The king and the beast: Political and poetic shifts in Boccaccio's Alcestus

Introduction

Alcestus is the sixth among fifteen eclogues in Giovanni Boccaccio's Buccolicum carmen (c. 1362–63). Like most poems in this book, Alcestus presents an allegorical narrative based upon a specific historical episode. In fact, Alcestus is part of, and closes, the Neapolitan war sequence of the Buccolicum, which includes eclogues 3 (Faunus), 4 (Dorus) and 5 (Silva cadens). ¹ This sequence deals with some critical events that radically changed the political situation of the Kingdom of Naples (the “Regno”), particularly after the murder of Andrew of Hungary, in 1345. Andrew was Queen Johanna's first husband, and his death was the catalyst for a conflict which forced the Angevin court to escape to Avignon, while the rest of the Neapolitan people became completely vulnerable in their own territory. In the form of a song-exchange, Alcestus evokes these political events, and celebrates the return of King Louis of Taranto to Naples, in 1348.

In this article, I aim to offer, first, an overview of Boccaccio's Alcestus, looking at its historical and literary context more broadly; and then, provide a closer examination of this poem, with its many intertexts and effects. Indeed, I regard Alcestus as an interesting and multi-layered work which, as far as I know, has received very little attention in medieval (and even in Boccaccio) studies. Taking into consideration its historical background, as well as its literary strategies, I will focus on the different kinds of shifts that emerge in the text—from winter to spring, absence to return, sorrow to happiness, and peace to fear. As I will try to demonstrate here, these shifts, besides reflecting the political instability that marked the Neapolitan Trecento, also reveal Boccaccio's literary models for this eclogue, mainly Virgil's Eclogues 5 and 8.

The historical events related in Alcestus date back to 1348, thus preceding the poem's composition—or, at least, its final version—by more than a decade. ² Boccaccio used this chronological gap in his favor, reflecting on the several transformations that took place since that year. In his Epistola 23 (c. 1374), addressed to his personal friend and religious guide Fra Martino da Signa, Boccaccio stated that the reason for his calling Louis of Taranto “Alcestus” (ἀλκή, “virtue” + aestus, “fervor”) in the eclogue was because of the virtuous character adopted by the king “near the end of his life” (circa extremum tempus vite sue). ³ From this, we can infer that Boccaccio wrote Alcestus near or after Louis of Taranto's death (in May, 1362), when the king's popularity was probably at its zenith.

As for Amintas and Melibeus, the speakers in the poem, Boccaccio assigned no deep meaning to them:

Sexta egloga Alcestus dicitur, eo quod de reditu regis prefati [scil. Louis of Taranto] in regnum proprium loquatur, quem regem ego hic “Alcestum” voco, ut per hoc nomen sentiatur quoniam circa extremum tempus vite sue optimi regis virtuosi mores assumpserat: et Alcestus dicitur ab “alce,” quod est “virtus,” et “estus,” quod est “fervor.” Collocutores duo sunt, Amintas et Melibeus, pro quibus nil penitus sentio. (Epistola 23.11–12) (Boccaccio, 1992a: 714–715)

In this way, Boccaccio reveals to da Signa that his Alcestus mixed history and fiction. In doing so, the Certaldese ultimately followed a Virgilian practice. ⁴ Indeed, just as the Eclogues addressed political issues that were relevant to Virgil's own times (such as the land confiscations after the Battle of Philippi, in 42 BCE, and the death of Julius Caesar, in 44 BCE), Boccaccio's Alcestus similarly reflected the political vicissitudes of the Trecento. ⁵

Moreover, by using the bucolic version of the myth of Daphnis as the relevant fictional equivalent to portray a political event, Boccaccio's text converses with an influential reading of Virgil's Eclogue 5, already present in Servius, and according to which the deified Daphnis represented the new divus Julius Caesar. ⁶ In this way, the reception of Virgil's Eclogue 5 in Alcestus is also mediated by the diffused allegorical interpretation of that poem. In other words, the creative reception and emulation of Virgil's Eclogue 5 in Alcestus was, to a great degree, shaped by Boccaccio's knowledge of its critical reception in late antiquity and in the medieval period.

Amyntas and Meliboeus (to use their conventional classical spellings) are traditional bucolic characters. ⁷ Yet it is noteworthy that, besides in Boccaccio's poem, they are featured together as speakers only in Calpurnius Siculus’ Eclogue 4. There, Amyntas plays the role of Corydon's younger brother, and engages with him in a song-exchange in front of Meliboeus, Corydon's patron. Though Alcestus for its part presents Amintas and Melibeus as friends, and omits the character Corydon altogether from the narrative, it nonetheless shares with Calpurnius’ poem the structure of a peaceful song-exchange which culminates in a political panegyric. In fact, just as Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4 praises the emperor Nero, Boccaccio's Alcestus champions King Louis of Taranto. ⁸

Another important element for consideration is that, in his Comedia delle ninfe fiorentine (written between 1341 and 1342), Boccaccio introduces a character who has an Italian name equivalent to Alcestus. Like in the Buccolicum, the Alcesto from the Comedia delle ninfe fiorentine also plays an allegorical role, though not the political kind. He is referred to as “Alcesto d’Arcadia,” and enters into a moral debate, reminiscent of the medieval sub-genre of conflictus, with the shepherd “Acaten, d’Academia venuto” (Ninf. or. 13.3). While the former character represents the ascetic life, the latter represents the worldly one. ⁹ It is no surprise, then, that Alcesto turns out to be the winner in that debate.

In the Comedia delle ninfe fiorentine, Alcesto describes his sheep as well-fed and peaceful animals which do not fear the wolf's attack (“pasconsi quivi timidette e mite,/ e servan lor grassezza con tal forma/ che non curan di lupo le orite,” Ninf. or. 14.7–9). As Antonio Quaglio observed, these verses have a clear symbolism: Alcesto's sheep represent the Christian souls, strengthened by virtue, and thus immune to the temptations of sin and vice (Boccaccio, 1964: 930). ¹⁰ The wolf, in turn, can be easily associated with diabolic greediness, in accordance with the Christian exegetical and bestiary traditions. As we know, Dante used the image of the she-wolf (“lupa”) to represent avarice blocking his way at the opening canto of the Inferno; and Boccaccio similarly employed the image of a wolf head, in the allegorical fountain of his Amorosa visione, to represent that vice. ¹¹

Yet, lupine imagery could also have political significance in late-antique and medieval texts. Jerome interpreted the reference to the “wolf in the evening” (lupus ad vesperam), at Jeremiah 5:6, as an indication of the Medes and the Persians overtaking Babylon. ¹² Augustine mentioned a diabolic wolf to imply the horde of Vandals conquering North Africa. ¹³ Dante used the image of the male “lupo” to represent mainly the people of Florence (Purg. 14.50–51, Par. 25.1–6) and the simoniac popes (Par. 9.127–136, 27.55), blamed for dispersing the flocks of God. ¹⁴ Similarly, in his eclogue, Boccaccio explores the political connotations of sheep and wolf imagery, presenting Alcestus as the protector of the Neapolitan flocks against the savage Polyphemus (Louis of Hungary), and the restorer of their peace and safety—which will be threatened again by a wolf, at the end of the poem.

In order to understand more closely the allegorical significance of Alcestus, we should take into consideration the events that immediately preceded and followed Louis of Taranto's succession to the Kingdom after his union with Queen Johanna. Johanna was the granddaughter of the illustrious King Robert of Anjou. After the latter's death in January of 1343, she was crowned as the Queen of Naples. ¹⁵ Two years later, Johanna's cousin and first husband, Andrew of Hungary, was assassinated in Aversa. According to some debatable but widely spread accounts, Andrew was strangled by Johanna herself, who refused to accept him as co-ruler. ¹⁶ Actually, the death of Robert had been already perceived as disastrous by the public, since it meant the passing of his power into the hands of the inexperienced Johanna and Andrew (described by Petrarch as “two lambs among a multitude of wolves”). Yet, the scandal of Andrew's murder was seen as the last straw that threw the Regno into a state of sheer confusion and instability. ¹⁷

A few weeks after the slaying of Andrew, in late 1345, Johanna (then pregnant with Andrew's son, Charles Martel) requested a papal dispensation to marry her cousin Robert of Taranto. When her wish was denied, she immediately negotiated to marry Robert's brother, Louis of Taranto. Despite Pope Clement VI's refusal to allow their marriage, Johanna secretly married Louis anyway, on 22 August, 1347. This secret union only served to fuel the previous rumors that Johanna was having an adulterous affair with both Tarantine princes, and that they were all involved in Andrew's brutal murder (See Casteen, 2015: 48). Meanwhile, the brother of the deceased Andrew, Louis of Hungary, sought revenge. In the winter of 1347, Hungarian forces and ranks of supporters moved to invade Naples, forcing Johanna (pregnant with her second child) and Louis of Taranto to flee separately to Avignon. Their departure provided the perfect occasion for Louis of Hungary to capture the Regno, send his nephew Charles Martel (born Christmas Day, 1345, and abandoned by Johanna to a papal guardian) to Buda (where the infant would die in 1348), and quickly establish himself as the ruler of Naples. With Johanna and Louis of Taranto absent, Louis of Hungary did not hesitate to avenge himself on the rest of the royal family. ¹⁸ Chaos ensued.

