The Classical Quarterly (2021) 71.

2 759–776 759
doi:10.1017/S0009838821000975

EPIC VOICES IN STATIUS’ ACHILLEID: CALCHAS’ VISION AND

ULYSSES’ PLAN*

ABSTRACT
This article deals with Calchas’ prophecy and Diomedes’ and Ulysses’ interventions during
the mustering of the Greeks at Aulis in Statius’ Achilleid (1.514–52). It will be argued that
Calchas and Ulysses embody two different approaches to the generic tensions of the new
epic which Statius’ poem represents. Calchas, the old uates of the Homeric tradition,
seems unable to fully understand the ‘poetics of illusion’ enacted by Thetis and Achilles
in disguise, as is clear from his vision. His point of view is skilfully complemented by
Ulysses, who turns out to be the true uates, as well as the perfect leader for Achilles’ rescue.
As the only figure who can face the fluid and ambiguous reality of the poem and its literary
dynamics as well, Ulysses also stands as a poetic voice himself; through his speech, Statius
reflects upon the tensions of his epic and the poetic effort needed to channel the narrative
from the peaceful setting of Scyros to the martial horizon of Troy.
Keywords: Calchas; Ulysses; improba uirgo; uates; visuality and illusion; self-reflexivity;
generic tensions; Statius’ Achilleid

Despite its importance as a turning point in the plot, the episode of the mustering of the
Greek fleet at Aulis in Stat. Achil. 1.397–559 has only recently begun to attract scholars’
attention on account of its literary interest.1 In this paper I would like to examine the
section which contains Calchas’ prophecy and Diomedes’ and Ulysses’ interventions
(1.514–52). My aim is to show that in this passage the voices of these characters
function as ‘poetic voices’, through which Statius reflects upon his poetic agenda. I will
focus, in particular, on the traditional figures of Calchas and Ulysses, by considering
their different degrees of adaptability in the complex system of literary genres with
which the poem is engaged. Both Calchas and Ulysses belong to the epic tradition of
the past, but in the new epic of the Achilleid they represent two opposite approaches

* An earlier version of this paper was presented at the workshop ‘Une lecture de l’Achilléide
de Stace’ at the Fondation Hardt in October 2018. I would like to thank the organizers and the
participants for a stimulating discussion. I am grateful to CQ’s editor, Bruce Gibson, and to the
journal’s anonymous readers for their insights. I also wish to thank Federica Bessone and
Gianpiero Rosati for their encouragement and inspiring suggestions.
1
See V. Moul, ‘Quo rapis? Tone and allusion at Aulis in Statius’ Achilleid’, CQ 62 (2012), 286–
300; M. Fantuzzi, ‘Achilles and the improba uirgo. Ovid, Ars am. 1.681–704 and Statius, Ach. 1.514–
35 on Achilles at Scyros’, in T.D. Papanghelis, S.J. Harrison and S. Frangoulidis (edd.), Generic
Interfaces in Latin Literature: Encounters, Interactions and Transformations (Berlin and Boston,
2013), 151–68; cf. also R. Parkes, ‘The return of the Seven: allusion to the Thebaid in Statius’
Achilleid’, AJPh 129 (2008), 381–402, at 393–4; ead., ‘The epics of Statius and Valerius Flaccus’
Argonautica’, in M. Heerink and G. Manuwald (edd.), Brill’s Companion to Valerius Flaccus
(Leiden and Boston, 2014), 326–39, at 335–6; G. Bitto, Vergimus in senium: Statius’ Achilleis als
Alterswerk (Göttingen, 2016), 274–85; F. Ripoll, ‘En attendant Achille (Stace, Achilléide, 1.467–
513): enjeux dramatiques, éthiques et politiques d’une scène “de transition”’, Dictynna 16 (2019),
https://doi.org/10.4000/dictynna.1826.

© The Author(s), 2021. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical Association. This is an
Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (http://creativecommons.
org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the
original work is properly cited.
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 760 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

to the same genre. Calchas is so firmly rooted in the tradition of martial epic that he
proves unable to adapt his prophetic skills to understand the fluid and ambiguous reality
which is displayed in the Achilleid, and consequently the new literary dynamics of the
poem as well. Therefore, his voice needs to be integrated and enriched by that of
Ulysses, the polytropos hero, who once again demonstrates his ethos, namely versatility,
and skilfully manages to control the generic tensions of the poem, so as to channel the
narrative from the un-epic setting of Scyros to the martial world of Troy.2

I. THE VOICE OF A TRADITIONAL SEER

Calchas’ prophecy at Aulis takes place after the voyage of Thetis and Achilles to Scyros
in terms of narrative sequence, but almost simultaneously in terms of chronological
sequence. From an internal point of view, therefore, Calchas’ vision is necessary to provide
the Greeks, who do not know where Achilles is, with useful indications on how to find
him and counteract Thetis’ furtum. From an external point of view, the revelation, which
is a shortened rewriting of what has previously been narrated at length, allows the reader
to re-experience the same story but through the focalization of the internal characters.
In this sense, repetition creates a sense of diffraction. As we will see, the same content
is presented through multiple points of view and interpreted in different ways. This
offers a first glimpse of the ‘multifocal’ architecture of the Achilleid,3 and at the same
time it reveals the difficulty in decoding the divine message univocally by human
characters who show different levels of understanding and sensibility.
As is known from Iliad Book 1, the prophet Calchas is consulted by Achilles about
the causes of Apollo’s wrath because ‘he knows both the past, the present and the future’
(Hom. Il. 1.70). In the Achilleid, a poem chronologically posterior to the Iliad but prior
to it in terms of literary plot, Calchas, who is expected to be the omniscient uates of the
Homeric tradition, is urged by Protesilaus to reveal the recent events involving Thetis
and Achilles. However, when Protesilaus finishes his speech, Calchas seems to be
in trouble: while he begins to be possessed by the god, he frantically turns to various
mantic techniques, until he is completely overcome by prophetic frenzy (1.514–25).
Ecstatic possession is an innovative element in Calchas’ characterization: although in
his Iliadic past he already interpreted divine signs and made prophecies,4 now, for
the first time in his literary biography, he receives Apollo within himself (intrantemque
deum, 1.515) and his prophetic furor.5 In other words, Calchas becomes a possessed
mouthpiece for mysterious and often obscure divine knowledge which he cannot control
in his own right.6 In the detail of the furor, Calchas diverges from his Homeric self and
rather aligns himself with the prototype of the female prophetess possessed by Apollo,

2
On Ulysses as an intertextually well-learned character and a double of the poet, see now F. Ripoll,
‘Ulysses as an inter-(and meta-)textual hero in the Achilleid of Statius’, in N. Coffee, C. Forstall,
L. Galli Milić and D. Nelis (edd.), Intertextuality in Flavian Epic Poetry (Berlin and Boston,
2020), 243–58, whose insights are largely complementary to my reading of Ulysses as well.
3
See F. Bessone, ‘Visions of a hero: optical illusions and multifocal epic in Statius’s Achilleid’,
Helios 45 (2018), 169–94.
4
On Calchas as an augur inspired by Apollo, cf. Hom. Il. 1.69–72. On his expertise in various
mantic fields, cf. Sen. Tro. 351–9.
5
The word furor is repeated at the beginning (1.525) and at the end of the revelation (1.536).
6
The state of possession makes the seer deprived of agency in his delivery of divine prophecies. As
we will see, this deepens the interplay between points of view and voices within the poem. On the

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 E P I C VO I C E S I N S TAT I U S ’ AC H I L L E I D 761

namely the Virgilian Sibyl (Verg. Aen. 6.50–1 adflata est numine … | iam propiore dei), as
well as with the Lucanian Phemonoe (Luc. 5.161–77, 186–7 plena laborat | … Phoebo).7
The overall outcome of this mixture between experience of various mantic arts and
visionary frenzy is that Calchas appears like a patchwork character, a ‘super-uates’,
who combines in a single figure several traits of all the most famous epic and tragic
prophets.8 However, this solemn portrayal ends up clashing with the content of the
revelation itself, thereby producing a consequent sense of bathos (Achil. 1.524–37):9

tandem fessa tremens longis mugitibus ora

soluit, et oppositum uox eluctata furorem est: 525
‘quo rapis ingentem magni Chironis alumnum
femineis, Nerei, dolis? huc mitte: quid aufers?
non patiar: meus iste, meus. tu diua profundi?
et me Phoebus agit. latebris quibus abdere temptas
euersorem Asiae? uideo per Cycladas artas 530
attonitam et turpi quaerentem litora furto.
occidimus: placuit Lycomedis conscia tellus.
o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes.
scinde, puer, scinde et timidae ne cede parenti.
ei mihi, raptus abit! quaenam haec procul improba uirgo?’ 535
hic nutante gradu stetit amissisque furoris
uiribus ante ipsas tremefactus corruit aras.10

