I. TROJAN ARGONAUTS

A standard component of the Argonautica saga is the boxing match between Pollux (Polydeuces) and Amycus.Footnote ¹ The core elements of the adventure are as follows. On their journey to Colchis and the Golden Fleece, the Argonauts land in Bebrycia. Amycus, the inhospitable ruler of the land, confronts the travellers and demands that one of them face him in a dangerous boxing match. Undaunted, Pollux accepts the challenge, and, at the end of the story, Amycus is either overcome by him or dies at his hands.

The most elaborate version of this adventure to have come down to us is that in Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica (written c. a.d. 90). His account, extending over 244 lines (Arg. 4.99–343), is considerably longer than the corresponding accounts in Apollonius Rhodius (Argon. 2.1–163), his principal model, and in Theocritus (Id. 22.27–134), whom he also occasionally imitates. This increase in length depends mainly on a few substantial additions to the basic storyline. Thus, whereas the Argonauts quickly meet their adversary in Apollonius’ version (2.8), their encounter with Valerius’ Amycus is delayed by a series of elements. First, the reader is given an extensive introduction to Bebrycia and its inhabitants (Arg. 4.99–113); next, Neptune makes a sudden appearance to lament the imminent death of his son Amycus (4.114–32); attention then turns to the Argonauts: as they explore the new surroundings, they encounter Dymas, a lone survivor of Amycus, who informs them of the danger they are in and in different ways tries to persuade them to flee the land (4.133–98). Only at this stage of the story (from line 199 onwards) does Amycus appear and confront the strangers.

In the first part of this article, I should like to bring together observations of intertextual allusion and argue for a new way to understand how some of these novel elements in Valerius’ Amycus episode are related to an important theme in Books 3 and 4 of his Argonautica. But before we turn to the primary claim, it will be helpful to sketch the major intertextual models for this expansion and summarize some central interpretations of its role in the episode.

As has been observed, Valerius uses Homeric and Virgilian models for his new first half of the adventure.Footnote ² The first five lines, which give a brief introduction to Bebrycia, its customs and its lord (Arg. 4.99–103), clearly place the description into relation with Homer’s account of the Cyclopes (Od. 9.107–8, 112).Footnote ³ This parallel is then all but spelled out when the narrator in the ensuing simile compares the inhabitants of Bebrycia to Cyclopes who monitor the sea in search of human flesh for Polyphemus (4.104–9).Footnote ⁴ In the following segment—‘Neptune’s lament’—the Homeric reminiscences continue.Footnote ⁵ The god mourning his son’s demise and having a tide of blood wash the shores of Bebrycia recall Zeus’s grief for Sarpedon and the rain of blood which follows (Il. 16.431–61).Footnote ⁶

Virgil’s account of the Trojans’ meeting with Achaemenides, the Greek accidentally left behind by Ulixes at the cave of Polyphemus (Aen. 3.588–654), is the main model for the last and most extensive section of Valerius’ new first half (Arg. 4.133–98).Footnote ⁷ Just as the Trojans arrive in a strange land (Sicily) and are met by a survivor (Achaemenides) who at their prompting tells the full tale of his suffering and warns them of a monster (Polyphemus), in the same way the Argonauts encounter a survivor, Dymas, are urged by him to flee from Amycus, and then, following Jason’s request, listen to his story of woe. Besides this adventure in Aeneid Book 3, Valerius draws on a descriptive passage from the eighth book of Virgil’s poem.Footnote ⁸ Whereas Achaemenides briefly recounts the horrors of Polyphemus’ cave to the Trojans (Aen. 3.618–19), Dymas decides to show Amycus’ haunt to the Argonauts, hoping that the ghastly remains of his opponents will finally impel them to flee. In accounting for their harrowing visual experience (Arg. 4.177–86), Valerius makes several allusions to the cave of Cacus (Aen. 8.193–7), the monster slain by Hercules in Aeneid Book 8.Footnote ⁹

The role of these new elements in the episode has been read in various, mostly complementary, ways. One contribution concerns the affective appeal of the passage. In contrast to Apollonius, who makes the Argonauts meet Amycus shortly after their arrival, Valerius holds back the encounter, thereby adding to the suspense of the passage. This effect also becomes progressively more intense as the Argonauts come closer to the monster, first by hearing of it, then by visiting its abode.Footnote ¹⁰

