’étude de Philippe Fleury, 2017, s’appuie sur les sources littéraires et les exemples archéologiques de l’Occident romain : le document de Hiérapolis n’y est pas cité.</footnote>

<footnote n="12">¹² *IKM, I, Inscriptiones Beroeae*, 7 ; *AE*, 1998, 1213 ; 2005, 1396 ; voir lignes 28, 34, 50 et 85.</footnote>

<footnote n="13">¹³ Voir *Bulletin épigraphique*, 1971, 643 (L. Robert) ; 1987, 421 (D. Feissel), et surtout Tullia RITTI et alii, *Journal of Roman Archaeology*, 20, 2007, pp. 143–144, où l’expression est traduite « the water-millers association ».</footnote>
de Philippes dont les monuments construits sous le règne de Marc-Aurèle étaient dallés et décorés intérieurement de plaques de marbre assez minces. Or, quoiqu'elle ait été une colonie romaine, c'était une petite ville<fnref n="14" />. On a découvert deux scieries de pierre hydrauliques d'époque byzantine à Gerasa (Djerash, en Jordanie ; Seigne, 2007) et à Éphèse (Mangartz, 2010). À Gerasa, il y avait en outre deux tambours de colonne en cours de sciage : l'écart entre deux traits de scie est de l'ordre de 4 à 4,5 cm, ce qui correspond bien aux plaques qu'il s'agissait de produire. Ces découvertes valident l'interprétation donnée du relief de Hiérapolis.

Mon propos n'est pas d'entrer dans le détail de la technique du sciage des pierres, mais d'expliquer un document à mon sens trop peu connu. Ammianos était fier de son appareil, puisqu'il l'a signé. S'il l'a fait représenter sur le petit côté de son sarcophage, c'est probablement que la face principale de la cuve était trop peu visible dans une nécropole très encombrée. Mais pourquoi en était-il fier ? La référence à Dédale, parfois crédité d'avoir inventé la scie (à moins que ce ne soit son neveu Talos), permet-elle de déduire qu'Ammianos serait le premier à avoir utilisé l'énergie motrice de l'eau pour actionner les scies ? C'est ce que pense Tullia Ritti, pour qui la référence à Dédale implique qu'il y a eu là quelque chose de neuf. Ce serait pourtant dit d'une façon bien voilée : on sait que les Anciens étaient friands de savoir qui était le premier inventeur de telle ou telle technique. Peut-être a-t-il simplement été le premier à l'introduire à Hiérapolis. Il faut néanmoins admettre que la réalisation concrète d'une telle machine demandait une grande habileté, même si Ammianos n'en était pas le premier concepteur, et c'est peut-être de cela qu'il se vantait. Ce document enrichit donc le vocabulaire, apporte la première signature d'ingénieur, et surtout modifie considérablement l'histoire des techniques en vieillissant d'au moins trois siècles l'utilisation de l'énergie hydraulique pour autre chose que des moulins rotatifs pour la farine ou les produits de tannerie, et des machines élévatrices de l'eau, et probablement d'un millénaire celle du système bielle-manivelle.

## BIBLIOGRAPHIE

* FEISSEL, Denis, « Notes d'épigraphie chrétienne (X) », *BCH*, 119 (1995), pp. 375-389.

* FLEURY, Philippe, « L'invention du moulin à eau », in *Autour des machines de Vitruve*, éd. Sophie Madeleine, Philippe Fleury, Caen, Presses universitaires de Caen, 2017, pp. 97-112.

* GREWE, Klaus, KESSENER, Paul, « A stone relief of a water-powered saw at Hierapolis, Phrygia. A first consideration and reconstruction attempt », in *Énergie hydraulique et machines élévatrices d'eau durant l'Antiquité*, éd. Jean-Pierre Brun et Jean-Louis Fiches, Naples, Publications du Centre Jean Bérard (*Collection du Centre Jean Bérard* 27), 2007, pp. 227-234.

<footnote n="14">¹⁴ Pour Philippes, voir Michel SÈVE, Patrick WEBER, *Guide du forum de Philippes*, Athènes, École française d'Athènes (*Sites et monuments* 18), 2012, par exemple pp. 39-41 (n° 1, temple Est), p. 49 (n° 4, bibliothèque), p. 66 (n° 12, curie) ; les fragments du plaquis du décor du temple Est sont épais de 1,5 cm, les dalles sont plus épaisse, parce qu'elles travaillaient davantage : 5 cm au temple Est, jusqu'à 8 cm à la curie. À Hiérapolis, une plaque inscrite datée de 354 n'est épaisse que de 2 cm pour une surface de près de 1,35 mètres carrés (0,94 × 1,43 m), T. RITTI, *op. cit.*, 2017, p. 621.</footnote>
GREWE, Klaus, KESSENER, Paul, « A stone relief of a water-powered stone saw at Hierapolis, Phrygia – a first consideration and reconstruction attempt », in *Hierapolis di Frigia*, I. *Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2000-2003*, ed. Francesco D'Andria, Maria Piera Caggia, Istanbul, Ege Yayınları, 2007, pp. 627-633.

