In the six remarkable elegidia transmitted in the Tibullan corpus as 3.13–18 we appear to possess the writings of an educated Roman woman of aristocratic family and high literary connections: a woman, moreover, who participates as an equal in one of the most distinguished artistic salons of the age, and composes poetry in an obstinately male genre on the subject of her own erotic experience, displaying a candour and the exercise of a sexual independence startingly at odds with the ideology (...) of her class. Such a figure is either, depending on one's viewpoint, too good to be true or too embarrassing to be tolerated. The case could easily be put that Sulpicia, more perhaps even than Sappho, has found her poems condemned by accident of gender to a century and a half of condescension, disregard, and wilful misconstruction to accommodate the inelastic sexual politics of elderly male philologists. Certainly even the most sympathetic of recent comment is prone to lapse into a form of critical language outlawed in Catullan scholarship thirty years ago. Yet feminist critics have been strangely cautious in their response. A scholar who rose swiftly to the defence of Erinna when that elusive poet's identity was impugned has notoriously written of Sulpicia: ‘She was not a brilliant artist: her poems are of interest only because the author is female.’ Five years late, Sulpicia has found a place in the major sourcebook on ancient women, but with the cycle of poems violently reordered after the judgment of a nineteenth-century critic, anxious to restore his poetess's chastity against the disconcerting frankness of the texts. (shrink)

Elegies 1.19 and 2.15 combine the motifs of loss, desire, and writing in complex ways. In each poem, the speaker's attempt to recapture the past-to possess his beloved by writing about her-leads him to confront the imperatives of time and the limits of his own poetic art. Furthermore, because Cynthia is so closely identified with Propertius' project as an elegiac poet, she becomes a focus of literary as well as erotic unease. In poem 1.19, the narrator's anxiety about Cynthia's fidelity (...) discloses a deeper anxiety about the reception of his poetry, and about the ability of a text to represent its author faithfully once it enters the public domain. In contrast to 1.19, elegy 2.15 seems initially to resist the prospect of change and loss. In the first ten lines of the poem, the narrator affirms a kind of mastery over time and his beloved, re-creating a scene of pleasure from the past, and presenting Cynthia's unclothed body as the object of his and the reader's amorous gaze. Yet Cynthia's active role in the scene-the evidence of "her" desire-leads to the dissolution of the amatory tableau. Cynthia brings elements of narrative into the erotic spectacle created by the poet-lover; as in poem 1.19, she is associated with forces which threaten the text's stability or closure. In both elegies, however, the poet's fictive encounters with loss are productive as well as unsettling. Such fictions permit him to view both love affair and poetic project retrospectively, and to evaluate their significance. They give expression to literary anxieties, but also allow these anxieties to be explored and partially mastered. Finally, they offer a way of thinking about the limits of love, of representation, and of a writer's control over his text. (shrink)