The importance of the body – in its own right and as a political, cosmic, and metapoetic symbol – in Attic and Senecan tragedy has long been recognized in scholarship, as has the significance of contemporary medical theories for these plays, but this motif has not been discussed in relation to the surviving fragments of Ennian tragedy. Yet those fragments – frustratingly exiguous though they are – feature substantial depictions of Alcmeo’s mental and physical pathology, the war-wounds of Eurypylus, and Thyestes’ verbal dissection of his brother Atreus, alongside numerous briefer references to disease, injury, and the body. This chapter explores these Ennian engagements with the body and medical theory through various historicizing lenses; with due caution, moreover, it explores the ways in which these lenses can be used to build a provisional picture of the role of the medical and the corporeal in the poet’s tragedies.

Considering Ennius’ Hedyphagetica in its contexts of sympotic celebration, this chapter contends that some later Roman authors – namely, Lucilius, Horace, Catullus, Lucretius, and Persius – think of Ennius as a seafood specialist. They have, it suggests, an eye on his Hedyphagetica’s relationship with his Annales as one whereby both poems come packaged together in the reception of the older mainland Italian poet.

If we go by editions of the Annales, Ennius included a series of striking self-references in his epic. These lines’ nature, number (or rate of survival), and their proximity to self-referential comments made by prose historians make them extraordinary in the context of epic. Thus, they shape our sense of the ambitions the Annales housed and the sorts of generic experimentation its author was prepared to engage in. Ennius’ reference to his advanced age, unparalleled in the epic tradition as we know it, is securely attested for one of the later books of the epic. But often, Ennian self-referential lines are not attributed to a specific work by their sources. Like other lines now conventionally assigned to the Annales, these lines could plausibly have originated in a different Ennian work. In particular, the Saturae present themselves as the most likely candidate. This chapter explores the range of possibilities allowable for Ennian self-references beyond the Annales and sketches the difference that reading this subset of lines in non-epic Ennian contexts would make.

The importance of music is conspicuously evident in Cicero’s responses to Ennian tragedy: he refers to connoisseurs who could identify characters from single notes played in the tibia and to accompanied performance. The metres used in the fragments of Ennius’ tragedies reveal that Ennius made the Greek tragedies he adapted considerably more musical, and that music contributed significantly to the plots and emotional tone of the plays and to Ennius’ portrayal of character. In his Medea, for example, Ennius appears to have added music to Medea’s initial address to the chorus (90 TrRF II), to the agon between Jason and Medea (92 TrRF II), and to Medea’s final farewell to her children (97 TrRF II).

The treatment of Rome and its history in Ennius’ Annales has received significant scholarly attention in recent years. This work has shown well that the epic sets the city at the centre of a widening Roman world, thereby making it a cosmic hub of space and time. Such epic transformations also transform perspectives on the past and the present. What of Rome in the rest of Ennius’ wide-ranging literary output? How does the tri- or quadrilingual former Rudian approach his new unelected home and its socio-cultural practices in genres beyond epic? Taking into consideration the representation of (urban) space, monuments, social practices (especially ritual acts, praise, and elite self-presentation), and intersectional conceptions of Roman identity, this chapter examines the ways in which Ennius’ writings construct and reflect Rome qua city and set of cultural values and perspectives. The Scipio, Ambracia, and Sabinae anchor the chapter, but the contribution also uncovers key themes in less expected places, with some comment on the epigrams, Hedyphagetica, and philosophical works.

Against received opinion, this chapter argues that Ennius does not primarily figure as a stalwart of ancient Roman values within Varro’s Menippean Satires: the Ennius of these understudied late-republican texts is rather a boldly experimental and multiform poet, a model for Varro’s own modernist project. Particular attention is paid to Varro’s Bimarcus, in which a “new” fragment of Ennius’ Saturae is tentatively discovered.

This chapter investigates the diction of the fragments attributed to Ennius’ Saturae by ancient sources and conjecturally by modern editors. While thirty or so transmitted lines naturally do not permit one to paint a conclusive picture of Ennius’ experiment, a little more can be said about the relationship between his Saturae and those of Lucilius, and ultimately about Ennius’ role in the introduction of personal poetry at Rome. Monologic and dialogic utterances and the mixture of metres (iambo-trochaic, hexameter, Sotadean) and registers (comic, informal, mock-epic) will be discussed, using Lucilius as a comparandum. Attention is paid to “early” features of language and style, with reference to Ennius’ diction in his epic and dramatic works.

Dispensing once and for all with the idea that Ennius’ Sacra historia was an exercise in Scipionic propaganda, this chapter argues that that prose text was integral to Ennius’ vision of Roman history and authorial self-fashioning. Despite the opacity of their transmission by Lactantius, the fragments of the Sacra historia reveal their author as an interpretative innovator exploiting linguistic effects only possible in translation. The way that this text mediates between Greek and Roman antiquities through multilingual interpretes, moreover, reveals a characteristic but underappreciated aspect of Ennius’ creative persona.

This pithy Introduction justifies the existence of the volume and explains why its contributors do not apply the term “minor works” to Ennius’ corpus. It then provides an overview of the diversity of this corpus, zooming in on the remains of his comedy as an example of what is not quite lost, and briefly shows that Ennius deeply influenced the Roman literary tradition as a multiform author (not just as an epicist). The Introduction closes by explaining the dispensation of the volume and what its contributors achieve.

