‘Vox tua nempe mea est’ Dialogues with the dead in Roman funerary commemoration Maureen Carroll I, who speak without a voice by means of the inscribed marble, was born in wonderful Tralles, travelled often from Asia via all the houses of Baiae for the hot springs and the joys of the sea. This honourable and unforgotten life of mine was commemorated with this monument by my heir with 50,000, according to my wishes, setting up the last temple to my Manes, for my ashes and for the obsequies. But you who read this, I beseech you to call to me: Socrates, son of Aristomachus, may the earth lie lightly on you! CIL XIV 480 [Ostia]Catalogue B166S1* INTRODUCTION In Roman funerary commemoration, the dead could communicate with the living through the medium of the words inscribed on their monuments, provided these words were read. The reader had a crucial role to play in the transmission of information and sentiments, and this is especially the case with the epitaphs that are referred to in this study as ‘speaking’ stones. These addressed the traveller, stranger or passer-by, asked him to read the text, and often implored him to speak a greeting to the person whose tomb the monument marked. Although there is little doubt that Romans could and often did read some documents silently, it was customary to read epigraphic texts aloud. In reading funerary inscriptions and uttering the words whilst reading them, the reader lent his voice to the deceased and engaged in a verbal dialogue with the dead. The invitation to interact with the words of the deceased was extended not only to surviving friends and family, but also, and even primarily, to people who had never known the commemorated while they were alive. Although ‘speaking’ sepulchral inscriptions have been of some interest to scholars exploring a range of themes expressed in Roman funerary commemoration, there has been no systematic collection of such epitaphs, nor, I think, has their significance truly been appreciated (Purdie 1935; Lattimore 1942; Häusle 1980; Koortbojian 1996; Bodel 2001). Literary and linguistic aspects have represented the main focus of studies of the ‘speaking’ stones, especially those with inscriptions written in verse, but this is a rather narrow and one-sided approach to the material (Lissberger 1934; Hoogma 1959; Popova 1976; Cugusi 1996; Sblendorio Cugusi 2005). The data collected and presented here consist of 554 funerary inscriptions in Latin gathered by examining all CIL volumes as well as other corpora, epigraphic journals and collections of verse inscriptions. The earliest ‘speaking’ stones in *translations throughout are by M. Carroll unless otherwise indicated; see Appendix S1 ... for Latin & Greek sources 38 MAUREEN CARROLL Latin date to the late second and early first century BC, the latest to the sixth century AD. The vast majority of these (300) are from Italy, and of those 120 are from Rome. The Iberian peninsula has produced 115, followed by Africa with 53, North-East Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean with 46, the four Gauls with 26, the German provinces with 13, and finally Britain with a single stone. Numerically these represent a very small proportion of the total known Roman funerary inscriptions (Saller & Shaw 1984: 124); despite their modest numbers, however, the ‘speaking’ inscriptions are of considerable importance in illuminating how the reading of monumental texts depended on the visual, vocal and oral senses. In this study, the collected data are used to explore how the survival of the memory of the deceased in epigraphy required active participation by the viewer in voiced communication, and how the response of the living was thought to bridge the gap between them and the dead in a symbolic way. It is an essential part of this investigation to explore the ability of individuals to read and write, especially since epitaphs that required reading and a verbal response also appear in regions that traditionally are ranked rather low in literacy rates. The information recorded in the inscriptions is used to assess the status of those who set up such monuments and those who were given them in order to gain some insight into the significance of at least appearing to be literate in certain sectors of society. Finally, we can explore the extent to which this act of speaking or reciting the words inscribed in stone may have been perceived as performative magic. MONUMENTS, AUDIENCE AND MEMORY Tombs in all their above-ground forms were among the most public monuments of Roman settlements across the empire. Whoever approached a Roman town by any of the main overland roads passed through a suburban community of the dead marked and remembered by tombs inscribed with all manner of personal information (Hatt 1951; D’Ambrosio & De Caro 1983; Kockel 1983; Eisner 1986; von Hesberg & Zanker 1987; Baldassare et al. 1996; Heinzelmann 2000; Heinzelmann et al. 2001; Fig. 1). The road-side location of burial grounds Fig. 1 View of the tombs along the road outside the Porta Nocera at Pompeii Photo: author Vox tua nempe mea est 39 on the outskirts of towns, often in close proximity to suburban houses and shops, allowed these funerary monuments to be seen and visited by many. In the Roman countryside the cemeteries associated with villas and farms also stood in visible and busy places along the well-travelled country roads or in close proximity to the inhabited buildings of the estates. Such locations facilitated frequent contact, and it was the visitors to the tombs – either family and friends or complete strangers – who kept the memory of the dead alive. This explains why the poet Ovid, banned by Augustus to the Black Sea, feared he would die in exile sed sine funeribus caput hoc, sine honore sepulcri, indeploratum barbara terra teget Ovid Tr. 3.3.45–46 without a funeral, without a tomb, unmourned, unhonoured, in a barbarian land He would have been robbed of the company and participation of those who could have visited his tomb to ensure his remembrance. The more intimate and enclosed burial communities of the Roman columbaria, in which the cremated remains of dozens or even hundreds of slaves, freedmen and individuals of modest means were kept, were far less visible to passers-by, but even they attracted an audience (Buonocore 1984; Nielsen 1996; Hope 1997; Caldelli & Ricci 1999). Visitors paying their respects to their loved ones usually would find who they were looking for with the aid of inscribed or painted labels under the urn niches, but they would also see many epitaphs belonging to individuals who were strangers. Whether located in suburban or in rural settings, or integrated in smaller burial groups, the tombs, their images, and all their texts assumed and addressed an audience. Ovid, as we have seen, lamented the lack of audience on foreign soil. The ‘speaking’ stones reach out to the viewer by various means. They often refer to the reader as “whoever you might be” (quisquis es, quicumque…), suggesting that their intended audience could be just about anyone who drew near (Catalogue A19; A48; A55; A111; A114; B38; B84; B147; B153; C91; D11). The frequent appeal to the traveller is something that really only makes sense if the inscription is on a monument seen regularly by those on roads into towns. The tombs that stood out in the open on the main thoroughfares can contain specific topographical references to their road-side location. The inscription of Gaius Ateilius Euhodus, for example, asks “Stranger, stop and behold this heap of earth on your left” S2(Catalogue A5). This inscription from the first half of the first century BC was, in fact, found associated with a tomb on the left side of the Via Appia as one exited the city. Gnaeus Gargonius Pallinus was buried on the Via Flaminia near Fulginium, and his epitaph runs: “You who pass by on the Via Flaminia, stop and read this!” (tu qui via Flaminea transis resta ac relege) (Catalogue B161). The inscriptions in the closed chambers of the columbaria around Rome, in contrast, are never addressed to the passer-by. The ‘speaking’ stones of the columbarium only address the stranger (hospes), viz., quicumque legis titulum (“whoever reads the inscription”). Roman legal texts define a memorial (monumentum) as a means of preserving memory and as a vehicle for representing the “essence and dignity” (substantias et dignitas) of an individual (Digest 11.7.2.6; 35.127). In Roman literature there are many references to the commemorative role of tombs and inscriptions (Pliny the Elder, HN 34.17; Pliny the Younger, Ep. 6.10.5, 9.19.3; Petronius, Sat. 71). The poet Propertius, for example, makes it quite clear in his Elegies that he viewed his tomb as “the stones that guard [his] memory” (lapides cana veni memores) (Prop. 2.13.40). What communicated to the audience of the tombs was the inscription (titulus) of a few words, a verse, or a (sometimes lengthy) poem (Fig. 2). The inscribed texts were thought to preserve memory for as long as they survived, that is for as long as they were not defaced by man or worn away by the weather. “In my verses you will live, however long it may be” S3, says the epitaph on a marble panel composed by the husband of Allia Potestas in Rome.1 The written words on the tombs provided information about individuals, but that was not their only role. Names, family histories, social rank, ethnic origin, careers, personal 40 MAUREEN CARROLL Fig. 2 The tombs of the freedmen Marcus Blaesius Malcio (left) and Marcus Lollius Nicia (right) with multiple inscription panels (tituli) in the Fondo Pacifico south-east of Pompeii, late first century BC – early first century ADS4 Photo: author tragedies, and emotional bonds were recorded for posterity (Carroll 2006). The texts were chosen to communicate standing within the community and to embed the deceased and the commemorators within it. Funerary monuments through their conformity could give a sense of communal identity to those who lived and died within the parameters of socially acceptable behaviour and who participated in this form of display. Furthermore, competition with others on the same social level was made possible, as was the elevation over those of lower social standing, and also the ‘correction’ of inequalities suffered in life. Some of the epitaphs on these funerary monuments were chosen by the deceased whilst still alive, others were selected by the surviving family, community or comrades. By inscribing this information, the deceased or dedicator was “addressing a future society, which he envisaged as valuing this message” (Susini 1973: 64). In many cases epitaphs were thought to provide guidance on how to live. In fact, Varro connects the word monumentum with admonere (to remind): sic monumenta quae in sepulcris, et ideo secundum viam, quo praetereuntis admoneant et se fuisse et illos esse mortalis Varro, de lingua latina, 6.49 …the monuments which are on tombs and along the road…the dead remind the passer-by that both they themselves, and those passers-by as well, are mortal Epitaphs therefore tell us how people wanted themselves or those close to them to be remembered and how they hoped to interact with the living in the future. LITERACY AND SOCIAL STATUS In his seminal study in 1989, Harris concluded that literacy was not widespread in the Classical world. According to him, less than 10% of adult males in the western Roman provinces in the first couple of centuries AD were literate, with adult male literacy in contemporary Rome and Italy well below 20 to 30% (Harris 1989: 259, 272). If Harris’s conclusions are correct, not only would most people in the Roman world not have been able to read the inscriptions on grave monuments, they also would not have been able to give the verbal responses so important to the ‘speaking’ stones. About 40% of the ‘speaking’ Vox tua nempe mea est 41 stones examined here explicitly ask the visitor to read the text or refer to the viewer as “the reader” (lector). Sometimes the viewer is commanded to read: “Stop, traveller and read!” (resta viator et lege) (Catalogue F4). For that reason, and because Harris (1989: 221–2) devoted very little attention to funerary inscriptions, we need to consider the issue of literacy and the extent to which these texts were read and understood. Some scholars generally accept the picture painted by Harris of an absence of mass literacy and find his estimates very broadly correct (Beard 1991: 39, n. 6). But many argue that his estimates are too low and that his conclusions about the nature and function of writing are misleading. For one thing, the participation of the non-elite majority in producing and consuming texts was not given the attention it deserved, even though literacy clearly was not a preserve of the elite (Bowman 1991: 123). Indeed, Franklin (1991) demonstrated that literacy was more widespread than Harris would allow, as even labourers and whores in Roman Pompeii could write. Although Ling (2007: 88) does not concern himself with actual percentages and numbers of people who could read and write, in examining inscriptions on mosaics and paintings he paints a less bleak picture than Harris in asserting that there clearly “were enough people who were literate, if not well educated, to make the practice of inscribing worth while”. Curchin (1995: 461) argues that Harris’s method focussed on the quantity of inscriptions rather than their contents as a criterion of literacy, an approach that allowed no discussion of why people in the western provinces became literate. Beard (1991: 37) criticised Harris for seeing writing primarily as a practical tool and as a record of the spoken language, and she explored the important issue of how writing may transcend its original practical purpose. Indeed, Thomas (1992: 89) concluded that the use of writing was not dependent on simple content alone, but that symbolic, religious and visual elements also contributed to the function of the written text. As for inscriptions, Thomas demonstrated that the symbolic significance of such texts was fundamental to their existence and understanding. The very fact that funerary inscriptions were perceived by Roman society as an ideal vehicle to prolong one’s life and memory symbolically is testimony to the significance of these texts beyond the mere practical recording of data. Nevertheless, there can be no dispute that not everyone had the ability to read, and that sometimes inscriptions could only be understood with a bit of help. Consider the following epitaph of the third century AD from SulmoS5 (Catalogue B57). “Greetings, traveller, who passes on this road, your body still safe, stop and read…I ask all of you, already born or who will be born, if some mistake escapes me, I who am a barbarian by birth from Pannonia, disoriented by so many injuries and misfortunes, please pardon me, I ask you. But now I invoke the gods so that if anyone damages or violates this tomb or this inscription he may be troubled with misfortune and that in contrast good favour will be shown to whomever will have read this inscription or heard it being read and that finally they fare well for eternity those who will have read this inscription and its verses to say: May the earth lie lightly on you!….” This remarkable inscription refers to individuals reading the text or listening to someone reading it. Attention was drawn by Harris and other scholars (1989: 34–5) to people listening to reading, with a well-known wall-painting in the House of Julia Felix, of a gathering of people in front of public notices in the forum at Pompeii being interpreted as individuals reading and also listening to others reading these notices aloud (Harris 1989: 34-35; Franklin 1991: 82; Horsfall 1991: 70). This Harris (1989: 35) referred to as “second-hand literacy”. Corbier (1991: 111–12) stressed the importance of such public writing, citing papyri that record the initial vocal recitation of announcements and decrees that were subsequently written down and posted in a prominent place. Legibility was important, and these documents were written either in careful lettering on a whitened board or inscribed in marble or bronze in litterae quadratae (Bowman 1991: 121; Corbier 1991: 111–12). If public inscriptions in the towns, be they on buildings, arches, or the bases of honorific statues, prompted frequent reading and listening to reading, then the no less public and visible inscriptions on funerary monuments outside the towns also will have attracted this attention. 42 MAUREEN CARROLL Monumental writing is particularly important in considering literacy, as people, especially in urban areas, were exposed constantly to a multitude of inscriptions. Petronius (Sat. 58) makes the freedman Hermeros say that, although he was not particularly well educated or familiar with literary criticism, he did “know his lapidary letters”. In other words, he could read inscriptions or capital letters on inscriptions well enough to get by, but he had difficulty with other written documents in cursive script. Corbier (1991: 107) depicted a man like Hermeros as one who could have read all monumental inscriptions, including shop signs, election posters, and announcements for games, but who would have struggled with reading private letters or business accounts. Susini (1973: 52) suggested that public inscriptions, with their legible and carefully executed letters, would have constituted the best reading practice for those who learned to read informally, whether they were adults or children. Horsfall (1991: 62) went a step further in suggesting that people could have learned to read monumental writing by repeatedly hearing the texts being read by others, so that the words themselves would be memorised. The step from passive reception (by listening to reading) to active reading will not have been very difficult for many, once the substance of the texts was lodged in the memory (Horsfall 1991: 74–5). If some or even many people relied on listening to others reading inscriptions aloud, this indeed suggests that there was an uneven distribution of literacy, but dividing the population into ‘literate’ and ‘illiterate’ characterises the situation in terms that are too polar. A degree of ‘limited literacy’ between these two extremes certainly existed, especially in regard to monumental writing. Monumental writing of all kinds was generally very formulaic, relying on standard abbreviations for a variety of terms and expressions. IMP CAESAR (Imperator Caesar), PONT MAX (Pontifex Maximus), and COS (consul) are examples of abbreviations used repeatedly on imperial inscriptions naming emperors and their offices. Abbreviations such as IMP AUG (Imperator Augustus), PP (pater patriae) and TRIB POT (tribunicia potestas) appear regularly on Roman coins throughout the Empire. Whether or not one was literate enough to read something as complex as Latin verse, these standardised combinations of letters would Fig. 3 Epitaph of Aemilia Proculina with an abbreviated request (DIC QLSTTL) of the viewer to read and speak a greeting to the dead. Olaurum, late second-third century ADS6 (Catalogue C33) Photo: Centro CIL II Vox tua nempe mea est 43 have been widely understood because they always appear in the same contexts. Consider also the inscriptions in the cemeteries of garrison towns on the Roman frontier. Through such towns passed many soldiers and government officials, and many of the inhabitants in and around the towns were dependants of actively serving soldiers or veterans. They knew about troop types, military ranks and the nomenclature of army units. Abbreviations such as LEG (legio) or COH (cohors), followed by a number, appear over and over again in epitaphs of soldiers, and because of the familiarity of the town dwellers with things military we have reason to assume that such abbreviations generally were comprehensible to those who were literate as well as to those with limited literacy. Even in the election notices written on many walls of Pompeian buildings abbreviations are extremely common. Ligatures and single letter abbreviations abound. There is little doubt that these abbreviations were nonetheless intelligible to voters, if only on account of their constant repetition (Franklin 1991: 84). Even the names of candidates were sometimes reduced to initials in campaign posters, and possibly it was the initials that were inscribed by electors on their voting tablets (Franklin 1991: 84, n. 22). The fact that the letter-cutter knew the correct abbreviations, Curchin (1995: 467) maintains, is good evidence of a certain degree of literacy. He cites, as an example, a fairly typical Spanish funerary inscription (CIL II.2724) in which only two of the twelve words are written out completely, rather than abbreviatedS7 (D. M. Val. Rufine an. XII Lic. Anna m. pien. fil. po.). The fact that not only the letter-cutter, but also the general reader of such texts, could make sense of this writing also provides attestation of a certain degree of literacy. Woolf (1996: 28) suggested that the abbreviations of words in inscriptions might “have been read quasi-pictoriographically”. This idea has much to be said for it, especially in the context of funerary commemoration, and it is particularly relevant for many of the ‘speaking’ stones under consideration here. Frequently in epitaphs from the province of Baetica, in places such as Hispalis, Astigi, and Corduba, for example, the deceased is referred to as pius in suis or pia in suis (he/she looked after his/her own; he/she was dutiful to his/her own), followed usually by hic situs/sita est, sit tibi terra levis, but it is very rare elsewhere in Spain and virtually non-existent outside Spain.2 The complete and frequent abbreviation is P I S H S E S T T L. In addition to the standard abbreviations such as H S E and S T T L, we find more extreme examples on the ‘speaking’ stones. The request that the reader of the epitaph greet the deceased was so popular in the first and second centuries AD in Baetica that the phrase dicas/dicite qui legas/legitis sit tibi terra levis (say, you who read: may the earth lie lightly on you!) or te rogo praeteriens dicas sit tibi terra levis (I ask you in passing to say: may the earth lie lightly on you!) is often abbreviated as D Q L S T T (Fig. 3) or T R P D S T T L (Fig. 4) respectively (as examples: Catalogue C9; C18; C23; C27; C35; C37; C45), or variants thereof. The following two stelae from Astigi and Solia illustrate this particular use of abbreviations: 1 ACILIA THIA TIS ANN XXV HIC SITA EST DQLSTTL I[n fro]NTE P XXV IN AGRO P XX Here lies Acilia Thiatis, who lived 25 years. Whoever reads this, say: May the earth lie lightly on you! Frontage 25 feet, depth 20 feet (Catalogue C38) 44 MAUREEN CARROLL Fig. 4 Epitaph of Lupus Taporus with the abbreviated text (HSETRPDSTTL) asking the reader to speak a greeting. Solia, early first century AD Photo: Centro CIL II (Catalogue C62) 2 LUPUS CA MALI TAP(orus) ANN XX XV H S E TRPDS TTL Here lies Lupus Taporus, son of Camalus, who lived 35 years. I ask you in passing to say: May the earth lie lightly on you! (Catalogue C62; Fig 4) These particular abbreviations were so common in Baetican cemeteries that we must assume, I think, that they were indeed understood locally. This might well have involved the reading of such abbreviations and word fragments as ‘pictograms’, whereby one imagined the complete words and uttered them aloud whilst reading the single letters. Clearly the environment and the context in which particular inscriptions were set up were important in helping the reader to understand a text and possible abbreviations in it. D Q L S T T L or T R P D S T T L, for example, is a combination of words peculiar to the environment of a cemetery; it would never be encountered ‘out of context’ in a building inscription or a votive dedication. The contexts here give visual clues. General cognition of a text and Vox tua nempe mea est 45 Fig. 5 A series of very similar tombs built between the Augustan and Neronian periods outside the Porta Nocera at Pompeii Photo: author its meaning, therefore, may not have been necessarily dependent on the ability to read (Franklin 1991: 86). The frequency and repetitiveness with which particular formulae or abbreviations were used will also have increased the ability of people to decipher lapidary writing. In the context of the cemetery, repetition is especially common, as people built their tombs in emulation of other monuments in the same cemetery, settlement or region. One glance at a series of tombs on the north side of the road outside the Porta Nocera at Pompeii makes this abundantly clear (Fig. 5). A passage in the Digest (35.1.27), for example, refers to a man who wrote in his will that he wished to have a monument “like that of Publius Septimius Demetrius on the Via Salaria” (in Rome) which was “the model (exemplum) for his own memorial”. Texts repeated over and over again in the same community clearly testify to the practice of using specific inscriptions as exempla. In the island community of Palma, for example, 13 of the total assemblage of 26 gravestones relevant to this discussion contain a greeting, 12 of them including vale or have et vale in their message (Catalogue C92-104). In a discrete and intimate community such as that of a columbarium the influence of epitaphs on each other might be even greater. Epitaphs in the Monumentum Statiliorum outside Rome, for example, make regular use of the ave/salve/vale greeting, because they were all modelled on each other (Catalogue A21; A22; A23; A24). There is a sense of ‘sameness’ and ‘conformity’ here. Ramsay MacMullen (1982) drew attention to the “sense of audience” that epigraphic texts displayed in public places in general elicited. In the context of funerary commemoration, this was an immediate, local audience involving people who saw the tombs often and who understood and responded to the language of the tombs and what it represented visually and ideologically. The conventions of form and the funerary context granted the stones a fundamental comprehensibility (Koortbojian 1996: 219). Inscriptions also played an active role in the reproduction and negotiation of social status and relations, and a study of the ‘speaking’ stones allows us to recognise trends in the social class and standing of the commissioners and recipients of these