Hunting Lore #5: Oppian of Cilicia's Halieutica

The extant Greco-Roman literature on hunting not only features two Xenophons (the Xenophon and Arrian, "the second Xenophon"), but also two Oppians, long thought to be the same person: Oppian of Cilicia (in Asia Minor), who wrote a long poem on fishing, the Halieutica, in the second century CE; and Oppian of Apamea (in Syria), who wrote a Cynegetica in the early third century. They were long thought to be the same person - and it is possible that the Apamean's real name is lost, and that he was called Oppian only by mistake.

Corycus and Hermes (Book 3)

The elder Oppian, at any rate, first mentions his Cilician hometown Corycus in the opening of the third book (out of five in total) of the Halieutica:

Come now, O Wielder of the Sceptre [=emperor], mark thou the cunning devices of the fisher's art and his adventures in the hunting of his prey, and learn the law of the sea and take delight in my lay. For under thy sceptre rolls the sea and the tribes of the haunts of Poseidon, and for thee are all deeds done among men. For thee the gods have raised me up to be thy joy and thy minstrel among the Cilicians beside the shrine of Hermes. And, O Hermes, god of my fathers, most excellent of the children of the Aegis-bearer, subtlest mind among the deathless gods, do thou enlighten and guide and lead, directing me to the goal of my song. The counsels of fishermen excellent in wit thou didst thyself, O Lord, first devise and didst reveal the sum of all manner of hunting, weaving doom for fishes. 

And thou didst deliver the art of the deep for keeping to Pan of Corycus, thy son, who, they say, was the saviour  of Zeus — the saviour of Zeus but the slayer of Typhon. For he tricked terrible Typhon with promise of a banquet of fish and beguiled him to issue forth from his spacious pit and come to the shore of the sea, where the swift lightning and the rushing fiery thunderbolts laid him low; and, blazing in the rain of fire, he beat his hundred heads upon the rocks whereon he was carded all about like wool. And even now the yellow banks by the sea are red with the blood of the Typhonian battle. 

O Hermes, glorious in counsel, thee especially do fishermen worship. Therefore invoking thee with the gods who aid their hunt I pursue the glorious song of their chase. 

First of all the fisher should have body and limbs both swift and strong, neither over fat nor lacking in flesh. [...] he must be fond of labour and must love the sea. So shall he be successful in his fishing and dear to Hermes.

What Cilician shrine of Hermes is meant, and why Pan is called "of Corycus", becomes clear somewhat later on:

Hear first the cunning mode of taking the Anthias [fish] which is practised by the inhabitants of our glorious fatherland above the promontory of Sarpedon, those who dwell in the city of Hermes, the town of Corycus, famous for ships, and in sea-girt Eleusa.

The scholia say that Oppian was from Anazarba, and there was a temple of Hermes there as well; but while it is possible that he had a connection to both towns, only that to Corycus is entirely certain.

Now, from what Oppian says here in book 3, you might think that, out of a sense of patriotism and personal piety, he has put the art of fishing entirely in the domain of Hermes, and that this would hold throughout the poem. But the Halieutica can serve as a good example of polytheistic devotion: even when the gods are invoked as rulers of the same domains, they remain distinct, and one does not eclipse the others.

Invocations of other gods

Thus early in the first book, Poseidon, the Sea itself, and the maritime gods are addressed, the obvious patrons for such a topic, along with the Muse:

But be thou gracious unto me, thou who art king in the tract of the sea, wide-ruling son of Cronus, Girdler of the earth [=Poseidon], and be gracious thyself, O Sea, and ye gods who in the sounding sea have your abode; and grant me to tell of your herds and sea-bred tribes; and do thou, O lady Goddess, direct all and make these gifts of thy song well pleasing to our sovereign lord [=the emperor] and to his son.

An interesting example of how divine praise works contextually, here Oppian praises the Sea by "demoting" the Earth from mother of all to mother of many:

[S]ince the sea is infinite and of unmeasured depth, many things are hidden, and of these dark things none that is mortal can tell; for small are the understanding and the strength of men. The briny sea feeds not, I ween, fewer herds nor lesser tribes than earth, mother of many. But whether the tale of offspring be debatable between them both, or whether one excels the other, the gods know certainly; but we must make our reckoning by human wits.