To make the situation worse, Johanna and Louis of Taranto's stay in Avignon did not pass by smoothly. Johanna's infamy, diffused as swiftly and mercilessly as if by Virgil's Rumor in the Aeneid, had already reached the papal city. In truth, the news of the assassination of Andrew acquired such ominous renown in Europe as to be viewed as the very cause of the Plague. ¹⁹ Still, notwithstanding the pressure from the Hungarian party, Clement VI finally conceded the dispensation for Johanna and Louis of Taranto's marriage, and delegated a commission to investigate the charges against them. In the end, not only did Johanna have her name cleared by the Curia, but also, on 30 March, the Pope awarded Louis of Taranto the Golden Rose (the highest papal honor). Subsequently, in early May, Clement paid Johanna a sum of 80,000 florins, so that she could prepare her return to Naples. In exchange, Johanna granted the Pope rights over the city of Avignon, which she ruled as countess of Provence.

Louis of Hungary remained in the Angevin capital until August of 1348, when, possibly to escape from the bubonic plague pandemic, but also to avoid being cut off from his own kingdom by the Venetians, he suddenly left for Hungary, leaving some of his troops behind (Boccaccio, 1987: 219). This unexpected withdrawal made it possible for Johanna and Louis of Taranto to return to Naples. This return—of the king, more than that of the queen—is the main subject of Boccaccio's Alcestus. ²⁰

Contradictions in the Buccolicum's Neapolitan sequence?

As mentioned above, Alcestus represents the closing piece of the Buccolicum carmen's Neapolitan saga, formed also by eclogues Faunus, Dorus and Silva cadens. One of the most striking features about these poems is the ostensible contrast between their political positions (Casteen, 2018: 219–245). For instance, while Faunus seems in favor of Louis of Hungary, Alcestus clearly supports his direct opponents, Louis of Taranto and Johanna. Though this apparent contradiction could be taken as a sign that Boccaccio wrote his eclogues 3–6 in different periods of his life, we could otherwise accept that he strategically incorporated some shifts in his texts to display changes in public opinion. In other words, as the historical events allegorised in eclogues 3–6 developed, so the dramatis personae were reassessed in each piece (Lorenzini, 2011: 30). This would explain, for instance, why Johanna was depicted as a “pregnant she-wolf swollen with rage” (gravidam …  lupam rabieque tremendam) in Faunus (l. 84), as well as in its earlier version, Tempus erat placidum (l. 148). ²¹ For even if we take into account the evidence that Boccaccio wrote Tempus erat placidum in 1348/49, and then recreated it as Faunus in 1362/63, it would still be difficult to make sense of why he deliberately chose to keep that reference intact in the final version of the Buccolicum. Indeed, the description of Johanna as a “savage beast” (sevissima, l. 86) and the possible murderer of Andrew (Alexis), in Faunus, radically clashes with her portrayal as an honorable and virtuous woman, in the final chapter of the De mulieribus claris. ²²

This contradiction is resolved as soon as we realize that Meris (the character who mentions the gravida lupa) actually performs the role of a spokesman in Faunus, reporting to Palemon and Pamphylus rumors, rather than facts. Note that Palemon explicitly asks him about such rumors: quis nostris, obsecro, nuper/ rumor inest silvis? (Faun. 35–36). Then, Meris agrees to outline briefly the recent tumult (tumultum/ expediam paucis, 65–66), and to recount what he himself has heard (audivi, 72). After narrating the scene of the she-wolf attacking Alexis, Meris concludes with the words “that is what is said” (hoc fertur, 89), and subsequently presents an alternative version of the same story. He says that, according to many people (plerique volunt, 89), Alexis was killed not by the she-wolf, but by lions and other ferocious beasts (dirasque feras, 90)—which is probably a reference to the suspected noblemen who accompanied Andrew and Johanna on their hunting trip in Aversa. ²³

On the one hand, these vocabulary choices suggest that there is more nuance in Boccaccio's presentation of Andrew's murder than some scholars have argued; and that Boccaccio is actually using the literary device of personae (identified by Servius in Virgil's Eclogues) to express an erroneous view through one of his characters. ²⁴ On the other hand, one could still plausibly argue that Louis of Hungary (Tytirus) is portrayed as a righteous avenger in Faunus, one who left his own kingdom behind to castigate those involved in his brother's murder. This opinion was shared by many of Boccaccio's contemporaries, who thought that Louis of Hungary's vendetta was legitimate. ²⁵ However, it is significant that the text of Faunus already hints at some of Louis of Hungary's and his allies’ signs of monstrosity (infrendens, 99; furentem, 103; ira rabieque frementes, 106), intimating that his rage and actions became disproportionate to his initial aim (which was to punish those who were directly involved in his brother's assassination).

The following eclogues of the Neapolitan saga depict how Louis of Hungary came to be gradually recognised, by the general public of his time, as a violent beast. In Dorus, the deceased Andrew is described as a bad ruler with tyrannical tendencies in life, with the subtext that his murder, deplorable as it was, was perhaps almost as justified as Louis of Hungary's consequent desire for revenge (iusta rabie succensus et ira, 66). ²⁶ Thus, Louis of Hungary appears in Dorus as the savage Polyphemus, raised on the milk of wild beasts (lacte ferino, 64), and more ferocious than a serpent (truculentior angue, 76). Here, Boccaccio's text markedly departs from the Theocritean version of the naive, ugly Polyphemus, unreciprocated in love by Galatea, and it gets closer to the Virgilian description of the Cyclops in the Aeneid. In this way, Boccaccio partially follows the example of Dante, who draws on Virgil to depict the Cyclops as a fearful tyrant in Egloge 4, thus possibly indicating his fear of persecution by the Guelphs of Bologna, or perhaps more particularly his fear of Fulcieri de’ Calboli (then recently elected capitano del popolo in Bologna). ²⁷ Yet, in the Buccolicum, Boccaccio modulates those differing visions of the Cyclops. Rather like Ovid, who in the Metamorphoses presents an intertextually complex and complicated version of Polyphemus (enraged after Galatea's “betrayal”), Boccaccio similarly depicts Louis of Hungary as a pitiful, but nonetheless monstrous creature. ²⁸

Thus, in Dorus, Polyphemus appears as a cruel avenger (sevo …  sub vindice, 71), who indiscriminately punishes not only the guilty, but also the guiltless and children (71–74). Driven by anger rather than by a sense of justice, his vendetta loses its original purpose and becomes a pretext for demonstrations of power. Then, the eclogue Silva cadens conveys an even sharper criticism of Louis of Hungary (malus Poliphemus, 126), claimed to be responsible for the flight of Louis of Taranto and Johanna, as well as for the crushing devastation of Naples. ²⁹ Finally, Alcestus celebrates Louis of Hungary's departure from Naples, and presents a fulsome praise of his main antagonist, Louis of Taranto.

Like many of his contemporaries, Boccaccio too acknowledged the motives behind Louis of Hungary's attacks on the Regno. Nevertheless, the sequence of his eclogues suggests that Louis of Hungary's desire for vengeance escalated quickly, turning into a madness with devastating effects for all the Neapolitan people. The eclogue Alcestus ultimately intimates how the unscrupulous means and insane actions of Louis of Hungary affected the lives of the common citizens (represented by Amintas and Melibeus), who suffered from fear and anxiety, and expected the return of Louis of Taranto and Johanna to restore the previous order. In this way, Boccaccio portrayed an important aspect of his trajectory as a “poet of the city,” and reaffirmed his literary commitment with the res publica (Lummus, 2020: 156–216).