monuments. In Rome the majority of those named in these epitaphs appear to be freedmen (53%), followed by free-born individuals with 15% and slaves with 13%; 18% could be either free- 46 MAUREEN CARROLL born or freedmen. The fact that freedmen dominate in the body of ‘speaking’ stones, and in funerary epitaphs in general, reflects the desire of members of this sector of society to seek legitimacy through funerary display, a phenomenon that has been noted in several studies on commemoration (Taylor 1961; Treggiari 1969; Heinzelmann 2000: 104; Hope 2001: 3435; Carroll 2006: 247–53). The high percentage of slaves and freedmen in Rome and its port towns is not matched elsewhere in the empire, and this sector of society, as a result, is not so strongly represented in funerary commemoration outside the capital and its periphery. The surviving ‘speaking’ stones indicate that in the rest of Italy free-born individuals are in the majority with 35%, followed by freedmen and freedwomen (32%), 22% individuals of uncertain status, and about 10% slaves. Free-born individuals dominate in the Iberian peninsula with 40%, followed by freedmen (28%), individuals of unknown status (18%) and slaves (14%). The proportion of epitaphs of free-born individuals is considerably higher in Germany (54%), Africa (54%), North-East Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean (53%), and Gaul (46%). None of the commissioners of the ‘speaking’ stones is of very high social rank, and certainly none is of senatorial status. The highest ranking free-born individuals are a man who had risen to equestrian status in Madaura, an aedilis, duumvir and flamen of Liber Pater in the same city, and an aedilis from Beneventum (Catalogue G33; G36; B45). All are selfcommemorating. The decurio Publius Hostilius Tertinus of Verona was the dedicator of his son’s inscription, and a decurio and flamen from Colonia Apulum in Dacia is named as the dedicator of a monument to his freedwoman wife (Catalogue B11; F23). Lower ranking free-born individuals include a crier and theatre usher from Aquinum (Catalogue B107), priests from Gades and Zarai (Catalogue C43; G25), a ship-builder from Arelate (Catalogue D8), a paymaster from Florentia (Catalogue B136), a surgeon from Lucus (Catalogue B65), a doctor from Vietri (Catalogue B79), a slave dealer from Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium (Catalogue E19), and a gladiator from Corduba (Catalogue C55). The free-born, especially in Germany, North-East Europe, and Africa, also include actively serving and retired soldiers of the lower ranks and NCOs (trumpeter, water engineer, centurion) (Catalogue A105; C16; C106; E12; E17; F13; F17; F33; F34; F42; F45; G19). Parents who were once slaves take the opportunity to commemorate their free-born children who, unlike the parents, were socially acceptable. Thus, a freeborn aedilis and duumvir at Vitolano was the recipient of an inscription commissioned by his freedman father (Catalogue B51). The freedmen class commissioning ‘speaking’ inscriptions include merchants and craftsmen, an architect, poets, several priests of the imperial cult (seviri augustales), and a livestock breeder (pecuarius) (Catalogue A35; B155; B156; B162; B163; B164; B165; C92; E14). Finally, slaves as well as imperial slaves are represented on ‘speaking’ stones throughout the Empire (Catalogue A39; A107; C25; E16; F9; F41; G9). We cannot be sure how many of these individuals were literate, although we can safely assume that at least the magistrates and soldiers (especially the officers) were. In Roman art, scenes of men and women writing or keeping accounts or holding book scrolls is an image chosen to suggest or convey the impression that the depicted individual was educated and well versed in reading and writing and also entitled to draw up a will. Similarly, the act of setting up a monument with an inscription may have been a symbolic one that acknowledged the power and status attached to appearing to be literate, whether or not the person in possession of an epitaph truly had the ability to write or read the text himself. A recent study of another body of writing in a different medium—inscriptions on mosaics and paintings – in Roman Britain also clearly demonstrated the social importance of appearing to be educated (Ling 2007). In some ways, the owners of monuments with texts may have been displaying their intellectual pretensions and playing with the literate abilities of their audience (Koortbojian 1996: 218). This certainly appears to be the case with a number of inscriptions that are inscribed with a sort of word game that required an ability to read and solve a puzzle. In one epitaph of this type set up in the second century AD by Trebius Basileus in Rome the deceased plays with the text to attract the reader’s attention to his wife’s name: “Touched from the very first word behold the verses on this inscription, I beg you, and read them willingly if you want to know the name of someone who deserved it. You Vox tua nempe mea est 47 will find the name of my dear wife”S8 (Catalogue A94). Her name is not written in the text, but as an acrostic, the first letter of each line giving one letter of her name, Veturia Grata.3 EPIGRAPHS AND EPIGRAMS It is important to ask how much of the desired dialogue at the grave-side can be attributed to the selectors of the text – the deceased, or their families – particularly considering the issue of literacy. Harris (1989: 222) credits the skilled mason with having contributed to the formulation of the text of an epitaph, but there were many different ways of composing an epitaph. It could be composed by the dedicator himself; he could dictate a text that he knew from poetry; he could select from a collection the letter-cutter had; he could choose a readymade stone from the workshop; or a combination of all of these. As we have seen above, the customer also could be inspired by epitaphs he had seen on other funerary monuments in his community, choosing a text that conformed to local practice. According to numerous epitaphs, the verse inscription to be cut might be composed by the deceased or later by a relative, friend, or patron. Alexander, a doctor in Rome, credited his wife with having composed his epitaphS9, and a man from CarsulaeS10 named himself the composer of an epitaph for his wife.4 A man from TusculumS11 in the second century AD asks the passer-by to read his inscription, in particular to read the “verse that I dictated and had written down” (Catalogue B178). Lucius Praecilius Fortunatus, in making provisions for his death in Cirta in the third century, also wrote his own inscription.5 Antigonus Vitalis, an imperial slave from CarthageS12 who set up his own tomb and wrote his own epitaph advised the viewer to do the same and to “set up your tomb while you are alive, if you are smart” (Catalogue G9). The centenarian Titus Flavius PudensS13, a father and grandfather from Numidian Madaura, claimed to have written his epitaph for the benefit of his descendants.6 This practice of composing epitaphs for oneself or others continued into late antiquity. Sidonius Apollinaris wrote to his nephew around AD 467, asking him to have a new stone slab inscribed for the tomb of Sidonius’ grandfather. The verse inscription to be used was composed by Sidonius himself (Ep. 3.12; Handley 2003: 25–6). In many cases the components of epitaphs will have been taken by the letter-cutter from manuals or collections of formulae or books of poetry. This is the only explanation for the inscription from Annaba that reads hic iacet corpus pueri nominandi (here lies the body of the boy…. insert name) (AE 1931: 112). The letter-cutter carried out his work without noticing that he was to insert a specific name in the space provided. The use of manuals or collections of poetic themes is also supported by the existence of identical, or almost identical, verses inscribed on monuments that were found in different places. Thus we have an inscription of a retired Praetorian guardsman dating to shortly after AD 29 in Rome that has the same verses as a roughly contemporary one for a legionary soldier in Dalmatian Burnum, and there is also an epitaph in Tarraco that is identical to that on another stone of the second century in Rome.7 Literature also may have played a role in the dispersal of epitaph texts (Lissberger 1934; Hoogma 1959; Cugusi 1996). Earlier Greek epitaphs speaking to the traveller or stranger inspired a literary genre that was both popular in Hellenistic Greece and influential in Roman funerary epigraphy. This was the Greek sepulchral epigram, collections of which were compiled in the Roman period and are known to us as the Anthologia Graeca (Paton 1916-1918; Beckby 1965-68). But Latin epitaphs copied from tombs also found their way into literary collections of epigrams. Similarities exist between epigrams in such collections and the texts actually found inscribed on tombs, as the two following examples illustrate.8 Aulus Gellius (NA 1.24.4) recorded the epitaph of the poet Pacuvius (died 130 BC). His epitaph is of the type that speaks to the reader: ADULESCENS TAM ETSI PROPERAS TE HOC SAXUM ROGAT UT SESE ASPICIAS DEINDE QUOD SCRIPTUM EST LEGAS HIC SUNT POETAE PACUVI MARCI SITA OSSA HOC VOLEBAM NESCITUS NE ESSES VALE 48 MAUREEN CARROLL Young man, although you hurry, this stone asks that you look upon it and read what is written there. Here lie the bones of the poet Marcus Pacuvius. I wished that you should not be unaware of this. Fare well! A very similar version of the text actually was used for the marble tablet of a funerary monument in Rome that dates to the late second century BC (Catalogue A13). ADULESCENS TAM ET SI PROPERAS HIC TE SAXSOLUS ROGAT UT SE ASPICIAS DEINDE UT QUOD SCRIPTUM EST LEGAS HIC SUNT OSSA MAECI LUCI SITA PILOTIMI VASCULARI HOC EGO VOLEBAM NESCIUS NI ESSES VALE Young man, although you hurry, this little stone asks that you look upon it and read what is written there. Here lie the bones of Maecus Lucius P(h)ilotimus, a maker of table-wares. I wished that you should not be unaware of this. Fare well! The epitaph of Pacuvius was supposedly composed by the writer himself, but it is unclear whether he really composed the text in the late second century BC, or whether later authors invented it. Equally, the text could have been borrowed from contemporary Latin inscriptions on actual funerary monuments. Catullus in Carmen 101 expresses sentiments and uses phrases in the first century BC that are familiar in funerary verses. He writes of speaking to the ashes of his brother at the grave-side, weeping copiously there, and taking leave of his brother by saying “hail and farewell” (ave atque vale). Certainly Propertius, in describing grave-side scenes in his Elegies, seems to be quoting from the epitaphs of contemporary funerary monuments in the late first century BC. He speaks of the verbal greeting “may the earth lie lightly on you”, for example, and he has Maecenas pass his grave, asking him to stop, shed a tear, and say a few words in tribute to the dead poet (1.17.24, 2.1.75-78).9 Martial Fig. 6 Inscribed grave altar of Claudia Homonoea asking the viewer to stop and read the words written on the stone, Rome, mid-first century AD (Catalogue A46). The epitaph concludes (not shown) with a command to the reader to greet the dead verbally Photo: author Vox tua nempe mea est 49 also wrote epigrams that appear to have been based on contemporary funerary monuments in the late first century AD, some of which containing passages such as “you that read these lines, give tears to my tomb”S14, or “hastening to weep, you must not here complain of life’s short span”S15, and other expressions familiar in funerary epigraphy (5.34, 6.76, 7.96, 9.29, 10.60, 10.71, 11.91). His thirteenth epigram has in common with the earlier cited epitaph of Gnaeus Gargonius Pallinus from Fulginium (Catalogue B161) that the reader of the text is envisaged as someone travelling on the Via Flaminia (quisquis Flaminiam teris, viator…). At any rate, collections of Greek and Latin epigrams deriving from funerary monuments easily could have been in the possession of stonemasons or been consulted by those who wanted to commission a funerary inscription. ADDRESSING THE READER The focus of this study are those Latin inscriptions that call out to the reader and instrumentalise him as a participant in a dialogue, and here we can now explore these inscriptions more fully. The viewer, who can be a traveller (viator), stranger (hospes), or passer-by (praeteriens), is addressed, asked to stop, read and reflect on the brief or lengthy details of the dead person’s life, and to utter a spoken greeting to the person whose name the stone preserves before he resumes his journey (as examples: Catalogue A35; A37; A44; A55; C65; C86; C106; E17; G20; G21).10 Seventy percent of the 554 epitaphs under discussion have this structure (Fig. 6). This format ultimately has its origins in Archaic and Classical Greece, as is evident by texts on gravestones such as “Greetings, passer-by! I lie low in death. Come and read who of men is buried here…”.11 Perhaps the most famous of the Greek memorial inscriptions that ‘spoke’ to the stranger is the one that was composed by the lyric poet Simonides of Keos and put up to commemorate the Spartans who were killed to the last man by the Persians at Thermopylae in 480 BC: “Tell the Spartans, passer-by, here, obediently, we lie” (Herodotus 7.228)S16. This kind of inscription persisted in the Greek-speaking world well into the Hellenistic and Roman periods, and it was clearly a major source of inspiration for the Latin epitaphs of the kind discussed here. Unlike in the Greek world, however, Roman ‘speaking’ stones using this device are far more widespread geographically and they do not appear to have been the type of monument chosen by the elite. One of the earliest speaking epitaphs in Rome, dating to the late second or early first century BC, is that of Olus Granius (Catalogue A1). It addresses the stranger and relays a few details about the life and character of the deceased. ROGAT ET RESISTAS HOSPES T[e] HIC TACITUS LAPIS DUM OSTENDIT QUOD MANDAUIT QUOIUS UMBRAM TE[git] PUDENTIS HOMINIS FRUGI CUM MAGNA FIDE PRECONIS OLI GRANI SUNT OSSA HEIC SITA TANTUM EST HOC VOLUIT NESCIUS NE ESSES VALE A GRANIUS M L STABILIO PRAECO This mute stone asks you, stranger, to stop so it can reveal what has been entrusted to it by him whose shadow it covers. The bones of a chaste, careful and very loyal man, the auctioneer Olus Granius, are buried here. That is all. I wished that you should not be unaware of this. Farewell! Aulus Granius Stabilio, freedman of Marcus, auctioneer. Another early speaking stone dates to the late second century BC, and it adorned the tomb of Marcus Caicilius (Fig. 7) on the Via Appia outside Rome (Catalogue A8). We learn nothing about Caicilius, apart from the fact that he was clearly concerned to have his epitaph read by strangers. 