But in a later hymnic address to Zeus, she is "mother of all" again:

O Father Zeus, in thee and by thee are all things rooted, whether thou dwellest in the highest height of heaven or whether thou dwellest everywhere; for that is impossible for a mortal to declare. With what loving-kindness, although thou hast marked out and divided the bright sky and the air and the fluid water and earth, mother of all, and established them apart each from the other, yet hast thou bound them all one to another in a bond of amity that may not be broken and set them perforce under a common yoke not to be removed! For neither is the sky without air nor the air without water nor is the water sundered from the earth, but they inhere each in the other, and all travel one path and revolve in one cycle of change. Therefore also they pledge one another in the common race of the amphibians; [...]

Note how the praise of Zeus, although effusive - the poet refuses to decide between the Homeric god of the sky and the Stoic world god, and thus in effect acclaims Zeus as both -, serves to introduce the topic of amphibian animals; the "universalism" of this god serves a particular purpose, and he is neither more important to the economy of the poem than Poseidon, nor more central to the personal devotion of the poet than Hermes.

Beyond these examples from the first book, there is this invocation of Eros:

Other fishes doth tender love make for fishermen the spoil of their chase, and fatal mating they find and fatal their passion, hastening their own ruin through desire. [...]

O cruel Love, crafty of counsel, of all gods fairest to behold with the eyes, of all most grievous when thou dost vex the heart with unforeseen assault, entering the soul like a storm-wind and breathing the bitter menace of fire, with hurricane of anguish and untempered pain. The shedding of tears is for thee a sweet delight and to hear the deep-wrung groan; to inflame a burning redness in the heart and to blight and wither the bloom upon the cheek, to make the eyes hollow and to wrest all the mind to madness. Many thou dost even roll to doom, even those whom thou meetest in wild and wintry sort, fraught with frenzy; for in such festivals is thy delight. Whether then thou art the eldest-born among blessed gods and from unsmiling Chaos didst arise with fierce and flaming torch and didst first establish the ordinances of wedded love and order the rites of the marriage-bed; or whether Aphrodite of many counsels, queen of Paphos, bare thee a winged god on soaring pinions, be thou gracious and to us come gentle and with fair weather and in tempered measure; for none refuses the work of Love. Everywhere thou bearest sway and everywhere thou art desired at once and greatly feared; and happy is he who cherishes and guards in his breast a temperate Love. Nor doth the race of Heaven suffice thee nor the breed of men; thou rejectest not the wild beasts nor all the brood of the barren air; under the coverts of the nether deep dost thou descend and even among the finny tribes thou dost array thy darkling shafts; that naught may be left ignorant of thy compelling power, not even the fish that swims beneath the waters.

Again, there is a kind of universalism, but one that is clearly bounded by the peculiarity of the god in question; and none of these "universalized" gods, Hermes, Zeus, or Eros, displace the gods who are immediately responsible for certain areas of life, as Poseidon in this example from book 4:

The Hippurus, when they behold anything floating in the waves, all follow it, closely in a body, but especially when a ship is wrecked by the stormy winds, finding Poseidon terribly unkind, and the great waves break her up and carry hither and thither her scattered timbers, loosened by the rending assaults of the sea. Then the shoals of the Hippurus follow in the train of the drifting planks, and the fisherman who chances upon them wins easily great and unstinted spoil. But that may the Son of Cronos, the lord of the deep, avert from our sailors, and may their ships speed over the broad waves with gentle breezes, unhurt and unshaken, while they ply to and fro for cargo! And for the Hippurus men may contrive other devices and without the wreck of ships pursue their prey.

And in book 5, Oppian says that when divers

adventure to accomplish their mighty task, they make their vows to the blessed gods who rule the deep sea and pray that they ward from them all hurt from the monsters of the deep and that no harm may meet them in the sea.

Or take this imagined prayer of "one who has lingered more in landward haunts than among ships" again from book 5:

O Earth, dear mother, thou didst bear me and hast fed me with landward food, and in thy bosom let me die, when my destined day arrives! (Be the Sea and the works thereof gracious unto me and on the dry land let me worship Poseidon!) And may no tiny bark speed me among the grievous wavs nor let me scan the winds and the clouds in the air! Not enough is the so great terror of the waves, not enough for men the terror of distressful seafaring and the woe that they endure, ever riding with the storm-winds of evil noise, nor enough for them to perish by a watery doom: beyond all these they still await such banqueters as these, and find burial without a tomb, glutting the cavern of a wild beast's throat. I fear her who breeds such woes. Nay, O Sea, I greet thee — from the land, and — from afar — mayst thou be kind to me!

Of course this last passage is somewhat contrived, but the point still stands: cosmologically important gods are not therefore more important in all other sense, and any god is bounded in their relevance by their peculiar nature.