As previously mentioned, Calchas speaks in the name of the god (et me Phoebus agit,
1.529).11 The prophet received his mantic art from Apollo (Hom. Il. 1.72), and in this
sense he seems to be a proxy for the poet, who in the proem asked Apollo to give him
new sources of poetic inspiration as well (da fontes mihi, Phoebe, nouos ac fronde
secunda | necte comas, 1.9–10). Again, Calchas’ prophetic aim of discovering the

differences between possessed seers and intellectual sign-interpreters, see E. Pillinger, Cassandra and
the Poetics of Prophecy in Greek and Latin Literature (Cambridge, 2019), 9–12.
7
Calchas’ gendered shift from masculine sign-reading to feminine divine possession is particularly
interesting in a ‘dual’ poem such as the Achilleid. A similar oscillation partly affects the Virgilian
Helenus, whose prophecy at Verg. Aen. 3.369–462 is none the less conveyed through a controlled
inspiration: see Pillinger (n. 6), 157–65.
8
On the one hand, Calchas shares some traits of the possessed seer (bloodshot eyes, pallor, messy
hair, etc.), which stem from the Virgilian Sibyl (Verg. Aen. 6.46–51) but also recur in the portraits of
Cassandra (Sen. Ag. 710–15) and Phemonoe (Luc. 5.169–74, 209–18); on the impact of the Sibyl on
these figures, see respectively Pillinger (n. 6), 205–7 and J. Masters, Poetry and Civil War in Lucan’s
‘Bellum Civile’ (Cambridge, 1992), 118–33. On the other hand, Calchas’ wide-ranging divinatory
skills make him closer to Helenus in Verg. Aen. 3.359–61; for ornithomancy (1.518–19), see
Amphiaraus (Theb. 3.633–40), with Parkes (n. 1 [2008]), 393; for divination from smoke (1.509,
1.520–2), see Tiresias (Theb. 10.604–8), with Bitto (n. 1), 274–8. For an extensive survey of
Calchas’ models, cf. F. Ripoll and J. Soubiran (edd.), Stace: Achilléide (Leuven, 2008), 224;
Parkes (n. 1 [2014]), 335–6.
9
Cf. the hair rising in horror and the fillet faltering on the top of the head (1.522–3); a similar
reaction ominously affects Tiresias in Theb. 10.606–7, just before he announces the oracle’s answer
and the terrible request for Menoeceus’ sacrifice (cf. also Cassandra at Sen. Ag. 710–19, with M.M.
Perilli, ‘Falsa canebat. Il modello di Cassandra nella Pizia lucanea’, Maia 72 [2020], 374–89, at
383–5). On this basis, we might equally expect a tragic outcome in the case of Calchas as well,
but no mournful event will happen after his revelation. Similarly, Statius exaggerates in a ‘comic’
and extravagant way the figure of his own Sibyl in Silu. 4.3: see C.E. Newlands, Statius’ Silvae
and the Poetics of Empire (Cambridge, 2002), 309–23, especially 310–12.
10
The text of the Achilleid is cited from D.R. Shackleton Bailey (ed.), Statius: Thebaid, Books
8–12. Achilleid (Cambridge, MA and London, 2003).
11
Cf. Amphiaraus’ possession at Theb. 3.625–6 sed me … | Phoebus agit. For this wording, cf. also
Verg. Ecl. 3.62 et me Phoebus amat.

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 762 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

hiding places (latebris, 1.529) where Thetis has sought to conceal her son overlaps with
Statius’ poetic aim, namely to reveal the hero who is hidden (latentem, 1.5) at Scyros.
Thus, Calchas, in his role of uates, is a figure of prophecy and poetic composition who
is inspired by Apollo as patron of prophets and poets.12 In this light, a passage which
needs a close reading is the passage in which Calchas claims Achilles as his own:
meus iste, meus (1.528). By these authoritative words, which echo the solemn style
of the exclamation cried out to Apollo by the Sibyl, deus, ecce deus! at Verg. Aen.
6.46,13 the uates declares his intention to take Achilles away from his mother and
make him join the ranks of the Greeks.14 However, given the ‘polyphonic’ arrangement
of the revelation, Achilles is also meus to Calchas, because Apollo, who speaks through
the voice of the uates, wants to ensure his control over the fulfilment of Achilles’ literary
destiny. In this sense, the exclamation meus iste, meus makes complete sense if we
consider that, from the Homeric tradition onwards, it is Apollo who is going to kill
Achilles at the hands of Paris, and that, in knowing this, Apollo’s claim might serve
as an allusion to the destiny of the young hero in the Achilleid as well.15 Ultimately
then, given that Achilles is the object of a poem inspired by Apollo, the divine voice
claiming meus fades into the all-controlling voice of the inspired epic poet, who evokes
the inescapable trajectory of his literary creation (that is, Achilles as well as the
Achilleid) towards Troy.16
Calchas’ speech touches upon all the remarkable events which have been narrated
at length in the previous account by the narrator, and even shows straightforward
connections with it. For example, Calchas’ question to Thetis (latebris quibus
abdere temptas, 1.529) closely reworks Protesilaus’ question (quibus abditus oris |
quaue iubes tellure peti?, 1.505–6) and matches exactly the moment when Thetis,
emerging from Chiron’s cave, is pondering where to go with her son (quibus abdere
terris | destinet, huc illuc diuisa mente uolutat, 1.199–200). But the content of the vision

12
On this topic, see in general J.F. Miller, Apollo, Augustus, and the Poets (Cambridge, 2009);
Pillinger (n. 6), 9–12. On the epic uates as a prophetic as well as poetic figure inspired by Apollo,
cf. e.g. D. O’Higgins, ‘Lucan as uates’, ClAnt 7 (1988), 208–26; Masters (n. 8), 133–41. On the
uates in Statius, see H. Lovatt, ‘Statius, Orpheus, and the post-Augustan uates’, Arethusa 40
(2007), 145–63.
13
Cf. also the Statian Sibyl’s address of Domitian as a god at Silu. 4.3.128 en hic est deus; see
Newlands (n. 9), 313–14.
14
On repetitions such as meus iste, meus, cf. B. Gibson, Statius, Siluae 5 (Oxford, 2006), 165. Cf.
also Silu. 5.5.69 meus ille, meus referring to the dead slave boy whom Statius claims as his foster
father; on this basis, P.J. Heslin, The Transvestite Achilles. Gender and Genre in Statius’ Achilleid
(Cambridge, 2005), 292 argues that ‘Calchas disputes Thetis’ right, even though she is his biological
mother, to keep possession of Achilles’. On the contrasting attitude of Thetis, who shows off her
motherly possessiveness as well (meus quaeretur Achilles, 1.37), see now F. Bessone, ‘Nimis …
mater: mother plot and epic deviation in the Achilleid’, in A. Keith and A. Sharrock (edd.),
Maternal Conceptions in Classical Literature and Philosophy (Toronto, 2020), 80–112, at 88.
15
See D.C. Feeney, ‘Tenui … latens discrimine: spotting the differences in Statius’ Achilleid’, MD
52 (2004), 85–105, at 88–9. For Achilles’ death at the hands of Paris on behalf of Apollo, cf. e.g.
Hom. Il. 21.277–8, 22.359–60; Verg. Aen. 6.56–8; Ov. Met. 12.597–609, 13.501. In this light,
meus iste, meus could acquire an ominous tinge, since it alludes to the warrior’s claim on the victim
(or the enemy) who is due to him: cf. Verg. Aen. 10.442–3 soli mihi Pallas | debetur; Sil. Pun. 2.228
meus ille hostis. In addition, this marks an inversion of Apollo’s words at Hom. Il. 22.13 οὔ τοι
μόρσιμός εἰμι, when the god, revealing himself to Achilles, says that he is not marked by fate (i.e.
not appointed to die at the hands of Achilles) because he is immortal.
16
In this sense, Achilles is meus to Statius too: cf. Silu. 4.7.23–4 meus … | haeret Achilles; 5.2.163
te meus absentem circumspectabit Achilles.

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 E P I C VO I C E S I N S TAT I U S ’ AC H I L L E I D 763

needs to be considered in light of the personal point of view of the seer as the interpreter
of that same vision, without neglecting the limits and prejudices by which he is affected.
Let us examine the opening apostrophe to Thetis: quo rapis ingentem magni
Chironis alumnum | femineis, Nerei, dolis? (1.526–7). The theme of the furtum is
immediately announced through the reference to the abduction of Achilles (quo
rapis)17 and to the female tricks ( feminei … doli) Thetis resorted to in order to carry
her son away from Chiron.18 This formulation also bears an allusion that helps to further
explain Calchas’ mindset. First, the verb rapere referring to Thetis’ kidnapping of
Achilles conjures up the traditional abduction of young women and the subsequent
military expeditions they are unwittingly responsible for;19 after all, Helen’s abduction
is still fresh in the Greeks’ minds and is the very cause of their departure for Troy.20
Second, the expression feminei doli activates sinister associations. This is, for example,
the label by which Clytemnestra, who is planning a ‘greater crime’, designates the
tragic deeds of unfaithful wives, nefarious stepmothers and women such as Medea at
Sen. Ag. 116 tecum ipsa nunc euolue femineos dolos.21 It is immediately clear how
Calchas’ vocabulary appears disproportionate to its real object. What Calchas calls
feminei doli does not actually represent a case of mortal deceit with tragic effects, in
the manner of Clytemnestra’s feminei doli, as the prophet suspected. Thetis’ feminei
doli are rather materni doli which just stem from the art of deception, that defensive
strategy in which the goddess––since her Ovidian encounter with Peleus in
Metamorphoses Book 11––proved to be well versed and which she now exploits to
protect her son.22
Calchas then moves on to the exposition of the vision proper (uideo, 1.530), which is
made up of a sequence of ‘frames’, as it were. An interesting aspect of this section is the
way in which Calchas depicts Thetis’ trip across the sea. He describes her as ‘searching
for’ (quaerentem, 1.531) a place that can accommodate the turpe furtum.23 It seems that