50 MAUREEN CARROLL Fig. 7 Epitaph of Marcus Caicilius addressing the stranger, Rome, late second century BC (Catalogue A8) Photo: author HOC EST FACTUM MONUMENTUM MAARCO CAICILIO HOSPES GRATUM EST QUOM APUD MEAS RESTITISTEI SEEDES BENE REM GERAS ET VALEAS DORMIAS SINE QURA This is the completed monument of Marcus Caicilius. I thank you, stranger, that you stop and linger near my dwelling for a while. May you live well, be happy and sleep without a care. Here we have, already fully developed, the classic structure of such speaking stones in Latin that, with some variations, continued in use throughout the Imperial period. Occasionally the text of the early epitaphs dismisses the reader rather abruptly once he has read the message. The epitaph of Claudia in Rome asks the stranger in the late second century BC to stop and read, but once that has been done, he is told: “That’s it. Now, go!” (dici abei)(Catalogue A9). Manlia Sabina’s epitaph in Trebula Mutuesca dismisses the reader with “Now go, stranger, live! Death will come”S17 (Catalogue B70). From the early first century BC, however, inscriptions addressing the reader begin to expect him not simply to read the text and then leave, but to engage actively with the dead before moving on. They can conclude with a request or a plea that the reader say, in parting, “may the earth lie lightly on you!” (sit tibi terra levis) (Catalogue A5). Latin funerary inscriptions with the sit tibi terra levis formula, either written in full or abbreviated S T T L, have a wide distribution throughout the empire. A few examples will suffice here to illustrate their format on the ‘speaking’ stones. EUCHARIS LICINIAE L DOCTA ERODITA OMNES ARTES VIRGO VIXIT AN XIIII HEUS OCCULO ERRANTE QUEI ASPICIS LETI DOMUS MORARE GRESSUM ET TITULUM NOSTRUM PERLEGE… ROGO UT DISCEDENS TERRAM MIHI DICAS LEVEM Eucharis, freedwoman of Licinia, learned, skilled in all the arts, a virgin, who lived 14 years. You whose eye has happened upon this house of death, linger a little bit, behold and read our inscription……I ask you in parting to say that the earth may rest lightly on me (Catalogue A7) Vox tua nempe mea est 51 DIS MANIBUS ABASCANTUS CAESAR(is) N(ostri) SER(vus) VILIC FORTUNATAE CONIUGI BENE MERENTI FECIT VIX(it) ANNIS XXX QUISQUE MEUM TIT ULUM STAT LEGERIT ET DICIT SIT TIBI TERRA LEVIS To the spirits of the dead. Abascantus, slave of our emperor, overseer, set this up for his deserving wife Fortunata, who lived 30 years. Whoever stops and reads my inscription, say: May the earth lie lightly on you (Catalogue B109) C CAMERIUS CLARANUS MENSUM XI H S E TE ROGO PRAETERIENS DICAS STTL Gaius Camerius Claranus. He lived 11 months. Here he lies. I ask you, in passing, to say: May the earth lie lightly on you (Catalogue C5) The ‘speaking’ stones are often melancholic, especially when they commemorate the life of someone who died too young. They sometimes depict the deceased as resigned to his fate, however regrettable, but they are very rarely sarcastic or bitter.12 However they all depict the deceased as desperate to be remembered and to communicate with someone. Lattimore (1942: 243) sensed their “almost frantic reaching out for some connection with the living”. Perhaps for that reason the traveller was often cajoled, begged, bribed, tricked or threatened into stopping and reading the text, as one could not rely on the natural curiosity of the viewer. Offering rest and relaxation was one method of catching the reader’s attention. He is asked not to “be in such a hurry, take some time, stop and read…” by the text of an epitaph in RomeS18 (Catalogue A2). Tired, dusty and thirsty, he is enticed to slow down, rest and read the epitaph of Publius Atinius, set up at Val Bona in northern ItalyS19 (Catalogue B22). An epitaph from Hispellum invites him to “rest in the green grass. Don’t hurry away when death begins to talk to you”S20 (Catalogue B149). The twenty-four-year-old Gaius Clodius Paulinus from Forum Livium asks: “When you are passing by here, rest for a little while. Why are you in such a hurry? No time is lost if you read…I beseech you, read gladly, and read again; don’t let this get you down, my friend!”S21 (Catalogue B126). Being thanked and offered a reward was another incentive for a passer-by to read an inscription. The family of Titus Flavius Secundus in Cillium wished the reader of the epitaph on their second-century mausoleum many happy years and all good things (Catalogue G3). The parents of the two-year-old Marcus Aurelius Donatus in Rome composed an inscription that blessed the reader: “Live, stay healthy, give and receive love until your fated day!” (Catalogue A49)S22. An epitaph of the first century AD from Brindisium wished the stranger well, and closed with the hope that there may always “be money in your bag, if you do not despise this stone, but rather value it!” (Catalogue B39)S23. Curiosity is aroused by posing questions or tasks to the reader, as is the case with an epitaph of the first century BC from Eporedia: “Stranger, stop and behold this tomb…You ask what name? Here it comes: Salvia! Live, stranger, hopefully happier than me” (Catalogue B31)S24. A Milanese epitaph hopes to arouse the interest of the reader: “If you ask whose bones lie in this grave, read these little verses. It will be revealed to you shortly” (Catalogue B23)S25. “Whoever is curious and wants to know” about the deceased could do so by reading the second-century epitaph of Gellia Mammosa in Madaura (Catalogue G34)S26. Two adolescents are commemorated in an epitaph in Rome with: “Whoever you are, traveller, fix your gaze on this poor sight and read what name is contained in this epitaph” (Catalogue A44)S27. There is 52 MAUREEN CARROLL a remarkable inscription of this type on the tomb of the freedman Publius Vesonius Phileros in Pompeii (Catalogue B120). After Phileros erected this mausoleum for himself, his patroness Vesonia and his friend Marcus Orfellius Faustus in the second quarter of the first century AD, Phileros and Faustus clearly fell out with each other. Phileros then went to the trouble of attaching a secondary inscription to denounce his former friend and vent his anger for all to see (Fig. 8): Fig. 8 Secondary inscription attached to the tomb of Publius Vesonius Phileros whose text denouncing his friend is addressed to the “stranger”, Pompeii, first half first century AD (Catalogue B120) Photo: author HOSPES PAULLISPER MORARE SI NON EST MOLESTUM ET QUID EVITES COGNOSCE AMICUM HUNC QUEM SPERAVERAM MI ESSE AB EO MIHI ACCUSATO RES SUBIECTI ET IUDICIA INSTAURATA DEIS GRATIAS AGO ET MEAE INNOCENTIAE OMNI MOLESTIA LIBERATUS SUM QUI NOSTRUM MENTITUR EUM NEC DI PENATES NEC INFERI RECIPIANT Stranger, stay a little, if it is not too much trouble and learn what to avoid. This man whom I had hoped was my friend, I am forsaking: a case was maliciously brought against me; I was charged and legal proceedings were instituted; I gave thanks to the gods and to my innocence, I was freed from all distress. May neither the household gods nor the gods below receive the one who misrepresented our affairs. Many texts attempt to make the reader feel pity, particularly those on the numerous stones that were set up for individuals whose death appeared tragic. Lucius Caesennius Magnus set up such a stele to his young daughter in Volsinii: “Traveller, if you read this wondering what this place is, wanting to know what this is all about, read my inscription and learn about a wonderful girl whom fate robbed of life” (Catalogue B140)S28. The reader is often asked to read and “see how little life granted me” or “how short a time was given me to live”, and in sympathy he is asked to shed tears (Catalogue A33; A52; A59; A69; A91; B100; B104; B135; B148; C60; E20). The child Nome from Hispalis is to be pitied, and the reader of her epitaph who “feels even a little for the life described here” is asked to say “May the earth lie lightly on you!” (Catalogue C22)S29. The gravestone of the twenty-eight-year-old Paulla, set up by her father in Mogontiacum in the first century AD, reads: “Stranger, if you want to know the circumstances of this grave, read this, because the cause of death was a sad one” (Catalogue E 15; Fig. 9). These circumstances, unfortunately, are not explained in the remaining inscription. More information on the sufferings of a young chariot racer in Spain is contained in his epitaph of the second century AD in Tarraco: “Searing pains burned all my inner organs and Vox tua nempe mea est 53 [excerpt] H S E (h)OSPES SI VACU(u)M EST TUMULI COG NOSCERE CASSUS PERLEGE NAM MO RTIS CAUSSA DOLENDA FUUIT (Catalogue E15) Fig. 9 Epitaph of Paulla with a tale of woe addressed to the “traveller” and asking any “young man” passing by for a verbal greeting, Mainz, first half first century AD (Cat. E15) Photo: Rheinisches Landesmuseum, Mainz no healing hand could save me”. His epitaph concludes with a plea: “Traveller, I beg you to toss flowers on my grave!” (Catalogue C108)S29. As late as the fifth century epitaphs attempt to evoke pity. Iulius Victor’s epitaph of 434 AD from Mechera-Sfa says: “Read and grieve!” (Catalogue G53). The reader also could be advised by the deceased. The epitaph of the shipbuilder Quintus Caelius from Ausonia urges: “Stranger, stop and if it is not too much trouble read. Do not annoy yourself. I advise you to drink mulled wine! Death is your fate. Farewell!” (Catalogue B106)S30. An epitaph in Puteoli encourages the reader to live life to the fullest, “because death is swiftly approaching!” (Catalogue B90)S31. Pompeius Catussa, a builder in Lugdunum, offers the following rather melancholic advice in the third century AD: “You who read this, go bathe in the baths of Apollo, as I used to do with my wife. I wish I still could” (Catalogue E2)S32. The funerary inscription of the forty-five-year-old soldier Titus Flaminius who served in the first century AD in the fourteenth legion at Wroxeter instructs the visitor as follows: “I did my service, and now am here. Read this and be either more or less fortunate in your lifetime. The gods prohibit you from the wine-grape and water when you enter Tartarus. Live honourably while your star grants you time for life’” (Catalogue H1)S33. Flavius Agricola in Rome addressed the visitor through his third-century epitaph: “Friends, who read this, listen to my advice: mix wine, tie the garlands around your head, drink deep. And do not deny pretty girls the sweets of love. When death comes, earth and fire consume everything” (Catalogue A57)S34. The passer-by who did not stop to read the inscription was deemed to have shown a lack of respect, and could be threatened. The epitaph of a group of freedmen in Capena reads: “Hail traveller, come here and rest a little. You refuse and say no? You’ll have to come back here anyway!” (Catalogue B141)S35. Here the text refers not only the traveller’s return journey, but also his inevitable death and burial in a similar tomb. The epitaph of Gaius Pirrius in Mandela hopes that “whoever hurrying by sees our inscription saying something good or 54 MAUREEN CARROLL bad, may he experience the same!” (Catalogue B179)S36. If damage is done to the tomb, the epitaph can curse the desecrator. Gaius Maenius Cimber hoped that he who did no harm in the first century AD to his tomb in Rome might rest in peace, “but whoever damages this grave may he be received neither by the