Spring

Besides promoting an important shift within Boccaccio's liber bucolicorum (by closing the Neapolitan sequence and preceding the Florentine one), Alcestus is itself an eclogue of shifts. At the beginning of the poem, Amintas announces the end of winter, and brings happy news of spring festivities: Amintas: Pastores transisse nives et frigora leti sub divo veteres stipula modulantur amores, esculeas hedera nectunt de more corollas, crateras Bromio statuunt et vina salutant cantibus et multo protendunt carmine sacrum. Tu, Melibee, quidem plangoribus omnia solus confundis. Que tanta tibi nunc causa doloris? Melibeus: Silva vetus cecidit, lapsa est, cui prefuit Argus; custodes abiere gregum, periere sequaces. Nostris an vivat nobis Alcestus in oris incertum, et clausas disiecit belua septas. (Alc. 1–11)

In Alcestus, spring represents not the beginning of something completely new, but rather the return to a pre-established order that brings happiness to everyone. ³⁰ Both Amintas and Melibeus have already gone through an entire cycle of seasons together, and are about to re-start that process. In this sense, the return of spring in Alcestus is akin to the return of the Golden Age in Virgil's Eclogue 4, which also symbolizes an era of political peace and justice that is naturally destined to be once again replaced by the silver age, and so on. ³¹ Though this political and cyclical aspect of Virgil's Eclogue 4 was often overshadowed by its prophetic and Christianising interpretations produced in the Middle Ages, Boccaccio's Alcestus seems to anticipate the later uses of that poem made by panegyrists during the Medici period and beyond. ³²

While in Alcestus all the shepherds celebrate the beginning of spring with music, wine and rites, Melibeus strangely remains sad: tu, Melibee, quidem plangoribus omnia solus/ confundis (6–7). This line recalls the beginning of Virgil's Eclogue 1, and particularly the vocative phrase tu, Tityre (Ecl. 1.4). Note, however, that Boccaccio proposes an inversion of meaning based on the Virgilian text. In Virgil's Eclogue 1, Meliboeus laments the invasion of his homeland by foreign soldiers, and is surprised to meet Tityrus lying peacefully under the shade of a beech tree (patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi, Ecl. 1.1), playing songs about his beloved Amaryllis (formosam resonare … Amaryllida, 5; ludere … calamo, 10) while everyone else is preparing to depart (nos patriam fugimus, 4). In Alcestus, on the contrary, it is Melibeus’ melancholy that causes estrangement among the other shepherds, who are cheerfully playing old love songs under the open sky (sub divo veteres stipula modulantur amores, Alc. 2).

Moreover, Alcestus’ introduction has some significant intertexts with the beginning of both Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4 and Lucan's Bellum Civile. The former poem similarly starts with Meliboeus asking Corydon why he is sad and silent (quid tacitus, Corydon, vultuque subinde minaci …?, 1). ³³ Thus, by initially presenting Melibeus as the unhappy character in Alcestus, Boccaccio seems to propose an inversion of roles. Additionally, Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4 also displays spring-related motifs in a political context (though not at the beginning, but rather in the middle of the poem), and includes libations in honor of Bacchus-Bromius (et intacto Bromium perfundere vino, 123 ∼ Alc. 4 above: crateras Bromio statuunt et vina salutant). ³⁴

Then, Melibeus’ account of the destruction of Naples, in lines 8–11 of Boccaccio's poem above, strikingly evokes Lucan's imagery of architectural ruin at the beginning of the Bellum Civile (See Lucan, 2009). The Lucanian narrator speaks of the city walls tumbling (Italiae lapsisque ingentia muris, Lucan 1.25), stones lying on the ground (saxa iacent, 26), and uninhabitable houses (rarus …  habitator, 27). Likewise, using pastoral vocabulary to describe a similar picture of destruction, Boccaccio's Melibeus presents a collapsed woodland (silva … lapsa est, Alc. 8) with broken fences (clausas disiecit belua septas, 11) and almost desolate, since most herdsmen have left, and their allies have perished (custodes abiere gregum, periere sequaces, 9).

Melibeus explains that his ancient woodland was once governed by Argus, but is now ruled by a monster (belua), and the fate of Alcestus is still unknown. ³⁵ Here, like Faunus and Dorus, Argus represents Robert of Anjou, the late king of Naples, who was praised by both Boccaccio and Petrarch, and was famously known as a “second Solomon” (See Kelly, 2003). Under Robert, the powerful Neapolitan Regno reached its cultural zenith, asserted its political hegemony and showed imperial ambitions (See Casteen, 2015: 8). Hence, Melibeus’ speech above recalls the situation narrated in the previous eclogue of the Buccolicum, Silva cadens, where we are told that, after the departure of Louis of Taranto (Alcestus) and Johanna (Liquoris), Naples descended into a hopeless state of doubt (Silva cadens 113–115; Boccaccio, 1987: 219). In both Silva cadens and Alcestus, the old Naples of Robert (Tytirus/Argus) is contrasted with the current state of Naples, invaded by Louis of Hungary (Cyclops/Polyphemus), and deserted by the Angevin court (Silva cadens; 56, 57 and 126).

Polyphemus’ departure

In response to Melibeus’ lament above, Amintas happily announces that the savage Polyphemus has left their woods, and that Alcestus has come back, together with his retinue of shepherds and flocks: Parcendum lacrimis, nam trux Poliphemus abivit. Alcestus rediit nobis, rediere vagantes pastores oviumque greges, rediere priores, letitiaque virent silve vallesque resultant, omnis ager pubet, redeunt sua sydera pratis, frondes arbustis, edis quoque cornua surgunt, cornupetant campis lunata fronte iuvenci, Massicus et Gaurus florent pulcherque Vesevus innovat arbustis vites stauratque Falernus ulmis iam colles, stringit Vulturnus et undas; surge ideo letumque diem psallentibus auge. (Alc. 12–22)

Again using nature as a means to convey certain feelings and dispositions of the mind, Boccaccio's text paints a colorful spring landscape which simultaneously reflects and amplifies the excitement and happiness of his Neapolitan shepherds. With Alcestus’ return, the first signs of spring appear, and the entire forest starts to renew itself: auspicious stars appear in the sky (redeunt sua sydera pratis, 16), fresh leaves in the trees (frondes arbustis, 17), and flowers and vineyards on the hills (Massicus et Gaurus florent, pulcherque Vesevus/ innovate arbustis vites, 19–20).

Here, as in the previous lines, Amintas’ speech also alludes to Virgil's description of the return of the Golden Age, in Eclogues 4. Compare, for instance, Alcestus rediit nobis, rediere vagantes/ pastores (Alc. 13–14) with iam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna (Ecl. 4.6). In this context, the return of Louis of Taranto to Naples is compared to the return of Astraea (the goddess of Justice, who left the earth in disgust during the Iron Age to become the constellation of Virgo) and of Saturn (the ruling god of the Golden Age). ³⁶ Virgil associates the beginning of this cosmic change with the consulship of Pollio (teque adeo decus hoc aevi, te consule, inibit,/ Pollio, 9–11), thus calling attention to the role of Rome in that process of renewal. Boccaccio, in turn, resorts to topographical elements characteristic of the Campania region (the mountains Massicus, Gaurus, Vesuvius and Falernus, as well as the river Volturno), situating the reader in the Naples of Louis and Johanna. ³⁷

Melibeus, however, remains skeptical about Alcestus’ return, for “belief in great things is always slow to come” (lenta fides magnis semper prestatur, 23), and the gods are clearly raging against Alcestus (Pan deus a silvis oculos avertit et omne/ sevit in Alcestum dira vertigine celum, 25–26). He asks Amintas to leave him alone with his tears (meque meis lacrimis sinito miserisque querelis, 30). Yet, Amintas does not give up, and tries to use other arguments to persuade his friend that his words are true: Si Corinna meo sedeat, Melibee, sub antro, ³⁸ vera loquor: vidi Cyrceum vertice flammis fulgentem in reditu; sic et Garganus et ingens Appenninus heri fumabant culmine summo letitia et, multis quod forsan credere durum, Ethna quidem plausu fumos convertit in ignes. Et si nulla fides dictis, hunc suspice collem quam vireat, squalentem olim pallore. Quid ultra? His oculis, iuro, calcantem litora vidi euboica et matrem amplexu pulchrasque sorores suscepisse pio, letis ac oscula dantem. (Alc. 31–41)

Here, Amintas first resorts to an erotic analogy: just as he wishes his Corinna were in his grotto, so is he speaking the truth to Melibeus. This is the first and only time that Corinna, known mainly as the elegiac puella of Ovid's Amores, makes an appearance in the Buccolicum carmen, or even, for that matter, in all bucolic poetry prior to Boccaccio. ³⁹ Although her name is mentioned only in passing by Amintas, it broaches an important aspect of Alcestus: even though this is a political eclogue, which allegorically displays the earthly concerns of adult citizens about the health of their community, it nevertheless points to a connection with the previous stage of erotic suffering, characteristic of adolescence and prominent in the Buccolicum's introductory eclogues, Galla and Pampinea. In other words, in Alcestus, the impulses of love and lust are not completely suppressed, but rather outweighed by political anxiety.