17
quo rapis recalls similar questions asked by prophets (or poets) in a state of possession: cf. Hor.
Carm. 3.25.1–2 quo me, Bacche, rapis tui | plenum?, with Moul (n. 1), 296–7.
18
Namely the fake account of her anxious dreams about Achilles’ destiny and Proteus’ advice to
purify the boy in the farthest regions of the Ocean (cf. in particular 1.141 sic ficta parens).
19
The overlap between Achilles’ abduction, as depicted by Calchas, and the traditional pattern of
female abduction (the raptus of Helen, Europe, Io, etc.) is pointed out by Moul (n. 1), 286 and 290.
The expression turpi … furto in Calchas’ speech recalls the way in which Thetis indicates Paris’ theft
of Helen: en aliud furto scelus (1.66).
20
On Paris’ abduction of Helen in the poem, see 1.20–1, 1.66–7, 1.399–403, 2.58–71.
21
Phaedra’s crime against Hippolytus is also defined as a dolus, an evil intent arranged by means
of female deceit (Sen. Phaed. 828). For dolus referring to Thetis’ action, cf. Sen. Tro. 213 and 569–70
uicimus matrum dolos | etiam dearum (here, interestingly, the words are spoken by Ulysses himself);
see also E. Fantham, ‘Statius’ Achilles and his Trojan model’, CQ 29 (1979), 457–62, at 459–60.
22
While in the Achilleid Thetis’ deception essentially consists of a series of wiles and furta (see
G. Rosati, ‘L’Achilleide di Stazio, un’epica dell’ambiguità’, Maia 44 [1992], 233–66, at 241–2), in
the Metamorphoses, by contrast, Thetis performs a sequence of proper transformations in order to
escape Peleus’ rape (Ov. Met. 11.241–2 uariatis saepe figuris | ad solitas artes; 11.253 nec te decipiat
centum mentita figuras; 11.261 nouat formas). Perhaps, her Ovidian ability at metamorphosing could
be a source of inspiration when she decides to dress her son as a girl in order to save him from his
call-up to Troy (cf. also Ov. Met. 13.162–4 praescia uenturi genetrix Nereia leti | dissimulat cultu
natum et deceperat omnes | … sumptae fallacia uestis). On Thetis who ‘moulds’ Achilles and sets
in motion his first metamorphosis, see F. Bessone, ‘The hero’s extended family: familial and narrative
tensions in Statius’ Achilleid’, in N. Manioti (ed.), Family in Flavian Epic (Leiden and Boston, 2016),
174–208, at 188–9; Bessone (n. 3), 177–8. On Thetis’ literary role in the poem, see Bessone (n. 14).
23
Thetis’ choice of Scyros is not casual and extemporaneous (as one might infer from the
expression attonitam … quaerentem litora, 1.531), but has been planned before the journey
(1.201–11). The ‘imaginary voyage’ of Thetis while evaluating the most suitable island ( placet ire

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 764 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

Calchas, inspired by Apollo, envisages Thetis’ trip as the ignoble and debased version
of another famous journey, one which is much more familiar to the god, namely the
wanderings of Apollo’s mother Latona who, after being unjustly refused, had to travel
around the same islands in order to find a shelter to give birth.24 It is tempting to trace a
crypto-allusion to this mythical referent in the place name Cyclades. The Callimachean
aition attested in the Hymn to Delos, indeed, suggests an etymological interplay between
the name Cyclades and the fact that these islands gathered in a circle all around Delos,
after the island had hosted Latona and had been anchored to the bottom of the sea:
Ἀστερίη θυόεσσα, σὲ μὲν περί τ᾽ ἀμφί τε νῆσοι | κύκλον ἐποιήσαντο καὶ ὡς
χορὸν ἀμφεβάλοντο (Callim. Hymn 4.300–1).25 In this sense, then, the name
Cyclades not only provides a set of geographic coordinates but also functions as a
marker of mythical chronology: the landscape is reminiscent of its history and even
in its topography it bears the vivid marks of its literary past.
The revelation goes on in the next section. Among all the islands of the Aegean Sea,
Scyros is the final choice ( placuit Lycomedis conscia tellus, 1.532). It comes as no
surprise that, to Calchas, even the land which Thetis opted for seems itself to be an
accomplice to the furtum. But in fact the juxtaposition of Lycomedis and conscia sounds
somewhat like an antiphrasis, considering that King Lycomedes himself will later fall
victim to that deceit. There is also something more to add here. Calchas, without
even realizing it, is offering a longer-term prophecy: Scyros, which is henceforth
considered to be conscia of Thetis’ furtum, will soon be conscia––according to the
meaning of the adjective in erotic contexts26—of another furtum, the furtum of love
between Achilles and Deidamia.
Calchas then moves on to the cross-dressing scene in a characteristically selective
style: o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes (1.533). Everything is reduced to
the single detail of the clothes (uestes, a word further emphasized by the alliteration
of ue-): clothes that in the eyes of a Greek (but a Greek of quasi-Roman inflexibility)
evoke first of all a trait of oriental effeminacy.27 A similar expression, for instance,
recurs at Luc. 8.367–8 illic et laxas uestes et fluxa uirorum | uelamenta uides, referring
precisely to the clothes of men from Asia.28 But the most disturbing and intolerable
aspect of them in Calchas’ speech is that these uestes … ueniunt in pectora, they
‘come upon Achilles’ breast’, which is the symbolic shorthand for his strength.29
That breast, which in the Homeric tradition used to be covered by the corslet or the

per artas | Cycladas, 1.204–5) now, in Calchas’ vision, ends up being visualized as her actual
wanderings ( per Cycladas artas | … quaerentem litora, 1.530–1).
24
Cf. e.g. Callim. Hymn 4.153–4; Ov. Met. 6.188–91 and Pont. 4.14.57–8. On the myth of Latona
in the Achilleid, cf. C. McNelis, ‘In the wake of Latona: Thetis at Statius, Achilleid 1.198–216’, CQ 59
(2009), 238–46; Heslin (n. 14), 134–7.
25
On the key motif of the circle in these lines, see W.H. Mineur (ed.), Callimachus: Hymn to Delos
(Leiden, 1984), 235–6. See also Dionys. Per. 525–6.
26
See G. Rosati (ed.), P. Ouidii Nasonis Heroidum Epistulae XVIII–XIX (Florence, 1996), 98–9.
27
On the tensions between the Greek, Roman and Trojan points of view, cf. Moul (n. 1), 292,
295–9 and 300; on the dichotomy of Europe/Asia, see A. Augoustakis, ‘Achilles and the poetics of
manhood: re(de)fining Europe and Asia in Statius’ Achilleid’, CW 109 (2016), 195–219.
28
The adjective fluxus is also found with reference to the wedding dress of the bride at Luc. 2.362
fluxos … amictus. Moul (n. 1), 290 notices that Achilles’ flowing garments resemble the clothes of
Europa at Ov. Met. 2.875 tremulae … uestes; this detail gains an allusive tone if we consider that
Achilles, just like Europa, is also being abducted.
29
According to Catullus, Achilles will be forti pectore notus (64.339); see Feeney (n. 15), 95–6.
Achilles’ pectus is also a metonym to indicate his heroic prowess: cf. Prop. 4.11.39; Manil. 2.3; Sil.
Pun. 11.450.

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shield,30 is now to be concealed under female garments, in order to validate the new
gender identity of the character. But when the deceit is over and Achilles suddenly
turns into a great hero, the clothes will fall down by themselves and his breast will
be uncovered again with a spectacular unveiling: illius intactae cecidere a pectore
uestes, | iam clipeus breuiorque manu consumitur hasta | (mira fides) Ithacumque
umeris excedere uisus | Aetolumque ducem (1.878–81).31 Let us compare the first
line of this passage with line 533:

o scelus! en fluxae ueniunt in pectora uestes (1.533)

illius intactae cecidere a pectore uestes (1.878)

The end of the two hexameters (in pectora uestes and a pectore uestes) and the matching
opposition of the words depicting the garments ( fluxae ueniunt and intactae cecidere)
stage the circular mirroring of two key moments that visibly echo each other in the wider
frame of the poem: the beginning and the end of the ‘masquerade’. Indeed, the whole
story of Achilles’ disguise is the story of a dress––a female dress that carelessly
shows off Achilles’ breast in the presence of the Greeks during the banquet at
Lycomedes’ palace (nudataque pectora, 1.768),32 and that once again loosens at the
trumpet blast, when the epic tuba announces by a coup de théâtre the end of the
‘comedy’ and the martial turn of the narrative (iam pectus amictu | laxabat, cum grande
tuba sic iussus Agyrtes | insonuit, 1.874–6).33
The revelation, right at the peak of its tension, suddenly ends with a question, leaving
the major element in suspense: quaenam haec procul improba uirgo? (1.535). In the first
instance, this riddle prompts us to reflect upon the multifaceted dynamics of focalization
and the complex system of vision which is cleverly exploited by Statius in order to
create an Ovidian ‘poetics of illusion’ which ensnares the reader (and the internal characters
as well) in a play of conflicting perspectives.34 In other words, the narrator designs a
brilliant closure for a prophecy––one of Sibylline obscurity––that perfectly mimics,
with its final flash, the fleeting uncertainty of the situation itself combined with the
pleasant effect of theatricality and irony. In addition, this final question also aligns
Calchas with many other prophets of the tradition, who often show a limited understanding
of their own prophecies and lack clarity of expression,35 as is clear in particular from
the phrase quaenam … procul?.36 Yet, while the ambiguity typically fits the oracular