heavenly gods nor the infernal gods and may the earth lie heavily on him!” (Catalogue A27)S37. Having attracted the attention of the passer-by, the owner of the inscription could rely on his text being read and on it prompting the reader to respond to its sentiments and commands. The response of the reader involved voiced communication, as the following texts make clear. UTTERING SOUNDS AND LISTENING TO VOICES In Roman antiquity, people could and did read silently in some situations, especially if they were dealing with documents such as books and letters (Knox 1968; Gavrilov 1997; Burnyeat 1997; contra Balogh 1927). Voicing the words in this context might have been perceived as “a distraction to thought” (Burnyeat 1997: 75), but this certainly did not apply to reading inscriptions. In fact, voicing the words and reading aloud was essential to them. One might say, with Bodel (2001: 16), that inscriptions engendered and activated speech. The cemetery, unlike perhaps a library, a study, or a private room, was not a place for quiet reflection, rather it was a busy place visited by the living on all manner of occasions. It was a public place, like the forum, and like the forum it was a place where texts were read aloud. The ‘speaking’ stones offer a particularly strong reason to read them aloud because the name of the deceased is thereby spoken and the reader assumes the voice of the deceased. Because inscriptions clearly were read aloud with regularity, funerary texts are a particularly fruitful arena for investigating the issue of voiced communication in writing and the relationship between orality and literacy. Svenbro (1988), in his study on ancient reading, clearly demonstrated how reading aloud was an integral part of the text in Archaic and Classical Greece. Although the writer, or he who had commissioned the writing, had disappeared after his words were inscribed in stone, these words were given voice later by the reader. According to Svenbro, the writer “depends on the voice that the reader will lend him” (1988: 45). There are numerous Roman epitaphs that make it perfectly clear that reading the text involved speaking the words. The stone thus speaks in place of the deceased, as we can see in the case of an Ostian epitaph of the third century, cited at the beginning of this paper, that begins “I, who speak without a voice by means of the inscribed marble” (Catalogue B166)S38. But more important is the idea that the reader’s vocalisation of the words is not just for himself, but that this (temporarily) returns the power of speech to the deceased. The third-century epitaph of Lucius Claudius Rufinus from Lugdunum is explicit in expressing this relationship between written and spoken words: “And since the letters on the stone preserve my voice, so will (Claudius Rufinus) live on through your voice when you, whoever you might be, read these lines” (Catalogue E5)S39. An even clearer demonstration of the importance of voiced recitation is provided by an epitaph from Ostia that says to the traveller: “Your voice is really my voice” (vox tua nempe mea est)(Catalogue B163). Here it would appear that the reader has relinquished his own voice. Reference is made to the inscription taking on the role of “our voice” in a lengthy epitaph from the family tomb of the Flavii in Cillium (Catalogue G3). In this case, the reader and the deceased seem to share a voice, but, in reality, the voice belongs to the reader alone. Viewers of the monuments sometimes are asked to ‘listen’ to the text on them, in the sense that the words can be heard when someone reads them aloud. The epitaph of Titus Cocceius Gaa and Titus Cocceius Patiens from the Via Labicana in Rome lists the various adornments that were added to the tomb in AD 16, then concludes by addressing the reader: “The reason for this expense you will read in the inscription, listen, I beg you” (Catalogue A15)S40. The funerary inscription of Gaius Clodius Paulinus from Forum Livium asks: “Listen to him who lives on in your speech, who speaks in your soft voice” (Catalogue B126)S41. Vox tua nempe mea est 55 An epitaph of the second century AD from Interpromium asks: “Stranger, when you are passing by I ask you to stop and linger and see whose shadow is covered. Listen for a little while” (Catalogue B54)S42. Cocceia Thallusa was commemorated by her husband in Puteoli, and he chose the following text: “Whoever reads this inscription wanting to know whose name this is…you are asked to listen” (Catalogue B89)S43. A fragmentary funerary inscription from Antipolis also refers to the sound of reading: “listen, if you please” (Catalogue D3)S44. The third-century epitaph from Sulmo cited earlier demonstrated very clearly how the deceased counted on the presence of someone who “read, or listened to one reading, the inscription” (Catalogue B57)S45. In any case, the inscribed text provoked a reading and a rendering in sound through the voice of the reader. The survival of the memory of the deceased thus required active participation by the viewer in a dialogue with the deceased, the inscribed text acting as the vocal medium. I would argue that the same applies to epitaphs found throughout the Roman empire from the first century BC that contain simple greetings at the beginning or end of the text. These make up 30% of the ‘speaking’ stones. The words used in this context are have, ave, salve, and vale (as examples: Catalogue A3; A76; A107; B40; B72; B113; B125; B133; B151; B152; C19; C74). The following few inscriptions illustrate the format of these texts. HOSPES R[esi]STE NISI MOLE(s)TUS[t] PERSPICE MONUMENTUM QU[od] SIBI PUBLIUS PUBLI GRANIUS SIBI ET SUEI(s) QUE VIVOS FECIT EUHODUS TURARIUS SALVE VALE Stranger, stop, and if it is not too much trouble, behold this monument which Publius Granius, son of Publius, made for himself and his while alive, Euhodus Turarius, Greetings! Farewell! (Catalogue B119) MINUCIA N F MAIOR SALVE Minucia Maior, daughter of Numerius. Greetings! (Catalogue A11) P VERGILIUS P L SAMNIS HIC SITUS EST AVE ET VALE Here lies Publius Vergilius Samnis, freedman of Publius. Greetings and farewell! (Catalogue C84) Who is actually extending these greetings? Lattimore, in discussing them in Greek epitaphs, thought they “might be addressed either to the passing stranger or to the dead” (1942: 232).13 However, when we imagine the reader of the text vocalising the words, it is clearly he, as the living participant in the dialogue, who is hailing the deceased. Indeed explicit in soliciting a spoken greeting is the text of an epitaph from Aquileia that reads: “Greetings, traveller! You who pass by and read, say: Farewell!” (Catalogue B3)S46. Similar sentiments are expressed in a consular dated epitaph of AD 180 from Vardagate: “Greetings and may you fare well, whoever you are traveller, and do not neglect to greet me before you go!” (Catalogue B36)S47. In some cases, the words provide a reciprocal dialogue in that the deceased is greeted and he and is seen to return these greetings. This type of exchange can be seen in the first century AD, for example, in the epitaph of Statilius Parra from the columbarium of the Statilii in Rome: “Farewell to you and to you too” (tu vale et tu) (Catalogue A24).14 The deceased and the speaker have active roles in epitaphs such as that set up for Caelia Clauce in Ostia (Catalogue B167). Here the text reads: Clauce / habe vene valeas / qui me salutas (Greetings Clauce! And you who greet me, fare well!). The first greeting is spoken by the reader and it is addressed to Clauce, the second is imagined as coming from the dead woman, but it is the voice of the reader who gives her life. 56 MAUREEN CARROLL VII NAMES, RITUAL AND MAGIC Although names appear regularly and prominently in all types of Roman inscriptions, names on tombstones were particularly important, as they preserved the identity of the deceased (Woolf 1996, 28-29; Beard 1991, 46–8). Occasionally the epitaph on a Roman funerary monument says that the body of the deceased is held by the earth, the name by the stone, and the soul by the air.15 A freedman buried in the second century in northern Italy was commemorated in Tusculum at the same time by a cenotaph, the textS48 on which tells us, in the freedman’s words, “in Pollentia…there is my altar, my name, and my grave”.16 All that remained of a person who once lived were the gravestone and the name, or at least that is what an epitaph in Rome expressed.17 Pliny the Younger (Ep. 9.19.3) thought it perfectly understandable that anyone “through the very words of his epitaph seeks to perpetuate the undying glory of his name”. The preservation of the name was of extreme importance, as otherwise the deceased was doomed to oblivion. For that reason, epitaphs attempted to ensure that “the name of the family is not lost” or that “there is no loss of the name” (Catalogue D16).18 For Propertius (3.1.24)S49, “a man’s name sounds greater on people’s lips” after he had died and been buried, indicating that to speak of the dead by name aided in the preservation and elevation of that person’s memory. The name of the deceased is sometimes connected with a greeting such as have, ave or salve. In epitaphs beginning with “Greetings Argentius” (Argenti have) or “Greetings Pudens” (have Pudens), for example, the name of the deceased is called out explicitly (Catalogue A36; B17). An inscriptionS50 of the first century AD from Mantua contains the instructions “now, traveller, read the name in my epitaph”, and a textS51 of the same period in Carthago Nova begins by asking the stranger not only to stop and read, but to “stop and read the name of Thorax…” (Catalogue B15l; C86; Fig. 10). The interaction between the inscription and the voice of the reader renders crucial the command to pronounce the name of the deceased aloud. This dialogue is articulated “around a command and its execution”, with the result that a mute name is given an “expression in sound” (Svenbro 1988: 61). Some of the Fig. 10 Epitaph of Gaius Licinius Thorax, asking the “stranger” to stop and read his name, Cartagena, late first century AD (Catalogue C86)S51 Photo: Museo Arqueológico Municipal, Cartagena Vox tua nempe mea est 57 ‘speaking’ epitaphs conclude with the command that the deceased be called by name by the reader, meaning that the voiced greeting to the dead was the last act performed before taking leave of the tomb. A few examples from various locations are reproduced here. . . . TU Q(ui) [p]RAE [ter]IS E[t] TITULOS MEOS LEGUERIS [dic] AVE AMANDE ERIT TIBI VITA LONGA . . . You who pass by and read my inscription, (and say) ‘Hail, Amandus’, will have a long life (Catalogue G39) . . . (h)OSPES QUI CASUS LEGISTI NOSTROS ET PRECOR UT DICAS SIT TIBI RODINE TER(r)A LEVIS . . . , read our fate and reflect and please say: Rodine, may the earth lie lightly on you! (Catalogue E16; Fig. 11) . . . SI QUI PRAETERIENS LE GERIS PETO DICAS MANILIA DULCIS SIT TIBI TERRA LEVIS . . .You who pass by and read this I beseech you to say: Manilia, sweet woman, may the earth lie lightly on you! (Catalogue G20) Fig. 11 Funerary inscription of Rodine, asking the “traveller” to read and greet Rodine by name, Mainz, early first century AD (Catalogue E16) . . . (h)OSPES QUI CASUS LEGISTI NOSTROS ET PRECOR UT DICAS SIT TIBI RODINE TER(r)A LEVIS . . . Photo: Rheinisches Landesmuseum, Mainz 58 MAUREEN CARROLL The act of speaking to, with or about the dead whilst stopping and contemplating the tomb was instrumental in prolonging the memory of the departed. Roman literature also alludes to verbal refrains, uttered prayers and tributes spoken at the grave in response to the text on the monument. Propertius, for example, gave an angry warning to his estranged mistress Cynthia that the traveller would pass by her grave, unheeding, and never say “This dust was a learned maid”S52(2.11.5–6).19 Cynthia herself he envisages as “crying out his name over his ashes”S53 and “calling back his silent shade”S54 (1.17.23, 2.13.57). Claudius Etruscus in Statius’ Silvae (3.3.180) is seen calling out and speaking to his father’s warm ashes. Ovid, miserable and in exile on the Black Sea, envisaged his wife at his death calling out her “wretched man’s name in the void” (Tr. 3.3.50–1)S55, suggesting that crying out the name of the dead was an essential part of funerary ritual, no matter how far the voice had to travel. Calling to the dead, Propertius believed, would return that person “on a journey no law permits” (2.27.15–16)S56. Clearly, this act did not revive the dead physically, but it conjured up the personality of that person, much like other ritual acts such as commemorative feasts or the impersonation of the dead during the funeral. As Connerton (1989: 69) in his discussion of rituals demonstrates, the dead can reappear in the world of the living “provided one knows how to recall them”. Recalling them may have involved ritual and gestures, but clearly the performance of speaking in response to the written words on the funerary monuments also bridged the gap between the dead and the living in a symbolic way. Calling to the dead and speaking the deceased’s name may have been considered a powerful magical tool in preserving the