GREWE, Klaus, « Die Reliefdarstellung einer antiken Steinsägemaschine aus Hierapolis in Phrygien und ihre Bedeutung für die Technikgeschichte », *Byzas*, 9 (2009), pp. 429-454.

GREWE, Klaus, « La máquina romana de serrar piedras. La representación en bajarrelieve de una sierra de piedras de la antigüedad, en Hiérapolis de Frigia y su relevancia para la historia técnica », in *Las técnicas y las construcciones en la ingeniería romana: V Congreso de las Obras Públicas Romanas*, ed. Isaac Moreno Gallo, Cordoba, Fundación de la Ingeniería Técnica de Obras Públicas, 2010, pp. 281-301.

GREWE, Klaus, « Die erste Getriebedarstellung der Welt. Das Relief einet Steinsägemaschine aus Hierapolis in Phrygien », in *SPA. Sanitas per aquam. Tagungsband des Internationalen Frontinus-Symposiums zur Technik- und Kulturgeschichte der antiken Thermen, Aachen, 18.-22. März 2009*, éd. Ralf Kreiner, Wolfram Letzner, Leuven/Paris/Walpole, MA, Peeters (*BABESCH Suppl*. 21), 2012, pp. 191-196.

HELLMANN, Marie-Christine, « Les signatures d'architectes en langue grecque : essai de mise au point », *ZPE*, 104 (1994), pp. 151-178.

KESSENER, Paul, « Stone Sawing Machines of Roman and Early Byzantine Times in the Anatolian Mediterranean », *Adalya*, 13 (2010), pp. 283-303.

MANGARTZ, Fritz, « The Byzantine Hydraulic Stone Cutting Machine of Ephesus (Turkey). A preliminary Report », in *Énergie hydraulique et machines élévatrices d'eau durant l'Antiquité*, éd. Jean-Pierre Brun et Jean-Louis Fiches, Naples, Publications du Centre Jean Bérard (*Collection du Centre Jean Bérard 27*), 2007, pp. 235-242.

MANGARTZ, Fritz, *Die byzantinische Steinsäge von Ephesos. Baubefund, Rekonstruktion, Architekturteile*, unter Mitarbeit von Stefanie Wefers, Mainz, Verlag des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums (*Monographien des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums*, Band 86), 2010.

RITTI, Tullia, « Schema di una sega idraulica su un sarcofago di Hierapolis », dans Francesco D'ANDRIA, Maria Piera CAGGIA, ed., *Hierapolis di Frigia, I. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2000-2003*, Istanbul, Ege Yayınları, 2007, pp. 619-625.

RITTI, Tullia, *Storia e istituzioni di Hierapolis*, Istanbul, Ege Yayınları (*Hierapolis di Frigia IX*), 2017.

RITTI, Tullia, GREWE, Klaus, KESSENER, Paul, « A relief of a water-powered stone saw mill on a sarcophagus at Hierapolis and its implications », *Journal of Roman Archaeology*, 20 (2007), pp. 138-163.

SEIGNE, Jacques, avec la collaboration de Thierry MORIN, « Une scierie hydraulique du Ve siècle à Gerasa (Jerash, Jordanie). Remarques sur les prémices de la mécanisation du travail », in *Énergie hydraulique et machines élévatrices d'eau durant l'Antiquité*, éd. Jean-Pierre Brun et Jean-Louis Fiches, Naples, Publications du Centre Jean Bérard (*Collection du Centre Jean Bérard 27*), 2007, pp. 243-257.

SÈVE, Michel, « Expressions antiques de la vanité », *Littératures classiques*, 56/1 (2005), pp. 25-38.

SÈVE, Michel, WEBER, Patrick, *Guide du forum de Philippes, Athènes, École française d'Athènes (Sites et monuments 18)*, 2012.

VANHAVERBEKE, Hannelore, WAELKENS, Marc, « The Northwestern Necropolis of Hierapolis (Phrygia). The Chronological and Topographical Distribution of the Travertine Sarcophagi and Their Way of Production », in *Hierapolis, scavi e ricerche, IV. Saggi in onore di Paolo Verzone*, ed. Daria De Bernardi Ferrero, Roma, G. Bretschneider (*Archaeologica* 137), 2002, pp. 119-145.

WAELKENS, Marc, *Die kleinasiatischen Türsteine*, Mainz am Rhein, P. von Zabern, 1986.
<figure><img src="image_44.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 1. Le petit côté du sarcophage de M. Aur. Ammianos (photo Kl. Grewe)</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_45.png" /><figcaption>Fig. 2. Fac-simile de l'inscription et du relief (fac-simile de Tullia Ritti)</figcaption></figure>