30
Cf. e.g. Hom. Il. 19.371, 22.313 (sc. Achilles) πρόσθεν δὲ σάκος στέρνοιο κάλυψε.
31
Only from now can Achilles’ pectus be covered again with the armour (et iam punicea nudatum
pectora palla | insignemque ipsis, quae prima inuaserat, armis | Aeaciden … | … prospectant, 2.5–8).
32
Ulysses was keeping his eyes fixed on the uultus and, of course, on the pectora of the Scyrian
ladies to identify the intruder in disguise (1.761–2).
33
Cf. also 1.724–5 and 2.39; on the tuba as an ‘epic device’, see A. Barchiesi, ‘Genealogie
letterarie nell’epica imperiale. Fondamentalismo e ironia’, in E.A. Schmidt (ed.), L’histoire
littéraire immanente dans la poésie latine (Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 47) (Geneva,
2001), 315–62, at 343–8; and id., ‘Masculinity in the 90s: the education of Achilles in Statius and
Quintilian’, in M. Paschalis (ed.), Roman and Greek Imperial Epic (Heraklion, 2005), 47–75, at
65–6.
34
On the Achilleid as ‘poetics of illusion’, see Bessone (n. 3).
35
Cf. e.g. the Sibyl, who sings horrendas … ambages … | obscuris uera inuoluens (Verg. Aen.
6.99–100); Helenus, who admits the limits to his own prophetic intelligence (Verg. Aen. 3.379–80,
with Pillinger [n. 6], 160–3); and especially Phemonoe, who has only partial control over what she
says (Luc. 5.174–7, 197, 210, 222–4, with O’Higgins [n. 12], 211–17; on Pythia’s deceitfulness,
see Perilli [n. 9], 385–8).
36
Questions such as quaenam … procul?, etc. make the prophets seem closer to any other character
enquiring about anything obscure or mysterious (cf. e.g. Anchises’ rhetorical question at Verg. Aen.

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 766 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

context, here it betrays a deeper difficulty of interpretation as well. Calchas himself either
does not understand the last image of the vision or, if he does understand it, he does not
reveal it in full. So, what does the seer mean by the expression improba uirgo? We cannot
provide a definite answer. The problem is that improba uirgo wittily expresses the issue of
sexual ambiguity, pointing exactly to one of the main paradoxes in the poem.37 One
possibility is that improba uirgo designates Deidamia, as has been suggested by the
majority of scholars.38 In this case, from the Greek viewpoint, Deidamia would be
improba because she is the object of Achilles’ erotic desire and, therefore, she is respon-
sible for Achilles remaining at Scyros and not joining the mustering troops.39 However, it
seems more likely to me that what Calchas sees and is unable (or unwilling) to name is not
Deidamia but Achilles, who has seemingly left the stage after being abducted (raptus abit,
1.535) only to come back immediately afterwards in the guise of a uirgo.40 But why
should Achilles look like an improba uirgo in the eyes of the prophet?
We should keep in mind the context of the vision. From this perspective, improba
probably hints at a physical trait of the body or the bearing that visibly looks unnatural
at first sight, as well as at an air of boldness which is not befitting of a young lady.41 In
this sense, the adjective improbus42 is highly appropriate here, if we think that Achilles

6.808 quis procul ille … ?, and especially Aeneas’ question at 6.863 quis, pater, ille … ?) than to the
divine knowledge they convey.
37
Cf. 1.336–7 fallitque tuentes | ambiguus tenuique latens discrimine sexus; 1.605. See Rosati
(n. 22), 236–50; Feeney (n. 15), 90–5; Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 57–8; Heslin (n. 14), 237–76;
M. McAuley, ‘Ambiguus sexus: epic masculinity in transition in Statius’ Achilleid’, Akroterion 55
(2010), 37–60. It is not only Achilles that is affected by a cross-gender fluctuation; also Deidamia
and her sisters show some masculine traits ( formae species permixta uirili, 1.811): cf. S. Hinds,
‘Essential epic: genre and gender from Macer to Statius’, in M. Depew and D. Obbink (edd.),
Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons and Society (Cambridge, MA, 2000), 221–44, at 237–40.
38
See Ripoll and Soubiran (n. 8), 226–7; L. Sanna, ‘Achilles, the wise lover and his seductive
strategies (Statius, Achilleid 1.560–92)’, CQ 57 (2007), 207–15, at 210; Bitto (n. 1), 278–9. Other
scholars acknowledge the ambiguity of the expression improba uirgo and its possible twofold reading
(cf. Moul [n. 1], 296), but in the end they tend to refer it to Deidamia: see Fantuzzi (n. 1), 160–6;
Parkes (n. 1 [2014]), 336 with n. 55, who considers uirgo as a reference to Deidamia on the ground
of some intertextual echoes from Valerius Flaccus. Interestingly, improba … uirgo defines Medea at
Val. Fl. 6.681–2 imminet e celsis audentius improba muris | uirgo; in this case, however, the adjective
relates to the shameless passion that affects Medea at the sight of Jason.
39
Cf. Fantuzzi (n. 1), 160 and 163. In this case, then, we should suppose that Calchas is already
aware of Achilles’ love for Deidamia.
40
Expressions such as raptus abit and quaenam haec procul improba uirgo, which announce the
arrival of a character ‘on the scene’ (or his departure), contain a fair slice of theatricality; cf. also the
disappearance of the female Achilles (Peleaque uirgo | quaeritur, 1.884–5). On theatricality as a key
feature of the prophecies in Flavian epic, see H. Lovatt, ‘Competing visions: prophecy, spectacle, and
theatricality in Flavian epic’, in A. Augoustakis (ed.), Ritual and Religion in Flavian Epic (Oxford,
2013), 53–70.
41
Other scholars imagine that if improba uirgo refers to Achilles, then improba ‘will point to
the “morally unsound” new sex of Achilles’ (Fantuzzi [n. 1], 162; cf. also 160); Moul (n. 1), 296.
If we imagine that improba expresses Calchas’ condemnation, likewise we must admit that
Calchas did recognize Achilles in cross-dress. But Calchas seems to have been wrong-footed
by the sight of the mysterious virgin: that is the reason why we should not underrate the visual
aspects that the adjective, even with its possible tinge of moral blame, conjures up in the first
place.
42
‘“Shameless”, of anything unnatural’, thus O.A.W. Dilke (ed.), Statius: Achilleid (Cambridge,
1954), 84. Interestingly, thirty-four lines after Calchas’ mention of the improba uirgo, the adjective
improbus recurs with reference to Achilles in cross-dress and maliciously glancing at Deidamia
(illam sequiturque premitque | improbus, illam oculis iterumque iterumque resumit, 1.568–9);
improbus also refers to Achilles at Achil. 1.41, with R. Uccellini (ed.), L’arrivo di Achille a Sciro.
Saggio di commento a Stazio, Achilleide 1.1–396 (Pisa, 2012), 69. Noteworthy too is Deidamia’s

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is stifling (albeit somewhat awkwardly) his own masculine nature in order to look like a
real girl of refined manners, thereby accomplishing his mother’s vow (sit uirgo pii
Lycomedis Achilles, 1.396), but still remaining the boy who grew up in the wilds of
Pelion and Ossa.43 That Achilles has something strange in his physical appearance
and demeanour is also demonstrated by the special attention which is paid to him by
the maidens of Lycomedes’ court. In their eyes (notice the insistence on the sphere of
visual perception), he appears to be a uirgo noua:44 noua not only because she is the last
one to join their group, but also because she is unusual and different from the other girls,
as is clear from her height, her shoulders and, once again, her breast (quantumque
umeros ac pectora fundat, 1.369). Lycomedes’ daughters (who denote a female, youthful
and curious eye) see as nouitas what Calchas (a male voice of the epic-tragic tradition)
sees as improbitas. After all, in this flowing continuity of literary chronologies, we
should keep in mind that the Calchas of the Achilleid is the same prophet who appeared
in Iliad Book 1, and who knew the martial Achilles of the Homeric narrative. This is the
only Achilles he can imagine. Unsurprisingly, therefore, when talking of Achilles,
Calchas is always looking at his standard representation of the epic hero who is destined
for great achievements. First, he calls him ingentem magni Chironis alumnum (1.526);45
then, with a proleptic glimpse of the future, he calls him euersorem Asiae (1.530).46
As we can see, Calchas’ rigid, Homeric viewpoint is mirrored in his own rhetorical
style. In this sense, his language follows in the footsteps of traditional epic vocabulary:
the expression euersor Asiae, in particular, resounds with the echo of the Homeric
epithet πτολίπορθος (‘sacking or wasting cities’)47 and especially with the memory of
Verg. Aen. 12.545 Priami regnorum euersor Achilles.
Moreover, Calchas’ attitude is to be considered not only as a self-standing manifesto
of the Greeks’ heroic aspirations but also as an answer to the anti-epic threat of the
female antagonist Thetis. Calchas’ awareness of the risk of Achilles’ deviation emerges
clearly when he begs him to choose war and to reject the clothes and his anxious
mother’s wishes: scinde, puer, scinde et timidae ne cede parenti (1.534).48 But no

