Neoterics on Neoterics

Adam Lester

A sound method for isolating the characteristics of neoteric poets is to contrast them with other groups—something R. O. A. M. Lyne attempts with some success in his 1978 Classical Quarterly piece, “The Neoteric Poets.” His format is a logical starting point. Using potential neoterics’ own and other ancients’ writings, Lyne first tries to establish that the troupe existed and then classifies certain poets as members based on common idiosyncrasies. Yet while his argument for the existence of the neoterics and for identifying the group’s component poets seems as strong as the scanty surviving evidence allows, his discussion of what it meant to be a neoteric poet is lacking. Why did one choose the neoteric school? Or, if style is inherent, what made one a neoteric? While incom­plete corpora and the narrow scope of only one poet’s words certainly inhibit the analysis, Catullus’ poems for and about other neoteric poets offer a different[1] and perhaps more intimate view into the neoteric mind. Similar to what the letters between Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson do for the study of transcendentalist literature and phil­osophy, they show a “behind-the-scenes” look at the techniques and top­ics that interested neoterics and how the poets felt about their movement itself. What emerges are, among others, unifying attributes including wit, experimental poetic topics, discussion of women and sexuality, fondness for interaction with other neoterics, and aversion to outsiders.

           If these Catullan poems show anything about the neoteric writing technique, it is an appreciation of wit. This was a group of poets who seem to have been no happier than when impressing each other with humor and wordplay. In poem 50, Catullus describes being physically shaken by fellow neoteric Licinius Calvus’ wit and charm after the pair wrote verses together the previous day. He says, “Atque illinc abii tuo lepore / incensus, Licini, facetiisque, / ut nec me minserum cibus iuvaret / nec somnus tegeret quiete ocellos, / sed toto indomitus furore lecto / versarer, cupiens videre lucem, / ut tecum loquerer simulque ut essem” (50.7-13),[2] suggesting that a quick wit did not go unnoticed, to say the least. When writing to neoteric Gaius Helvius Cinna of a promiscuous woman named Maecilia in poem 113, for example, he begins, “Consule Pompeio primum” (113.1),[3] which is a typical introduction for a history, a genre seemingly far removed from poetry. This word choice is certainly a witty joke—either he mocks Maecilia’s promiscuity by pretending it worthy of a historical notation, or he mocks Pompey, saying that the only event worth mentioning during his consulship was the sex-life of a pro­miscuous woman. And Catullus welcomes the wit that comes with a mastery of language, as well; the obvious example is the fact that all of his correspondence (or mock correspondence) appears in strict meter. But he also puns in poem 14 to Calvus when he writes, “…unde malum pedem attulistis / …pessimi poetae” (14.22-23)[4] and he uses alliteration for a neoteric named Caecilius in poem 35 with “viam vorabit” (35.7).[5] One cannot say that wit was unique to the neoterics or even a standard in their poetry, but the fact that Catullus outright says that it moves him and goes on to be witty in poems at least shows its prevalence among the group. He would probably not make a consistent effort to be witty for others and write of valuing reciprocation unless they did, in fact, recipro­cate.

           The poems give insight into the topics that spawned neoteric poetry as well. It is here that Lyne’s analysis of the poems in question is most useful for an understanding of a neoteric quality—perhaps a peculiarity in this case. He says that Catullus is a Callimachean poet: “…lavishing care and attention on forms and subjects that would not traditionally have been deemed worthy of such care and attention…” (171). He sums, “L’art pour l’art” (171n.15). Catullus devotes most of his work to these unconventional topics, finding poetry in commonplace matters much in the same way that the 1960’s Pop Art movement found beauty in every­day objects such as Campbell’s Soup cans and cigarette butts. Poem 38, for example, is not an epic but a plea to a certain neoteric poet, Corni­ficius, to send poetry to cheer up a stressed Catullus: “Malest, Cornifici, tuo Catullo / malest… / Paulum quid lubet allocutionis, / Maestius lacri­mis Simonideis” (38.1-2, 7-8).[6] Poem 53 is not an elegy but a complimen­tary tribute to Calvus on a legal speech: “Risi nescio quem modo e corona, qui / cum mirifice Vatiniana / meus crimina Calvos explicasset, / admirans ait haec manusque tollens, / ‘Di magni, salaputium disertum!’”[7] Poem 50 (mentioned above) is nothing more than a highly structured diary entry. Yet Catullus made the conscious choice not to present these everyday thoughts as such—he saw poetry where many did not and used a good deal of his time and artistry to capture it. Much in the same vein as the earlier hypothesis about wit, Catullus would probably not spend those hours perfecting language and meter on everyday poems regarding fellow neoterics unless they reciprocated; it simply seems too unsatisfy­ing.