memory of an individual. The texts of papyri related to healing rituals, for example, include explicit instructions to mention the name of the patient, but in some cases just thinking of the person would be effective enough (Versnel 2002). Writing spells in Egyptian and Graeco-Roman texts was thought to be an effective replication of the original, verbal rite, and engraving a curse on a curse tablet whilst reciting it made the spoken words effective and permanent (Frankfurter 1994: 195; Graf 1997: 131–3).20 The importance of the name in remembering, or condemning, the dead is illustrated by a funerary altar commissioned in Rome in the late first century AD by a man named Euphrosynus and his freedwoman wife for their young daughter who had just died.21 His wife some time after this suffered a damnatio memoriae and her name was erased from the epitaph panel by Euphrosynus after she allegedly committed adultery and ran off with the slaves. Erasing her name damned her to oblivion, a much feared prospect in antiquity. But in order to curse her, and to have that act be effective, Euphrosynus had to name her, so he attached a second inscription containing her name and the curse in order to secure netherworldly and subterranean assistance (their dead daughter?) in making her suffer (Johnston 1999). Cursors such as Euphrosynus wanted a secure mechanism for carrying speech across distance and time (Culham 1999: 98). That mechanism may have been a stone tablet, but more often it was an inscribed sheet of lead (tabella defixionum), folded up and deposited in a river, a well, a tomb or some other subterranean place. The words of a curse were made permanent and far more effective by writing them down. It did not matter whether the commissioner of such tabellae were literate or instead needed to engage the help of a professional scribe; the inscribed words still enabled the cursor to communicate with the gods and to use them as a weapon, or at least he believed they did (Culham 1999: 100). For the commissioner of a funerary inscription, the inscribed stone also carried speech across distance and time. In this sense, we might consider whether the inscribed texts, and especially the inscribed personal names, on funerary monuments might have replicated a specific speech act: the calling out to and naming of the dead (conclamatio) in the primary ritual of death and burial. The funerary text of the ‘speaking’ stones certainly prompted the repetition of this naming and calling ritual by anyone who read the inscription out loud, for as long as the text physically survived. Thomassen (1999) points out that speaking emphatically turns speech into act, while acting with intense deliberation increases the Vox tua nempe mea est 59 significative content of the act. This might involve bodily gestures, specific actions and the pronunciation of words designed to enhance the active character of utterances. In the context of funerary commemoration, reading the name of the deceased aloud made it resound, the voice enhancing the active character of communicating with and speaking for the dead. Epitaphs leave no doubt about the importance of speaking to the dead by name. A soldier of Legio II Adiutrix in Aquincum communicates with the reader about his wife by saying: “…may you be happy who read…and speak with a solemn voice, Aelia Sabina: Greetings!” (Catalogue F42)S57. And a son asked his mother in Rome to “call the name of your son, who lies here, often; even if they are just words, they are most dear to my ashesS58”.22 The survival of names was not simply a matter of remembering them, long gone, in silence or in everyday speech. By reading aloud the names inscribed on the monuments visitors to the tomb addressed the dead as still present amongst them. It was important that the person commemorated with an inscription of the ‘speaking’ variety believed in the ritual power and symbolic efficacy that the reading and verbal recitation of his inscription had in keeping him, his name and his memory alive. In order for this to work, there had to be an audience possessing varying degrees of literacy skills to whom, in more ways than one, the inscription spoke and was directed. These were the readers of the ‘speaking’ stones. It was they who, however briefly and occasionally, breathed life into the deceased in their dialogue with the dead. ACKNOWLEDGEMENT I should like to thank the Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies for awarding me a grant from the Hugh Last and Donald Atkinson Funds to carry out research at the British School at Rome in spring 2005. I am very grateful to John Drinkwater and Anthony Birley for their helpful comments on an earlier draft. The invitation to give this paper as part of the Accordia Lecture Series was much appreciated, as was the interest of John Wilkins in publishing it here. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 NOTES CIL VI.37965/Gordon 1983: 45–8/Friggeri 2001: 168–9/Bodel 2001: 40–1. See, for example, CIL II.1206; CIL II.2720/ Knapp 1992: No. 299; CIL II2/5.1219=CIL II.1498; CIL II2/ 5.1222=CIL II.1499; CIL II2/7.423; CIL II2/7.426=CIL II.2262/Bücheler, CE 1500a. For regional differences in invocations, expressions and abbreviations in funerary epigraphy, see Carroll 2006: 133–6. For other acrostic inscriptions, see CILIII.6306/ Bücheler, CE273; CILVI.20674/ Bücheler, CE436; CILVIII.7156/Bücheler, CE512. Acrostic word games appear also in late Roman and Christian epitaphs (CILV.6731/Bücheler, CE748; CILVIII.9159. 9170 and 20202/ Bücheler, CE1830) and, indeed, as late as the eighth century (Bücheler, CE725–7). CIL VI.9604/Bücheler, CE1253; CILXI.4631/ Bücheler, CE1846. CIL XIII.7156/Bücheler, CE512. CIL VIII.28082/ Bücheler, CE1967/Engstrom, CE186. A thirty-year-old woman from Conimbriga wrote her own verses: CILII.391, suppl. p. 815/Bücheler, CE485. Bücheler, CE991=CILVI.2489, identical to Bücheler, CE992=CILIII.2835; Alföldy 1975: No. 636=CILII.6130, identical to CILVI.23942. On epitaphs and Classical authors, see Sandys 1927: 6-19; Galletier 1922: 37–9. On Propertius and funerary verse, see Popova 1973. Sometimes the reader is addressed as homo or adulescens: Catalogue A13; B51; C109. Other times, the inscription opens with “you who read this”: Catalogue A19; A32; A80; B25; C36, or with “you who pass by”: Catalogue B87; B100, or with “you who stop”: Catalogue B135; C53. IG XII 9.285=IG XII Suppl. p. 186/ Friedländer 1948: No. 140 (Eretria). See also from Athens “Stranger who walk this path, mark the tombstone of these brothers who left their family”: IG II/III2.13102a/Clairmont 1970: No. 60. For similar texts, see also IG I2.976/Friedländer 1948: No. 135; IG II/III2.10435/Clairmont 1970: No. 44. The address to the wayfarer continues in Greek-language epitaphs of the Roman period, eg. CIL III.8899. There is a long tradition in the ancient world of objects, including gravestones, that speak in the first person, for which see Bodel 2001: 18-19; Häusle 1980: 48–9. From the sixth century BC Greek funerary monuments can refer to themselves in the first person. Latin funerary inscriptions later take 60 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 MAUREEN CARROLL up this motif, as we can see in an epitaph from Rome of the mid-first century BC: “I am Lucius Lutatius Paccius, dealer in incense from the family of King Mithridates” (CIL I.1065=CIL VI.5639/ILS 7612). The nihilistic and bitter phrase non fui, fui, non sum, non curo (was not, I was, I am not, I don’t care), found with some regularity in Rome and northern Italy, is very rare on ‘speaking’ stones: Catalogue C63 (Mirobriga); Catalogue B4 (Aquileia); Catalogue B69 (Forum Novum). The greeting in Greek is ΧΑΙΡΕ or ΧΑΙΡΕΤΕ. This continues in the Roman period in Greek-language epitaphs: CILIII.333; CILVIII.8854. For other examples, see also Catalogue B69; B95; B115; B138; F8; F38. CIL III.3247, suppl. 8003. An epitaph from Rome (CILVI.23083) says the people keep the name of the deceased, the tomb the body. CIL VI.16913. On cenotaphs and honorific tombs, see Frischer 1982-83; Ricci 2001; Carroll 2006: 163–8. CIL VI.22215/Bücheler, CE801: Stat lapis et nomen tantum vestigia nulla. See also CILVI.13203. This seems to reflect a similar attitude expressed in Euripides, Alcestis1000-1004: “And those who go past the curve in the road will say: She died for her husband long ago, and now she is a blessed spirit”. Elsewhere Propertius mentions verbal comments made by visitors to tombs: 2.1.77–8, 3.7.27–8. Such curse tablets were often placed in or near a tomb to give the dead power over the cursed victim. A double curse tablet made of lead and dating to the first century BC, for example, comes from a small cemetery south of Pompeii (Fondo Azzolini). In it a woman curses a female rival: CIL I2.2541; CIL IV.9251; Stefani and Varone 1998: Catalogue N32, fig. p. 105. CIL VI.20905/ Bücheler, CE 95/Lattimore 1942: 124. The inscriptions are discussed by Evans Grubbs 2002 and Carroll forthcoming. CIL VI.15876/ Bücheler, CE 431. In another epitaphS58 a son asks his mother to speak his name because the spirits like to hear their name: CIL VI.25182. Similar sentiments can be found in Latin literature: Claudius Etruscus spoke to his dead father, “and sweet were his words to the happy father’s ear” (Statius, Silv. 3.3.205–6). Vox tua nempe mea est 61 APPENDIX GREEK & LATIN SOURCE TEXTS S1 HIC EGO QUI SINE VOCE LOQUOR DE MARMORE CAESO NATUS IN EGREGIIS TRALLIBUS EX ASIA OMNIA BAIARUM LUSTRAVI MOENIA SAEPE PROPTER AQUAS CALIDAS DELICIASQUE MARIS CUIUS HONOROFICAE VITAE NON IMMEMOR HERES QUINQUAGINTA MEIS MILLIBUS UT VOLUI HANC AEDEM POSUIT STRUXIDQUE NOVISSIMA TEMPLA MANIBUS ET CINERI POSTERIISQUE MEIS SET TE QUI LEGIS HAEC TANTUM PRECOR UT MIHI DICAS SIT TIBI TERRA LEVIS SOCRATES ARISTOMACHI Epitaph from Ostia, Catalogue B166, CIL XIV 480 S2 HOSPES RESISTE ET HOC AD GRUMUM AD LAEVAM ASPICE Epitaph of Gaius Ateilius Euhodus, Rome, Catalogue A5 S3 QUANTUMCUMQUE TAMEN PRAECONIA NOSTRA VALEBUNT VERSICULUS VIVES Allia Potestas, Rome, CIL VI 37965 S4 Inscriptions on tituli in Fondo Pacifico, Pompeii: The Tomb of Marcus Blaesius Malchio (left) has three inscriptions, reading from left: BLASIAE / L QUARTAE Blasiae / Gaiae libertae Quartae BLASIAE / C L NICAE / MALCHIO L Blasiae / Cai libertae, Nicae / Malchio libertus M BLAESIUS / L MALCHIO Marcus Blaesius / Gaiae libertus Malchio The Tomb of Marcus Lollius Nicia (right) has three inscriptions, reading from left: M LOLLIUS / M L FELIX Marcus Lollius / Marci libertus Felix M LOLLIUS M L / LUCRIO Marcus Lollius Marci libertus / Lucrio M LOLLIUS M L / NICIA / LOLLIA M L / HERMIONA / ET LIBERTI ET LIBERTE Marcus Lollius Marci libertus / Nicia / Lollia Marci liberta / Hermiona / et liberti et liberte S5 SALVE VIATOR QUI ISTAC ITER FACIS SALVO TUO CORPORE CONSISTE ET LEGE.... ET NUNC ROGO VOS OMN ES NATOS NASCENTESQUE UT SI QUID LA(p)SUS ME PRAETERIT HOMINEM BARBARUM NATU PANNUNIUM MULTI ULCERI(bu)S ET MALIS PERTURBATUM IGNOSCATIS ROGO AT NU(nc) INPRECAMUS DEOS UT SI QUIS HOC SEPHULCR(um) AUT HUNC TITULUM LAESERIT IN(tulerit sit illi) FORTUNA MALA ET QUOD MER(itu)M SIT HUNC TITULUMQUE QUICUMQUE LEGERIT AUT LEGE(ntem) AUSCULTA(ve)RIT ALLEUET ILLOS FOR(tuna) SUPERIOR ET VALEANT SEMPER (in aeterno) QUICUMQUE IN HOC TITULO SCRIP(ta legerit verba) QUIETIS SIT VOBIS TERRA LEVIS Epitaph from Sulmo, Catalogue B57 S6 AEMILIA M F PROCULI NA ANN XVI/PIA IN SUIS S[IT] T[IBI] T[ERRA] L[EVIS] DIC Q[UI] L[EGIS] S[IT] T[IBI] T[ERRA] L[EVIS] Aemilia Proculina, daughter of Marcus, dutiful to her own, 16 years old, may the earth lie lightly on you! You who read, say: may the earth lie lightly on you! Epitaph from Olaurum, Catalogue C33 S7 D M Val Rufine an XII Lic Anna m pien fil po equivalent to:DIS MANIBUS. VALERIAE RUFIN[A]E, AN[NOS] XII LIC(INIA) ANNA, MATER, PIENTISSIMAE FILIAE POSUIT To the spirits of the dead and of Valeria Rufina, 12 years old, Licinia Anna did this for her most dutiful daughter Epitaph from Solia, Catalogue C62 62 S8 MAUREEN CARROLL VEL NUNC MORANDO RESTA QUI PERGES ITER ETIAM DOLENTIS CASUS ADVERSOS LEGE TREBIUS BASILEUS CONIUNX QUAE SCRIPSI DOLENS UT SCIRE POSSIS INFRA SCRIPTA PECTORIS RERUM BONARUM FUIT HAEC ORNATA SUIS INNOCUA SIMPLEX QUAE NUMQUAM SERBABIT DOLUM ANNOS QUAE VIXIT XXI ET MENSIBUS VII GENUITQUE EX ME TRES NATOS QUOS RELIQUIT PARBULOS REPLETA QUARTUM UTERO MENSE OCTAVO OBIT ATTONITUS CAPITA NUNC VERSORUM INSPICE TITULUM MERENTIS ORO PERLEGAS LIBENS AGNOSCES NOMEN CONIUGIS GRATAE MEAE Acrostic Epitaph of Veturia Grata from Rome, CIL VI.28753, CE 108, Catalogue A94 S9 CONIUNX QUOD POTUIT TITU LUM MIHI REDDIDIT UNI S10 VIR TUUS INGENTI GEMITU FLETUQUE RIGATUS HOS FECI VERSUS PAUCA TAMEN MEMORANS Epitaph of Alexander from Rome, CIL VI.9604 S11 TE ROGO PRAETERIENS FAC MORA ET PERLEGE VERSUS QUOS EGO DICTAVI ET IUSSI SCRIBERE QUENDAM Epitaph from Carsulae, CIL XI.4631 Epitaph from Tusculum, Catalogue B178 S12 QUISQUE SAPIS IUVENIS VIVO TIBI PONE SEPULCHRUM Epitaph of Antigonus Vitalis from Carthage, Catalogue G9 S13 HOS EGO IAM PROAVO VERSUS PATER IPSE NEPOSQUE TESTANTES VITAM MULTA PER SAE CULA MISI Epitaph of T. Flavius Pudens, Madaura, CIL VIII.28082 S14 da lacrimas tumulo, qui legis iste, meo