claim at 1.942 i felix nosterque redi! nimis improba posco; whether improba here refers to Deidamia
as a feminine singular or to the ‘overbold’ demands she makes in the neuter plural (which seems to me
more likely), the meaning is an ironic one: the princess (just like a relicta-to-be) is legitimately asking
Achilles not to betray her while away at Troy, even though she is well aware that she is making a
‘hard’ request (cf. also 1.940); see Rosati (n. 22), 257–9.
43
Conversely, in Silu. 1.6.53–4 the female sex is qualified as improbus when, during the Saturnalia,
some women engage in manlike fighting and feign a virile attitude: stat sexus rudis insciusque ferri: | ut
pugnas capit improbus uiriles!, with A. Pittà, ‘Il prefetto risanato e i Saturnali. Stazio, Siluae 1.4 e 1.6.
Testo, traduzione e commento’ (Diss., Scuola Normale Superiore, 2016), 286–7.
44
nec turba piarum | Scyriadum cessat nimio defigere uisu | uirginis ora nouae, 1.366–8. On the
Scyrian maidens’ visual attitude at the sight of the transvestite Achilles, see Bessone (n. 3), 178–9.
45
Cf. also Ulysses’ words at Achil. 1.868 tu semiferi Chironis alumnus. The mention of Chiron
(magni Chironis)––instead of Peleus––underlines the extraordinary nature of Achilles’ upbringing
(ingentem … alumnum). See E. Fantham, ‘Chironis exemplum: on teachers and surrogate fathers in
Achilleid and Siluae’, Hermathena 167 (1999), 59–70; on the poetic programme with which
Chiron is associated in contrast with Thetis, see Bessone (n. 22), 177–83.
46
See also Ulysses’ flattering apostrophe to the young hero at Achil. 2.32 magnae uastator debite
Troiae; here Ulysses is reworking his previous speech to Achilles at Ov. Met. 13.169 quid dubitas
ingentem euertere Troiam?
47
LSJ s.v. πτολίπορθος; this epithet is often used with reference to Ares and, among the various
heroes, to Achilles (cf. Hom. Il. 8.372, 15.77, 21.550, 24.108).
48
Calchas’ injunction (scinde [sc. uestes] … ne cede) is a perfect reply to Thetis’ previous
invitation to Achilles to yield and accept her clothes: cedamus … | atque habitus dignare meos
(1.259–60). Cf. Bessone (n. 14), 93–5.

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sooner has the seer delivered his warning than the young hero yields to the other side. In
that exact moment, as if by magic, Thetis’ son disappears and then he comes back as
Thetis’ daughter. This foretold metamorphosis is also sealed––as the reader can notice
from his detached and amused perspective––by the ring composition between the first
line (quo rapis ingentem magni Chironis alumnum?, 1.526) and the last line of the
prophecy (ei mihi, raptus abit! quaenam haec procul improba uirgo?, 1.535).49 The
effect of Thetis’ abduction (rapis
raptus)––which is reflected in Achilles’ shift
from Chironis alumnus to improba uirgo––is thus conveyed within the prophecy itself,
but ironically the seer still seems to be too disturbed by the uncanny spectacle of the
transformation to realize what has happened.
Since Calchas fails to acknowledge Achilles in cross-dress (or does not even dare to
imagine such a scenario), he is ultimately exposed as being too tightly bound to outdated
systems of interpretation that prevent him from reading the core of the vision correctly. In
other words, Calchas is too one-dimensional in his role of interpreter. Perhaps the phrase
fessa … ora (1.524), which referred to the seer struggling to convey the divine message,
offers a subtle allusion to a tradition that is now exhausted and needs to be refreshed with
a new perspective which will soon be provided by Ulysses’ versatile intuition and perceptive
foresight, as is shown in his following speech and especially in the embassy at Scyros.50

II. CALL TO AN EPIC LABOR

Calchas’ limited and defective sight will be supplemented by Ulysses’ insightful ‘eye’.
Ulysses, in fact, is the only one who is able to fully decipher the vision by means of his
cunning mind. His speech is actually delayed by Diomedes’ exhortation (Achil.
1.538–45):

tunc haerentem Ithacum Calydonius occupat heros:

‘nos uocat iste labor: neque enim comes ire recusem,
si tua cura trahat. licet ille sonantibus antris 540
Tethyos auersae gremioque prematur aquosi
Nereos, inuenies. tu tantum prouidus astu
tende animum uigilem fecundumque erige pectus:
non mihi quis uatum dubiis in casibus ausit
Fata uidere prior.’ 545

In its essential traits, this scene harks back to the assembly preceding the famous
Doloneia at Hom. Il. 10.218–53. But while in the Iliad it is Diomedes who chooses
Ulysses as his companion (10.241–7), now––in a much more condensed scene––it is
Diomedes who volunteers to be Ulysses’ wingman.51 Turning to Ulysses, who is still
hesitant, Diomedes claims that a labor is summoning them; obviously, he could not

49
I owe this suggestion to Federica Bessone.
50
fessus refers to Calchas’ physical weakness owing to his struggle to endure divine possession
(cf. oppositum uox eluctata furorem est, 1.525; nutante gradu, 1.536; tremefactus corruit, 1.537).
But, in a metaliterary sense, fessus can also allude to the ‘exhausted’ literary tradition Calchas belongs
to (notice also the rare patronymic Thestorides at line 516, which pointedly looks back to the ‘ancient’
Homeric epos [Il. 1.69]; occurrences in Latin poetry before Statius are found only in Ov. Met. 12.19
and 27; Il. Lat. 52 and 59). The widespread sense of weariness that affects Statian epos is best
symbolized by Jupiter’s taedium at Theb. 1.216–17 taedet saeuire corusco | fulmine: see D.C.
Feeney, The Gods in Epic. Poets and Critics of the Classical Tradition (Oxford, 1991), 343.
51
On the comparison with the Doloneia, see Ripoll (n. 2), 244–5 and 250.

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 E P I C VO I C E S I N S TAT I U S ’ AC H I L L E I D 769

refuse to undertake this mission at Ulysses’ side (neque enim comes ire recusem,
1.539).52 Diomedes thinks that he will have to face a fully fledged epic task, a sort
of new Ulyssean journey to the end of the earth or, better, to the depths of the Ocean, in
the caverns of Tethys and Nereus (sonantibus antris | Tethyos auersae gremioque … aquosi
| Nereos, 1.540–2).53 This image has no close parallels, but it possibly recalls, in its majestic
tone, the Homeric scene in which Hera goes to visit the Halls of Ocean and Tethys.54
Diomedes’ prediction is hyperbolic and counterfactual, but it outlines one of the possible
alternative developments of the Achilleid itself, namely the proper mission that would
have awaited the two heroes if the prophecy Thetis had falsely attributed to Proteus had
been true (iubet … | Carpathius uates puerumque sub axe peracto | secretis lustrare fretis,
ubi litora summa | Oceani et genitor tepet illabentibus astris | Pontus, 1.135–9).
Even though he is not really aware of the meaning of Calchas’ revelation, Diomedes
is eager to entrust the leadership to Ulysses, because Ulysses is prouidus (1.542), that is,
because he can foresee.55 By making this remark, the Statian Diomedes subtly recalls
the Homeric Diomedes, who wanted to find a companion because, when two go
together, one ‘perceives before’ the other (σύν τε δύ᾽ ἐρχομένω καί τε πρὸ ὃ τοῦ
ἐνόησεν | ὅππως κέρδος ἔῃ, Hom. Il. 10.224–5).56 But being prouidus is typical of
prophets as well: Calchas himself, for instance, is said to be ueri prouidus augur at
Ov. Met. 12.18.57 In this sense, therefore, when Diomedes claims that no prophet
would dare to see the Fates before Ulysses (non mihi quis uatum … ausit | Fata uidere
prior, 1.544–5), he is acknowledging the prouidus Ulysses as the only true and reliable
uates. In addition, he establishes a symbolic succession and points out the need to
switch from a traditional seer, Calchas, whom he deems inadequate, to a new, superior
seer, Ulysses.58 Ultimately, it is the foreseeing Ulysses ( prouidus astu, 1.542), not the
sightless and absent Calchas (caecus et absens, 1.517), who will first see and recognize
the improba uirgo and then figure out how to reveal her own nature.