Then, expanding his arguments, Amintas relates changes in nature as concrete evidence of Alcestus’ return. He assures Melibeus that he himself has seen the peaks of Mounts Circeo, Gargano, Apenninus, and even Etna smoking and shining with flames of joy (32–36). ⁴⁰ As Bernardi Perini points out, taking up the previous catalogue of Neapolitan mountains in lines 19–21, the present list of mountains from southern Italy completes the demarcation of the Angevin territory (Boccaccio, 1994: 963). In the sequence, Amintas calls Melibeus’ attention to the verdant aspect of their own hill (hunc … collem), which before was barren and pale (squalentem olim pallore, 37–38). Lastly, Amintas emphatically swears that he himself saw, with his own eyes (his oculis … vidi, 39), Alcestus walking on the Euboean (that is, Cumaean) shores, embracing and kissing his mother and sisters. ⁴¹

Alcestus’ return

At this point, we can observe a central shift in Alcestus: once Melibeus realizes that Amintas is telling him the truth, he suddenly changes his attitude and is delighted at the prospect of Alcestus’ return. Using a number of similes related to spring (flowers, dittany, the west wind and refreshing rain), Melibeus expresses his satisfaction at hearing Amintas’ words. The phrase floribus … nocturno frigore, in particular, recalls Dante's “fioretti dal notturno gelo,” as the Dantean pilgrim reacted to Beatrice's speech, previously recounted by Virgil: Quali fioretti dal notturno gelo chinati e chiusi, poi che ‘l sol li ‘mbianca si drizzan tutti aperti in loro stelo, tal mi fec’ io di mia virtude stanca, e tanto buono ardire al cor mi corse, ch’i’ cominciai come persona franca (…) Tu m’hai con disiderio il cor disposto sì al venir con le parole tue, ch’i’ son tornato nel primo proposto. (Inf. 2.127–138) ⁴²

Thus, like Dante, who here accepts the proposal of undertaking a journey through the underworld, Melibeus finally accepts the truth and sweetness of Amintas’ news about the return of Alcestus. ⁴³ This thematic allusion is strengthened in line 46 of Alcestus above (sic cordi tua dicta meo), which vividly brings to mind Inferno 2.136–137. Amintas prays that this new beginning may be favoured by Phoebus and Pales—the classical pair of pastoral deities, as in Virgil's Eclogue 5.35; but here probably signifying Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, as in Boccaccio's Olympia 172 and Phylostropos 200.

In what follows, Melibeus calls on Phorbas to set up adorned altars and prepare the due rites; and on Lycophron to look after the exhausted sheep (49–56). The former character seems to perform the same role of a servant as the Phorbas from Galla; the latter, however, seems more peculiar. ⁴⁴ Although unusual, there is probably a connection between him and the poet Lycophron of Chalcis (fl. third century BCE), whom Boccaccio discovered through Leontius Pilatus, around the same time he was writing the Buccolicum, the Genealogie and the De mulieribus. ⁴⁵ The link between Melibeus’ attendant and the Greek poet would then be merely toponymic—as we have seen in lines 39–40, Boccaccio associates the ancient city of Chalcis, in the island of Euboea, with Naples because of Cumae's supposed Euboean origins (Boccaccio, 1994: 964).

The intertextual engagement of Alcestus with Virgil's Eclogue 5 goes further than the correspondence pointed above. While the shifts in nature observed before in the poem were more evocative of Virgil's Eclogue 4, now Melibeus’ psychological shift from sorrow to joy will be based on Virgil's Eclogues 5 and, to a lesser degree, 8 (Boccaccio, 1987: 219). In fact, Alcestus closely follows the pattern adopted by Virgil in these poems, which are both centered on a song-exchange: the first starting with mourning for the death of Daphnis, and culminating with celebration of his heavenly ascension; and the second starting with a report of a love complaint, and ending with Daphnis’ long-awaited homecoming.

Right at the start of Virgil's Eclogue 5, the shepherd Menalcas invites the younger Mopsus to sit down with him among the hazels and elms, and proposes that the latter plays the panpipes, while he himself will sing: cur non, Mopse, boni quoniam convenimus ambo/ tu calamos inflare levis, ego dicere versus,/ hic corylis mixtas inter consedimus ulmos? (1–3). Mopsus humbly accepts the offer, but expresses his preference to move to a cave. Then, Menalcas remarks that, among their hills, only Amyntas can compete in song with Mopsus: montibus in nostris solus tibi certat Amyntas (8). Boccaccio's Alcestus deploys a very similar frame, though near the middle rather than at the beginning of the eclogue. From line 57 to 65 below, Melibeus proposes to Amintas that they should spend the day in song and dances, as a way of celebrating the return of the beloved king. After all, he says, they are both skilled in playing pipes and singing, and there is only one shepherd-singer in the Sicilian fields who can surpass them.

Yollas

Since in Virgil's Eclogue 5 Amintas is referred to by Menalcas as the only possible rival of Mopsus, it seems that, by featuring the former character in Alcestus, Boccaccio is consequently selecting one of Virgil's best shepherd-singers to feature prominently in his own poem. Hence, if we consider that Virgil's Amyntas is described there as an unbeatable singer, whose only rival is Apollo (Ecl. 5.9), an intertextual reading of those two poems might at first suggest that Boccaccio's Amintas is superior to both Virgil's Mopsus and Menalcas. Yet, as the passage above demonstrates, Alcestus introduces another personage to take the role of the greatest singer: Yollas.

Like Amintas and Melibeus, the name Yollas/Iollas is equally borrowed from Virgil's Eclogues (2.57 and 3.76–79), and is also present in the pastoral of Calpurnius (3, 4.59, 6.91) and Nemesianus (4.4, 20, 72), as well as in the bucolic correspondence of Giovanni del Virgilio and Dante (3.80–81 Iollas/ comis et urbanus, 4.95 callidus … Iollas, representing the lord of Ravenna, Guido Novello da Polenta, in both these instances). ⁴⁶ Scholars have speculated, but without strong supporting evidence, that Boccaccio's Yollas refers to Petrarch (Boccaccio, 1914: 323; Boccaccio, 1987: 220; Boccaccio, 1994: 964; and Combs-Schilling, 2012: 102–103). Bernardi Perini, for instance, noted that the agri siculi, mentioned in lines 63–64 above, indicate the bucolic genre, rather than Sicily itself. ⁴⁷ However, as Bernardi Perini himself observed, in Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4.59, Iollas is described by Corydon as the beneficiary of Tityrus’ panpipe and as a man who is doctus. On the one hand, this allusion could be an indicator that Yollas (ostensibly doctior than Amintas and Melibeus) indeed stands for Petrarch, considering Boccaccio's representations of Petrarch (in the wake of Petrarch's own self-fashioned statements) as a continuator of the classical tradition and a learned poet. ⁴⁸ On the other hand, it is noteworthy that Boccaccio typically reserves the adjectives (pre)clarus, optimus and inclitus (but never doctus or gravis) to describe Petrarch in his works. ⁴⁹ Yet, in his carmen 5, Ytalie iam certus honos (which accompanied a copy of the Commedia sent to Petrarch around 1353, and then revised after 1359), Boccaccio explicitly uses the adjective doctus to describe Dante (Dantis opus doctis, 3; doctumque … poetam, 37). ⁵⁰ Moreover, it is significant that Giovanni del Virgilio refers to Dante's old age in their bucolic correspondence (divine senex, 3.33); thus, Boccaccio's description of Yollas as gravis could be actually evoking this same notion of Dante as an old man. ⁵¹ This is reinforced by the intertextual links between lines 62–65 of Alcestus’ above and Del Virgilio's Egloge 3.49–51: simul cantabimus ambo:/ ipse levi calamo, sed tu gravitate magistrum/ firmius insinuans, ne quem sua deserat etas. ⁵²

These observations complicate the role of Yollas in Alcestus. Though the identification of him as Petrarch seems plausible in the context of the Buccolicum carmen, the vocabulary in the passage above evokes Dante even more powerfully. At any rate, regardless of a possible allegorical meaning for Yollas, this character has an important function in the dynamics of Amintas’ and Melibeus’ amoeban song (since it is common in this type of bucolic composition to invoke an absent rival). Besides, it has an implication on Boccaccio's self-fashioned career, while reflecting his well-known modesty topos. ⁵³ Indeed, as an effect of the intertext between the passage from Alcestus above and Virgil's Eclogue 5, the idea that Boccaccio's Amintas can compete with Virgil's Mopsus immediately suggests that Boccaccio is presenting his own pastoral as equal or perhaps even superior to that of Virgil (See Combs-Schilling, 2012: 102). Yet, the inclusion of Yollas as a potential rival of Amintas and Melibeus underpins that assumption, and reveals that Boccaccio's bucolic poetry is not the best (and is actually far from it, as will be suggested later in the Buccolicum, in the eclogue Aggelos).