Another contribution is that made to characterization. By effectively aligning Amycus with Polyphemus, Valerius creates the impression that his character is larger and more savage than the Amycus in Apollonius’ and Theocritus’ accounts.Footnote ¹¹ More than that, Valerius’ deployment of allusion in the introduction relates Amycus so firmly to the Cyclops that it makes him seem more like a Polyphemus-type than either of his Hellenistic incarnations.Footnote ¹²

This characterization has in turn been a fruitful starting point for addressing the thematic significance of the Amycus episode as a whole. Adamietz, for example, influentially argued that, since the Cyclops allusions magnify Amycus’ lawlessness and contempt for hospitality, they serve to signal the distinction between his reign and the rule of Jupiter. Because the Argonauts, and above all Hercules and the Dioscuri, are exhorted in Book 1 (561–7) to follow in Jupiter’s footsteps, their meeting with a Cyclops-type of malefactor strengthens the ties between the Amycus episode and one of the poem’s overarching concerns: the establishment of Jupiter’s rule in the world.Footnote ¹³ More recently, Blum-Sorensen has called attention to the question of epic heroism in the Amycus episode. At the end of the third book, the travellers elect to continue their journey without Hercules, who has gone missing in Mysia. The arrival in Bebrycia is their first opportunity to prove themselves on their own. Blum-Sorensen argues that by ascribing to Amycus characteristics of Cacus as well as of Polyphemus, Valerius prompts a larger question of heroic conduct: will the Argonauts, like Hercules (against Cacus in the Aeneid), engage Amycus with physical force, or will they pursue a more Odyssean strategy to bring down defeat on him? In her view, Pollux’s choice to overcome Amycus by tactics signals an important turning point in the heroic approach of the Argonauts after Hercules’ departure.Footnote ¹⁴

Besides contributing to the portrait of Amycus, the new elements characterize the protagonists. Hershkowitz observes that the Argonauts, just like the heroes of Aeneid Book 3, are warned of a monster. The Argonauts, however, persevere longer than the Trojans, and it is only when Dymas brings them to the cave of Amycus that they lose their courage before rallying around the undaunted Pollux.Footnote ¹⁵ But the most conspicuous difference between the two groups is, no doubt, as noted by Murgatroyd, that the Argonauts, unlike the Trojans, do not flee the monster when it arrives but stay for the fight, thus creating the impression that they outdo their Virgilian counterparts in valour.Footnote ¹⁶ Building from these observations, I should now like to argue that Valerius, for thematic reasons, lays more stress on this difference than has previously been recognized and that this reading, in turn, can clarify some uses of allusion in the episode.

The Trojans, as we have seen, encounter Achaemenides towards the end of Aeneid Book 3. He recounts to them how his companions were savagely killed and eaten by Polyphemus and how he was accidentally left behind to lead a wretched existence after the blinding of the Cyclops; he then urges them to flee (3.613–54). A similar situation occurs at the beginning of the book, in Thrace, where Aeneas is confronted by the ghost of Polydorus. As Priam’s youngest son, Polydorus had been sent from Troy to be raised by the king of Thrace but was later perfidiously murdered when his host joined the Greek cause. During their encounter, his ghost tells Aeneas of this shocking crime and urges him to flee the land (3.13–68).

In Valerius’ version of the adventure in Bebrycia, echoes of both of these episodes can be detected. When Dymas spots Echion (the scout sent by Jason to explore the unknown land), his first words to the Argonaut, heu fuge (Arg. 4.140), reproduce Polydorus’ exhortation to Aeneas to flee Thrace (Aen. 3.44). The response of Echion to these words is amazement (obstipuit, Arg. 4.141), the same reaction as Aeneas’ to the words of Polydorus’ ghost (obstipui, Aen. 3.48). As the encounter unfolds, similarities between Dymas and Achaemenides also emerge.Footnote ¹⁷ Like Achaemenides, Dymas tells his personal story to the travellers, recounting how a friend (Otreus) was slain by the monster and how he, following his friend’s death, was left to waste away in the wilderness (Arg. 4.161–73); like him, Dymas also urges the strangers to flee.