The emperors

So it is with the divine emperors, too - which makes it so misleading to call the imperial cult "a state religion", as many do. Because the emperors have their very particular profile as deities, they do not usurp the place of the other gods, even though they are addressed in hymnic tones several times, as at the very start of the first book:

The tribes of the sea and the far scattered ranks of all manner of fishes, the swimming brood of [sea goddess] Amphitrite, will I declare, O Antoninus, sovereign majesty of earth [...]

not bereft of pleasure art thou, if pleasure thou desirest, but sweet is the royal sport. A ship well-riveted, well-benched, light exceedingly, the young men drive with racing oars smiting the back of the sea; and at the stern the best man as steersman guides the ship, steady and true, to a wide space of gently heaving waves; and there feed infinite tribes of feasting fishes which thy servants ever tend, fattening them with abundant food, a ready choir of spoil for thee, O blessed one, and for thy glorious son, the flock of your capture. For straightway thou lettest from thy hand into the sea the well-woven line, and the fish quickly meets and seizes the hook of bronze and is speedily haled forth — not all unwilling — by our king; and thy heart is gladdened, O Lord of earth. For great delight it is for eye and mind to see the captive fish tossing and turning.

In book 4:

But do thou, I pray thee, mightiest of kings who have cities in their keeping, both thyself, O Antoninus1 and thy son of noble heart, graciously give ear and take pleasure in these delights of the sea wherewith the kindly Muses have furnished forth my mind and have crowned me with the gift divine of song and given me to mix a sweet draught for your ears and for your mind.

And again in book 5:

Next hear and mark, O lord of earth, that there is nothing impossible for men to do, either on mother earth or in the vasty gulf of the sea, but of a truth someone created men to be a race like unto the blessed gods, albeit he gave them inferior strength: whether it was the son of Iapetus, Prometheus of many devices, who made man in the likeness of the blessed ones, mingling earth with water, and anointed his heart with the anointing of the gods; or whether we are born of the blood divine that flowed from the Titans; for there is nothing more excellent than men, apart from the gods: only to the immortals shall we give place.

How many monster wild beasts of dauntless might doth man quench upon the mountains, how many tribes of birds that wheel in cloud and air doth he take captive, though he be of lowly stature! His valour prevents not the Lion from defeat, nor doth the windswift sweep of his wings save the Eagle. Even the Indian Beast, dark of hide and of tremendous weight, men make to bow to overwhelming force and under the yoke set him to do the patient hauling labour of the mule. And the huge Sea-monsters that are bred in the habitations of Poseidon are, I declare, no whit meaner than the ravaging children of the land, but both in strength and size the dauntless terrors of the sea excel. There is upon the mainland the breed of Tortoises which know no valour nor hurt: but the Tortoise of the sea no man shall confidently confront amid the waves. There are fierce Dogs upon the dry land: but not one could vie in shamelessness with the Dogs of the sea. [...] Such are the beasts which have their business in the sea. But notwithstanding even for them the dauntless race of men has devised grievous woe, and they perish at the hands of fishermen, when these set themselves to do battle with the Sea-monsters. The manner of hunting these with its heavy labour I will tell. And do ye hearken graciously, O kings, Olympian bulwarks of the earth.

Humans and the art of fishing

What we hear in this last passage resonates with what Oppian says elsewhere, e.g. when he first introduces the topic of his poem:

[I will tell] the crafty devices of the cunning fisher's art — even all that men have devised against the baffling fishes. Over the unknown sea they sail with daring heart and they have beheld the unseen deeps and by their arts have mapped out the measures of the sea, men more than human. 

That humans have mastered such great arts almost blurs the line between them and the gods:

Ah! whosoever first invented ships, the chariots of the sea, whether it was some god that devised them or whether some daring mortal first boasted to have crossed the wave, surely it was when he had seen that voyaging of a fish that he framed a like work in wood, spreading from the forestays those parts to catch the wind and those behind to control the ship.

But in a different context, the disinction is reasserted with force (book 2):

All these things, I ween, someone of the immortals hath showed to men. For what can mortals accomplish without the gods? Nay, not even so much as lift a foot from the ground or open the bright orbs of the eyes. The gods themselves rule and direct everything, being far, yet very near. And doom unshakable constrains men to obey, and there is no strength nor might whereby one may haughtily wrench with stubborn jaws and escape that doom, as a colt that spurns the bit. But evermore the gods who are above all turn the reins all ways even as they will, and he who is wise obeys before he is driven by the cruel lash unwillingly. 