In the following lines, Amintas returns his compliments to Melibeus: Ergo alacres dignum calamis et carmine festum cantemus; tu primus eris, tu carmine maior. Esculeo dudum descriptos cortice rastro Phyllidis incipies, vel quos mage duxeris, ignes seu magis Alcesti laudes: non dignior ullus; seu magnos Phytias quos pertulit ante labores, qui meruit versus qua Stilbon flabat avena. (Alc. 66–72)

The recognition by Amintas that Melibeus’ singing talent is superior to his own (tu carmine maior) verbally alludes to Mopsus’ phrase tu maior, spoken to Menalcas at Virgil's Eclogue 5.4. The connotation of maior in each of these passages, however, is different. Whereas Boccaccio's Amintas is evidently referring to Melibeus’ qualities as a singer, Virgil's Mopsus is more likely talking about Menalcas’ greater age (Virgil, 1994: 155; 2014: 285). Nevertheless, Boccaccio was certainly aware of Servius’ explanation that, by maior, Virgil ambiguously referred either to Menalcas’ age or his merit (vel natu vel merito, Ad Buc. 5.4). In fact, Boccaccio's text plays with both these possibilities of interpretation. While in line 66 above he leaves no doubt regarding the meaning of maior (for the ablative of specification carmine makes such clarification), previously, in line 24, Melibeus refers to himself as an aged swineherd (annosum … subulcum).

Another point of contact between Alcestus and Virgil's Eclogue 5 is the initial hesitation about who should start singing. In both eclogues, the singers show an exchange of courtesies and a mutual admiration, which reflect the harmonious nature of their song-exchange—different, for instance, from the agonistic disputes seen in Virgil's Eclogue 3 and Boccaccio's eclogue 13, Laurea (Virgil, 2014: 126). A similar structure is also seen in Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4, which also displays a harmonious type of amoebean song, based on Meliboeus’ and Corydon's common praise of Caesar. What is more, in Virgil's Eclogue 5, Menalcas gives three options of subject for Mopsus to start singing: the loves of Phyllis, the merits of Alcon, or the quarrels of Codrus (incipe, Mopse, prior, si quos aut Phyllidis ignes/ aut Alconis habes laudes aut iurgia Codri, Ecl. 5.10–11). Similarly, in Boccaccio's Alcestus, Melibeus suggests that Amintas be the first to play a song upon the reed-pipe (tu primus, 60), while he himself will follow him in singing (ast ego … secundus carmina cantabo, 61–62). Then, after responding with that phrase tu primus eris, tu carmine maior (67), Amintas proposes three different themes for Melibeus: the loves of Phyllis, the honor of Alcestus, or the labors of Phytias, as they were sung by Stilbon.

Though the catalogue just mentioned is highly intertextual, the names of Phyllis and Phytias, alongside that of Alcestus, have raised suspicions from some scholars, who have thought that they too might be being used here in a specific allegorical sense. Lidonnici (followed by Bernardi Perini) proposed that Phyllis represent Johanna. Hence, the reference to Phyllis’ fires carved in oak bark not long ago, besides evoking Virgil's Eclogue 5.13–54 (quae cortice fagi/ carmina descripsi), would also indicate her marriage with Louis of Taranto—which, at the time of their return to Naples, had been recently sanctioned by the Pope. The character Phytias in turn probably signifies, like in Dorus, Niccolò Acciaiuoli (1310–1365), the faithful advisor of Johanna and Louis, who fled with them during the Hungarian invasion, and who was nominated as Naples’ grand seneschal in 1348 (Boccaccio, 1914: 202; 1994: 965). ⁵⁴ His labores should be understood as the many practical difficulties Acciaiuoli had to deal with in order to regain control of the Regno and ensure that Louis would rule over it (Casteen, 2015: 82). Finally, Stilbon (Στίλβων, “gleaming,” “glittering”) was associated with the planet Mercury, and consequently with the famous messenger of the gods. In this case, he probably represents Zanobi da Strada, court poet at Naples and secretary to Acciaiuoli. ⁵⁵

Yet, Smarr provides a compelling hypothesis for the passage above, which does not necessarily exclude, but rather complements the one offered by Lidonnici. Indeed, Smarr suggests a metapoetic link between Phyllis’ loves and Boccaccio's erotic eclogues 1 and 2, and also between Phytias’ trials and eclogue 4, Dorus. In this way, she argues, “Boccaccio may be offering here a brief catalogue of his own work so far, demonstrating the variety of its themes” (Boccaccio, 1987: 220).

A song for Alcestus

Melibeus voices his wish to sing a song worthy of future ages in honor of Alcestus, and prays that the Muses (Libetrides) raise his song up to the stars. ⁵⁶ The phrase per secula voces is reminiscently epic—evoking, for example, the expression per saecula nomen, employed at Virgil Aeneid 6.235, Lucan Bellum Civile 7.589, and Statius Thebaid 2.486 and 5.747. Yet, Melibeus’ following phrase, nostrum tollant ad sydera carmen, is typically bucolic, alluding to both Virgil's Eclogue 5.43 (Daphnis … ad sidera notus) and 62–63 (ipsi laetitia voces ad sidera iactant/ intonsi montes). Through these intertextual links, Boccaccio's Alcestus emerges as a Daphnis redivivus—an idea which will be furthered throughout the poem. Indeed, as an effect produced by Alcestus’ pronounced intertextual engagement with Virgil's Eclogue 5, Louis of Taranto's exile and subsequent “resurrection,” in the former poem, acquires the same significance that Daphnis’ death and apotheosis has to Menalcas and Mopsus, in the latter one (Boccaccio, 1994: 964). The two eclogues are thus presented as poetry of some elevation, and share a messianic tone (See Virgil, 2014: 123, 135–137; and also Virgil's Eclogue 4).

Alcestus’ fall

After meeting all the necessary requirements for their musical leisure (the shade, the divine rites, the welfare of the animals, and the quietness of the fields), Amintas encourages Melibeus to start singing. The latter then begins recounting what had happened after Alcestus’ departure from their woodland: Amintas: Ecce, puer, placida pariter residemus in umbra et superis gratos mittunt altaria fumos, ruminat omne pecus, pueri campique quiescunt. Quid trahis in longum conceptos iam tibi versus? Melibeus: “Alcestum postquam silvis abstraxit amatis fatorum predura lues, flevere dolentes Parthenopes nymphe nec vidit Daunia sulcos, vitibus obstupuit Bachus, periere iuvence Vulturnusque senex ingentia saxa revolvens excessit ripas, luteus demissus ab urna; montibus obtectum nebulis fumoque cacumen vidimus et valles ululatu flere dolenti; tunc quos clara dedit tellus rugire leones non ausos laqueosque graves sentire coactos venantum primo, lyncis quoque lumen ademptum. Ha quantum potuit de te Fortuna quibusque casibus in dubios te traxit seva meatus! Ast ego, Phebe decus celi, posuisse labori Alcesti finem et patriis post reddere silvis dignatus, meritos nymphe tibi semper honores carmine perpetuo resonent precor atque bubulci.” (Alc. 79–99)

The disastrous consequences of Alcestus’ exile are not very different from the consequences of Daphnis’ death in Virgil's Eclogue 5. For instance, Melibeus’ description of the mourning of nature and animals above closely resembles Mopsus’ account in Virgil's poem. Just as Daphnis was cut off (exstinctum … crudeli funere Daphnin, Ecl. 5.20) by a cruel death, so Alcestus was suddenly withdrawn from his beloved woods (silvis abstraxit amatis, Alc. 83). In both passages we find the images of nymphs weeping (Nymphae … flebant, Ecl. 5.20–21; flevere dolentes … nymphe, Alc. 84–85), rivers (flumina, Ecl. 5.21 and 25; Vulturnus, Alc. 87), and the figures of Bacchus (Ecl. 5.30; Alc. 86) and Phoebus Apollo (Ecl. 5.35; Alc. 96). More significantly, the glory of Alcestus is paired with the glory of Daphnis, and both deserve to have it immortalized in verse—compare the verses pastores (mandat fieri sibi talia Daphnis),/ et tumulum facite, et tumulo superaddite carmen (Ecl. 5.41–42) with meritos nymphe tibi semper honores/ carmine perpetuo resonent precor atque bubulci (Alc. 98–99). As we can see, however, while Mopsus urges his fellow-shepherds to build a tomb for Daphnis, Melibeus is now certain that Alcestus is alive, and proposes that the nymphs and herdsmen celebrate his return (Alcesti finem et patriis post reddere silvis/ dignatus …, Alc. 96–98).

At the same time, other intertexts seem to work as oppositio in imitando, highlighting the contrasts rather than the similarities between the Virgilian and the Boccaccian passages. Thus, whereas the African lions moaned over Daphnis’ death (Daphni, tuum Poenos etiam ingemuisse leones/ interitum montesque feri silvaeque loquuntur, Ecl. 5.27–28), the lions “born from the gleaming earth” remained quiet after Alcestus’ departure, and hence became, for the first time, vulnerable to the hunters’ traps (tunc quos clara dedit tellus rugire leones/ non ausos laqueosque graves sentire coactos/ venantum primo, Alc. 91–93).