It is well known that Ennius stands out among the early Roman writers by being active in a variety of literary (mainly poetic) genres. It is also obvious that there are clear distinctions in form and themes between the different types of works in line with their generic identity; at the same time, some stylistic features, motifs, and concepts may be observed in works assigned to different literary genres. This chapter explores such items in Ennius’ corpus and discusses the respective role of generic distinctions. Such a study contributes to identifying typical aspects of Ennius’ output as a whole as well as to describing specific generic manifestations.

This chapter takes a new look at Ennius’ Andromacha and particularly at her self-description as arce et urbe orba sum (23 TrRF II). Scholarship has well explicated how the formulaic words arce et urbe characterize Andromacha, to quote Jocelyn, as “a stateless person in terms of Roman law” (Jocelyn 1967). But scholarly focus on the religious formula has obscured the equally poignant allusion encoded in her choice of verb. Orbus is a word whose primary definition is of a child deprived of their parents or, conversely, of a parent who has lost a child. This chapter explores how Ennius boldly harnesses these familial connotations to create an arresting metaphor that totalizes Andromache’s loss. In doing so, he subtly genders Andromacha’s meditation on the loss of her recent past as well as significantly prefiguring the greater loss that the audience (but not yet Andromacha) knows is coming by the tragedy’s end, the tossing of Astyanax from the arx of Troy.

This chapter offers an analysis of the reception of Ennian tragedy in republican Latin poetry, focussing on Pacuvius, Accius, Lucretius, and Catullus. The main methodology employed is that of intertextual analysis. The main thesis advanced is that, while Ennian tragedy seems to have retained its generic distinction and importance in subsequent tragic poetry of the second century bce, by the late Republic, Ennius seems to be more important because of what he has come to represent as a poetic figure and as a repository of poetic material than as a tragedian or epicist.

This chapter argues that Ennius began his epic poem, the Annales, by boasting about his non-epic literary accomplishments, in particular his Saturae. It proceeds to corroborate this view by demonstrating that Ennius’ non-epic and non-tragic corpus – his Saturae, Sacra historia, Scipio, Sota, Epicharmus, and Hedyphagetica – continued to be read and engaged with by important Latin figures (e.g., Terence, Virgil, Apuleius, Lactantius) for hundreds of years. Multiplicity was key, therefore, both to Ennius’ self-representation and to his long Roman reception.

Contemporary scholarship has taken such pains to remove the label poeta cliens from the reputation of Ennius and to dissociate his Annales from the praise of any one individual that the apparent fixation on Scipio Africanus, much praised in the epigrammatic fragments and subject of the deeply problematic work bearing his name, can come as a shock. What is going on? How do we reconcile the testimony of these works with what we think the Annales preserves of the poet’s loyalties and civic ideology? This chapter explores the nature of praise in early Roman literature in the hope of casting at least a little light on this problematic aspect of Ennius’ career.

This introductory chapter treats the early history of Rome’s literature, who was interested in the topic and when, and also how they approached the subject. It notes that from the start Roman literature was deeply imitative of Greek, and that the other peoples of the Italian peninsula also played important roles in the creation of a native literature. Indeed, many of the original writers of Rome were non-Romans. Covers the epics of Livius Andronicus, Naevius, and Ennius.

The second chapter turns to the roots of Roman drama, a popular art form throughout our period. It locates Rome’s particular kind of theatre in the larger Italic context, outlines the major playwrights, who exist mostly in fragments, and devotes most of its energy to discussion of Plautus and Terence, the two comedic dramatists whose work survives in sufficient quantity. Themes include the importance of Greek models, the experience of attending a show, the style and tone of comedies, major plot structures, and important characters.

The sixth chapter covers the origins of Roman historiography. As usual, they are in Greece, and as usual the Romans do something rather different with their model. From its origins in Cato down to what many considered its perfect form in Livy, the Romans were deeply interested in their own pasts. But history-writing was not as it is in the modern world: the ancient historian did little of what we would consider research. Here again, therefore, literary elements were to the fore: choosing the right kind of story to tell and telling it in the right way were the important things. Discussions of Ennius, Cato, Caesar, Sallust, Asinius Pollio, and Livy.

The fourth chapter introduces several ‘personal voices’, immediately complicating our understanding of how personally to take them: the authors discussed here seem to offer us an unmitigated look at their inner lives, but Latin literature does not, for the most part, work like that. Through discussions of Lucilius, in-depth treatment of Catullus, and exploration of the letters of Cicero, we show the public nature even of what seems most personal.

Neither Hannibal nor Scipio participated at the Metaurus (207), but it was the war’s turning point: Ennius thought Juno was now at last reconciled with Rome, and Livy presented Rome’s victory over Hannibal’s brother Hasdrubal as revenge for Cannae. Things looked bad for Rome after both consuls of 208, Marcellus and Crispinus, died in battle. Roman success was made possible by another reconciliation, between two old enemies the consuls Salinator and Nero. Nero’s forced march up Italy was enthusiastically greeted and fed en route. He returned south and threw Hasdrubal’s head before Hannibal’s camp. Appendix 8.1 concludes that Salinator was not a senior decemuir (priest) in 236. Appendix 8.2 discusses Roman battle vows and asks why Livy omitted Salinator’s Metaurus vow in his battle narrative. Appendix 8.3 examines the unusual joint triumph of Salinator and Nero. Appendix 8.4 shows another name (Sena) for Metaurus was current before Horace immortalized it.