III. ULYSSES’ PLAN, OR HOW TO MAKE ACHILLES AN EPIC HERO

Ulysses’ reply to Diomedes represents his first intervention in the Achilleid. Hence, this
passage deserves close attention since it potentially contains a programmatic agenda of
the hero’s intentions in the next section of the poem (Achil. 1.545–52):

52
Cf. Anchises’ reply to Aeneas pleading with him to leave Troy: nec, nate, tibi comes ire recuso
(Verg. Aen. 2.704); see Moul (n. 1), 298–9. Claiming to be Ulysses’ comes, Diomedes perfectly
complies with the cliché of friendship stated by Ulysses himself at Ov. Met. 13.239–40 at sua
Tydides mecum communicat acta, | me probat et socio semper confidit Vlixe.
53
This image will be reworked by Claud. Rapt. Pros. 3.316–20.
54
Hom. Il. 14.200–1 εἶμι γὰρ ὀψομένη πολυφόρβου πείρατα γαίης, | Ὠκεανόν τε θεῶν γένεσιν
καὶ μητέρα Τηθύν. Cf. also Ov. Met. 2.509–10.
55
For prouidus referring to Ulysses, cf. also Achil. 1.698; Hor. Epist. 1.2.19. Indeed, in the
Achilleid Ulysses will recognize the transvestite Achilles thanks to his ‘visual’ skills: uisu perlustrat
… | scrutaturque, 1.742–3; ceu miretur, 1.746; intentus … | perlibrat uisu, 1.761–2; defigit comitique
obliquo lumine monstrat, 1.766; aspicit, 1.794. On Ulysses’ eye, see Bessone (n. 3), 184–6; Ripoll
(n. 2), 245–8. The only other character of the poem who is described as prouidus is Deidamia
(1.802), who, having perfectly understood Ulysses’ goal to arouse Achilles’ desire for war, leaves
the table clasping the boy in cross-dress. Her prudentia makes her side with Thetis’ literary
programme and clash with Ulysses’ project.
56
The Homeric Diomedes adds that with Ulysses the return will be safe even from fire ‘because he
is wise in understanding’ (Hom. Il. 10.247 ἐπεὶ περίοιδε νοῆσαι).
57
See also Verg. Aen. 3.433 (Helenus); Stat. Theb. 4.197 (Amphiaraus); 10.639 (Manto).
58
Likewise, at Ov. Met. 13.363 Ulysses himself claims his cura futuri.

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subicit gauisus Vlixes: 545

‘sic deus omnipotens firmet, sic annuat illa
uirgo paterna tibi! sed me spes lubrica tardat:
grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem,
sed si Fata negent, quam foedum ac triste reuerti!
uota tamen Danaum non intemptata relinquam. 550
iamque adeo aut aderit mecum Peleius heros,
aut uerum penitus latet et sine Apolline Calchas.’

Despite his ostensible uncertainty, Ulysses appears self-confident and satisfied with
Diomedes’ flattering appeal (gauisus, 1.545).59 So, he wishes that Jupiter and
Minerva could fulfil Diomedes’ purpose and support their common pursuit. By calling
Minerva illa | uirgo paterna tibi (1.546–7), Ulysses bestows on Diomedes the special
link that existed between the goddess and Diomedes’ father, Tydeus, as is well known
from the tradition as well as from Statius’ own Thebaid.60 But, of course, Minerva is
also Ulysses’ tutelary deity, and this was one of the reasons why the Homeric
Diomedes wanted Ulysses by his side (φιλεῖ δέ ἑ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη, Hom. Il. 10.245).
Not without some hesitation, Ulysses declares his mission and comments upon it:
grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem (1.548).61 Ulysses’ statement
complies with the plans of the poet, who had himself already announced something
similar in the proem: tota iuuenem deducere Troia (1.7), namely to bring Achilles to
Troy and lead him all the way through the war.62 Ulysses’ words can thus be read,
beyond their literal meaning, as an authorial remark: his military mission stands
somehow as the equivalent of the literary mission of composing an epic war poem
about Troy. The language is indeed characterized by a reflection on poetics. grande
hints at the measure of an epos that is expected to ‘embrace’ the greatest hero of all,
that hero whose uis festina, as Chiron said at Achil. 1.147–8, foreshadows nescio
quid magnum.63 In addition, grande points to the tension between the first part of the

59
gauisus could recall the Homeric formula ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν, which often introduces Ulysses’
reply (cf. e.g. Hom. Od. 7.329, 8.199, 13.250, 18.281). Elsewhere in the poem Ulysses turns out to be
satisfied with his charismatic appeal and cunning resolutions: subridens, 1.718; contentus, 2.85.
60
On paterna, see Dilke (n. 42), 122. The fact that Minerva, who was Tydeus’ goddess in the
Thebaid, now offers protection to his son Diomedes highlights not only the genealogical succession
between father and son but also the symbolic succession between the Thebaid (the first epos) and the
Achilleid (the second epos). For a similar notion of metaliterary continuity, see Achil. 1.468–9
famamque auida uirtute paternam | Tydides Sthenelusque premant, where Diomedes and Sthenelus
‘press’ the fame of their fathers (respectively Tydeus and Capaneus), namely the fame of the
Thebaid and the previous tradition; cf. also Achil. 1.732–3. On the self-aware ‘secondariness’ of
the Achilleid, cf. S. Hinds, Allusion and Intertext. Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry
(Cambridge, 1998), 91–6; A. Barchiesi, ‘La guerra di Troia non avrà luogo: il proemio
dell’Achilleide di Stazio’, AION(filol) 18 (1996), 45–62, at 50; Feeney (n. 15), 86–8; Heslin
(n. 14), 76–8; McAuley (n. 37), 40–2.
61
At Hom. Il. 9.225–306 Ulysses’ duty was to persuade Achilles to come back to the Greek camp.
Now, in this sort of Statian prequel to the Iliad, Ulysses is in charge of leading the young Achilles to
Troy. This might seem a bit paradoxical at first sight, if we consider that Ulysses himself was a draft
dodger when called up for the Trojan expedition: cf. Ajax’s charge at Ov. Met. 13.35–9 and Ulysses’
reply at 13.296–305, when the hero shrewdly associates himself with Achilles for their common
delayed participation.
62
On this trope, according to which the poet, in programmatic contexts, claims to do the same
action that is being described in the poem, cf. Heslin (n. 14), 75; J.C. McKeown (ed.), Ovid:
Amores. A Commentary on Book Two (Leeds, 1998), 388.
63
nescio quid magnum adopts ‘the sense of a comparison, no more between minor and grand
genres, but between more or less grandiose versions of the same epic genre’: thus Bessone (n. 22),
183; cf. also Bessone (n. 3), 173. For the programmatic meaning of nescio quid magnum, cf. e.g.

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poem and the second, as does the Dulichian trumpet with which Agyrtes grande …
| insonuit (1.875–6), thereby announcing the impending passage to the expected-to-be
martial section.64 In the Thebaid too, grande stands as a signpost to the climactic
increase in the poetic agenda: when Tisiphone summons Megaera to rouse the brothers
Eteocles and Polynices to their mortal combat, she claims that her plan is a ‘grand deed’
(grande opus, 11.100), thereby marking a narrative and poetic twist that, with a surge of
tension, plunges the plot into the intimately tragic core of the poem.65 Not only that,
the adjective armatus (1.548) also guarantees that the Achilleid should be in line with
traditional martial epic, that is, the epic of arma uirumque; and at the same time it
ensures that the characterization of the young hero should be in tune with the
Horatian recommendation according to which Achilles ‘should claim everything by
force of arms’ (nihil non arroget armis, Hor. Ars P. 122).66 In this programmatic read-
ing of Ulysses’ statement, inducere (1.548) also gains renewed prominence, since it is
also a technical verb to depict the staging process.67
The choice of Ulysses as a mouthpiece of the most strictly epic issues of the poem
could not be more adequate. Throughout the narrative, in fact, he is represented as the
poetic repository of the Homeric tradition.68 This is consistent with the ancient
rhetorical tradition, in which it is Ulysses who most epitomizes the ‘grand style’
(in this case, the style appropriate to sing of Achilles in arms), of which the label grande
at the beginning of line 548 is a clear assertion.69

Prop. 2.34.66; Ov. Her. 12.212 nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit, with F. Bessone (ed.),
P. Ouidii Nasonis Heroidum Epistula XII (Florence, 1997), 32–6. For the notion of grandeur
associated with Achilles, cf. also Chiron’s hyperbolic statement at Achil. 1.151–2 nunc illum non
Ossa capit, non Pelion ingens | Pharsaliaeue niues (notice too the allusion to the ‘sublime’
topography of the Gigantomachy mentioned in this passage).
64
Cf. Verg. Aen. 7.45 maius opus moueo, in which maius opus announces the beginning of the
Iliadic half of the Aeneid, the ‘greater’ epic within the epic.
65
The Muses withdraw from the Theban camp and the Furies become the new agents of the plot
which is going to be driven to its tragic peak, namely the fratricide: cf. Feeney (n. 50), 386; on
Tisiphone’s programmatic speech, cf. F. Bessone, La Tebaide di Stazio. Epica e potere (Pisa and
Rome, 2011), 95–101.
66
See D. Kozák, ‘Si forte reponis Achillem: Achilles in the Ars poetica, the Metamorphoses, and the
Achilleid’, MD 72 (2014), 207–21; on the Achilleid’s engagement with Horatian prescriptions, see K.S.
Myers, ‘Ambiguus uultus: Horatian echoes in Statius’ Achilleid’, MD 75 (2015), 179–88. In general,
claiming to arm a hero’s hand is a metaphor for traditional epic poetry: cf. Prop. 2.1.17–18 si tantum
… fata dedissent | ut possem heroas ducere in arma manus, in the context of a recusatio.
67
TLL 7.1.1232.69–1233.7 and 1239.67–1240.16 s.v. induco. With its technical meaning, induco
is commonly attested in commentators’ language as well: cf. e.g. Serv. Dan. Aen. 1.446, 4.694. I
would like to thank Francesco Busti and Stefano Poletti for this remark.
68
At Achil. 1.785–7 Ulysses conveys in an abridged version the essence of the Odyssey and the
Iliad: see Bessone (n. 3), 185–6; cf. also the proleptic glimpse of the κλέα ἀνδρῶν (tantae …
copia famae | fortibus, 1.792–3) and the battle camp of Troy (campo maiore, 1.793, a metaphor
for the Iliad itself). Similarly, at 2.49–83 he sings, just like an epic uates, of the beginning of the
war ( primordia belli, 2.47; on primordia as a term of the poetic agenda, see e.g. Theb. 1.4), going
back (repetito longius orsu, 2.49) to the pre-Iliadic subject of the Cypria, namely the wedding of
Peleus and Thetis and especially the judgement of Paris.
69
Interestingly, the first word spoken by Ulysses in his speech to Lycomedes is magna (1.728). On
the grandeur of Ulysses’ eloquence, cf. e.g. Silu. 5.3.114–15, with Gibson (n. 14), 309–10 for further
references on this topic. Moreover, Ulysses specifically represents one of the three types of Homeric
oratory, the sublime one: cf. e.g. Quint. Inst. 12.10.64; Gell. NA 6.14.7 magnificum in Vlixe et
ubertum. On Ulysses as a traditional epic voice in the Achilleid and his symbolic role in the rhetorical
tradition, see Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 65–70; Ripoll (n. 2), 248–50.