Besides functioning as an adynaton to express grief, like in Virgil's Eclogue 5, the lions mentioned by Melibeus in Alcestus seem to have an allegorical meaning. Like in Faunus (89 and 101) and Silva cadens (47), the reference to the leones is probably alluding to Johanna's relatives, more particularly the Durazzeschi and the Tarantini, who were caught and punished by Louis of Hungary for their supposed involvement in the murder of Andrew. And with the lynx, subsequently mentioned, Boccaccio is perhaps alluding to Johanna's brother-in-law, Duke Charles of Durazzo (1323–1348), who was also among Louis of Hungary's first victims, being executed in Aversa, the same place where Andrew was murdered, in January 1348 (See Boccaccio, 1994: 966; Casteen, 2015: 48, 70–71). ⁵⁷

Finally, let us go back a few lines to consider an important allusion and its thematic effects in the Buccolicum. At the very beginning of the passage above, Melibeus says that Alcestus had been carried away from his forests by a “harsh pestilence of the fates” (Alcestum postquam silvis abstraxit amatis/ fatorum predura lues …, 83–84). These lines firstly allude to Virgil's Eclogue 5.34, where Mopsus similarly refers to Daphnis as taken by death from the world (postquam te fata tulerunt …). However, while Virgil deploys the verb fero (aufero, “to take away,” “carry off”) with a euphemistic connotation, Boccaccio uses the verb abstraho (“to drag off,” “withdraw,” “divert”) in a more literal sense, referring to the actual departure of Alcestus from Naples. ⁵⁸ Yet, in this context, the invocation of the fates also has a deeper meaning, representing another political symbol of civil war, besides relating to the concept of Fortune. ⁵⁹ This association is subsequently reinforced in lines 94–95, where Melibeus blames Fortune for the adversities (casibus) and perilous travels (dubios … meatus) that she had imposed on Alcestus.

Being the personification of a divine force that controls the redistribution of earthly goods among individuals or nations, Fortune is said to be responsible for (or at least conniving in) Alcestus’ ruin. ⁶⁰ This idea brings to mind Boccaccio's De casibus virorum illustrium, as though suggesting a link between the fall of Alcestus and that of other famed figures. Yet, unlike most of these disgraced men, Alcestus was providentially allowed to rise to the top of Fortune's wheel once again.

Alcestus’ comeback

Amintas praises Melibeus’ song, saying that it was more pleasing to him than thyme to bees, tender hibiscus to the lambs, or clover to goats: non thymus est apibus, non agnis lenis ybiscus,/ non cythisus capris quantum tua carmina nobis (Alc. 100–101). These two lines, too, allude to Virgil's Eclogue 5, yet they combine motifs from different passages. The first relates to the moment at which Menalcas pays a compliment to Mopsus’ song, comparing it to what sleeping on the grass means to the weary, and drinking water to the thirsty (tale tuum carmen nobis, divine poeta,/ quale sopor fessis in gramine, quale per aestum/ dulcis aquae saliente sitim restinguere rivo, Ecl. 5.45–47). The second recalls Menalcas talking about the rites of Daphnis, which should be conducted so long as the boar loves the mountaintops and the fish the streams, as the bees feed on thyme and the cicadas on dew (dum iuga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit,/ dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadae,/ semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt, Ecl. 5.76–78). ⁶¹

From here on, Boccaccio's text starts to incorporate some elements from Virgil's Eclogue 8, too. Indeed, while Boccaccio's Alcestus proposes to celebrate the return of Alcestus, the second half of Virgil's poem (which is sung by the character Alphesiboeus) similarly culminates with the (apparent) return of Daphis from Rome to his lover's home in the countryside. Though the latter Daphnis hardly corresponds to the Daphnis of Virgil's Eclogue 5, Boccaccio conveniently combines these two models into his characterization of Alcestus—a man who, like the straying lover from Virgil's Eclogue 8, is not dead and eventually returns to his homeland. And yet, this returning lover is one whose absence has a political significance and is felt by all the inhabitants of the woods, as in Virgil's Eclogue 5.

Following his compliment to Melibeus, Amintas will propose to make a reply of his own and will sing an extensive panegyric in honour of Alcestus, one which is structured around the same exhortative refrain: plaudite iam colles, et vos iam plaudite montes:/ redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris (Alc. 103–104, 113–114, 120–121, 128–129, 139–140). A similar pattern is deployed in Virgil's Eclogue 8: first, in a recurrent line from Damon—incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus (Ecl. 8.21, 25, 31, 36, 42, 46, 51 and 57, with a slight adaptation in line 61: desine Maenalios, iam desine, tibia, versus). And afterwards in Alphesiboeus’ song, as he recites the sorceress's spell to bring her Daphnis back home—ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin (Ecl. 8.68, 72, 79, 84, 90, 94, 100, and 104).

At the end of her incantation, the anonymous Virgilian sorceress sees her Daphnis coming back home from the city, and she suddenly concludes her speech saying: parcite, ab urbe venit, iam parcite, carmina, Daphnis (Ecl. 8.109). As at the start of Alcestus, this abrupt ending marks a shift from sorrow to joy, as the sorceress finally has her wish fulfilled (See Virgil, 1977: 253). However, that line is constantly evoked from the beginning to the end of Amintas’ song, particularly in the second part of his strophic unit (redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris). Thus, Amintas emphasises that his Alcestus has already returned, and there is no need for incantations of any sort, just celebrations.

As in Melibeus’ song, which though mainly fashioned after Virgil's Eclogue 5 still incorporated elements drawn from other poems, in Amintas’ too we can point out other relevant allusions besides those to Virgil's Eclogue 8: Plaudite iam colles, et vos iam plaudite montes: redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris. Litora iam plausu surgant et flumina certent nunc plausu complere polos. Hic spernere terras occiduas, solisque vias celumque serenum cernere et obliquos Phebes mirarier orbes cepit et Astream silvis revocavit abactam: hac tauris curru iunget cervisque leones armentisque lupos, serpentum sibila sulcis auferet et meritos Musis concedet honores. (Alc. 103–112)

The description above alludes to Virgil's Eclogue 4, again implying that the return of Alcestus/Louis of Taranto to Naples is equivalent to the return of the Golden Age. In Virgil's poem, the restoration of this primeval age coincides with the consulship of Pollio at Rome (te consule … Pollio, Ecl. 4.11–12), and is marked by the return of the Virgin Astraea to the earth (iam redit et Virgo, Ecl. 4.6). Then, following the birth of the puer, the cattle will not fear the lions (nec magnos metuent armenta leones, Ecl. 4.22), and the poisonous snakes and plants will be extinguished (occident et serpens, et fallax herba veneni/ occident, 23–24). Similarly, in Boccaccio's poem, Amintas grants to Alcestus the successful return of Astraea (Astream … revocavit, Alc. 109), and he also speaks of a peaceful era, where the deer and lions, wolves and cattle will live together in harmony, and where dangerous snakes will no longer exist (iunget cervisque leones/ armentisque lupos, serpentum sibila sulcis/ auferet, 110–112).

Note, moreover, that Amintas’ speech above combines different images and vocabulary related to the cosmological and divine spheres. The phrase spernere terras occiduas (Alc. 106–107), for instance, alludes to both Virgil's Eclogue 4.14 (solvent … terras) and Calpurnius’ Eclogue 4.42 (occiduas impellere … harenas). Then, the syntagm solisque vias (Alc. 107) is also present at Virgil Aeneid 6.796, in a passage where Anchises announces the coming of a new Golden Age (aurea … saecula, Aen. 6.792–793) ushered in by Augustus Caesar (Horsfall, 2014: 540–541). The pair caelum serenum (celumque serenum, Alc. 107), in turn, is employed in different classical texts, including in Virgil’s Georgics 1.260, Aeneid 3.518 and 5.870 (but not anywhere in the Eclogues, though). Subsequently, the image of Alcestus yoking a chariot of bulls (hac tauris curru iunget, Alc. 110) alludes, firstly, to Daphnis teaching the herdsmen of Eclogue 5 to yoke their chariots with tigers while he was still alive (Daphnis et Armenias curru subiungere tigris/ instituit, Ecl. 5.29–30). In Virgil's text, the chariot drawn by tigers is associated with the traditional iconographical representations of Dionysus-Bacchus, suggesting that Daphnis’ capacity of taming nature was comparable to that god's power (See Virgil, 2017: 298). In Boccaccio's text, the image of the chariot with bulls is a sign that Alcestus is equally endowed with civilizing qualities, and is able to reverse the disordered state to which his woodland was reduced during his absence. Thus, Boccaccio's text proposes a restructuring of Virgil's chronological order of his account of Daphnis. For unlike Virgil's Mopsus, who nostalgically recalls Daphnis’ achievements in life, Boccaccio's Amintas rather imagines what Alcestus is about to do now that he is back. Secondly, this same image strikingly brings to mind the mythical scene of Jason yoking the bulls in Colchis with the aid of Medea—which is an interesting parallel since Louis of Taranto too had a powerful female coadjutor (Johanna). ⁶²