A substantial part of Valerius’ new introduction, then, alludes to two episodes in Aeneid Book 3. In each of these, the Trojans enter an inhospitable land and soon find themselves warned of its dangers. The result of these parallels (that is, the Argonauts resembling the Trojans) is to invite the reader to be on the lookout for further similarities—and/or differences—between the characters and the actions of the two poems.Footnote ¹⁸ Now, it is indeed significant that the Argonauts, in contrast to the Trojans, are ready to fight the monster when it arrives. There is, however, one earlier moment where the possibility of flight is forcefully placed before the eyes of the reader. At the cave, when the Argonauts finally realize the dangers into which they have fallen, their enterprise is momentarily threatened by collective heroic collapse: ‘here for the first time, the warnings of the stranger Dymas came back, and the frightening image of the absent monster came over them, and all held their eyes on each other in silence’ (hospitis hic primum monitus rediere Dymantis | et pauor et monstri subiit absentis imago | atque oculos cuncti inter se tenuere silentes, Arg. 4.187–9).Footnote ¹⁹ At this moment, only Pollux’s determination to punish the monster rallies the Argonauts and inspires a common resolution to face their adversary (4.190–2). Importantly, this turn of events evokes the decision of the Trojans to leave Thrace following Polydorus’ warning, but with one pointed difference:

The Argonauts, then, not only confront the evil-doer, unlike the Trojans in Sicily, but are also shown, in their moment of heroic crisis, to invert the behaviour of the Trojans in Thrace.

To understand the significance of these inversions, we must look back to Book 3 of the poem. Valerius follows Apollonius in having Hercules leave the band of travellers before their arrival in Bebrycia. A novelty in his plotline, however, is a lengthy debate among the remaining Argonauts on how to proceed after this critical event (Arg. 3.615–716). In this debate, one key question is courage (uirtus): do the Argonauts, as Meleager suggests (3.679–81), possess sufficient courage to replace Hercules, or will they, as Hercules’ close companion Telamon predicts, be prevented by fear from living up to their claims (3.712–14)?

In Bebrycia, which is their first adventure without Hercules, the allusions to the two Aeneid passages encourage the reader to recall the broader context of these situations (taking warning, the Trojans in each case left), and so their attention is early on directed onto the reaction of the Argonauts: will they, like the Trojans, flee the strange land, or will they, true to their heroic claims (Arg. 3.629–31), remain courageous and take on the monster?Footnote ²⁰ When, at the end of the Dymas section, the Argonauts arrive at the lurid cave of the Cacus-like Amycus, this matter is brought to a head. At this point of great tension, when the Argonauts first feel fear and their high-flown pretensions almost come crashing down, the intertextual inversion of the Trojans’ decision to leave Thrace highlights in triumphant fashion how they manage to live up to their heroic aspirations (forti decernere pugna equals showing uirtus, ‘martial courage’). This use of allusion, then, has thematic significance.

This interpretation yields three results for our understanding of the Amycus episode. First, it provides an additional explanation for Valerius’ expansion of the adventure. One important reason for the increased length of his version are the Cyclops and Trojan elements of lines 99–107 and 133–98. By demonstrating more clearly than previous scholarship how these elements both raise and respond to the question of the Argonauts’ valour, and by showing how they, in this way, are connected to the debate in Book 3, this reading underlines their role in developing the theme of the Argonauts’ heroism.

Second, the reading suggests how the episode might be linked to Valerius’ wider poetical enterprise. As is well known, Virgil is the most important model for Valerius’ poem next to Apollonius.Footnote ²¹ But it might also be significant that Valerius picks up these two incidents from Aeneid Book 3. Nelis has shown that of all the books of the Aeneid the third is particularly indebted to Apollonius.Footnote ²² The conflation of two episodes from Aeneid Book 3 could hence be a way to link his Bebrycian adventure to Virgil and, indirectly, to Apollonius. Moreover, just as the Trojans score a ‘moral victory’ over the Greeks when they flee Sicily, taking Achaemenides, their former enemy, with them,Footnote ²³ so the Argonauts are elevated above their intertextual rivals, as it were, when they decide to stay and fight the monster. In other words, this choice of allusion might be understood as both poetic imitation and emulation.