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None the less, to bring Achilles into camp is an ambitious project which seems risky
and no longer appealing.70 This awareness is pointed out by a clear allusion to the very
beginning of Ovid’s Amores 2.18, as noted by A. Barchiesi (Am. 2.18.1–2):71

carmen ad iratum dum tu perducis Achillem

primaque iuratis induis arma uiris

The words used by Ovid to describe the poetry of his friend Macer, who practises the
traditional (and quite exhausted) epic genre in the style of Homer and the Epic Cycle,72
now surface as a foil in the Statian line spoken by Ulysses (Achil. 1.548):

grande quidem armatum castris inducere Achillem

This allusive clue to the Ovidian criticism, on the one hand, problematizes the current
difficulty in writing a traditional epic poem; on the other hand, it warns the reader about
the novelty of Statius’ poetic project. Unlike Macer’s iratus Achilles (the Homeric hero
of μῆνις), Statius’ Achilles is armatus, not in the sense that he is already ‘in arms’
but rather in the sense that he is to be provided ‘with arms’. In other words, he is to be
transformed into a real epic hero and possibly, given the sexual symbolism of arma, will
thereby become a male in the proper sense.73 Clearly, it turns out, there will be a return
to the war epic but only through a new metamorphosis: from being a lover at Scyros
to becoming a soldier at Troy. This shift is officially signalled by the ‘metamorphic’
adjective par excellence, mutatus, at Achil. 2.10.74 After all, the destination––just like
the corresponding poetic way to reach it––is clear: Achilles is to be brought to the castra,
the military camp. None the less, if we keep in mind the elegiac intertext of Ovid’s
Amores 2.18, the epic word castra cannot but recall by contrast the castra of Love,
the camp of the erotic battles to which Ovid wanted to draw Macer (si bene te noui,
non bella libentius istis [sc. the love stories associated with the Trojan War] | dicis,

70
In this sense, in fact, ‘the use of grande has dangerous overtones of bombastic sublimity’:
Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 69; cf. e.g. Hor. Ars P. 27 and 80; Ov. Rem. am. 375; Pers. 5.7. For grande
as a stylistic category in rhetorical contexts, see TLL 6.2.2185.52–2186.36 s.v. grandis. Morerover,
the notion of grande with regard to poetry can also recall the Callimachean notion of μέγα and the
negative evaluation with which it is linked.
71
Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 68–9. A wider discussion on similar collisions between quintessential
epos and minor genres that apparently threaten the consistency of Statius’ poetic project is found in
Barchiesi (n. 33 [2001]), 331–2; see also Barchiesi (n. 60), 57–8.
72
On Macer and his Antehomerica (and Posthomerica), see McKeown (n. 62), 382–3. Cf. also Ov.
Pont. 4.16.6 Iliacusque Macer; 2.10.13–14 tu canis aeterno quicquid restabat Homero, | ne careant
summa Troica bella manu.
73
For arma as a sexual euphemism, cf. e.g. Prop. 1.3.16, 4.8.88; Ov. Am. 1.9.26; J.N. Adams, The
Latin Sexual Vocabulary (London, 1982), 19–22. In this sense, it is interesting to consider the descrip-
tion of the young Achilles, who patria iam se metitur in hasta (Achil. 1.41). Phallic jokes can be
detected in the representation of Achilles in disguise as well, especially regarding the thyrsus
(which is a ‘softer’ equivalent of the masculine hasta) in the Bacchic scene: see Heslin (n. 14),
238–42; Bessone (n. 3), 181–3. For Achilles as a symbol of sexual power, see also e.g. Petron.
Sat. 129.1.
74
As shown by Bessone (n. 3), 184, this metamorphosis is actually a ‘counter-metamorphosis’ that
realigns Achilles with his true nature after Thetis’ intervention. His desire to comply with ‘new’ male
heroic models, such as Ulysses and Diomedes, is also betrayed at Achil. 1.754–5 auidusque nouos
heroas et arma | uel talis uidisse cupit; cf. also Hinds (n. 37), 240–1. mutatus, then, like uersutus
used of Ulysses in Livius Andronicus (on which, see Hinds [n. 60], 61–2), could also evoke the
process of ‘translating’ Achilles from the Greek Iliad to the Latin Achilleid, and here again from
lover to warrior, in order to recapture a Homeric spirit, which is now, after this Roman ‘bath’,
inevitably changed from the original.

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 E P I C VO I C E S I N S TAT I U S ’ AC H I L L E I D 773

et a uestris in mea castra uenis, 2.18.39–40).75 Likewise, the court of Scyros,

since it was suitable not for the battles of Mars but for the battles of Love,76 has also
determined the first deviation in the heroic career of Achilles in love.77 The task of
redirecting the young hero and, at the same time, of setting off the epic turn of the plot
is now up to Ulysses.78 He has to engage not only with a new endeavour but also with a
new epic, which challenges the balance of internal tensions in the poem (the themes of
love and war, as well as the mixture of different generic elements).79 None the less, the
grandeur of this pursuit is not devoid of uncertainties. Notice especially the use of
expressions such as haerentem (1.538) and spes lubrica tardat (1.547). Once again,
the reading is twofold: haerentem and tardat are reminiscent of the critical vocabulary
of poetry making. The same verbs tellingly recur at Silu. 4.7, the lyric ode to Vibius
Maximus, in which Statius, referring to the composition of the Achilleid, states that
Apollo comes more sluggishly than usual (tardius … uenit, 4.7.22), and that his
Achilles, namely his Achilleid, is stuck (haeret, 4.7.24) just after the first turn of the
racecourse (Silu. 4.7.21–4):

torpor est nostris sine te Camenis,

tardius sueto uenit ipse Thymbrae
rector et primis meus ecce metis
haeret Achilles.

In this case, the delay formally depends on the absence of the patron who is the primary
source of inspiration for the poet;80 but the sense of compositional lethargy and
stalemate might also outline his difficulty in arranging the new epic project. In the

75
On the image of castra Amoris, see J.C. McKeown (ed.), Ovid: Amores. A Commentary on Book
One (Leeds, 1989), 49. On the presence of Love in Macer’s epic poem, see Ov. Am. 2.18.35–8; Hinds
(n. 37), 227–8.
76
Cf. imbelli … Lycomedis ab aula, 1.207; hic thiasi tantum et nihil utile bellis, 1.393. On Scyros
as ‘an emblematically unwarlike land’, see Hinds (n. 37), 236–7.
77
Love is ultimately the force that prompted Achilles to yield to his mother’s will. On the implicit
presence of the god of Love in the disguise scene at Achil. 1.283–4 (quis deus attonitae fraudes
astumque parenti | contulit?) and on his intervention in the plot, see Bessone (n. 22), 184–6;
Bessone (n. 14), 92–9. Moreover, given Achilles’ future dalliances (cf. e.g. Euripides’ Iphigenia at
Aulis or Ovid’s Heroides 3), there is good reason to think that eros would have been anything but
missing in the unfinished part of the Achilleid: cf. Rosati (n. 22), 263–4; Hinds (n. 60), 135–44;
Feeney (n. 15), 97–8; Barchiesi (n. 33 [2005]), 70–1; Heslin (n. 14), especially 84–6; Bessone (n.
22), 183.
78
Calchas has been considered the ‘“protector of the plot” of the Trojan War’ (Fantuzzi [n. 1], 161;
see also 166), but in the same fashion Ulysses proves to be the one who really keeps the epic plot on
track.
79
The new poetic project which Statius (and Ulysses) is involved in combines different kinds of
epics: on the one hand, Homeric and Virgilian epics: on the other, Ovidian epic, or rather Ovidian
poetry (epic as well as erotic elegy). This generic blend responds to the issue of dealing with
Achilles’ identity in his twofold nature of lover and soldier: see Rosati (n. 22), 250–5. But the chal-
lenge is also related to the structure of the poem: the Achilleid is not a standard Homeric poem focus-
sing upon a single action (i.e. the war at Troy or Ulysses’ wanderings), according to Aristotelian
recommendations, but a poem focussing upon a single character, whose life is supposed to be narrated
at length from the beginning to the end (ire per omnem | … heroa, 1.4–5); cf. Rosati (n. 22), 233 with
n. 3; Heslin (n. 14), 80–2; Kozák (n. 66), 217–19; Myers (n. 66), 180–1.
80
See T.M. O’Sullivan, ‘Waiting on a friend: Statius, Siluae 4.7’, MD 60 (2008), 125–43, at 132–4;
on the poetic programme of Silu. 4.7 and on Statius’ search for inspiration in the passage from the
Thebaid to the Achilleid, see E. Merli, Dall’Elicona a Roma. Acque ispiratrici e lima poetica
nell’Ovidio dell’esilio e nella poesia flavia di omaggio (Berlin and Boston, 2013), 91–4. The image
of Achilles getting stuck primis … metis implies the metaphor of the chariot race, on which see
K.M. Coleman (ed.), Statius: Siluae IV (Oxford, 1988), 203; Heslin (n. 14), 61.