Finally, the association between Alcestus/Louis of Taranto and a Roman statesman is further established by an allusion to Lucan's Bellum Civile. As Bernardi Perini observed, Boccaccio's phrase obliquos Phebes mirarier orbes/ cepit (Alc. 108–110) strongly recalls Lucan's fratri contraria Phoebe/ ibit et obliquum bigas agitare per orbem/ indignata diem poscet sibi (1.77–79). Not only do these lines have clear verbal and imagistic links, but they are also inserted in very similar (yet contrasting) contexts. Indeed, whereas Boccaccio's text suggests the return of a Golden Age, Lucan's text proposes the return of an even earlier stage of humanity, dominated by primitive chaos (antiquum … chaos, 74). Lucan describes the constellations clashing in confusion, the stars dropping into the sea, the moon (Phoebe) moving in opposition to the sun, and all the natural laws collapsing. Lucan associates this (literally) chaotic image with the envious Fates and Fortune (70 and 84), but also with the excessive ambition of the first Roman triumvirs Pompey, Crassus and Julius Caesar. Yet, despite its dreadful consequences, Lucan suggests that the civil war was perhaps a necessary evil for the arrival of the quasi-divine Nero, who finally brought peace to Rome (61–63). Amintas’ following lines in Alcestus will reinforce the intertextual engagement with Lucan: Plaudite iam colles, et vos iam plaudite montes: redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris. Dum mare fluctivagos pisces tellusque tenebit quadrupedes, aer volucres et sydera Olympus, Alcestus silvis pastoribus atque puellis sit lumen semperque decus nec limina Ditis conspiciat; moriens, superis sit Delphycus alter. (Alc. 113–119)

After the refrain, Amintas lists a number of natural observations (the sea has fish, the earth has four-footed animals, the air has birds, and high heaven has stars) in order to express his conditional wish that, so long as those things continue to exist, Alcestus may live and rejoice in glory. These compounded sententiae and images of permanence markedly recall the sequence of the passage from Lucan's Bellum Civile mentioned above. However, though similarly structured, Lucan's sequence of images (the earth supporting the sea, the air supporting the earth, night following day, and the Zodiac signs regularly following one another) will have a pessimistic conclusion, as he proposes that, so long as nature follows this normal course, “loyalty will be impossible between sharers in tyranny”: dum terra fretum terramque levabit aer et longi voluent Titana labores noxque diem caelo totidem per signa sequetur, nulla fides regni sociis, omnisque potestas inpatiens consortis erit. (Bel. Civ. 1.89–93) ⁶³

Boccaccio's text thus incorporates these Lucanian motifs into its bucolic panegyric, providing a positive inversion of Lucan's negative idea, while using images and vocabulary more closely linked with Virgil's Eclogues (Alc. 115–118 dum … semperque … ∼ Ecl. 5.76–78 dum iuga montis aper … semper honos; Alc. 117–118 silvis … decus ∼ Ecl. 5.34 tu decus omne tui; Alc. 119 sit Delphycus alter ∼ Ecl. 5.65–66 sis bonus … Daphni, duas altaria Phoebo). ⁶⁴ The thematic associations with Lucan's text have two deeper implications in Alcestus. Though Louis of Taranto is presented there as the desired ruler (as opposed to the tyrants listed by Lucan), it is as if the danger of tyranny was still lurking in Boccaccio's eclogue—as will be confirmed at the end of the poem.

Celebration

In the two final strophic units of his song, Amintas first gives instructions for the festivities, and then celebrates the immortal glory of Alcestus: Plaudite iam colles, et vos iam plaudite montes: redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris. Nos agnam mactare decet (nos cernat ovantes Alcestus) taurumque sibi, dum tempora victor umbrabit lauro: veniat lux illa, precamur, et suris vinctis saltabimus inde coturno elicietque sonos stipulis tyrenus Asylas: astabunt coram Damon Phytiasque canentes. Plaudite iam colles, et vos iam plaudite montes: redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris. Vix, Alceste decus nostrum, vix credere fame post nos ruricole poterunt, sed cortice duro posteritas tua facta leget; te populus ingens, te corilus sculptum, servabit te quoque fagus, dum fluet Eridanus, dum montes vallibus umbras prestabunt, dum grata salix, dum gratus ybiscus nascetur capris. Crescent ea nomina quantum ipsa quidem fagus crescet. Mirabitur Arnus atque colet gratis linquens tua facta futuris. Plaudite iam colles et vos iam plaudite montes; redditus est nostris Alcestus, redditus antris. (Alc. 120–140)

Amintas proposes to his fellow countrymen that they slaughter a lamb and a bull for Alcestus. The first type of sacrificial killing was more frequently staged in Latin poetry—appearing, for instance, at Horace Odes 2.17.32 (nos humilem feriemus agnam), and Calpurnius Eclogues 4.166 (nos … tenerum mactabimus haedum). The second one was usually reserved for the greatest ceremonies, and was thereby more commonly invoked in the epic—for instance, at Virgil Aeneid 2.202 (sollemnis taurum ingentem mactabat ad aras), 3.20–21 (superoque nitentem/ caelicorum regi mactabam in litore taurum), and 3.118–119 (meritos aris mactavit honores … taurum tibi, pulcher Apollo; compare this with Alc. 123: Alcestus, taurumque sibi). ⁶⁵ Thus, in including the bull sacrifice as part of the ritualistic ceremonies to Alcestus, Amintas makes clear the magnitude of this event, and depicts Alcestus as a divine leader, not only worthy of the lower lyric and bucolic poetry (symbolically implied through the agnam), but also of loftier genres, such as the epic (taurum). ⁶⁶

Yet, more generally, the passage above also interacts with the beginning of Book 3 of Virgil's Georgics. There, the poet-narrator champions his own literary career, and imagines his successful return to his homeland, Mantua, where he will build a shrine to Augustus Caesar by the waters of the river Mincius: primus Idumaeas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas, et viridi in campo templum de marmore ponam propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat Mincius et tenera praetexit harundine ripas. in medio mihi Caesar erit templumque tenebit (Virg. G. 3.12–16)

Then, Virgil imagines a triumphal procession, where he himself, his head adorned with olive-leaves (ipse caput tonsae foliis ornatus olivae, 21), will conduct the crowd and assist in the rites, which include the slaughter of young bullocks (iuvat caesosque videre iuvencos, 23). Virgil's text thus anticipates the return and triple triumph of Caesar in August 29 BCE, after the Actium campaigns; and links Virgil's own poetic fame with the political success of Caesar, with a possible hint at the Aeneid (Harrison, 2007: 154–155). As we have seen above, in Boccaccio's poem, the return of Alcestus will be similarly celebrated with animal sacrifice, but there is more than that. While Virgil suggests the construction of a shrine near the Mincius in honour of Augustus Caesar, Boccaccio's Amintas refers the Arnus as the witness of Alcestus’ deeds (Mirabitur Arnus/ atque colet gratis linquens tua facta futuris, Alc. 37–38 above). ⁶⁷ In fact, this particular intertext had been already anticipated in lines 48–53 of Alcestus, where Melibeus sang of building altars with the palms of Idumaea near the waters (erige propter aquas nobis altaria … et ydumeas fer palmas), thus alluding to Georgics 3.11–14 above. ⁶⁸ Note, however, that Boccaccio's choice of Arnus not only hints at his Tuscan origin; it also implies that the fame of King Louis of Taranto had already reached the north of Italy.

What is more, whereas in Georgics 3 Virgil suggests the future writing of a panegyric epic to Caesar, Boccaccio's text emphasises that the glory of Alcestus will be carved in the rough bark of his bucolic poetry instead: sed cortice duro/ posteritas tua facta leget (131–132). Indeed, while the idea of immortalising one's fame in poetry was a widely diffused topos in classical literature (also present in Lucan's Bellum Civile 1, for instance), the idea of writing on trees was traditionally bucolic. ⁶⁹ Nonetheless, it might be striking that Alcestus’ deeds and name will be preserved on three different trees (namely on the poplar, the hazel, and the beech trees), which could be an indication of the Neapolitan war trilogy in the Buccolicum.

