Ancient Witches XII: Lucan's Erichtho
The Augustan
authors (Horace, Vergil, and Ovid) offered a range of literary witches, both
fair and foul, that suited the needs of Rome’s first emperor. As the
Julio-Claudian Dynasty quickly descended into tyranny and madness, the literary
witch followed. Nero’s taste-maker, Lucan, provides us with a witch that would
make his forerunner Maecenas proud. In contrast to the great Maecenas, however,
Lucan was not interested in producing Imperial propaganda. His epic, Pharsalia, and its witch, Erichtho,* are
bitter indictments of the regime: the opening salvo of a failed assassination
plot which cost Lucan and his famous uncle, Seneca, their lives.**
Lucan’s Pharsalia has posed an interpretive
problem since its publication.*** As befitting a poem about civil war (the war
between Julius Caesar and Pompey), the language is tortured and often
counter-intuitive. It fixates on the mangled bodies of the soldiers that mirror
Rome’s mangled body politic. Lucan frequently interrupts the action to
castigate his historical characters, Caesar, Cato, and Pompey.° Even the
introduction, with its seeming praise of the emperor Nero, can be read as a
backwards insult.°° Many modern scholars consider the book an anti-epic meant
as a resounding rebuttal of the Aeneid,
Vergil’s epic eulogy to the Julio-Claudians.°°° Into this context steps one of
ancient literature’s most sinister witches, Erichtho.
Erichtho, who
appears in Book VI, is a sort of anti-Sibyl who consults the dead on behalf of
Pompey’s cowardly son.◊ Indeed, Sextus’ frantic desire to know the future
before an important battle is more analogous to the episode of Saul and the
Witch of Endor in I Samuel than any of the Greco-Roman witches we have
considered. Going far beyond the sparse account in I Samuel, however, Lucan’s
Erichtho desecrates the dead. She bites the faces off dead bodies and procures
their tongues (when she isn’t copulating with them). In order to practice her
necromancy, she requires the dead body of a soldier, which she temporarily
reanimates as a mouth-piece for its departed soul. Rather than reveal the
glories of Rome to come, as in the case of Vergil’s Sybil, Erichtho can only
forecast the doom of Pompey, and with him the death of the republican
government. The scene, as written, is riveting, making Erichtho perhaps the
most immediately compelling ancient witch, but the part she plays in the larger
work is one of disorder and unalleviated nihilism. This is the witch as
destroyer, an agent of darkness without sympathy or redeeming value. Though the
Malleus Maleficarum lay over a
thousand years in the future, Lucan’s Erichtho presented Europe with a witch it
could unreservedly hate.◊◊
*famously
depicted in fuzzy pink bunny slippers as “Thessaly” in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman
**A Companion to Ancient Epic. John Miles
Foley, ed. Malden: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2009. pp. 492, 501.
***Ibid., pp.
494-496.
°Ibid., pp. 496-499.
°°Ibid., p. 492,
501.
°°°Ibid., p.
500.
◊Ibid., pp. 495,
500.
◊◊see also the
Christian Church’s evolving need for an enemy that could be “divinely hated” in:
Witchcraft, Charles Williams. Berkeley:
Apocryphile Press, 2005. p. 37. Nota bene: the Augustan poet Horace, who we
have only mentioned in cursory fashion thus far, also presents grotesque
witches that he expects his readers to hate (as an example of the scholarly
discussion, see: “Canidia in the Epodes
of Horace”, C. E. Manning Mnemosyne New, Vol. 23, Fasc. 4 (1970),
pp. 393-40.)
Nota Bene: This post first appeared on Eidos at Patheos. All rights reserved by the author.
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