S15 Martial, vii, 96 . . . properas qui flere, viator, non licet hic vitae de brevitate queri Martial, xi, 91 S16 ὦ ξεῖν ̓, ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε κείμεθα τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι S17 VALEBIS HOSPES VEIVE TIBI IAM (mors venit) Herodotus, vii, 228 Epitaph from Trebula Mutuesca, Catalogue B69 S18 (S)EI PROPERAS I NO(n ten)E(o) SEIN OTIUM HABES STA/PERL(ege) Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue A2 S19 SI LUTUS SI PULVIS TARDAT TE FORTE VIATOR ARIDA SIVE SITIS NUNC TIBI ITER MINUIT PERLEGE) Epitaph from Val Bona, Catalogue B22 S20 AT VIRIDI REQUIESCE VIATOR IN HERBA (ne)U FUGE SI TECUM COEPERIT UMBRA LOQUI Epitaph from Hispellum, Catalogue B149 S21 CARPIS SI QUIRUS PAULUM HUC DEPONE LA(borem) CUR TANTUM PROPER(as) NON EST MORA..... ORO LIBENS (relegas) NE TAEDIO DUC(as) AMICE Epitaph of Gaius Clodius Paulinus from Forum Livium, Catalogue B126 S22 VIVAS VALEAS AMES AMERIS USQUE AT DIE Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue A49 S23 HOSPES VIVE VALE IN SUMPTUM SUPERET TIBI SEMPER QUA NON SPEVISTI HUNC LAPIDEM DIGNUMQ(ue) DICASTI Epitaph from Brindisium, Catalogue B39 Vox tua nempe mea est 63 S24 HOSPES RESISTE ET TUMULUM HUNC EXCELSUM ASPICE..... NOMEN EI QUAERAS EXORATURI SALVIAE VALEBIS HOSPES OPTO UT SANCTIS FELICIOR Epitaph from Eporedia, Catalogue B31 S25 HOC QUI SCIRE CUPIS IACEANT QUAE MEMBRA SEPULCHRO DISCES DUM RELEGAS HOS MODO VERSICULOS S26 SE(pulcrum)... SI QUIS F(orte ve) LIS CURIOSE SCI RE VIATOR Epitaph from Milan, Catalogue B23 Epitaph from Madaura, Catalogue C34 S27 QUISQUIS ES HUC OCULOS PAULAM CONVERTE VIATOR ET LEGE QUOD NOMEN HIC TITULUS TENEAT Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue A44 S28 QUOD LEGES MI RANS VIATOR ILLUT EST QUOD SC IS BENE QUOD SI CA SUS NOSSE QUAERES PERLEGE TITULUM MEUM DECIDI EX ALTO PUELLA VI TA(m) FATO REDDIDI S29 USSERE ARDENTES INTUS MEA VISCERA MORBI VINCERE QUOS MEDICAE NON POTUERE MANUS SPARGE PRECOR FLORES SUPRA MEA BUSTA VIATOR S30 HOSPES RESISTE ET NIS M OLESTUST PERLEGE NOLI STOMACARE SUADEO CALDUM BIBAS MORIU N(d)UST VALE S31 VIVITE MORS PROPERAT S32 TU QUI LEGIS VADE IN APOLINIS LAVARI QUOD EGO CUM CONIU GE FECI VELLEM SI ADUC POSSEM S33 MILITAVI A(t)Q(ue) NUNC HIC S(u)M (hoc) LEGITE ET FELICES VITA PLUS MIN(us) E(ste) (d)I UVA VINI ET AQUA PROHIBENT UBI TA(r)TAR(a) ADITIS VIVITE DUM SI(dus) VITAE DAT TEMPUS HONESTE Epitaph from Volsinii, Catalogue B140 Epitaph from Tarraco, Catalogue C108 Epitaph from Ausonia, Catalogue C106 Epitaph from Puteoli, Catalogue B89 Epitaph from Lyon, Catalogue E2 Epitaph from Wroxeter, Catalogue H1 S34 AMICI QUI LEGITIS MONEO MISCETE LYAEUM ET POTATE PROCUL REDIMITI TEMPORA FLORE ET VENEREOS COITUS FORMOSIS NE DENEGATE PUELLIS CETERA POST OBITUM TERRA CONSUMIT ET IGNIS Epitaph of Flavius Agricola, Rome, Catalogue A57 S35 (h)EUS TU VIATOR VENI HOC ET QUEIESCI PUSIL(l)U(m) INNUIS ET NEGITAS TAMEN HOC REDEU(n)DUS TIBI Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue B141 S36 SI QUID PRAETERIENS TITULO VIS DICERE NOSTRO SI BENE SIVE MALE DICIS HABEBIS IDEM Epitaph of Gaius Pirrius, Mandela, Catalogue B179 S37 SI QUIS LAESERIT NEC SUPERIS COMPROBETUR NEC INFERI RECIPIANT ET SIT ET TERRA GRAVIS Epitaph of Gaius Meanius Cimber, Rome, Catalogue A27 S38 HIC EGO QUI SINE VOCE LOQUOR DE MARMORE CAESO Epitaph from Ostia, Catalogue B166 64 MAUREEN CARROLL S39 QUODQUE MEAM RETINET VOCEM DATA LITTE RA SAXO VOCE TUA VIVET QUISQUE LEGES TITULOS Epitaph of Lucius Claudius Rufinus from Lyon, Catalogue E5 S40 IMPENSAE CAUSAM TITULUM QUI PERLEGIS AUDI S41 DUM LEG(is) AUDI LINGUA TUA VIVUM MITIQUE TUA VOCE LOQUENTEM Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue A15 Epitaph from Forum Livium, Catalogue B126 S42 SISTE GRADUM QUAESO SINE TE LEVET UMBRA TENACEM HOSPES ITER DURUM EST QUID TERIS USQUE VIAM AUDI PAUCA Epitaph from Interpromium, Catalogue B54 S43 QUI LEGIS HUNC TITULUM QUID NOMEN SCIRE..... PRECOR AUDI Epitaph from Rome, Catalogue A15 S44 VIATOR AUDI SI LIBET Epitaph from Antipolis, Catalogue D3 S45 QUICUMQUE LEGERIT AUT LEGE(ntem) Epitaph from Sulmo, Catalogue B57 S46 (have) VIATOR QUI (tran)SIS ET LEGIS ET DICIS (vale) Epitaph from Aquileia, Catalogue B3 S47 AVE BE NE VALEAS QUISQ(uis) ES VIATOR (ne)Q(u)E VALE(at) QUI ME AMOVE(rit) Epitaph from Vardagate, Catalogue B36 S48 POLLENTIA SAEVA SUBEGIT EST ET IBI TUMULUS NOMEN ET ARA MIHI Epitaph from Tusculum, CIL VI.16913 S49 maius ab exsequiis nomen in ora venit Propertius, 3, 1, 24 S50 LEGE NUNC VIATOR NOMEN IN TITULO MEUM S51 HOSPES CONSISTE ET THORACIS PERLEGE NOMEN S52 cinis hic docta puella fuit Epitaph from Mantua, Catalogue B15 Epitaph from Carthago Nova, Catalogue C86 S53 illa meum extremo clammasset pulvere nomen S54 mutos revocabis, Cynthia, Manes S55 clamabis miseri nomen inane viri S56 concessum nulla lege redibit iter S57 FELIX QUICUMQUE LEGES TE NUMINA SERVENT ET PIA VOCE CANE AELIA SABINA VALE S58 TU PIA TU MATER CINERES OPERIRE MEMENTO SAEPIUS IN NATI NOMEN CLAMATO IACENTIS VERBA MEO CINERI SALTEM GRATISSIMA DONA Propertius, 2, 11, 5-6 Propertius, 1, 17, 22 Propertius, 2, 13, 57 Ovid, Tr. 3.3.50-51 Propertius, 2, 27, 15-16 Epitaph from Aquincum, Catalogue F42 Epitaph from Rome, CIL VI.15876 Vox tua nempe mea est 65 BIBLIOGRAPHY Alföldy, G. 1975. 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Journal of Roman Studies 86: 22–39 Vox tua nempe mea est 67 ABBREVIATIONS Bücheler, CE CIL CSIR Digest Engström, CE ICUR IG ILS RIB Bücheler, F. 1895–1897. Carmina Latina Epigraphica, Vols. 1–2, and Supplementum by Lommatzsch, E. 1926. B.G. Teubner, Leipzig. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (1863–). Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Berlin. Corpus Signorum Imperii Romani (1973–). Habelt, Bonn. Watson, A. 1985. The Digest of Justinian, 4 Volumes. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia. Engström, E. 1912. Carmina Latina Epigraphica (post editam collectionem Buechelerianum in lucem prolata). Eranos’ Förlag, Goteburg. Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae (1922–1992). Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, Rome. Inscriptiones Graecae (1924–). Walter de Gruyter, Berlin. Dessau, H. 1892–1916. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. Weidmann, Berlin. Collingwood, R.G. and Wright, R.P. 1995. The Roman Inscriptions of Britain (2nd edn.). Alan Sutton Publishing, Phoenix Mill. Aulus Gellius, NA Ovid, Tr. Pliny (the Elder), HN Pliny (the Younger), Ep. Petronius, Sat. Varro, Ling. Sidonius Apollinaris, Ep. Statius, Silv. Noctes Atticae Tristia Naturalis Historia Epistulae Satura De Lingua Latina Epistulae Silvae 68 MAUREEN CARROLL CATALOGUE OF FUNERARY INSCRIPTIONS (addressing or greeting the viewer and referring to reading, listening and speaking) A 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 ROME CIL I2.1210=CIL VI.32311/ILS 1932; Bücheler, CE 53; Häusle 1980, 43–4 CIL I2.2997; Bücheler, CE 975 CIL I2.3002 CIL I.1072=CIL I2.1348=CIL VI.23227/ILS 8395 CIL I2.1223; Bücheler, CE 970 CIL I.1027=CIL I2.1212=CIL VI.9545/ILS 7602; Bücheler, CE 74; Lattimore 1942, 119 CIL I.1009=CIL I2.1214=CIL VI.10096; Bücheler, CE 55 CIL I.1006=CIL I2.1202=CIL VI.13696/ILS 8121; Bücheler, CE 11; Galletier 1922, 37–8, 218; Purdie 1935, 51–2; Lattimore 1942, 236 CIL I.1007=CIL I2.1211=CIL VI.15346/ILS 8403; Bücheler, CE 52; Lattimore 1942, 271, 229, 232; Häusle 1980, 93–4. CIL I.1049=CIL I2.1295=CIL VI.16606 CIL I2.1340=CIL VI.22556 CIL I.1098=CIL I2.1408=CIL VI.28422/ILS 8396 CIL I2.1209=CIL VI.33919a/ILS 7703; Bücheler, CE 848; Galletier 1922, 38 CIL VI.40; Bücheler, CE 1518 CIL VI.10237/ILS 7870; Bücheler, CE 371. CIL VI.2335/ILS 1967; Bücheler, CE 127b; Lattimore 1942, 236 CIL VI.2357/ILS 8204; Bücheler, CE 838; Lattimore 1942, 229 CIL VI.3608; Bücheler, CE 475. CIL VI.5302; Bücheler, CE 1037; Purdie 1935, 101; Lattimore 1942, 263 CIL VI.5767; Bücheler, CE 1101, Lattimore 1942, 120, 236 CIL VI.6214/ILS 8419; Engström, CE 396 CIL VI.6457/ILS 8129a CIL VI.6492/ILS 8129b CIL VI.6548 CIL VI.6573 CIL VI.7419; Bücheler, CE 1016 CIL VI.7579/ILS 8190; Bücheler, CE 2170; Engström, CE 411; Lattimore 1942, 121 CIL VI.8012/ILS 8435; Bücheler, CE 134 CIL VI.8534b; Engström, CE 384 CIL VI.9024 CIL VI.9274/ ILS 7456; Bücheler, CE 1883; Engström, CE 394. CIL VI.9280/ILS 8194 CIL VI.9437/ILS 7710; Bücheler, CE 403 CIL VI.9693; Bücheler, CE 1136 CIL VI.10097; Bücheler, CE 1111; Koortbojian 1996, 228–9, fig. 36 CIL VI.10268 CIL VI.10493; Bücheler, CE 1122; Häusle 1980, 41–2 CIL VI.10558/ILS 8135 CIL VI.10630 CIL VI.10651; Lattimore 1942, 236 CIL VI.10969; Bücheler, CE 443; Purdie 1935, 52; Lattimore 1942, 233 CIL VI.11743; Bücheler, CE 1498 Vox tua nempe mea est 69 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 CIL VI.11938 CIL VI.12009; Bücheler, CE 1218 CIL VI.12214 CIL VI.12652; Bücheler, CE 995; Galletier 1922, 224; Lattimore 1942, 204 CIL VI.12735; Bücheler, CE 132 CIL VI.12951; Bücheler, CE 1456 CIL VI.13075/ILS 8137; Lattimore 1942, 236. CIL VI.13927 and 36631/ILS 8196 CIL VI.14537/ILS 8138 CIL VI.14578 and 34083; Bücheler, CE 502 CIL VI.17056; Bücheler, CE 1085 CIL VI.17342; Bücheler, CE 1049 CIL VI.1456 CIL VI.17844 CIL VI.17985a; Bücheler, CE 856; Häusle 1980, 98–9 CIL VI.18086; Bücheler, CE 1581 CIL VI.18385; Bücheler, CE 1184; Purdie 1935, 67 CIL VI.18659/ILS 8145 CIL VI.18938/ILS 8145; Bücheler, CE 131 CIL VI.19007; Bücheler, CE 562 CIL VI.19175; Bücheler, CE 1086 CIL VI.19683; Bücheler, CE 1582 CIL VI.20370; Bücheler 1544 CIL VI.20466; Bücheler, CE 1064 CIL VI.20480 CIL VI.20674; Bücheler, CE 436 CIL VI.21200; Bücheler, CE 973 CIL VI.21261 CIL VI.21848 CIL VI.22102; Bücheler, CE 92 CIL VI.22107 CIL VI.22203; Bücheler, CE 1478 CIL VI.22628 CIL VI.22855 CIL VI.23629 CIL VI.23685 CIL VI.24022; Bücheler, CE 2028; Engström, CE 210. CIL VI.24368 and 34152; Bücheler, CE 1097 CIL VI.24800/ILS 8183; Bücheler, CE 1299; Lattimore 1942, 121 CIL VI.25092/ILS 8127a CIL VI.25489/ILS 8128 CIL VI.25512; Engström, CE 70 CIL VI.25537 CIL VI.25548/ILS 6192 CIL VI.25703; Bücheler, CE 1537 CIL VI.26003; Bücheler, CE 1495 CIL VI.26020; Bücheler, CE 1013 CIL VI.26554/ILS 8139 CIL VI.26680; Bücheler, CE 1173 CIL VI.27247 70 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 B MAUREEN CARROLL CIL VI.27365/ILS 8201a CIL VI.28753; Bücheler, CE 108 CIL VI.28877; Bücheler, CE 1036 CIL VI.28942; Bücheler, CE 96 CIL VI.29265 CIL VI.29580/ILS 8450 CIL VI.29629; Bücheler, CE 1067 CIL VI.29952/ILS 8161; Bücheler, CE 247 CIL VI.30121 CIL VI.30123; Bücheler, CE 401 CIL VI.30124 CIL VI. 30553; Bücheler, CE 1775 CIL VI.32808; Bücheler, CE 474 CIL VI.33865 CIL VI.34285/ILS 8123 CIL VI.34416; Engström, CE 179 CIL VI.35653; Bücheler, CE 2127; Engström, CE 294 CIL VI.35887/ILS 8168; Bücheler, CE 1532 CIL VI.35979/ILS 8135a; Bücheler, CE 2217; Engström, CE 290 CIL VI.36202; Bücheler, CE 1545 CIL VI.36656; Bücheler, CE 1458; Lattimore 1942, 72 CIL VI.36631; Bücheler, CE 1884; Engström, CE 30 CIL VI.38710 Revue Archéologique 1928, 371; Purdie 1935, 65 Bücheler, CE 1402 Bücheler, CE 857; Lattimore 1942, 119 Kockel 1993, Cat. L22, pl. 107e; Koortbojian 1996, 225–6, fig. 35. ICUR V.13655 ITALY Gallia Cisalpina; Liguria; Venetia and Histria; Transpadana; Alpes Cottiae; Alpes Maritimae 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 CIL V.1191=CIL I.1459=CIL I2.2206 CIL V.1727; Bücheler, CE 2007; Engström, CE 200 CIL V.8519 CIL V.1939/ILS 8165; Bücheler, CE 1585; Galletier 1922, 223 CIL V.8974; Bücheler, CE 214 CIL V suppl. Ital. 335; Bücheler, CE 124 CIL V.2402; Lattimore 1942, 237 CIL V.2435; Bücheler, CE 369 CIL I2.2172= CIL V.2866 CIL V.3012 CIL V.3403; Bücheler, CE 1004 CIL V.3466/ILS 5121 CIL V.3496/ILS 8457; Bücheler, CE 2171; Engström, CE 392 CIL V.3996 CIL V.4078; Bücheler, CE 84; Critini 1998, 161–6 CIL I.1431=CIL I2.2138=CIL V.4111/ILS 8122; Bücheler, CE 119; Lattimore 1942, 329 CIL V.4629 CIL.V.4654 Vox tua nempe mea est 71 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 CIL V.4656; Bücheler, CE 1091 CIL V.4879 CIL V.4887 CIL V.4905; Bücheler, CE 982; Lattimore 1942, 233; Galletier 1922, 219 CIL V.5719; Bücheler, CE 1449 CIL V.5927/ILS 7552 CIL V.5961; Bücheler, CE 639 CIL V.6128; Bücheler, CE 473 CIL V.6134; Bücheler, CE 1309 CIL V.6295; Bücheler, CE 1433 CIL V.6698 CIL V.6739; Bücheler, CE 779 CIL I2.2161=CIL V.6808; Bücheler, CE 63; Lattimore 1942, 237 CIL.V.7047 CIL V. suppl. Ital. 1305; Bücheler, CE 1539 Bücheler CE 1968; Engström, CE 208 CIL V.7430; Bücheler, CE 1464 CIL V.7465 CIL V.7570 CIL V.8699/ILS 8125 Calabria; Apulia; Samnium; Sabine Hills; Picenum 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 CIL IX.60; Bücheler, CE 1533 CIL IX.164 CIL IX.6112 CIL I.1267=CIL I2.1702=CIL IX.605; Bücheler, CE 57 CIL IX.1527; Bücheler, CE 73 CIL I2.3197 CIL IX.1658 CIL IX.1764; Bücheler, CE 76; Lattimore 1942, 232; Häusle 1980, 26 CIL IX.1817; Bücheler, CE 1055 CIL I.1220=CIL I2.1732=CIL IX.1837; Bücheler, CE 960; Lattimore 1942, 176 CIL IX.1983 CIL IX.2105/ILS 8142 CIL IX.2128; Bücheler, CE 83; Lattimore 1942, 232 CIL IX.2272; Bücheler, CE 1523; Buonocore 2005, 2. Cat. 1 CIL IX.3009; Bücheler, CE 1280; Buonocore 2005, 4, Cat. 12 CIL IX.3071; Bücheler, CE 1212; Lattimore 1942, 233; Galletier 1922, 