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 774 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

same way, Ulysses initially feels uncertain about his duty to set off the martial plot.
Yet this is only a momentary (and perhaps artfully simulated) hesitation and soon the
hero appears resolute in carrying out his mission: uota tamen Danaum non intemptata
relinquam (1.550). These words sound once again like a programmatic statement
exploiting the language of metapoetic reflection: to accomplish the vows of the
Greeks means to accept the challenge of leading Achilles to Troy and, at the same
time, provide the new subject of the poetic song––namely, to deal with a military as
well as literary labor (to use Diomedes’ words) that has not yet been experienced. It
is no coincidence that the litotes non intemptata contains the verb tempto, the same
verb that Statius used to depict the newly undertaken process of writing the Achilleid
in the authorial statement at Silu. 4.4.94 magnusque mihi temptatur Achilles.81
Moreover, tempto is frequently associated with the experimentation of new poetic
paths, starting from the famous ‘proem in the middle’ at Verg. G. 3.8–9 temptanda
uia est, qua me quoque possim | tollere humo uictorque uirum uolitare per ora.82
With reference to the literary activity, equally noteworthy for our comparison is the
wording at Hor. Ars P. 285 nil intemptatum nostri liquere poetae.83
Aware of these risks from a poetological dimension, Ulysses envisions the chance
of a successful outcome (aderit mecum Peleius heros, 1.551),84 as well as the possibility
of failure in the event that uerum penitus latet et sine Apolline Calchas (1.552).85 The
possibility that Calchas is sine Apolline outlines the portrait of a fake seer, who is not
truly possessed by the god and who is, therefore, devoid of prophetic inspiration.86
But there is also a second level of interpretation: being without Apollo––the same
Apollo that was invoked in the proem––also means suffering from a lack of poetic
inspiration. A similar expression recurs in another passage from Silu. 5.3, in which
Statius presents himself as still in need of poetic guidance from his dead father
(Silu. 5.3.289–93):

somnique in imagine monstra

quae solitus. sic sacra Numae ritusque colendos 290
mitis Aricino dictabat nympha sub antro,
Scipio sic plenos Latio Ioue ducere somnos
creditur Ausoniis, sic non sine Apolline Sulla.

81
On this occasion, the hesitation of the poet is not to be traced back to the novelty of the project
but rather to the perpetually delayed urge to compose a solemn and ambitious epos devoted to
Domitian, as is declared in the immediately following lines (4.4.95–6). Cf. G. Rosati, ‘Muse and
power in the poetry of Statius’, in E. Spentzou and D. Fowler (edd.), Cultivating the Muse.
Struggles for Power and Inspiration in Classical Literature (Oxford, 2002), 229–51, at 235; Merli
(n. 80), 124.
82
For this image, which bears a certain Callimachean flavour, cf. e.g. Hor. Carm. 3.2.22; Sen. Oed.
392 alia temptanda est uia, with N. Palmieri, ‘Alia temptanda est uia: allusività e innovazione
drammatica nell’Edipo di Seneca’, MD 23 (1989), 175–89. For tempto in programmatic contexts,
cf. also Hor. Epist. 2.1.164; Stat. Theb. 12.816.
83
For intemptatus as a loanword from the Greek ἀπείρατος in contexts of literary innovation, see
C.O. Brink (ed.), Horace on Poetry. The ‘Ars Poetica’ (Cambridge, 1971), 318–19.
84
By referring to Achilles as Peleius heros, in his heroic dress, Ulysses implicitly shows himself to
be confident about the positive result of his own mission.
85
Similarly, Ulysses had tested Calchas’ reliability at Hom. Il. 2.299–300 μείνατ᾽ ἐπὶ χρόνον
ὄφρα δαῶμεν | ἢ ἐτεὸν Κάλχας μαντεύεται ἦε καὶ οὐκί.
86
On Calchas as an unreliable figure and the wider distrust of prophets and seers, cf. e.g. Eur. Hel.
744–57; IA 518–21 and 956–8. At Verg. Aen. 2.122–9 Sinon describes Calchas as an accomplice of
Ulysses and implies that his revelation is a farce: see S. Casali (ed.), Virgilio, Eneide 2 (Pisa, 2017),
145–6.

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 E P I C VO I C E S I N S TAT I U S ’ AC H I L L E I D 775

Taken at face value in the context of this simile in which Statius lists three examples of
divine support, the reference to Apollo (non sine Apolline, 5.3.293) points to the fact
that, before the Battle of the Colline Gate, Sulla appealed to the god for victory and
kissed a golden image of him; in this sense, then, he was ‘not without Apollo’.87 But
Apollo’s appearance in the last line of a poem dealing with issues of inspiration (and
the temporary lack thereof) tellingly suggests poetry as well, and seals the carmen
with a glimmer of hope for a future creative comeback.88 Moreover, in both passages,
sine Apolline recalls, albeit only formally, the standard expression sine te (or sine plus a
proper name), which is typical not only of hymns to the gods but also of proemial
contexts of request for poetic inspiration from a deity (or a patron).89 If Calchas’
revelation is truly inspired by Apollo––that is, Calchas is not sine Apolline––then the
project (understood as both military and literary) with which Ulysses has been entrusted
as interpreter and executor of the message of the vision is also likely to prove successful.
However, despite his doubts about the authenticity of Calchas’ divine inspiration,
Ulysses is intimately aware that the first fundamental mission of the Achilleid ultimately
depends on himself and the resources of his own human intelligence.
In conclusion, this section of the poem, through Calchas’ and Ulysses’ speeches,
stages the interplay between two poetic voices, which belong to the same generic
system, namely epic poetry, but diverge considerably from one another in their
interpretative approach to reality within the narrative. On the one hand, Calchas appears
to be closely bound to strictly traditional practices of prophetic art so that, in the new
challenging context of the Achilleid, he conveys Apollo’s divine message but then
fails to interpret it in light of the complex dynamics of deceptions which stand at the
heart of the plot. On the other hand, Ulysses, who has grasped the meaning of the
revelation, outdoes Calchas, thereby presenting himself as the true uates and the leader
of the upcoming expedition. But Ulysses’ plan bears signs of poetic self-reflexivity as
well. So, his first intervention within the Achilleid functions as a kind of ‘poetic
proem’:90 through Ulysses’ promise not to leave the Greeks’ request for Achilles
(the uota Danaum) unfulfilled, the poet reflects upon the difficulty of managing the
epic, but, in the end, he reassures his readers about his loyalty to the epic programme
declared in the opening of the poem––the awaited move from Scyros to Troy. In this
light, if we imagine that everything that has been narrated up to this point represents
a sort of ‘false start’ in terms of the epic plot,91 Ulysses’ speech also provides an
ideal proem for the second part of the Achilleid, that is, the martial beginning.

87
For this episode, cf. Plut. Sull. 29.11–12.
88
Cf. Gibson (n. 14), 377–8, who points out the symbolic link with poetry that characterizes
the gods mentioned in this passage (Jupiter, Egeria and Apollo). The implicit focus of this threefold
comparison is Statius’ dead father, who was a poet himself and mentor for his son’s poetic activity.
89
For this expression and its tradition, cf. R.G.M. Nisbet and M. Hubbard (edd.), A Commentary
on Horace Odes, Book I (Oxford, 1970), 307. Cf. e.g. Silu. 1.4.19–20 mihi surda sine illo [sc.
Phoebus] | plectra; 4.7.21 torpor est nostris sine te [sc. Vibius Maximus] Camenis; 5.3.5 te sine
[sc. Statius’ father], with Gibson (n. 14), 268–9.
90
On Statius’ experimentation with multiple starting points in the Achilleid, see R.T. Ganiban, ‘The
beginnings of the Achilleid’, in W.J. Dominik, C.E. Newlands and K. Gervais (edd.), Brill’s
Companion to Statius (Leiden and Boston, 2015), 73–87, at 84–6.
91
That is, a ‘false start’ in the light of the Trojan War, which stands on the horizon as the ultimate
telos of the Greek expedition and of Achilles’ heroic consecration as well. For this reason, the experience
of the female and eroticized microcosm of the peaceful court of Scyros is to be erased through a sort of
collective damnatio memoriae performed by the internal characters (especially Achilles): see Hinds
(n. 37), 241.

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 776 F R A N C E S CA E CO N I M O

Ulysses pulls the strings of the plot and holds together two different sections (and
dimensions) of the poem. Thanks to his epic identity as the polytropos hero and his
experience of a great variety of generic situations––traits which seem tailored to the
blended identity of the Achilleid itself––Ulysses proves that he is perfectly equipped
for his poetic goal of unblocking the impasse of the Scyrian court and redirect
Achilles onto his martial track.

Scuola Normale Superiore FRANCESCA ECONIMO

francesca.econimo@sns.it

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