Finally, the reading enables two clarifications regarding Valerius’ use of allusion. (i) In discussing omnibus idem animus, forti decernere pugna (Arg. 4.193), scholars have identified sic omnis amor unus habet decernere ferro (Aen. 12.282) as a possible source text.Footnote ²⁴ However, omnibus idem animus occurs only once in the Aeneid and the Argonautica, respectively. The critical inversion (from flight to fight) in the second half of the line tells in favour of taking Arg. 4.193 to allude to the third book of the Aeneid, not to its twelfth. (ii) This clarification, in turn, allows us to be more precise in identifying the source of heu fuge (Arg. 4.140). Commentators and critics have pointed to heu fuge of Aen. 2.289 (Hector to Aeneas during the fall of Troy) and Aen. 3.44 (Polydorus to Aeneas) as well as to sed fugite, o miseri, fugite at Aen. 3.639 (Achaemenides to the Trojans) as possible candidates.Footnote ²⁵ Owing to the similarities between the basic storylines of the Amycus adventure and the two stories of Aeneid Book 3 (the warning of an inhospitable host), Aeneid Book 2 seems less meaningful as a source. Of the two remaining alternatives, Aen. 3.44 is the most likely source not only because it is directly reproduced but also because it, together with obstipuit, introduces the Thracian episode as a model and so prepares for the important intertextual reversal at the climax of the cave scene.

II. ‘NOWHERE DO MORTAL SIGNS REMAIN’

The first part of this article was concerned with a new reading of Valerius’ use of Virgilian allusions in the build-up to the encounter with Amycus. For the remainder of the study, the aim is to advance new interpretations of two challenging elements which occur with and just after Amycus’ arrival. In the first of these, intertextual allusion will likewise play a critical part.

Shortly after the Argonauts have overcome their fear at the cave, the ruler of the land appears. His dramatic emergence is narrated as follows (Arg. 4.199–203):

In scholarly work on the passage, the sentence mortalia nusquam | signa manent (‘nowhere do mortal signs remain’) has sparked extensive discussion. In 1805, Wagner understood this to mean that all things human flee Amycus,Footnote ²⁶ a sense that was later adopted in the Loeb edition by Mozley (1936), who glossed it as ‘no human beings are to be seen anywhere near him’.Footnote ²⁷ Korn in his commentary on Book 4 (1989) convincingly objected to this reading. He pointed out that tuendo guides the reader’s attention towards Amycus’ appearance and that the transition to the following comparison (instar scopuli) would be too abrupt unless the ‘mortal signs’ refer to Amycus’ physical features; indeed, the comparison of Amycus with the crag is aptly anticipated by the ‘mortal signs’ manifesting themselves ‘nowhere’ (nusquam). Accordingly, the sentence is more likely to refer to Amycus’ physical appearance than to his lack of human company. manent, therefore, might be used as sunt, although, as Korn acknowledges, there is little evidence that the verb was employed this way at the time of the poem’s composition.Footnote ²⁸

More recent commentators by and large agree with Korn’s interpretation but remain divided on how to construe manent. Spaltenstein (2004) states that ‘il est inutile de lui donner la valeur de sunt’ and believes that one must rather understand it to mean that ‘Amycus a progressivement perdu toute humanité’.Footnote ²⁹ Murgatroyd (2009), by contrast, admits that Korn might be correct but, like Spaltenstein, suggests that ‘it is also possible the idea is that Amycus had looked like a human being (at birth and early in his life) but subsequently grew so huge that he no longer seems at all like a mortal now.’Footnote ³⁰

A scholar more troubled by this sense of manent and its implications is Bettenworth (2003). She rightly points out that change is a strange thing when it comes to Amycus. There is no point in the story which suggests much of that, and throughout the episode the character portrayal is highly coherent in bringing before the reader a monster quite remarkable for its uniform savagery.Footnote ³¹ How, then, is the reader to fill this gap without narratorial guidance?

To solve this problem, Bettenworth argues from intertextuality. She advances the hypothesis that the transformation does not concern Amycus’ development into a monster within the narrative background of Valerius’ Argonautica, but that it instead should be understood in terms of Amycus’ changing characteristics across the literary tradition. As was noted in the first section of this article, Amycus in Valerius’ account is made monstrous to such a degree that he, as Hershkowitz puts it, ‘has more in common with Polyphemus (and other such monsters) than with his Apollonian and Theocritean selves’.Footnote ³² According to Bettenworth, the transformation that the reader is invited to supply emerges precisely from this difference between Valerius’ Amycus and the previous literary representations of him that Valerius uses as his models (that is, Apollonius and Theocritus).Footnote ³³ Whereas the villain in Apollonius’ account still possesses human-like properties, Valerius’ creature is nothing but a monster and a giant.Footnote ³⁴ Understood this way, the ‘nowhere’ of the sentence might even be taken to mean the complete obliteration of all human characteristics found in the portrayals of Amycus in Apollonius and Theocritus. The transformation, then, is ultimately a metapoetic one, as it encourages the reader to reflect on how Valerius’ representation of Amycus compares with its literary forerunners.Footnote ³⁵