Finally, it is worth noting that Amintas imagines dancing (et suris vinctis saltabimus inde coturno, Alc. 125), and lists other men (the Tyrrhenian Asylas, Damon and Phytias) who will perform celebratory songs in front of Alcestus. In this particular context, Amintas’ coturni probably indicate hunting boots—which are a prominent feature of Diana's iconography, as observed at Virgil Eclogues 7.29–32 (Delia … puniceo stabis suras evincta coturno) (Virgil, 2014: 224–225; 2017: 389–391). ⁷⁰ Yet, it is also possible that Boccaccio is ambiguously playing with the tragic and the bucolic meanings of the coturnus there, suggesting that the theme of Alcestus’ return is suitable to both lower and loftier genres. ⁷¹ In fact, those three names mentioned by Amintas refer to characters of different status. Asylas symbolically alludes to the eminent Etruscan hero and diviner from Virgil's Aeneid, and he is normally associated in the Buccolicum with dignified elderly personages. ⁷² Damon and Phytias, in turn, represent the celebrated pair of friends; but they are presented as lower in status than Asylas in the Buccolicum carmen. Thus, in the final stanza of Amintas’ song above, Boccaccio's text weaves various multigeneric strands together into a meaningful whole, linking the idea of the political triumph with that of the poetic one (presumably with thoughts of the contemporary laureate coronations of Petrarch, too). ⁷³ Meanwhile, the passage above suggests that Boccaccio's bucolic book is the cortex on which the great deeds of Louis of Taranto, as well as Boccaccio's own (autofictional) loves and labors, will be allegorically preserved.

Exchanging gifts

The next section of Alcestus displays an exchange of gifts between the two shepherd-singers. While Melibeus offers Amintas one of the two vessels that the Spartan Ylas has made, Amintas awards Melibeus a fine staff, which was once given to him by the Cyprian Lycidas: Melibeus: Est michi conspicuum signis, quod condidit olim ⁷⁴ Ylas spartanus, quamvis duo vasa fuissent, dum placido nobis victus concessit amore. Horum aliud nuper rapuit gratissima Phyllis; tu reliquum, quanquam tanto sit munus agreste, suscipe, sed noscas nulli tetigisse labellum. Amintas: Sat video te cogat amor, dum munera tanti concedis puero: non parva teneret Yollas. Tu ne sperne, precor, baculum quem cyprius olim, dum iuvenis frigias agitaret arundine dammas, concessit Lycidas sumptum de rupe Camandri, nodis insignem nec non et cuspide fulva. (Alc. 147–158)

As far as the figures mentioned in this passage are concerned, they do not seem to refer to any specific historical persons. The name “Ylas” is a Hellenised version of the mythological Hylas, mentioned in Virgil's Eclogue 6, where he carries an erotic connotation also hinted at in Boccaccio's text (placido … victus … amore, 149). ⁷⁵ In line 150 above, we have a new reference to Phyllis. However, though again invoked in the context of love (as in lines 69 and 73), she hardly corresponds to Queen Johanna. Rather, in this case, she seems to perform the non-allegorical role of a bucolic puella, as in Virgil and Calpurnius, as well as in Boccaccio's twelfth eclogue, Saphos (Boccaccio, 1994: 968). ⁷⁶ Then, Amintas mentions Yollas, who is probably the same Yollas of line 64, described as Amintas’ and Melibeus’ rival in music; and finally Lycidas, who, like Yollas (Iollas), is a character from Virgil's Eclogues, being briefly mentioned in Eclogue 7 (Lycida formose, l. 67), and then as Moeris’ younger interlocutor in Eclogue 9.

Now, regarding the scene above as a whole, Boccaccio's text employs the traditional bucolic motif of the gift-exchange, and establishes some striking allusions to passages from Virgil's Eclogues. ⁷⁷ For instance, the image of Melibeus gifting Amintas with a vessel (vasum), made by Ylas and never used before (noscas nulli tetigisse labellum, 152), calls to mind Virgil Eclogues 3.36–48, where both Menalcas and Damoetas stake two embossed cups (pocula), all four of them made by Alcimedon, and equally untouched by human lips (necdum illis labra admovi, 43 and 46). ⁷⁸ However, the Virgilian text additionally presents the ekphrastic details contained in these objects. The cups owned by Menalcas are decorated with vine stems and clusters of ivy, and in their center display the astronomers Conon and possibly Eudoxus (in medio duo signa, Conon et—quis fuit alter?, 40) (Virgil, 2017: 216). The cups owned by Damoetas feature acanthus leaves around their handles, and in the middle they exhibit Orpheus with the woods following him (45–46). Boccaccio's text omits such details, thus detaching the bucolic vessels from the didactic connotations that these same objects had in Virgil's ekphrastic descriptions (See Hubbard, 1988: 72; Karakasis, 2011: 88–95). Instead, it emphasises that one of Melibeus’ vessels was snatched by Phyllis (reinforcing the erotic symbolism of the vessels); and that the other one, which Melibeus is offering to Amintas, is quite rustic (munus agreste, 151). The staff (baculum) that Amintas donates to Melibeus, in turn, evokes the crook (pedum) that Mopsus bestows upon Menalcas, in Virgil’s Eclogues 5.88–90—which is a humble symbol of poetic investiture. ⁷⁹ Both these objects are marked with knots (nodis insignem, Alc. 158; formosum … nodis, Virg. Ecl. 5.90). Yet, while Amintas’ staff has a golden tip (cuspide fulva), Mopsus’ crook is adorned with bronze (aere).

Conclusion: Happiness in suspense

As was argued from the beginning of this article, Alcestus is fundamentally an eclogue of shifts. Firstly, considering its allegorical relationship with the previous eclogues of the Buccolicum, Alcestus marks a shift in public opinion, from the initial support of Louis of Hungary's vendetta, to the subsequent criticism of his violent actions, followed by a general adhesion to Louis of Taranto's side. ⁸⁰ Secondly, within the poem itself, we have a psychological shift in Melibeus’ state from sorrow to excitement—and this psychological shift, in turn, promotes a thematic and structural shift in the eclogue, which starts as a lament, and then evolves into a song-exchange and panegyric. At the end of Alcestus, we can observe yet another type of shift. In fact, when everything seemed to be going well, Amintas hears his dogs Melampus and Licisca barking, a sign that his sheepfold might be in great danger: ⁸¹ Sed sta, care, precor, modicumque adverte: quid, oro, personuit silvis echo? Non, oro, latratus concipis ipse canum? grandis non ille Melampus? non gregis, heu, custos latrat? non illa Licisca? Est equidem, nosco: timeo ne sevus ovili nunc lupus insultet seu belua sevior; ibo ut videam et manibus tollam ne ledat hiulcus. Tu venias queso, si te fortasse ciebo. (Alc. 159–165)

With this ending, Boccaccio's eclogue thus departs from the expected closure of a friendly song-exchange. Unlike Virgil's Eclogue 5 or Calpurnius 4, Alcestus does not end with the amicable giving of gifts or with sundown, but rather with its sudden interruption by an echoing and frightening noise. However, it partially alludes to the end of Virgil's Eclogue 8, where the anonymous sorceress interprets the barking of Hylax as a sign that her Daphnis has returned home, but immediately questions herself: et Hylax in limine latrat./ Credimus? An, qui amant, ipsi sibi somnia fingunt? (Ecl. 8.107–108). In this passage, Virgil suggests that lovers invent their own fantasies of happiness—an idea that also recalls Tindarus’ speech to Damon, in Galla (nimium falluntur amantes, 50). ⁸² Yet, the ending of Boccaccio's Alcestus implies not that Amintas might have been wrong about Alcestus’ return from the start, but that his hope of peace and stability on earth was illusory like a dream. Unlike Alcesto's fearless sheep in the Commedia delle ninfe fiorentine—who represented the Christian souls fortified by virtue—Amintas gets alarmed by the potential menacing presence of a “savage wolf or an even more savage beast” (sevus … lupus … seu belua sevior), and the poem unusually concludes with him hastening to see what is happening. ⁸³

Ultimately, drawing on the image of the destructive wolf, familiar from the biblical and bestiary traditions, Boccaccio's passage above could be allegorically understood as the Neapolitans’ fear of suffering another invasion. It is known that, when Louis of Hungary departed from the Angevin Regno back to Hungary, he left a number of his troops behind, at a relatively small distance from Naples (Boccaccio, 1987: 221). At the same time, the same passage could be interpreted as an allusion to the shadow of Charles IV of Luxembourg, who in 1346 had been elected King of Bohemia in opposition to Louis IV, then becoming also King of the Romans. Indeed, by the time that Johanna and Louis of Taranto had returned to Naples, Charles was threatening to enter Italy and receive the imperial crown. Actually, between the return of the Angevin court to Naples until the announcement of Charles’ descent to Italy, that coronation would not take too long. In 1355, the King of Bohemia would be crowned Holy Roman Emperor, a position he would keep until his death, in 1378. In this context, the representation of Charles IV as a savage wolf, in the final lines of Alcestus, seems particularly compelling. Boccaccio, embracing the Florentine ideals of autonomy, was openly against Charles IV's aggressive imperial policy. Hence, it does not seem a coincidence that this ideological conflict will be thematised in the Buccolicum's following eclogue, Iurgium, where Charles IV appears as Daphnis, a “dreadful thief” (fur pessimus Daphnis, Iurg. 4) (See Boccaccio, 1914: 205; Boccaccio, 1987: 221; and Boccaccio 1994: 969–970). ⁸⁴