           Another common pair of topics is women and sexuality. Whether or not Lyne’s argument is true that only Catullus of the neoterics wrote “a series of poems dealing in depth, in all matter of moods, with one rela­tionship with a single enthralling lover [Lesbia]” (176), it does seem apparent that love and sex played an important role in the daily goings-on of neoteric men. Considering the myriad examples of Catullus refer­encing women and sexuality in his other poems and acknowledging that he allows the topics to seep into his poems for fellow neoterics, it makes sense that the subjects could have been pervasive in the other poets’ works as well. In poem 35, for instance, Catullus asks Caecilius to join him so that they might discuss one of the latter’s poems, but Caecilius is weighed down elsewhere because “…candida milies puella / euntem revocet, manusque collo / ambas iniciens roget morari” (35.7-10).[8] Calvus must be terribly distraught by the death of Quintilia, his wife or mistress, in poem 96, which offers somber words of comfort:

Si quicquam mutis gratum acceptumve sepulcris
accidere a nostro, Calve, dolore potest,
quo desiderio veteres renovamus amores
atque olim missas flemus amicitias,
certe non tanto mors immature dolori est
Quintiliae, quantum gaudet amore tuo.[9]

The poet’s decision to avoid his usual lightheartedness when talking with friends here shows that the death of a lover, the disappearance of a woman from one’s life, was solemn ground—so important as to merit a different type of poem, not simply a cessation of banter. Catullus touches on love’s counterpart, sexuality, in poem 113 (mentioned above) and more explicitly in poem 56 to neoteric Valerius Cato.[10] He writes, “Deprendi modo pupulum puellae / trusantem; hunc ego, si placet Dionae, / pro telo rigida mea cecidi” (56.5-7).[11] Since, in his famous poem 16, Catullus acknowledges that people criticize his repeated discussion of sex and women,[12] it shows that such poetic topics were unusual enough to earn criticism for veering from some norm—it was not normal to con­stantly compose pieces about girlfriends and sex. That he feels free to address the issues with his fellow neoterics suggests that, at the very least, it was a comfortable topic for the group to read and discuss and possibly an inspiration for other neoteric poetry.

           Perhaps the most telling insight into the neoteric world from the poems Catullus addresses to his peers is how the group felt about itself and outsiders. It is obvious that, if Lyne is correct with his classification of neoteric poets, they seem a tight-knit group that valued each other’s opinions and often wrote together or with each other in mind. As men­tioned above, poem 50 captured Catullus reminiscing about a day of writing poetry with Calvus, and poem 35 saw Catullus asking to help Caecilius with his writing. Some speculate that poem 96 not only con­tains words of comfort for Calvus but includes or paraphrases Calvus’ own words as well. Perhaps Catullus sampled some of Calvus’ elegy to Quintilia out of respect for his friend and his friend’s poetry. Poem 95 expresses this camaraderie and the flipside—an acerbic distaste for the work of other poets. The poem reads:

                         Zmyrna mei Cinnae nonam post denique messem
                         quam coepta est nonamque edita post hiemem,
milia cum interea quingenta Hortensius uno…
Zmyrna caves Satrachi penitus mittetur ad undas,
Zmyrnam cana diu saecula pervoluent.
At Volusi annals Paduam morientur ad ipsam
et laxas scombris saepe dabunt tunicas.
Parva mei mihi sint cordi monimenta sodalis:
at populus tumido gaudeat Antimacho.[13]

           It starts with a tribute to his friend and colleague, Cinna, who recently completed a poem titled “Zmyrna.” Catullus writes of the poem’s destiny for timelessness but then is also sure to mock the work of other, non-neoteric poets, including Hortensius, Antimachus, and, quite harshly, Volusius, whom he also ridicules in poem 36. Poem 14 is another example, for he writes Calvus to joke about the poor quality of a book of poetry (“Di magni, horribilem et sacrum libellum!”[14] (14.12)) and then accuses a schoolteacher named Sulla of penning the work (14.9). The neo­terics were thus a slight paradox. On the one hand they were selfless—passionate about creating literature, eager to help each other succeed, and generous with praise for their peers’ success. On the other, they were viciously exclusive—consistently inflating their egos by mocking and snubbing others’ works. More than anything, this dynamic supports Lyne’s conclusion that there was certainly some cohesive group of poets writing during the late Republic. They respected each other and wel­comed interaction, but theirs was an elite club that derided outsiders in addition to excluding them.

           In 1852, just after getting his hands on a copy of Nathaniel Haw­thorne’s “The House of the Seven Gables,” Herman Melville wrote his friend the author with praise and the wish “Hawthorne is a sweet flower; may it flourish in every hedge.”[15] His words are similar to praise Catullus offers Cinna in poem 95, “…cana diu saecula pervoluent” (95.5-6).[16] Soli­darity among artists, it seems, is characteristic of no one group or era. Whatever reasons cause the phenomenon (an ability to communicate bet­ter with colleagues, a desire for intelligent feedback, a source of fresh ideas), the phenomenon itself is a privilege for scholars who study artistic groups and movements. Assuming that no people understands certain minds better than like minds, it is fortunate that like minds can play off each other and document the exchange in letters, diaries, and polished works. The incomplete Catullan and other neoteric corpora may make it impossible to ever fully understand what it meant to be a neoteric poet, but one small textual segment scholars do have, Catullus’ real or invented exchanges with his peers certainly provides an interesting look at the group in a more personal way than simply comparing it to others.