This attempt to explain the change implied by manent is without doubt a move in the right direction; however, Bettenworth presses her argument overly far. To be sure, Valerius’ Amycus is far more monstrous than his Hellenistic selves, but one could point out that he still possesses the ability to think or to reason, a human capability also found in Theocritus’ Idyll 22 (Val. Fl. Arg. 4.303 sentit ubi Pollux rationis egentem, ‘When Pollux sees him bereft of his wits’; Theoc. Id. 22.103 ἀλλ’ ὅτε δή μιν ἀμηχανέοντ’ ἐνόησε, ‘But when he noticed that he was at a loss’). One could even argue that Valerius ascribes to Amycus a human weakness not found in the accounts of Apollonius and Theocritus when he makes him feel provoked by the cheering of his opponent’s supporters and so loses control: saeuit inops Amycus nullo discrimine sese | praecipitans auidusque uiri (respectat ouantes | quippe procul Minyas), tunc caestu elatus utroque | inruit (‘Impotently, Amycus rages, hurling himself headlong erratically and eager for the hero [for he sees how the Minyae cheer some distance away], then he raises both boxing-gloves and charges’, 4.296–9).

A better explanation of this implied change, as I now hope to show, resides in Valerius’ use of a more specific intertextual allusion. The source text in question is Theocritus’ version of events. In Idyll 22, which begins by eulogizing Pollux through an account of his fight with Amycus, the Dioscuri first encounter the Bebrycian monarch sitting by a spring. He soon displays his lack of hospitality as he refuses the strangers’ request to drink from its waters. Before this, however, the narrator inserts a grim portrait of the king (Id. 22.44–50):Footnote ³⁶

There are good reasons to see Valerius’ description of Amycus’ arrival as a reworking of this passage. First is the phrase δεινὸς ἰδεῖν, which is echoed by Valerius’ quem nec sua turba tuendo | it taciti secura metus (4.200–1). Second, and more unequivocal, is the boulder comparison followed by a relative clause running over until the end of the next line (ἠύτε πέτροι ὀλοίτροχοι οὕστε κυλίνδων | χειμάρρους ποταμὸς μεγάλαις περιέξεσε δίναις), which is paralleled by instar scopuli qui montibus altis | summus abit longeque iugo stat solus ab omni (4.202–3).Footnote ³⁷ Of course, there are some modifications: in Valerius’ account, the gaze belongs to Amycus’ subjects, not to the Dioscuri, and the relative clause develops the height of the crag, not its smoothness (and hence comes to resemble Od. 9.190–2).Footnote ³⁸ None the less, when combined, the general and particular similarities strongly suggest that Valerius here alludes to Theocritus.Footnote ³⁹

Allusion, or so the general agreement in classical scholarship, activates the context of the source text and brings it into relationship with the target text, thereby encouraging a comparison between the alluding text and the text alluded to.Footnote ⁴⁰ Positioned between the source texts of the two verbal allusions (δεινὸς ἰδεῖν and ἠύτε πέτροι…) is an account that suggests the changes Amycus’ body has undergone during his career as a boxer (22.45–9). Crucially, these changes include his metaphorical transformation from a human into a colossal statue made of metal: ‘his giant chest and broad back were rounded by iron flesh, like a hammer-wrought colossus’ (στήθεα δ’ ἐσφαίρωτο πελώρια καὶ πλατὺ νῶτον | σαρκὶ σιδηρείῃ, σφυρήλατος οἷα κολοσσός, 22.46–7). It is by directing attention to this context of the allusions, I want to suggest, that Valerius invites the reader to bring the idea of change to bear on mortalia nusquam signa manent. Hence it is not necessary for the reader to envision a transformation in Amycus from birth onward, nor to consider the changes he has undergone relative to his literary forerunners. Allusion to Theocritus offers a better explanation.