The gods also have given to men cunning arts and have put in them all wisdom. Other god is namesake of other craft, even that whereof he hath got the honourable keeping. Deo hath the privilege of yoking oxen and ploughing the fields and reaping the fruitful harvest of wheat. Carpentry of wood and building of houses and weaving of cloth with the goodly wool of sheep — these hath Pallas taught to men. The gifts of Ares are swords and brazen tunics to array the limbs and helmets and spears and whatsoever things Enyo delights in. The gifts of the Muses and Apollo are songs. Hermes hath bestowed eloquence and doughty feats of strength. Hephaestus hath in his charge the sweaty toil of the hammer. 

These devices also of the sea and the business of fishing and the power to mark the multitude of fishes that travel in the water — these hath some god given to men; even he who also first filled the rent bowels of earth with the gathered rivers and poured forth the bitter sea and wreathed it as a garland, confining it about with crags and beaches; whether one should more fitly call him wide-ruling Poseidon or ancient Nereus or Phorcys, or other god that rules the sea. But may all the gods that keep Olympus, and they that dwell in the sea, or on the bounteous earth, or in the air, have a gracious heart toward thee, O blessed wielder of the sceptre, and toward thy glorious offspring and to all thy people and to our song.

As the arts, so also justice and the rule of the emperor are due to the gods (still book 2):

Among fishes neither justice is of any account nor is there any mercy nor love; for all the fish that swim are bitter foes to one another. The stronger ever devours the weaker; this against that swims fraught with doom and one for another furnishes food. [...]

The Grey Mullet, I hear, among all the fishes of the sea nurses the gentlest and most righteous mind. For only the kindly Grey Mullets harm neither one of their own kind nor any of another race. Nor do they touch with their lips fleshly food nor drink blood, but feed harmlessly, unstained of blood and doing no hurt, a holy race. Either upon the green seaweed they feed or on mere mud, and lick the bodies one of the other. Wherefore also among fishes they have honourable regard and none harms their young brood, as they do that of others, but refrain the violence of their ravenous teeth. Thus always and among all reverend Justice hath her privilege appointed and everywhere she wins her meed of honour. But all other fishes come fraught with destruction to one another [...]

Yet it is no marvel that Justice should dwell apart from the sea. For not long since that first of goddesses had no throne even among men, but noisy riots and raging ruin of destroying Wars and Strife, giver of pain, nurse of tearful wars, consumed the unhappy race of the creatures of a day. Nor different at all from wild beasts were many among men; but, more terrible than Lions, well-builded towers and halls and fragrant temples of the deathless gods they clothed with the blood of men and dark smoke of Hephaestus: until the Son of Cronus took pity on the afflicted race and bestowed upon you, the Sons of Aeneas, the earth for keeping. Yet even among the earlier kings of the Ausonians [=Italians] War still raged, arming Celts and proud Iberians and the great space of Libya  [=North Africa] and the lands of the Rhine and Ister [=Danube] and Euphrates. Wherefore need I mention those works of the spear? For now, O Justice, nurse of cities, I know thee to share the hearth and home of men, ever since they hold sway together, mounted on their mighty throne — the wondrous Sire [=the emperor] and his splendid scion: by whose rule a sweet haven is opened for me. Them, I pray, O Zeus and ye Sons of Heaven, the choir of Zeus, may ye keep and direct unfailingly through many tens of the revolving years, if there be any reward of piety, and to their sceptre bring the fulness of felicity.

Dolphins

But even beyond the example of the Grey Mullet, the contrast between the empire of humans on the earth and the maritime world is not absolute (book 1):

Ye gods, not alone then among men are children very dear, sweeter than light or life, but in birds also and in savage beasts and in carrion fishes there is inbred, mysterious and self-taught, a keen passion for their young, and for their children they are not unwilling but heartily eager to die and to endure all manner of woeful ill. 

Oppian is talking about seals and (especially) dolphins here:

Now all the viviparous denizens of the sea love and cherish their young but diviner than the Dolphin is nothing yet created; for indeed they were aforetime men and lived in cities along with mortals, but but by the devising of Dionysus they exchanged the land for the sea and put on the form of fishes; but even now the righteous spirit of men in them preserves human thought and human deeds. 

For when the twin offspring of their travail come into the light, straightway, soon as they are born they swim and gambol round their mother and enter within her teeth and linger in the maternal mouth; and she for her love suffers them and circles about her children gaily and exulting with exceeding joy. And she gives them her breasts, one to each, that they may suck the sweet milk; for god has given her milk and breasts of like nature to those of women. Thus for a season she nurses them; but, when they attain the strength of youth, straightway their mother leads them in their eagerness to the way of hunting and teaches them the art of catching fish; nor does she part from her children nor forsake them, until they have attained the fulness of their age in limb and strength, but always the parents attend them to keep watch and ward. 

