Making History Personal: Constantine Cavafy and the Rise of Rome

Frier, “Making History Personal,” page 34
Although Cavafy is scarcely alone among modernist poets in making heavy use of history
(one thinks of T. S. Eliot, or Ezra Pound, or Bertolt Brecht, or Derek Walcott), he is unique in
that editions of his poems are almost invariably accompanied by editorial commentaries explaining
his historical references—this for the obvious reason that not only is his subject matter regularly
abstruse even to the classically educated (not one in a thousand of whom, I wager, could
correctly identify Orophernes), but knowledge of that subject matter is frequently required in order
to make much more than hazy sense of his poems. Daniel Mendelsohn’s splendid new translation
of Cavafy’s poems comes equipped with a particularly lengthy commentary, so long, in
fact, that some reviewers have complained about its size.
My feeling, however, is just the opposite: that even Mendelsohn’s commentary is still not
extensive enough, at least when it comes to probing the layers of meaning that Cavafy built up
around his historical poems. A good example is “For Antiochus Epiphanes,” a poem that Cavafy
began in about 1911, but finished and published only in 1922. In an extravagant gesture, a male
favorite of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (perhaps the fictional Emonides mentioned in “Temethus,
Antiochene: 400 A.D.,” 1925), on whom the king has lavished many gifts, offers to part with all
of them if the Macedonians, under King Perseus, can only prevail in their struggle with Rome.
Fairly obviously, he is pleading with Antiochus to intervene on the side of Perseus. But the timorous
Seleucid King, mindful of his family’s prior travails with Rome and fearing Roman
spies, gives no response, and is content simply to await “the horrible conclusion” at the battle of
Pydna, where the Roman army decisively defeated a far larger Macedonian force, with devastating
consequences for the entire Hellenistic East. 110
111
As it concerns the Seleucids, the history underlying this poem is readily explained.
The year is, in all likelihood, 169 or 168, as the Third Macedonian War between Rome and Perseus
(171-168) came to a crisis. Perseus had repeatedly sought help from Antiochus, 112
who
110 2
See just P. S. Derow, in Astin et al., CAH 8 (1989) 315-319. Bevan, Seleucus II (1902) 133, describes Antiochus’
attitude toward Rome as “scrupulously deferential,” a phrase that might be the starting point for the present
poem.
111
Mittag, Antiochus IV (2006) 159-181, 209-213.
112
E.g., Polybius 29.4.8-10 (in Winter, 169/168, Perseus’ envoy urged Antiochus IV “not to neglect this opportunity,
nor think that the arrogance and oppression of the Romans were confined to himself, but to recognize clearly
that if he did not at present also come to his assistance, either, as was best, by putting an end to the war, or, if not, by
helping in it, he would soon experience the same fate”); an offer of a last-ditch alliance was rejected (Livy 44.24.1-
7). Perseus had also vainly solicited help also in 171 (Polybius, 27.7.15). Perseus’ marriage in 178 to Laodice, the
daughter of the previous Seleucid king, may have aroused suspicion at Rome, and it certainly provided one propa-