III. THE TYRANT’S SMILE

We turn now to consider another difficult element in the Amycus episode. When Pollux accepts the challenge to box, Amycus surveys his opponent (Arg. 4.232–5):

In the Hellenistic versions, the only smile is that of Pollux (Polydeuces), who has a beaming expression when he is described next to the monstrous Amycus, and then ‘smiles softly’ in response to his opponent’s vicious taunts.Footnote ⁴² In the scholarly work on Valerius, however, the majority view is to take ore renidenti (4.234) as the ‘smiling look’ or ‘scornful air’ or ‘smile’ of Amycus (as an ablative of manner),Footnote ⁴³ with only a few scholars taking it to refer to Pollux (as an ablative of place).Footnote ⁴⁴ To support the majority reading, Spaltenstein in his commentary points to word order. He asserts that ‘il faut sans doute bien rapporter ore à Amycus’, because, if the phrase referred to Pollux, ‘on attendrait que ore renidenti soit entremêlé à spargentem signa’.Footnote ⁴⁵ Murgatroyd, on the other hand, argues mainly from dramatic irony. This effect is much heightened if it is Amycus who smiles, first, since ‘this smile at Pollux’s expense will soon be wiped off his face when it is ravaged by Pollux’s fists’ and, second, since this phrase quotes Ovid’s account of Icarus (Met. 8.197) and so brings out a fundamental similarity between the fates of the young boy and Amycus: in the same way that Icarus’ ‘beaming expression’ anticipates his crash by showing how unaware he is of the danger in which he stands, the tyrant’s smile reveals his utter miscalculation of the situation and prefigures his downfall.Footnote ⁴⁶

In this section, the final portion of the article, it will instead be argued that taking ore renidenti to refer to Pollux—but not as an ablative of place—not only is the less complicated option but also aligns well with Valerius’ stylistic preferences. Let us, therefore, begin by considering the argument from dramatic irony. Like Apollonius (Argon. 2.65–6), Valerius indeed deploys irony in his account of the preliminaries to the contest (Arg. 4.253–4). However, understanding this smile to belong to Amycus creates difficulties of its own. In the first place, although Amycus is grimly derisive in his ensuing taunt, a smile fits awkwardly with his indignation and, above all, with his fuming rage and bloodshot, rolling eyes (4.234–5).Footnote ⁴⁷ No less problematic is the idea that Ovid’s Icarus could be a source text that somehow helps intensify the dramatic irony. If we are to assume that the quotation ore renidenti guides the reader to an additional element in the context of the Icarus tale (that is, that the smile belongs to a character ignorant of his imminent demise), must we not also assume that the reader is made aware of elements that would jar harshly with the character of Amycus—like the fact that Icarus is an innocent child, whereas Amycus is neither? All in all, the argument from irony appears to cause more problems than it solves.

But what then of the position of ore renidenti? Spaltenstein contends that the phrase, if it belonged to Pollux, would have been inserted between spargentem and signa in the preceding line. A closer look at Valerius’ poetic style undermines this claim. Throughout the episode—as indeed throughout the poem—Valerius repeatedly deploys correctio.Footnote ⁴⁸ This figure of speech is constructed from one or more negatives followed by an affirmative statement (for example not x, not y, but z). The affirmative statement can be joined to the negative element(s) in two ways. Either it is introduced by an adversative conjunction, as in (Arg. 4.204–5):

or it is introduced asyndetically,Footnote ⁴⁹ as in (Arg. 4.201–2):

Given Valerius’ overall preference for this device,Footnote ⁵⁰ I should now like to propose that, rather than referring to Amycus or, for that matter, being a displaced ablative of place, ore renidenti provides the affirmative and asyndetic cap to a correctio that runs through lines 232–4 (‘<but> with a beaming expression’). It is true that this change in construction is bold, but, as Kleywegt has shown, Valerius strongly favours syntactic variation.Footnote ⁵¹ In fact, even without ore renidenti, the present case—where the object (illum) is constructed with complements of three different kinds (adjective, gerund, present participle)—well illustrates the general pattern. Although a daring change in construction, the addition of an ablative is syntactically possible (as an ‘Ablativ der äußeren Erscheinungsform’) and, along with the asyndeton, does draw some added attention to the element that crowns the correctio.Footnote ⁵²

To bolster this hypothesis, we turn now to determine more precisely the impact of this figure of speech. Overall, the correctio is a focal device that depends for its effect on the denial of an element followed by the affirmation of its opposite. In this case, the poet first denies that Pollux has a harsh countenance, a fear-inspiring bulk and facial hair, and then affirms that he has a ‘beaming expression’. Irrespective of whether the ‘beaming expression’ provides a cap to ‘scarce as yet showing signs of earliest manhood’ alone (4.233) or to all three negative elements (4.232–3),Footnote ⁵³ the cumulative effect of this arrangement is to put strong emphasis on one aspect of Pollux’s appearance: its completely non-intimidating qualities.