219; Buonocore 2005, 6, Cat. 18 CIL IX.3122; Bücheler, CE 1213; Buonocore 2005, 6, Cat. 19 CIL IX.3125 L’Année Épigraphique 1989, No. 247; Bodel 2001, 16; Buonocore 2005, 18, Cat. 9 CIL IX.3193/ILS 7553; Bücheler, CE 209; Buonocore 2005, 19, Cat. 14 L’Année Épigraphique 1983, 324; Buonocore 2005, 8, Cat. 28 CIL IX.3358; Bücheler, CE 1125; Galletier 1922, 53, 66, 106; Purdie 1935, 154; Buonocore 2005, 9, Cat. 34 CIL IX.3473; Bücheler, CE 186; Buonocore 2005, 10, Cat. 38 L’Année Épigraphique 1985, 330; Buonocore 2005, 10, Cat. 40 CIL IX.3821; Bücheler, CE 241; Galletier 1922, 283; Buonocore 2005, 11, Cat. 44 CIL XI.3895; Bücheler, CE 90; Buonocore 2005, 11–12, Cat. 46 72 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 MAUREEN CARROLL CIL IX.4508 CIL IX.4796/ILS 7542; Bücheler, CE 437; Galletier 1922, 99, 102, 109, 247; Purdie 1935, 96–97; Buonocore 2005, 15, Cat. 63 CIL IX.4810; Bücheler, CE 1305; Galletier 1922, 121; Buonocore 2005, 15, Cat. 64 CIL IX.4840/ILS 8166; Bücheler, CE 1496; Buonocore 2005, 15–16, Cat. 66 CIL I2.1836=CIL IX.4922; Bücheler, CE 62; Buonocore 2005, 16, Cat. 67 CIL I.1306=CIL I2.1837=CIL IX.4933; Bücheler, CE 54; Buonocore 2005, 16, Cat. 68 CIL IX.5279/ILS 7732 CIL IX.5258; Bücheler, CE 61 CIL IX.5401; Bücheler, CE 1514 CIL IX.5608 CIL IX.5867 CIL IX.5922; Bücheler, CE 1517 Notizie degli Scavi 1893, 28; Bücheler, CE 117 Brutium; Lucania; Campania; Latium adiectum; Sicily; Sardinia; Corsica 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 CIL I.1256=CIL X.388/ILS 7791 CIL X.589 CIL X.619 CIL X.633/ILS 8132; Bücheler, CE 1308 CIL X.1152; Bücheler, CE 1056 CIL X.1275; Bücheler, CE 213; Lattimore 1942, 235 CIL X.1517 CIL X.1909 CIL X.1971/ILS 8193 CIL X.2246 CIL X.2311; Bücheler, CE 420 CIL X.2503; Bücheler, CE 1231; Lattimore 1942, 262 CIL X.2538 CIL X.2601; Tuck 2005, No. 152 CIL X.2712; Bücheler, CE 1482 CIL X.2723; Engström, CE 93 CIL X.2752; Bücheler, CE 1053 CIL X.3258 CIL I2.3121 CIL X.4183; Bücheler, CE 222 CIL X.4352/ILS 8175; Bücheler, CE 16 CIL X.4428; Bücheler, CE 1083 American Journal of Archaeology 1898, 396, No. 60; Bücheler, CE 2179; Engström, CE 404 Tuck 2005, No. 234 CIL X.4915; Bücheler, CE 1319 CIL X.4961 CIL X.5020; Bücheler, CE 1084 CIL X.5099; Bücheler, CE 1480 CIL X.5371/ILS 7734; Bücheler, CE 118 CIL X.5429 CIL X.6053; Bücheler, CE 71 Notizie degli Scavi 1889, 112; Bücheler, CE 1463 CIL X.6616; Bücheler, CE 127; Lattimore 1942, 237 CIL X.6620 CIL X.6984 Vox tua nempe mea est 73 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 CIL X.7010 CIL X.7129 CIL X.7143 CIL.X.7566, 7579; Bücheler, CE 1551 B and C; Lattimore 1942, 102, 132 CIL X. 7697; Bücheler, CE 808 CIL X.8131; Bücheler, CE 428; Lattimore 1942, 233 CIL I2.3146 D’Ambrosio and De Caro 1983, Tomb 23 OS; Cooley and Cooley 2004, 152–3 Umbria; Etruria; Aemilia 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 CIL XI.6753; Bücheler, CE 1326 CIL XI.434 CIL XI.481 CIL XI.512 CIL XI.530 CIL XI.627 and ad n. 627 p. 1236; Bücheler, CE 513; Lattimore 1942, 233, Häusle 1980, 45–6 CIL XI.6841 and 6842; Notizie degli Scavi 1898, 479–80, fig. 3; Bücheler, CE 2027; Engström, CE 209 CIL XI.1036 CIL XI.1118; Bücheler, CE 98; Critini 1998, 111–7 CIL XI.1122b; Bücheler, CE 1273; Critini 1998, 118–21 L’Année Épigraphique 1953, 98; Critini 1998, 124–9 CIL XI.1260 CIL XI.1389 CIL XI.1563; Bücheler, CE 1130 CIL XI.7024; Bücheler, CE 1542 CIL XI.1616; Bücheler, CE 1190 CIL I2.3339 CIL XI.2748 CIL XI.2784 CIL XI.7376; Bücheler, CE 1901 CIL XI.4010; Bücheler, CE 120; Bodel 2001, 18 CIL XI.4126; Bücheler, CE 194; Lattimore 1942, 125 CIL XI.4188 CIL XI.4311; Bücheler, CE 457 CIL XI.4339; Bücheler, CE 2026 CIL XI.4565; Bücheler, CE 1877; Engström, CE 22 CIL XI.7856; Bücheler, CE 2068 CIL XI.5335; Bücheler, CE 1813 CIL XI.5357; Bücheler, CE 1098; Lattimore 1942, 233 CIL XI.5530 CIL I2.3387 =CIL XI.6043 CIL I2.3388 CIL XI.5569; Engström, CE 91 CIL XI.6125; Bücheler, CE 986 CIL XI.6243; Engström, CE 43 CIL XI.6435; Bücheler, CE 434 CIL XI.6507 CIL XI.6551; Bücheler, CE 1088; Lattimore 1942, 229 74 159 160 161 MAUREEN CARROLL CIL XI.6577 CIL XI.6578 CE 1152 Latium vetus; Ostia 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 C CIL XIV.316 CIL XIV.356; Bücheler, CE 1450; Häusle 1980, 44–5 CIL XIV.380 CIL XIV.439/ILS 6156 CIL XIV.480; Bücheler, CE 1255; Häusle 1980, 45 CIL XIV.1169 CIL XIV.1309 CIL XIV.1473/ILS 8116 CIL XIV.1697 CIL XIV.1824; Bücheler, CE 87 CIL XIV.1873/ILS 8134; Bücheler, CE 128 CIL XIV.5021; Notizie degli Scavi 1913, 140; Bücheler, CE 2082 Calza 1940, 301. Notizie degli Scavi 1907, 128; Bücheler, CE 2083; Engström, CE 305 CIL XIV.2485; Bücheler, CE 1564 CIL I.94=CIL I2.1476=CIL XIV.3331 CIL XIV.2605; Bücheler, CE 477 CIL XIV.3480; Bücheler, CE 1459 CIL XIV.3565; Bücheler, CE 1504 SPAIN AND PORTUGAL Lusitania 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 CIL II.59 and 5186; Bücheler, CE 1553 CIL II.369 CIL II.5241; Bücheler, CE 1452 CIL II.415; Bücheler, CE 1453 CIL II.540 CIL II.558; Bücheler, CE 1451 Bücheler, CE 2111; Engström, CE 327 CIL II.5304 CIL II.5327 CIL II.611 L’Année Épigraphique 2001, 1174 Baetica 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 CIL II.952 CIL II.1092 CIL II.1094 CIL II.1099 CIL II.1126 CIL II.5376 CIL II.5378 CIL II.6279 CIL II.1220 CIL II.1229 Vox tua nempe mea est 75 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 CIL II.1235; Bücheler, CE 1316 CIL II.1273 CIL II.1293; Bücheler, CE 1103 CIL II.5419 CIL II.1415=CIL II2/5.1114 CIL II.1419 CIL II2/5.1074 CIL II2/5.1075/76 CIL II2/5.1078 CIL II.5058/5471=CIL II2/5.924 CIL II.1634=CIL II2/5.925 CIL II2/5.947 CIL II.1463 CIL II2/5.997 CIL II.1487=CIL II2/5.1190 CIL II.1498=CIL II2/5.1221 CIL II2/5.1189 CIL II2/5.1227 CIL II.1512=CIL II2/5.1323; Engström, CE 289 CIL II.1634 CIL II.1699; Bücheler, CE 1123 CIL II.1728/ILS 8131; Gómez Pallares et al 2005, CA 3 CIL II.1752 CIL II.1810 CIL II.1821/ILS 8130; Bücheler, CE 1566; Gómez Pallares et al. 2005, CA 8 CIL II.1837 CIL II.1853 CIL II.1877; Bücheler, CE 1500; Gómez Pallares et al 2005, CA 11 Gómez Pallares et al 2005, CA 7 CIL II2/5, 686 CIL II.2146 CIL II.2262=CIL II2/7.426/Bücheler, CE 1500a CIL II.2295 CIL II2/7.357 CIL II.2314=CIL II2/7.473 CIL II2/7.359 CIL II2/7.516 CIL II2/7.567 Bücheler, CE 723 CIL II2/7.737 CIL II2/7.767 CIL II2/7.869 Tarraconensis 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 CIL II.2567; Engström, CE 288 CIL II.3181; Bücheler, CE 123 CIL II.3186 CIL II.3256; Bücheler, CE 1196 CIL II2/14.290; Bücheler, CE 2183; Engström, CE 450 CIL II.3296; Bücheler, CE 1797 CIL II.5907; Bücheler, CE 1193 76 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 D MAUREEN CARROLL CIL II.3448 CIL II.3465 CIL II.3476 CIL II.3478 CIL II.3480 CIL II.3488 CIL II.3490 CIL II.3492 CIL I.1479=CIL I2.2273=CIL II.3495; Engström, CE 410 CIL II.3505 CIL II.3506 CIL II.3507 CIL II.3511 CIL II.3512 CIL II.3519 CIL I2.3449d=CIL II.3475; Bücheler, CE 980 CIL I2.3449e CIL I2.3449f CIL I2.3449i CIL II.3540 CIL II.5975; Bücheler, CE 1457 CIL II.3671 CIL II.3672 CIL II.3674 CIL I.1487=CIL I2.2277=CIL II.3676 CIL II.3677 CIL II.3679 CIL II.3680 CIL II.3683 CIL II.3686 CIL II.3688 CIL II.3689 CIL II.3692 CIL II.3693 CIL II.6064=CIL II2/14.618; Bücheler, CE 2069 CIL II2/14.814 CIL II.4174; Bücheler, CE 127a; Alföldy 1975, No. 696 CIL II.4314; Bücheler, CE 1279; Alföldy 1975, No. 444 CIL II.4315; Bücheler, CE 500; Alföldy, 1975, No. 445 CIL II.4379; Bücheler, CE 122; Alföldy, 1975, No. 605 CIL II.4427 CIL II.4428; Bücheler, CE 981 Alföldy 1975, No. 566 Alföldy 1975, No. 441 Alföldy 1975, No. 447 SOUTHERN GAUL Gallia Narbonensis 1 CIL XII.213; Bücheler, CE 580 2 CIL XII.218; Bücheler, CE 466 Vox tua nempe mea est 77 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 E CIL XII.5732; Bücheler, CE 121 CIL XII.533; Bücheler, CE 465; Lattimore 1942, 219 CIL XII.743; Bücheler, CE 454 CIL XII.861 CIL XII.915 and ad n. 915, p. 819 CIL XII.5811/ILS 7726; Bücheler, CE 1191; Lattimore 1942, 234 CIL XII.1981; Bücheler, CE 438 CIL XII.2916 CIL XII.3349/ILS 7534 CIL XII.4938/ILS 8147 CIL XII.5026; Bücheler, CE 1276 CIL XII.5271; Bücheler, CE 1021 CIL XII.5275; Bücheler, CE 1467 CIL XII.5276; Bücheler, CE 1073; Häusle 1980, 66–7 Bücheler, CE 1892 GAUL AND GERMANY Gallia Aquitania 1 CIL XIII.1568; Bücheler, CE 1956; Engström, CE 173 Gallia Lugdunensis 2 3 4 5 6 7 CIL XIII.1983/ILS 8158; Engström, CE 412 CIL XIII.2058/ILS 8126 CIL XIII.2073/ILS 8141; Engström, CE 88 CIL XIII.2104; Bücheler, CE 1278; Galletier 1922, 40; Häusle 1980, 46–7 CIL XIII.2216/ILS 8140; Bücheler, CE 1500b CIL XIII.2219; Bücheler, CE 1198 Gallia Belgica 8 9 CIL XIII.3983 CIL XIII.4280/ILS 8124 Germania Superior 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 CIL XIII.5386/ILS 8143 CIL XIII.6857=CSIR 1,5.95; Selzer, 1988, No. 17 CIL XIII.6969 CIL XIII.7002; Bücheler, CE 1100 CIL XIII.7070=CSIR II,6.52; Bücheler, CE 1007; Lattimore 1942, 194; Selzer, 1988, No. 116 CSIR II,6.30; Selzer, 1988, No. 96 CIL XIII.11889=CSIR II,6.50; Bücheler, CE 2092; Engström, CE 373; Selzer 1988, No.95 CIL XIII.7234=CSIR 1,5.79; Bücheler, CE 1005; Selzer 1988, No. 5 CIL XIII.7592 Germania Inferior 19 20 21 22 CIL XIII.83448 CIL XIII.8355/ILS 7756; Bücheler, CE 219; Galletier 1922, 219 CIL XIII.8644 Bücheler, CE 799 78 MAUREEN CARROLL F EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN AND THE DANUBE PROVINCES Syria 1 2 CIL III.6660 CIL III.271, 2729; Bücheler, CE 246 Pontus; Bithynia 3 CIL III.341 Asia 4 5 6 CIL III.371/ILS 2783; Häusle 1980, 26 CIL III.405 CIL III.14190; Bücheler, CE 2160; Engström, CE 403 Epirus 7 CIL III.582 Macedonia; Thessaly 8 9 10 CIL III.594 CIL III.14206/ILS 7479 CIL III.14406a; Bücheler, CE 1878; Engström, CE 25 Thrace 11 CIL III.14406g Moesia Inferior 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 CIL III.6155; Lattimore 1942, 233 CIL III.7545 CIL III.7549 CIL III.7584 CIL III.12484; Engström, CE 82; Häusle 1980, 30 CIL III.12392 CIL III.12396; Bücheler, CE 1879; Engström, CE 27 CIL III.12430 CIL III.12437; Bücheler, CE 1323 Moesia Superior 21 22 CIL III.12478 CIL III.1653 and 8143; Bücheler, CE 2162; Engström, CE 401 Dacia 23 24 CIL III.7868 CIL III.1626/ILS 8136 Dalmatia 25 26 27 28 29 CIL III.1992; Bücheler, CE 1465 CIL III.2277 CIL III.9314; Bücheler, CE 1205 CIL III.9623; Bücheler, CE 627 CIL III.14850; Bücheler, CE 1950; Engström, CE 235 Vox tua nempe mea est 79 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 CIL III.14855; Bücheler, CE 2218; Engström, CE 425 CIL III.148864; Bücheler, CE 2024; Engström, CE 175 CIL III.2722 and 9729; Bücheler, CE 1536 CIL III.6416; Bücheler, CE 82 CIL III.9733; Bücheler, CE 77; Lattimore 1942, 233 Bücheler, CE 1876; Engström, CE 23; Galletier 1922, 230, 233 CIL III.3146 CIL III.3171 CIL III.3195b Pannonia Inferior 39 40 CIL III.3396 CIL III.3397; Bücheler, CE 555 Pannonia Superior 41 42 43 44 45 CIL III.6475; Bücheler, CE 1310 CIL III.10501; Bücheler, CE 489 CIL III. Suppl. 10947; Bücheler, CE 1209 CIL III.15195; Bücheler, CE 1902; Engström, CE 24 CIL III.4483; Bücheler, CE 1082 Noricum 46 G CIL III.13529; Bücheler, CE 1992; Engström, CE 240 AFRICA Byzacena 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 CIL VIII.11257 CIL VIII.22971; Bücheler, CE 1829; Lattimore 1942, 232 CIL VIII.213; Bücheler, CE 1552/Purdie 1935, 61 CIL VIII.218; Bücheler, CE 450; Häusle 1980, 43 CIL VIII.440=CIL VIII.11520; Bücheler, CE 1235 CIL VIII.369 and 11549; Bücheler, CE 572; Häusle 1980, 68 CIL VIII.647 Africa Proconsularis 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 CIL VIII.12118 CIL VIII.1027; Bücheler, CE 484; Purdie 1935, 16 CIL VIII.1042; Bücheler, CE 1286 CIL VIII.12866; Bücheler, CE 126 CIL VIII.13134; Bücheler, CE 1606 CIL VIII.13265; Bücheler, CE 135 CIL VIII.24787; Bücheler, CE 1943; Engström, CE 185; Lattimore 1942, 120 CIL VIII.1523; Bücheler, CE 1237 CIL VIII.27248; Bücheler, CE 1987 CIL VIII.1557 CIL VIII.15724 Numidia 19 CIL VIII.2841/ILS 8097 80 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 MAUREEN CARROLL CIL VIII.3109 CIL VIII.3727 CIL VIII.4120; Bücheler, CE 133b CIL VIII.4122; Bücheler, CE 133a; Engström, CE 28 CIL VIII.4502 CIL VIII.4504; Bücheler, CE 1457a CIL VIII.5749 and 19146; Bücheler, CE 2163; Engström, CE 380 CIL VIII.5784; Engström, CE 379 CIL VIII.7156; Bücheler, CE 512 CIL VIII.7277/ILS 7943 CIL VIII.7759; Bücheler, CE 1327 Engström, CE 108 Bücheler, CE 2025; Engström, CE 233 Numidia Proconsularis 33 34 35 36 37 38 CIL VIII.4681; Bücheler, CE 511 Bücheler, CE 2107; Schmidt 1997, 949–950. Engström, CE 181 Bücheler, CE 1868; Lattimore 1942, 228 Bücheler, CE 1952 CIL VIII.5370; Bücheler, CE 112 Mauretania Sitifensis 39 CIL VIII.20394; Engström, CE 26 Mauretania Caesariensis 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 H 1 CIL VIII.9158 CIL VIII.9170, 9159 and 20808; Bücheler, CE 1830 CIL VIII.9350 CIL VIII.9439 and 21334; Bücheler, CE 2221; Engström, CE 452 CIL VIII.9496; Bücheler, CE 1455 CIL VIII.9508; Bücheler, CE 1234 CIL VIII.21008; Bücheler, CE 125 CIL VIII.21031; Bücheler, CE 479; Galletier 1922, 41 CIL VIII.21179; Bücheler, CE 429 CIL VIII.21284 CIL VIII.21461 CIL VIII.9642; Bücheler, CE 1603 CIL VIII.9729; Bücheler, CE 1330 CIL VIII.21553 BRITANNIA CIL VII.154; Bücheler, CE 806; RIB 292