What a marvel shalt thou contemplate in thy heart and what sweet delight, when on a voyage, watching when the wind is fair and the sea is calm, thou shalt see the beautiful herds of Dolphins, the desire of the sea; the young go before in a troop like youths unwed, even as if they were going through the changing circle of a mazy dance; behind and not aloof their children come the parents great and splendid, a guardian host, even as in spring the shepherds attend the tender lambs at pasture. As when from the works of the Muses children come trooping while behind there follow, to watch them and to be censors of modesty and heart and mind, men of older years: for age makes a man discreet; even so also the parent Dolphins attend their children, lest aught untoward encounter them.

Beyond the connection to Dionysus (through the myth of the Tyrrhenian pirates, multiple versions of which can be found at theoi.org), the dolphins are also beloved of Poseidon, the ruler of the sea:

The Dolphins both rejoice in the echoing shores and dwell in the deep seas, and there is no sea without Dolphins; for Poseidon loves them exceedingly, inasmuch as when he was seeking the dark-eyed daughter of Nereus [i.e. Amphitrite] who fled from his embraces, the Dolphin marked her hiding in the halls of Ocean and told Poseidon; and the god of the dark hair straightway carried off the maiden and overcame her against her will. Her he made his bride, queen of the sea, and for their tidings he commended his kindly attendants and bestowed on them exceeding honour for their portion.

In book 2, he comes back to dolphins:

This other excellent deed of the Dolphins have I heard and admire. When fell disease and fatal draws nigh to them, they fail not to know it but are aware of the end of life. Then they flee the sea and the wide waters of the deep and come aground on the shallow shores. And there they give up their breath and receive their doom upon the land; that so perchance some mortal man may take pity on the holy messenger of the Shaker of the Earth when he lies low, and cover him with mound of shingle, remembering his gentle friendship; or haply the seething sea herself may hide his body in the sands; nor any of the brood of the sea behold the corse of their lord, nor any foe do despite to his body even in death. Excellence and majesty attend them even when they perish, nor do they shame their glory even when they die.

And yet again in book 5, where Oppian declares the killing of dolphins equivalent to murder:

The hunting of Dolphins is immoral and that man can no more draw nigh the gods as a welcome sacrificer nor touch their altars with clean hands but pollutes those who share the same roof with him, whoso willingly devises destruction for Dolphins. For equally with human slaughter the gods abhor the deathly doom of the monarchs of the deep; for like thoughts with men have the attendants of the god of the booming sea: wherefore also they practise love of their offspring and are very friendly one to another.

And they cooperate with humans in fishing, too:

Behold now what manner of happy hunting the Dolphins kindly to men array against the fishes in the island of Euboea amid the Aegean waves. For when the fishers hasten to the toil of evening fishing, carrying to the fishes the menace of fire, even the swift gleam of the brazen lantern, the Dolphins attend them, speeding the slaughter of their common prey. Then the fishes in terror turn away and seek escape, but the Dolphins from the outer sea rush together upon them and frighten them and, when they would fain turn to the deep sea, they drive them forth towards the unfriendly land, leaping at them ever and again, even as dogs chasing the wild beast for the hunters and answering bark with bark. And when the fishes flee close to the land, the fishermen easily smite them with the well-pronged trident. And there is no way of escape for them, but they dance about in the sea, driven by the fire and by the Dolphins, the kings of the sea. But when the work of capture is happily accomplished, then the Dolphins draw near and ask the guerdon of their friendship, even their allotted portion of the spoil. And the fishers deny them not, but gladly give them a share of their successful fishing; for if a man sin against them in his arrogance, no more are the Dolphins his helpers in fishing.

Finally, he tells the story of a dolphin who fell in love with a human boy, and died of grief after the youth's death.

Conclusion

I have left out a few myths (which I will take up in a future post for this series), and ought to mention briefly the notion, mentioned in book 2, that a/the god/daemon has given the animals of the sea their abilities and the knowledge of how to use them. But apart from that, it remains only to cite the closing of the poem:

So much I know, O Wielder of the Sceptre [=emperor], nursling of the gods, of the works of the sea. But for thee may thy ships be steered from harm, sped by gentle winds and fair; and always for thee may the sea teem with fish; and may Poseidon, Lord of Safety, guard and keep unshaken the nether foundations which hold the roots of Earth.

(The translation I have used is that of A. W. Mair, as found at LacusCurtius.)