Additional support for this reading can be found in Valerius’ practices of characterization. Striking contrasts, as we saw in the first part of this article, are important in Valerius’ account, and scholars have also pointed to their significance in the structural relationship between Amycus and Pollux.Footnote ⁵⁴ The correctio could be seen as another component of this style of characterization. When Amycus arrives, Valerius draws attention to his frightfulness by stating that his appearance strikes fear even into his own people (quem nec sua turba tuendo | it taciti secura metus, 4.200–1). The effect of the correctio is likewise to give emphasis, but this time attention is centred on Pollux’s benign appearance. Thus the arrangement increases the difference between the two adversaries and allows another sharp contrast to emerge in the character portrayal.

This arrangement might, moreover, include an intertextual dimension. As was shown above, the account of Amycus’ arrival derives largely from elements found in Theocritus’ description of the Bebrycian king. That account begins with Amycus’ cauliflower ears and his brawny upper body (δεινὸς ἰδεῖν, σκληρῇσι τεθλασμένος οὔατα πυγμαῖς· | στήθεα δ’ ἐσφαίρωτο πελώρια καὶ πλατὺ νῶτον | σαρκὶ σιδηρείῃ, Id. 22.45–7). Now, deformed ears and a ‘harsh countenance’ (fronte trucem) are not the same, nor is an upper body clad in iron-like muscles the same as a ‘fear-inspiring bulk’ (mole tremendum), but the general idea is similar.Footnote ⁵⁵ If these parallels can be accepted as a case of contrastive imitation, then Pollux—as he is being surveyed by Amycus, we might add—is said to lack two of the traits which make the Theocritean Amycus ‘terrible to behold’. What he does have, however, is the beardless face and radiant expression of Apollonius’ hero.Footnote ⁵⁶ This sequence of ideas would not only strengthen the case that this arrangement is indeed a correctio but also support the conclusion that it serves to convey Pollux’s non-intimidating qualities and deepen the contrasts between him and Amycus.Footnote ⁵⁷

In brief, the gain from understanding ore renidenti to refer to Amycus is slight and causes unnecessary difficulties. Taking it with Pollux, on the other hand, aligns well with Valerius’ penchant for correctio and contrastive characterization. For this reason, I suggest that it might be better not to punctuate after iuuentae, as many editors do,Footnote ⁵⁸ and that we should understand the passage along the following lines: ‘Amycus surveys him who is neither harsh in countenance nor terrifying in bulk, who scarcely yet sprouts signs of earliest adulthood, but has a beaming expression; he is noisily indignant at his daring and rolls his eyes, which are bloodshot from his blazing fury.’

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This article has advanced three readings which, if adequate, contribute to a better understanding of Valerius’ rendition of the Amycus adventure (Arg. 4.99–343). First, it was argued that Valerius’ use of the Thrace and Cyclops episodes of Aeneid Book 3 as models for the introduction to his version of events prompts an implicit comparison between the Argonauts and the Trojans. Since the Trojans in each case acted upon warnings and took flight, the reader is encouraged to consider whether the Argonauts will behave similarly or not when warned of the dangers lurking in Bebrycia. This question develops a theme introduced in Book 3, where the Argonauts abandoned their search for Hercules in the belief that they could match him in valour. When the Argonauts come close to flight, a pointed intertextual reversal of the Trojans’ decision to leave Thrace helps underline how they succeed as heroes. In the latter half of the article, two challenging elements were addressed. A contested sentence in the episode is ‘nowhere do mortal signs remain’ (Arg. 4.201–2). The argument in the second section was that the change implied by ‘remain’ should be supplied from Theocritus’ portrait of Amycus, a description to which the context of the sentence alludes. Finally, the article objected to the communis opinio according to which ore renidenti of line 234 belongs to Amycus. Based on observations of Valerius’ poetic language, modes of characterization and his debt to Theocritus, it was argued that it is more plausible to construe this smile as belonging to Pollux.